#maybe not pre-crash level but that's also just. his general level is not quite there yet either

[remcocoa]

one big takeaway for me is that jonas has looked very comfortable descending

[highladyluck]

“Magic Dagger Curse Is My Middle Name” & Human Evil in Wheel of Time

Part 2 of a series of essays on the theme “Tuon is Mat’s Replacement Shadar Logoth Dagger”. (Part 1 was “Stealing Is The Way to Mat Cauthon’s Heart”.)

This discusses the many parallels Tuon has to Mat’s dagger on a symbolic level, covering both her and her role as leader of Seanchan. But mostly, I talk an extraordinary amount about how the Shaido, Whitecloaks, and Seanchan reflect the archetypal in-universe human evil of Shadar Logoth.

Magic Dagger Curse Is My Middle Name

Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag (now Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag) has a lot of names, and I'd found puns or references in most of them. There's the "Lady Luck" pun of "Empress Fortuona". There's the very appropriate "Kore" (Persephone's and Tuon's pre-kidnapping moniker, meaning "Maiden") for a girl who gets kidnapped and dragged through both the human underworld (a circus, and a dive bar that's literally called a hell) and the death-related underworld (a literal ghost town full of ghosts, and the hell of guerilla warfare). There's "Devi", a reference to divinity, which replaces "Kore". Paendrag is of course an Arthurian legend reference.

But the one name I never quite understood was her only other permanent name- "Athaem". The 13th Depository Blog suggests it was meant to evoke both "athame" - a knife or dagger used in magic rituals - and "anathema" - a curse, especially one that exiles someone. Go on, let that sink in. Tuon's middle name is "Magic Dagger Curse". Tuon "Magic Dagger Curse" Paendrag. Fortuona "Magic Dagger Curse" Paendrag. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE ENOUGH THAT TUON'S ACTUAL MIDDLE NAME HAS ACTUALLY BEEN "MAGIC DAGGER CURSE" THIS ENTIRE TIME.

Basically that's all I actually need to say here to prove that Tuon is the symbolic return of Mat's sexy cursed magic dagger that isolates the bearer via paranoia and suspicion, but let's throw in some of the other parallels just for fun and so you have time to recover from the psychic damage I just dealt you. There's some fun ones just around rubies specifically and the color red.

The Shadar Logoth dagger has a large dark ruby on it, the size of Mat's thumbnail. Mat estimates it would buy a dozen farms back home, and when Mat first meets Tuon, he notices she's 'wearing a fortune in rubies'. Also, before she becomes Empress, Tuon's signature color is red; she's got red fingernails, red and a very dark green are the imperial colors as seen on the Deathwatch guards, she buys a lot of red silk in Jurador, and presumably the roses in the Raven and Roses imperial sign are red, as she treasures Mat's present of red silk rosebuds. (Interestingly, she starts going more blue once she becomes Empress- I'm thinking specifically of the blue nails and dress she has when she declares maritime Ebou Dar her capital.)

Tuon also has other physical similarities to edged weapons in general, and the dagger specifically. Like the dagger, she looks ornamental but could absolutely kill you. Mat describes her hands as "bladed like an ax" when she strikes a footpad in the throat to save him. She's also sharp, in the sense of being very intelligent and canny. Also, she could learn to channel, and in being a sul'dam is a conduit for magic, so she fits that aspect of the dagger as well. And, last but not least, like the dagger, Tuon is a fascinating and deadly artifact of a powerful civilization that embraces a uniquely human form of evil.

Shadar Logoth as Ultimate Human Evil

In the books, Shadar Logoth is our loadstone for what is described as a specifically human kind of evil, separate from the absolute, somewhat abstracted "evil for evil's sake" that is the province of the Dark One. The Dark One's ideology as practiced by humans ends up being nihilism, or rather, self-interested nihilism. (Ishamael isn't a pure nihilist, he's ok with getting worldly power while there's still a world.) In contrast, Shadar Logoth's downfall is a kind of corruption; evil things done in the name of, and for the sake of, good things. There are other cultures that do that, of course, but Shadar Logoth is the purest example of 'the ends justify the means', since their 'end' was fighting the Dark One.

"The victory of the Light is all. That was the battlecry Mordeth gave them, and the men of Aridhol shouted it while their deeds abandoned the Light. [...] No enemy had come to Aridhol but Aridhol. Suspicion and hate had given birth to something that fed on that which created it, something locked in the bedrock on which the city stood." -Moiraine, The Eye of the World

The goal of opposing the Dark One (an abstract idea of evil) at any cost led them to turn on and destroy not just their allies but ultimately each other.

Mat's Shadar Logoth dagger is a part of Shadar Logoth that has most of the powers of the whole. When carried by an individual, it can brainwash, induce (semi-justified) paranoia, kill via corruption, and infect others. These are all powers associated with Aridhol/Shadar Logoth. About the only thing the dagger can't do that we see other elements of Shadar Logoth do is shapechange or snatch bodies (#JustMordethThings) and move semi-instinctually on its own (like Mashadar). Shadar Logoth is established as Peak Human Evil, an evil so archetypal it has undergone a sort of dark apotheosis and become both a physical and metaphysical force.

Because it is so archetypal, we should expect to see aspects of it reflected in other Randland cultures that are antagonistic to our heroes, but which are not explicitly pledged to the Dark One.  We should also expect to see the same part to whole dynamic in those cultures' leaders. Rand is a great example of this part-to-whole dynamic; as the Dragon Reborn who is 'one with the land', he struggles against increasing paranoia and self-hatred, which leads him to act as his own antagonist for much of the series, even as he explicitly fights against the Dark One. It's the Shadar Logoth struggle writ large. Therefore, the leader of a corrupted, Shadar Logoth-esque culture will be a powerful and faithful representative of the traits of that culture; you could say they are the purest expression of that culture.

This is a tenet of Robert Jordan's worldbuilding and narrative, and applies to more than just the antagonist leaders; protagonist leaders also stand in practically and symbolically for their culture or group. Over the course of the series, nations and groups end up led by the 'best' people for the job, where 'best' is some combination of 'most representative', 'most competent', and/or 'best adhering to their culture's ethical tenets' (which often happen to be our protagonists). This has the possibly unintended/unconscious effect of justifying autocracy, monarchy, etc in-world because it's all adhering to aristocracy, 'rule by the best', where 'best' is rather culturally relative. It's also an artifact in-universe of the world moving to a wartime footing; anyone who isn't the best person for the job gets tossed out of the way in the name of prepping for Tarmon Gai'don, by some combination of The Will of The Pattern as well as actual effort on the part of our heroes.

On a more meta level, Robert Jordan's choice to use third person limited points of view means we get a lot of POV characters who are very embedded in their cultures and serve as an immersive cultural crash course for the reader. They tend to be either main or secondary characters who are movers and shakers in the plot (justifying the time we spend in their heads) or there to provide an outsider reaction to main or secondary characters (again, justifying the time we spend in their heads.) Robert Jordan's writing is concerned with the use, abuse, and fluctuations of power, but it's worth noting that he doesn't give us POVs of characters who are structurally and permanently without power.

POV characters often have moments of powerlessness, either in the beginning of their narratives or at the end, but if you happen to be a WoT character who never had power and never will, RJ isn't interested in showing us the inside of your head. For example, we don't ever get a POV from an ordinary da'covale who spends the entire series out of control of their own destiny, even though that could be a very powerful outsider perspective. Instead, we get POVs from sojhin, who are movers and shakers in their own right. (These are great POVs--Karede's POV in chapter 36 of KOD is maybe my favorite of the entire series, it's a work of art--but again, there's a bias here in who we observe observing.) In a series where people bemoan or celebrate being constrained by fate and consciously question if they have free will, we somehow don't hear from those who have never had worldly power; we only hear from those who do, or once did.

(I find this disappointing, and it's one of the reasons I find it difficult to recommend the Wheel of Time books- which are obviously deeply personally significant to me, and which I find fun, interesting, and more often than not, well-written- without caveats. The series is so obviously about power and choice and the ways they influence each other, and uses third person limited POV so skillfully, that it is surprising and disturbing to me that we are not exposed directly to the point of view of those who have been permanently and structurally deprived of power. We miss an opportunity to engage with the core themes on that level, and also uncover an authorial bias that hasn't aged very well and which makes me look at some of RJ's other choices with a more jaundiced eye. I believe WoT would have been stronger and richer thematically if it had grappled directly with the realities and perspectives of those who remained powerless throughout the events of the series. And whether it was an unconscious or deliberate choice to leave out those perspectives, not having them there lessens my trust and acceptance of Robert Jordan's takes on power and choice. But I digress!)

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Shaido

So, there are other antagonist cultures that we spend a lot of time with but which are not explicitly allied with the Dark One (though we are always shown their leaders being subject to the Dark One's influence, through their advisors and high-ranking coworkers, who are Darkfriend characters that have positions of structural power and influence.) Overall, the Shadar Logoth archetype means we are looking for structural corruption, fear, hatred, and the cultural belief that the ends justify the means. In-universe, that's what human evil looks like, and we expect to find it in our secondary antagonists.

So let's take a look at the Shaido, who are attempting to recapture a glorious (fictional) past by imposing a corrupted version of their original values on others; the Whitecloaks, who spread authoritative dehumanization and bigotry in the name of order and righteousness; and the Seanchan, who have the dubious distinction of doing *both*, which is why they win the door prize for Most Problematic Antagonist Who Isn't Literally Allied With The Dark One.

The Shaido are an example of a corrupted culture that imposes its corruption on others, especially others that do not meaningfully consent to be assimilated. Their corruption starts with suspicion and fear and leads to brainwashing; they choose to believe a lie because it is more palatable than the truth, and because they fear becoming powerless and losing their cultural identity. They and the Aiel that joined them cannot accept Rand's truth bomb about the origins of the Aiel as pacifists. It's an idea so counter to modern Aiel self-image and culture that the secret was carefully hidden and used as a test of character for Aiel leaders.

In the test, the knowledge that they had betrayed their original ideals to survive was presented in the original emotional and logistical contexts, which may have helped the Aiel who went through the test survive learning about it; it's easier to empathize and overcome fear and disgust if you know why people made the decisions they did. To survive, and to self-govern, the honor-bound Aiel leadership has learned to forgive themselves for their corruption, while not losing the lessons they learned from it, and empathize with people almost entirely unlike themselves. (How effective are they at that? Your mileage may vary.)

Normally, only those who could accept the information could reach the highest leadership roles. Sevanna, whom the Shaido exodus coalesces under after the death of Couladin, is the only Wise One who didn't go through that testing process (she got in on a technicality), which makes her uniquely qualified to lead the group that can't accept this information. Like that group, she lacks humility or the ability to accept unpleasant truths; however, she's self-confident, politically skilled, culturally competent, and has a clear vision for her people, which are the other qualities that the Aiel select for in their leaders. (I cannot believe that today I woke up and said nice things about Sevanna!)

She's presented as somewhat 'corrupted' by wetlander ways, greedy for wealth and power, but I think it's more that she's off the leash of strict Aiel morality; she goes on a reign of terror, taking more than she needs of any resource, and capturing non-Aiel and keeping them as permanent gai'shain. This is clearly slavery in a more modern sense. The Aiel proper have a sort of ancient-style slavery, based on taking prisoners of war, that is time-bound, highly regulated, and that everybody more or less consents to by living in that society. (I say more-or-less; not sure your average civilian Aiel precisely consents the way a warrior might consent, but then again, everyone in Aiel society is a little bit of a warrior.) Sevanna's unconsenting, permanent, non-Aiel gai'shain are a clear violation of all of these tenets, and resemble the bodysnatching and invasive nature of the Shadar Logoth evil. Fear turns into hatred of both kinds of uncorrupted Aiel (the originals, and the modern) and of those groups of people who are not like them. In the end, the Shaido dissolve, their corruption having weakened them so that they fall prey to outside forces.

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Children of the Light/Whitecloaks

The Whitecloaks are an obvious heir to Shadar Logoth, as they persecute channelers and anyone they consider a Darkfriend in the name of order, righteousness, and the Light. Whitecloaks represent the paranoia, assassination, and brainwashing powers of Shadar Logoth, and insofar as they have assimilated Amadicia and make forays across borders, they also cover invasion, though to perhaps a smaller degree than the Shaido (or the Seanchan). The Whitecloaks are also good intentions, corrupted; yes, Darkfriends are bad, yes, the Light is good, no, not everyone you don't like or who has power you want is a Darkfriend! They turn neighbor against neighbor, harrass, torture, and murder the innocent as well as the guilty, and generally do all the bad behavior you would expect of a military quasi-religious order that considers itself above the law. Also, Mordeth/Fain literally got his grubby hands all over the Whitecloaks early in the story and made them even worse.

Galad is a really good example of the 'best man for the job' ending up in it; Galad's extremely uncompromising morality is most likeable and practical when he's fulfilling a 'reformer' role in a group that really needs it, and when he's not in that role, his entire deal can feel excessive and alienating. (Although I will note that if you think about how his mom abandoned him to pursue what she was told was her duty, and his dad was a real asshole, you can kind of see why Galad has such a strict moral code and won't let something like family or feelings get in the way of carrying out his duty... anyway just having feelings about Galad, don't mind me.) When leading the Whitecloaks he recalls them to their original ideals and purpose, which is literally fighting the Shadow on an actual battlefield, and makes them hew to ethical standards from the original Lothair Mantelear text and his own personal extremely high standards.

He purifies the Children of the Light, insofar as they can be purified, purging the corrupt people and practices. This allows the Whitecloaks to ally with the Light, rather than sitting out the Last Battle or killing important Light-allied groups. But the Whitecloak channelerphobia is not going to be eradicated so easily, and that's mostly what Galad’s family was objecting to about him joining the Whitecloaks in the first place. And even Galad starts to succumb to it by the end of the series, although to be fair the White Tower had definitely done a number on his family by that point. Post-Last-Battle, Galad is really going to have to grapple with 'what is the practical purpose of a bunch of armed busybodies who think they're better than everyone else and who have a very deep-seated hatred and fear of channelers?' One hopes he'll convert them to a peaceable monastic order doing community service. If anyone can do it, it's probably Galad, but I think it's not going to be easy and it's also not clear to me if Galad is going to have the same opinion about the necessity that I do.

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Seanchan

So, now we come to the Seanchan, who are a rich, complex, fascinating culture that combines the best and worst thematic elements of both the Shaido and the Whitecloaks. Twice the fun, twice the flavor! Like the Shaido, they are the corruption of an honor-based culture that now assimilates other people and cultures without their consent. The Seanchan have a strongly-held honor system that uses public and private shame as a deterrent to unethical behavior, similar to ji'e'toh, but like the Shaido, they apply it to conquered peoples under duress; even if the Seanchan themselves are ok living this way, there's no real consent happening when they conquer.

Like the Shaido, the Seanchan claim to be the true heirs of an ancient legacy, the children of the child of Artur Hawkwing, but have spent enough time in Seanchan to absorb all sorts of concepts Artur Hawkwing never had (slavery, taming weird beasties, exploiting Aes Sedai rather than just avoiding or fighting them). Their culture is also built on convenient fictions; the knowledge that sul'dam can learn to channel, and that some can be held by the a'dam, is likely to produce a truth bomb down the line, one way or another. And the Seanchan are an imperial power, which means they automatically follow the natural growth and rules of empire; always be expanding, always be consuming, always be exploiting. They're Mashadar, baby!

Let's zoom in on the slavery, since that's one prong of what makes the Seanchan evil. It's a kind of bodysnatching and brainwashing, and there are some really interesting parallels here to the Shaido and Aiel. The Seanchan have three forms of institutional slavery; so'jhin, da'covale, and damane. So'jhin, hereditary upper servants of the upper class, have the most power and are analogous but not precisely equivalent to normal Aiel gai'shain. Like standard gai'shain, they are considered property that can be traded, have some level of autonomy and ability to direct their lives, certain rights and privileges, and in theory can be manumitted.

Unlike gai'shain, they actually can have more political power than free people. Also unlike gai'shain, they are not guaranteed manumission after a set time, and while I think the gai'shain consent issue is a little muddy (Aiel can't help being born Aiel and thus subject to Aiel raids) so'jhin are born into slavery and have therefore absolutely not consented to it. So'jhin appear to be based at least partially on Byzantine examples of high-ranking slaves, and slavery in other very complex and bureaucratic cultures where those in power needed highly competent administrators, but didn't want the administrators supplanting them.

Da'covale are equivalent to Shaido gai'shain; often (but not always) captured from other cultures, absent the rights and privileges of regular gai'shain or so'jihn, and bound to involuntary servitude for life, although they can in theory be manumitted. (Shaido gai'shain have the option of trying to escape, I guess.) They have very little autonomy and power to direct their lives. It may be possible for da'covale to become so'jihn, so again there is a kind of internal mobility/potential access to power that doesn't have an exact equivalent with the Aiel models, but that's offset by the lack of consent; da'covale can also be born into slavery. One can be made da'covale as punishment for defiance or anything else the Seanchan see as a crime, or born into it. It seems historically equivalent to ancient, prisoner-of-war-type slavery, mixed with the carcereal state; you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or you fucked up, and that's the justification for making you a slave.

Damane have some points in common with both regular Aiel and Shaido versions of dat'sang; they are all slavery in the form of the carcereal state/slavery as an outcome of the justice system. Dat'sang are 'despised ones', usually those accused of being Darkfriends or who have committed heinous crimes. It's a punishment that is apparently permanent and unrecallable, and they are sentenced to the most shaming labor in the worst conditions. They are cast-out from the community and forced to serve it in the most degrading way. Marath'damane, channelers with the spark who are not leashed, are treated like dat'sang are, in that they are cast out of their communities and shamed for their 'crimes'. Once they are leashed, though, they become integral parts of Seanchan society and are told to take pride in the service they can provide, which is very unlike the dat'sang cultural experience. Damane are enslaved and exploited for their talents, ostensibly to keep the general population safe from their magic powers and their potential political power, but also because they're an incredibly powerful military and infrastructure resource.

The first damane was created out of a combination of fear, greed, and hatred. One Seanchan-local Aes Sedai captured a rival and brought her to Luthair Paendrag, who she knew would be receptive to constraining the power of channelers. What she didn't count on was that solution being institutionalized, and that she'd eventually fall prey to it herself; a classic Shadar Logoth "do a shitty thing unto others and eventually you'll just be doing a shitty thing to yourself" move. Both the existing Seanchan population and Luthair's group had already othered, hated, and feared channelers, the Seanchan possibly for logical contextual reasons (seems like the Seanchan Aes Sedai were all independent Americans who didn't want to be governed by a universal code of ethics or subject to institutional oversight, which is not conducive to living in a society), and Luthair because of Ishamael’s original corruption of Artur Hawkwing.

In the end, the combined Luthair group/original Seanchan institutionalized their channeler bigotry, saying that the ends (preventing channelers from exploiting non-channelers) justified the means (exploiting channelers). Damane are never, ever freed and now the Seanchan think of channeling independently as inherently a corruption and a crime; something that makes the involuntary channeler evil and unhuman. They also break channelers, brainwashing them into thinking that this is for their own good (and not just for the good of the state).

(Another meta aside: Because involuntarily channeling is a genetic trait that the channeler has no control over, leashing damane feels to a modern reader, especially US ones, I think, very much like the race-based slavery of our recent past. Especially the idea that the enslaved person is enslaved as a punishment for a crime; this is something that would hit a US reader pretty hard, given that the US's booming prison population is the only legal slave labor force in the US and is also disproportionately made up of people of color. I am pretty sure that explicit parallels between racist slavery and the practice of leashing damane would be supported by Robert Jordan, especially since he literally put the Seanchan on post-apocalyptic North and South America. They have other influences, including Imperial Japan and Imperial China, and the Byzantine Empire, but in this way, and also because of the Texas accents, they are very, very American.)

The Seanchan are also similar to the Whitecloaks; they're both military groups who hate and fear channelers, and they are particularly susceptible to paranoia and assassination/extrajudicial murder. The Shadow didn't have any trouble infliltrating either the Whitecloak command structure (especially the Questioners) or the Seanchan Blood; there's a certain background level of 'the ends justify the means' going on in Seanchan and Whitecloak power centers that makes them fertile ground for recruitment. The Whitecloaks and the Seanchan both have a kind of secret police; Questioners and Seekers (they even have similar names!) who operate under certain strictures with respect to their upper management, but who can basically do whatever the hell they want to ordinary people. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you that secret police are PEAK Shadar Logoth; they were always judging everyone else, generating paranoia and mistrust.

The Blood and Imperial family are also a really great example of Shadar Logoth values creating a (somewhat) functioning society full of extremely fucked-up people; the more power you have, the more delicately you have to step and the harder you have to watch your own back. The higher up you go, the less trust you are able to have in others, until you reach the point where people are sending assassins after an imperial baby, and the imperial baby grows up thinking that's completely normal and fair and it's their fault if they are ever not good enough to dodge it. (Hi, sorry, please excuse me and my many, many feelings about Tuon.) That kind of thing makes you very, very sharp, assuming you survive; it also makes you very inured to violence and most comfortable when you've got a high baseline paranoia going at all times. It puts you in danger and it gives you the means to survive danger; it's very Shadar Logoth dagger, which attracts Darkfriends but also gives you the ability to sense the Darkfriends right back, and incidentally stab the hell out of them.

A Part With the Power of the Whole: Tuon and the Seanchan

So, we have all the sins of Shadar Logoth united in the Seanchan; they're invaders, they brainwash and bodysnatch, they're paranoid, they assassinate and murder, they've institutionalized hate and fear, they're structurally corrupt in that power in their society is based on lies and exploitation, and they think that when it comes to dealing with their mortal enemies (channelers), the ends justify the means. And their leader, Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, Empress of Seanchan, is indeed many of these things wrapped up in one efficient and deadly package.

She's a sul'dam and she enjoys her work breaking and training damane; she's had siblings assassinated and we've seen her kill onscreen; she's deeply suspicious, always second-guessing and skeptical (except about received values and information from her culture); she embodies and enforces Seanchan culture and power. She is all Seanchan in one person, and she'd tell you that proudly. She tries to assimilate *herself* into the state, because she thinks that's what she's supposed to do, to best serve her people. She wants to be the part that is an exact mirror of the whole, and she wants the whole to be perfect, so she wants herself to be perfect, too.

Do you see the shades of Galad, here? Like Galad, she has a strict and impractically idealistic moral code that makes her somewhat unpopular wherever she goes; she's too unpredictable, merciful, and flexible for her counterparts in the Blood (she's always surprising them with her unconventional choices) and too perfectly Seanchan for her allies (who are all horrified by the damane thing, or the da'covale thing, or the assassination thing, etc etc.) The things people grudgingly praise her for are sincerity, competence, compassion within the bounds of her ethical structure, and (sometimes) a willingness to consider new information or accept oversight, the last of which is only impressive because of how enormous her ego is and how thoroughly she's been indoctrinated to believe she's inherently correct and all-powerful.

She is the best of Seanchan, within the context of Seanchan: she survived, took, and kept power, making her the most competent imperial daughter; she's very ethical within Seanchan strictures, not striking first unless threatened, working to acknowledge and correct personal faults, keeping her word, showing concern and mercy for those she believes are suffering, being thoughtful and careful of consequences when she exercises power; she is most representative of all of Seanchan's flaws and virtues, as a sul'dam, Empress, and Lightside ally. (That said: is Tuon the most ethical Seanchan within a broader cultural context? Hell no, that's Egeanin, who goes through a long and painful process of realizing and rejecting the corrupt and nasty parts of Seanchan culture, after it rejects her.)

To conclude: just like Mat's Shadar Logoth dagger, Tuon is a fascinating and dangerous tool of a powerful, antagonistic civilization that embraces a uniquely human form of evil. Her middle name is literally "Magic Knife Curse", Seanchan is the most Shadar Logoth-y of non-Shadow-aligned antagonist cultures, and she also follows the very Robert Jordan pattern of leaders fractally reflecting the culture or group they lead.

[mr-face-both-ways]

Stex Appreciation Month: CB!

Can’t trust anyone these days, remember I can face both ways!

Ah yes, my url’s namesake, i finally had time to finish and post something lol i’ll post the others soon

Questions answered under the cut! This is extra long because he is my Fave and im Biased 

Fave song: There’s Me hands down, the whole scene including That Was Unfair is just so good in establishing CB’s, Greaseball and Dinah’s characters so well, plus the melody is just*chef’s kiss* and the fact that its technically a villain song?? Love that, plus the parallels of him finding Dinah alone and upset and comforting and supporting her and lending her a hand up and sending her on her way after she’s cheered up, with post race 3 where he’s the reason Rusty’s alone and hurt on the floor, kicking him when he tries to get up (looking at you 1991 boot) and mocks and insults him, leaving him alone with his confidence broken as he leaves laughing. What an absolute bastard!! But when There’s Me is taken out, you don’t properly see his two sides, both the bad and good sides are important to his character! He’s a contrary dude but that’s just him! Plus the actual song has one of my fave melodies of the show, I can and do listen to the intro from the ost on repeat, plus that lil bit in the japan vid?? So cute?? And the contrasting styles to that and Wide Smile?? Amazing, love it

Fave actor: Once again my fave actor list is gonna be like 5 people lol, the great thing about C.B’s material is that his attitude and demeanour can change based on his inflection, movement etc so! Michael Staniforth is a given, his Wide Smile really demonstrates his range which imo not many others have been quite as good, plus what extremely little footage and photos there are of him he was extremely expressive and just fun to watch! I’ll also go with Peter Rees, Andrew Prosser, Hans Johansson, Oliver Rhoe Thornton (and what the heck let’s also go for early Kapa Kitchen and Daniel Ellison)

Fave ship: Ohh boy this is super self indulgent but CBGB honestly (has the fandom given it a nickname? Greaseboose?? idk) I love that in the older scripts him and GB high five (that us boot where cb does a lil jump to hit GB’s high five?? Adorable) and actually talk like friends?? Like Greaseball is a jerk to pretty much everyone and for him to be friendly with him is just sweet. Not to mention its Greaseball who tells his gang that CB’s a “mean machine”, is always calling out to CB in the races and a recent thing that clicked in my brain is that when CB says “what a race, what a team!” and GB’s like “shhh! ohhh you mean me and dinah?” like did he just think that CB was about to out that they were working together during the race to crash the other engines in front of Dinah so he shushed him, then realised he was talking about GB and Dinah?? then just the whole exchange after sabotaging Rusty?? Duet One Rock and Roll? That GB just lifts him up like its nothing then they just kinda sit on eachother?? Those two are in cahoots I tell you!! Plus to me i get the vibe that they’ve been working together for years?? I just love their dynamic haha (and CB’s the only one i think who calls him GB that’s so cute) oh and platonic CB/Dinah is top tier, I feel like Dinah’s a very emotionally honest person so CB would feel like he could actually trust her?? And thanks to the new megamix Canoose/Elektra can have one right, as a treat

Fave thing about him: His independence! All the other characters are very much driven by either winning the races or finding love (or both), and C.B. just...doesn’t care. What you “are” is a big deal in Stex, like the engines, coaches and freight all have their identities shaped by their titles, and that can influence how they feel about the above two subjects “nobody can do it like a steam train”, etc and looking at when C.B. does participate in the races him and his partner tend to take the lead so he is good at racing!! But he chooses not to in order to make his own fun (at the expense of pretty much everyone else). He also seems to have a level of self-awareness, take his verse in Freight for example, he knows that as a brakevan he has to essentially serve the freight train, perceptually at the back of the train. But instead he uses his “purpose” aka his brakes to not do what he’s been told and to disrupt the train, and gets away with it by presenting himself as the innocent helpful brakevan! He’s just doing his own thing, (poor Rusty but,,) good for him!! And of course I have to say again, his two sides, and the ambiguity of it?? Like is he good, bad?? He’s both and neither?? An absolute force of chaos, but it only really works when both sides are present. Plus he a cutie tehe

Random headcanon: I think he’s unnervingly observant, even moreso than Pearl, and has amazing peripheral vision. That and taking notice of things like vibrations on the rails he’s very good at telling whose around before they’ve fully come into vision. He’s always watching everything around him, and isn’t necessarily being creepy, he’s just trying to get as much info on the current situation as possible. I think he likes to have some control and be on top of things?? I also really like the ex-boxcar theory (I first saw this theory on the old bellesdomain forums, rip) and I think that maybe when he was converted it was very difficult for him, having to deal with people, and having the CB radio to control what he hears helps ground him and keep his thoughts less cluttered?? He might’ve also forgotten a lot of his boxcar days, so when he says “you know I’m to blame but you don’t know my name” maybe he doesn’t even remember his original name?? And never got a new one as just the Red Caboose, so he clung onto the CB radio to give himself a sense of identity when his previous identity was stripped from him?? IDK

Unpopular opinion: This wagon can hold so many spicy takes he’s not a murderer lol but at the same time i can see where people can think that considering the lyrics reference several real-life train crashes even if they don’t make sense for CB to be there which tbh I put down to Stilgoe going tehe railway incident reference! I think he’s travelled around a lot and done a lot of questionable things, and maybe he was responsible for those crashes in the stex universe?? or maybe he’s just lying?? he’s definitely responsible for some shit, but considering he crashes 5 (!!!) engines during that one race night and being publicly humiliated after race 4 he doesn’t get in trouble and besides, all those engines are back for light at the end of the tunnel, they’re fine lol. Another thing is that I haaaate how CB has like no agency anymore in the current version like everything he does is for money, he’s basically a henchman for the engines (and everyone knows what his deal is and he isn’t in train jail?? what??) and they got rid of the pre-race 4 bit “just for me, I’m in this just for me” (in that slightly twisted there’s me melody) and Electra desperately pleading “help me caboose, help me caboose” to just the generic “I’ll help you win” at the end and not really its own little bit anymore like he barely has his own motivations anymore, it actually makes me really sad :( it really just doesn’t feel like CB anymore, though his character has been really disjointed since like 2007 when they got rid of there’s me. He’s just kinda bland now, like before he instigated a lot of the conflict, now others tell him to do something and he does it. I could like him more if he had an ounce more depth, like why is he so motivated by money? Maybe go into that old vs new tech theme and bring up that now that there’s new tech that can do the job of a brakevan he’s now antiquated and has to go into crime to get by?? Idk just please give me something, I think CB’s always been a bit of a fan favourite because he had multiple layers to his personality but new boose just has a whole lotta nothing :/ 

Anyway let’s end on a positive note at least we got pride lighting and a solo in the megamix so that’s something I guess XD 

[sugarcoated-eloquence]

Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present. 

Please note the following ships are canon in this fic’s universe: Parrlyn, Aramour

{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}

I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story. 

Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon

Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.

It would not stop.

The constant feeling like something would go wrong.

Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleyn’s face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kitty… you okay?”

The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. “Yeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. I’m fine, really. Guess I’m just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,” which wasn’t a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragon– (much to everyone’s surprise)– and Boleyn. It wasn’t a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldn’t seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.

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During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.

But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.

Anne Boleyn’s eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, “I can’t even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!” to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleyn’s glances kept going back up to that strange man.

“I think we can all agree I’m the ten amongst these threes!”

What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know. 

Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleyn’s spotlight in Don’t Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:

“Tall, large, Henry the Eighth. 

Supreme Head of the Church of England. 

Globally revered, although you wouldn’t know it from the look of that beard.”

And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIII’s horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?

That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queen’s shoulder. “Moment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes Lächeln am Ende der Show gehabt,” the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. “What’s going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,” Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. I’m normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, she’s going to regret it. It’s my nap time,” the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeup– just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants. 

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The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.

Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.

“Cathy, look at this,” tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. “It’s us with our kids!” If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parr’s face as she looked up to meet Jane’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I have always appreciated, it’s that they know we aren’t the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.” The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap. 

The calligraphy pen twirled around Parr’s fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.

Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.

Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!

Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.

Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.

Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatre’s backstage to pray.

This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.

––––––––––

The same seat every damn time.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?

Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleyn’s eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, she’d put more emphasis on “Hold up, let me tell you how it went down.” just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.

But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:

Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

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This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous “Yeah, I read.” was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. They’d recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girls’. The girls weren’t too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kit’s the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before… well… 

She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howard’s small frame. “What’s wrong, love?” Kit simply points to the man, and Anne’s heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, can’t look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything. 

Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr. 

The others trickle in quickly after, the ‘mystery man’ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response. 

Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. “Is he what’s got you all rattled, love?” Anne lets out a small nod. “It’s him.” 

That statement reaches Jane’s ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing room’s main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing. 

“...Henry?”

He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. “The one I truly lov—” He’s cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.

“Don’t ever associate that word with me. You don’t know what love is.” A few tears well up in the blonde’s eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. “Love isn’t keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!” Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself. 

“You all look so different.” The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. “There’s no need to cry, Katherine… or should I say ‘Kitty’, now?” 

“Don’t speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.” Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kit’s hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward. 

“You know, mate, if you’re still having trouble… you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.” She emphasizes ‘little’ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.

The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. “How funny, laughter coming from someone who couldn’t perform.” Anne’s smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Cleves’ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. “That’s low for the man who so easily says he believes–”

“Catalina, don’t even get me started on you either.”

Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Jane’s reddening face from holding back the tears, Cleves’ rather tame anger, Aragon’s scowl… Kit’s pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but… there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.

“So you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? I’d have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I had–”

“Scaffolds don’t exist anymore, you twat,” Boleyn hissed under her breath. 

“Enough, Henry.”

This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasn’t even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. “Cathy, you should probably not… y’know, say anything,” Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.

“The survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?” He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. “Because you should’ve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able to–”

Henry stops when he sees Parr’s shoulders shake a little. She’s… laughing?

That’s why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. “You’ve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.

“Okay, okay… fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleyn’s just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howard–”

The smile from Parr’s face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper. 

“You KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.”

Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherine’s ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. “You KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!”

Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.

“Oh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you weren’t married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?” The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. “Jane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!”

Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.

“My damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasn’t Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasn’t beautiful enough for you? You’re an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didn’t know how to use your damn brain!”

At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.

Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.

“Who am I missing… let’s see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that… I’m the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.”

“Cathy–”

“Shut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.”

A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.

“Oh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! I’m the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That can’t be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?”

Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Cleves’ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.

“Ah, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? I’M HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children… and poor Katherine…” A laugh. “You took poor Katherine’s childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.”

“Catherine, my love–”

“No excuses now, Henry. I’m through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.”

“My love–”

The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He… was bleeding? “You actually got the nerve to punch an English King? You’re a mad woman, Parr. I’ll have you thrown on that scaffold just how–” A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.

“You wear a crown, but you’re no king. You’re a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused… and killed,” a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands. 

“I’ll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!”

“Like hell you’ll be back!”

And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. “Someone help me hold her back!” Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parr’s other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parr’s legs.

Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. “Kitty? Kitty, are you okay?” Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. “I-Is… she mad at us, Annie?” Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.

“Catherine Parr, what in God’s name has gotten into you?” Aragon furrows her eyebrows. “This is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.”

Anne reaches to take Kit’s hand. “She’s… upset. Not at us, I promise.” Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kit’s eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babes… He’s gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls aren’t gonna let him get to us.” Kit just buries her face into Anne’s shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldn’t let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived. 

Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. “You look absolutely knackered, love… maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? C’mon.” They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didn’t want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest. 

Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesn’t mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer. 

There’s an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.

Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from being inches away from Parr’s face with a very devious smile. “I’ll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Kat–”

“Like hell you are!”

Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragon’s grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymour’s. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. “Get anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!”

The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.

Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. “He’ll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, he’s wrong,” she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.

And her name was Catherine Parr.

“What in heaven was that?” Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men. 

She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parr’s hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. “Cathy… let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?” 

“Let’s just go home, first.” Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again. 

––––––––––

The six women had gone home after waiting… maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.

“I’m actually mad about the fact that he’s actually attractive now,” Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. “I’m kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? We’ve been free for… who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?” Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. “It sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when she’s a lot calmer, though… she’s very…”

“Upset, angry… name it, I am probably feeling it.”

“We all are, love…” Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. One’s very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. “Let me clean you up, c’mon.” She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. “I’m not ashamed of what I did today.” Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesn’t.

“You protected me. That’s all I could ever want.” Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathy’s knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. “Don’t be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.” 

While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and it’s absolutely filled with regret and apology. “Ladies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldn’t have gotten so ‘up in arms.’ He just… I never…” She’s tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face. 

“I never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.”

Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. “He sure got a taste of all of my resentment.” Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesn’t know what else to do past wrapping the girl’s knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. “Shhh… no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.” Her hand goes to hold Parr’s face. “Let’s be happy, okay?” 

“Jane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.” Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parr’s energy was off, but the queens wouldn’t question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didn’t take much to see it. 

“I just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I think–” She has to hold back some tears. “I think I should’ve composed myself.” This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help.  

Anne clears her throat. “I think you did perfectly, Jane. He’s an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.” Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug. 

Cleves takes Jane’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Gute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darüber nachzudenken.” Jane sighs. “Still don’t speak German, love.”

“Try not to think too much about it.”

“Catherine,” Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. “Mija, what got into you today? That isn’t you. Where… where did you even go?” A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parr’s eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.

The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragon’s concern despite the slight scowl. “I’m sorry, Lina. I… no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelé. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre así. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asusté a todos, no?” The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragon’s expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. “Sucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amándote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.”

Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without “Don’t stay up late.” being the last thing she said to the sixth wife. 

Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. “Lock your window, Annie, please.” It’s evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. “Of course.” The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors. 

Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work. 

Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing… shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry. 

“Right, then… bed it is.” Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do. 

Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.

Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside. 

––––––––––

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.

The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.

“It’s not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”

It was not fine.

No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a river’s stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parr’s wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.

Almost as if she was running out of time.

She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations… name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There it was again. The ticking of the clock.

Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.

Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.

Why couldn’t she be stronger?

Why didn’t she do enough at the moment?

The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought she’d never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.

“Cathy? Mija, what’s the–… Cathy?”

What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. “Escúchame. Todo está bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.” Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parr’s grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an ocean’s grey waves.

Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. “Duele, Lina,” a sniffle. “Todo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.” And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.

Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.

All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragon’s eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, ‘Let me try.’ Lina nods and gives Cathy’s hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her. 

The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. “Did that not wake Kitty?” Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howard’s room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door. 

Anne takes Parr’s hands. “Cathy, please talk to me… please, love.” It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleyn’s eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. “It kills me to see you hurting.” A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parr’s cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anne’s thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall. 

“It kills me to see you hurting.” Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. “I should’ve done more.” She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girl’s hand. 

“He’s the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!” She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anne’s shirt in a matter of seconds. “He deserves to die! Why is he here?” Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs. 

The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep. 

Anne isn’t sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. “Shh… babe… he doesn’t deserve your tears…” Anne, you preach this, yet you’re a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. “He… he’s getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he can’t do a damned thing to us. We’re untouchable.” She was also telling herself this. 

Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean she’d disappear into thin air. Though she hadn’t actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, she’d do it every day for the rest of her life. 

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five o’clock at this point, but it didn’t matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple “Of course,”  pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didn’t matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didn’t. 

The two make their way to Boleyn’s room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. It’s almost as if they’re out as soon as they cover up. 

Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps it’s the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but it’s the first night the girl doesn’t wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. “G’morning.” She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. “Where are Cathy and Annie?” 

“In bed, still.” 

“Ja.” 

“I should check on them.” Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. “Halt die Klappe, Kit…” Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. “You’re too loud.” 

The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anne’s cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girl’s face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. ‘We’re okay.’ She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment. 

Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day. 

A couple hours seem to pass and it’s about… noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyone’s attention.

The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.

In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.

Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. “Ow…” Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. “Oh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?”

Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.

“It’s marvelous, love!”

[kronecker-delta]

Farscape Nier crossover and ideas

Snippet (from 2017) Farscape/Nier: Automata --- Her room was a mess. Scattered parts of her uniform and other clothes piled along along the sides, kicked there when she came and went. Her personal books disarrayed, off the shelf and toppled over by her bed. She'd been putting off cleaning again and with the recent arrivals none of the operators could be spared to make up for her bad habits. None of that mattered at the moment. White sat in her chair, staring out into the void. A souvenir of her old days in the ground based resistance held in her hands. The framed picture of pair of androids seated on the still smoldering bulk of the ruined machine behemoth a memory of a simpler, happier time. A knock on her door brought her attention away from melancholy remembrance. Before she could compose herself and more sternly tell whoever had interrupted her what she had meant by 'Only bother me if there's an emergency' another knock issued forth. Followed by a voice. "Hey White? You in there?" She froze. She had so desperately hoped that it wouldn't be him. *** "I've never been here before," White said apologetically as their transport ship came down beside the small lunar outpost. A tiny thing, compared to the bunker. Even given the greater volume underground for secured data storage and backup generators. "No problem. First time I've been on the moon," he said, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite manage to look entirely honest. His frown returning as they stepped out of the transport, the boots of his pressured suit crunching into the light dusting of lunar sand that had covered part of the landing pad. "Feels like I should say something... 'Great leap for mankind and all that' you know. Hey, is the Apollo site still around?" "It is. If you want we could visit there Commander Crichton." "Just John... or Crichton. Being called Commander all the time feels weird," John Crichton said. "I know I'm the last human but..." "I-I understand," White answered. Keeping her own emotions deeply locked down as they passed into the fortified complex of the moon server. Past the scant few technicians and guards and into a dark room, nearly empty save for a single console located in the center. A black void engulfed the walls, impenetrable shadows, as the terminals and screens had long laid dormant. "So now what?" His voice echoed in the room, which must have been far larger than they had at first thought. Low clicks and whirs came from the bulk of the machine, the long slumbering physical access port awakening. Lights flashed along the walls and beyond them, racks upon racks of computer systems networked together awakening. A great screen before them coming on and displaying a stylized picture of a tree, long dark roots stretching out from its base. OVERSIGHT AND RECORDING SYSTEM VER. 2.01 SLEEPING BEAUTY ONLINE. CONFIRM USER PERMISSIONS NOW. "Commander White, YoRHa access S-Class security," White said. Looking to her side and adding, "As well as a guest." CONFIRM GUEST'S IDENTITY. "John Crichton, Commander in the IASA," John said. "Born... 1969. June 6th. If that helps any." The computer sat in silence for a long moment, not responding, the screen frozen as the loading bar seemed stuck in time. They shared a look of confusion, both android and human wondering if the ancient archive might have crashed and who was going to have to go out and ask the few technicians to help reboot it. Then the room came alight, a dozen more monitors online, the totality of it awake for the first time in forever. HUMAN IDENTITY CONFIRMED BASED ON HISTORICAL RECORDS. YoRHA S-CLASS SECURITY CLEARANCE SUBSTITUTED FOR UNRESTRICTED SYSTEM ACCESS. S-CLASS, SS-CLASS, AND HAMELIN ORGANIZATION FILES NOW UNLOCKED. GREETINGS COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. HOW MAY THIS SYSTEM AID YOU TODAY? "What... what's 'SS-Class?' There shouldn't be a level of security above mine." NEGATIVE. THERE ARE TWO. SS-CLASS, CONTAINING SENSITIVE FILES DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO BE KNOWN OUTSIDE OF THE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL. AS WELL AS FILES REGARDING THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION, WHICH WERE TO BE SEALED UNTIL SUCH A TIME AS A HUMAN USER ACCESSED THIS SYSTEM. "We do this so that the future generations will have the opportunity to judge us for our sins." "Who the hell was that?" John asked, shocked by the computer suddenly vocalizing. Producing the sound of some long dead man. Old and ill, his voice straining to make the words clear into the recording. DR. EUGENE ADLER, HAMELIN RESEARCHER IN DEMONIC ELEMENT MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS. BY HIS RECOMMENDATION AND THE UN SPECIAL SECURITY COUNCIL'S AUTHORITY IT WAS FELT THAT KNOWLEDGE OF THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION'S INVESTIGATIONS INTO THE DEMONIC ELEMENT AND THE 6-12 INCIDENT COULD NOT BE PUBLICLY REVEALED UNTIL THE CRISIS HAD PASSED. John looked to White, hoping she might be able to explain something, anything of what the computer had just told them. But she looked just as confused as he did. "Ah... Computer?" YES JOHN CRICHTON? "Define 'demonic element' please." DEMONIC ELEMENT: QUANTUM OBSERVATION REACTING PARTICLES BROUGHT OVER BY THE ENTITIES INVOLVED IN THE 6-12 INCIDENT. TWO VARIETIES WERE DETERMINED UPON FURTHER RESEARCH. TYPE I, WHICH CAME FROM THE ENTITY CLASSIFIED 'QUEEN OF THE GROTESQUE' AMONG NUMEROUS OTHER NAMES ACQUIRED FROM OBSERVATION DATA OF LEGION FORCES AND PRE-SUBLIMATION MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF WHITE CHLORINATION SYNDROME PATIENTS. TYPE I MATERIAL HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS FOLLOWING THE COMPLETE PURGING OF IT FROM THE EARTH'S ENVIRONMENT. TYPE II CAME FROM THE OTHER ENTITY, CLASSIFIED AS 'A DRAGON' NO OTHER NAME OR IDENTITY DETERMINED. WHILE HIGHLY REACTIVE AND DANGEROUS IN LARGE DOSES IT WAS FOUND TO BE STABLE IN SMALL AMOUNTS AND TO LACK THE MALEVOLENT EFFECT ON INTELLIGENT LIFE THAT TYPE I MATERIAL EXHIBITED. EVENTUAL CONTROLLED EXPOSURE AND SYNTHESIS EXPERIMENTS LED TO THE CREATION OF FOCUSED MAGIC ENERGY EFFECTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS IN FIELDS OF NEUROLOGY AND META-COGNITION AS WELL AS NUMEROUS OTHERS. PROJECT GESTALT AND ANDROID CONSCIOUSNESS ARE BOTH LONG TERM SUCCESSES OF THIS RESEARCH. HIGH ENERGY MAGIC WEAPONS WERE ALSO ATTEMPTED BUT LATER SHELVED FOR BEING UNRELIABLE. AS OF THIS DATE THE AMOUNT OF TYPE II MATERIAL PRESENT IN THIS UNIVERSE IS ESTIMATED TO BE 63 METRIC TONS, OVER A HUNDRED FOLD INCREASE IN MASS FROM THAT OF THE ORIGINAL ENTITY BROUGHT ABOUT BY CONTINUAL SYNTHESIS AND ITS NECESSITY IN THE CREATION OF NEW ANDROIDS AND ALL CURRENT GENERATION MAGICAL DEVICES. THE ANDROID WHITE HAS 6 GRAMS OF IT AS PART OF THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS, MOSTLY RELEGATED TO META-COGNITIVE PROCESSES. "Wait... wait!" John yelled out, grabbing onto the unused console as he stared at the enormous amount of text that had just been displayed. More and more appearing on other monitors, going into greater detail about all sorts of absurd things. "What do you mean by magic? And dragons? What the hell happened to Earth?" THE 6-12 INCIDENT. PLAYING ARCHIVED DATA NOW... *** Crichton sat on the edge of her bed. Looking down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He hadn't spoken since White had stepped aside and ushered him in. Neither had she. She had wanted to be alone, and had hoped that Crichton would choose to spend some time with his alien friends. Or his semi-human lover... "You know, it's kind of funny," he said at last, a low chuckle that surprised White. He truly did sound amused by the dark comedy of his situation. "What?" "Well, when I first realized you were lying about something... after I got over the whole 'android' deal anyway," Crichton said, looking up from his hands to look into White's eyes. "I was so certain that the deep dark secret you were keeping from me was that you all went Terminator on the humans and than got ashamed about it." White found herself smiling despite it all. "I guess I can imagine why you would think that. Even if we don't all look like Central European bodybuilders from the Old World." His expression collapsed, going from amusement to a shock so profound it looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked him over. White found herself confused and then very worried. Had she said something wrong? Then he started to laugh, slow at first, but building into something that bordered on mania. Rolling onto his back and shaking in the hysterics. "Haha... oh god... you have no idea, no goddamn idea how long I've wanted someone to get one of my dumb references," Crichton sat up looking far happier than he had a moment ago, the levity of their absurd connection dispelling the melancholy cloud that had hung over them since their return from the lunar server. "Like I love those idiots on Moya, but being around aliens on the other side of the galaxy for a few years really makes you long for some normal human conversation." "I... I think I can understand. Somewhat. It must have been very lonely out there." "Lonely, terrifying, insane... beautiful too. Space is crazy like that. Full of contrasts so sharp it's stunning. I-I wanted to bring that back you know? Not just to get home, but to show what I had found out there," he said, pointing to the stars outside White's window. "I guess it's too late for that now." "I'm sorry," White said. Noting the strange look that Crichton was giving her now she hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry we failed." "Failed? Failed at what? Stopping a magic apocalypse that had already started before the first androids came online? Which reminds me, we're going to need to do something about them later. Those twin models that someone had the bright idea to shoulder with some fucked up version of android collective punishment." Crichton leaned forward, massaging his forehead as he did so. "That's probably only the tip of the bullshit you're dealing with and here I come with a whole new mess of problems. Maybe it would have been better if I had never found Earth." "No! Crichton you-we can fix things. I know we can. Not just your presence here or for getting access to sealed archives in the server. The technology you brought with you. It very well might represent a turning point in the war with the machines." "And what about the Sebaceans... the Peacekeepers? The Scarren Empire? Or hell, even the Nebari Establishment? Better gravity control systems and two hundred year old ship scale energy shields won't stop a fleet if it comes knocking at our door." "We'll do what we always have. Try and protect Earth and mankind's legacy from any aggressor. Whether distant cousins that no longer remember their home-world like the Sebaceans... or these Scarrens you've mentioned so much. We won't- we cannot retreat from this fight. Not now." White clenched her fist tightly, the glove creaking as she set a firm expression on her face. "I promise you Crichton, even if the past is lost, we will make a future worth fighting for." Ideas: I've been thinking over the ideas of a Farscape/Nier crossover some more, coming up with elements, themes, and specific scenes that would be fun to explore and write. These are some of the ideas I've had in no particular order. 1. Androids in relation to the Last Human (Crichton). Crichton is a self-admitted sci-fi geek, not surprising for a second generation astronaut that grew up wanting to explore the stars. He straight up makes comparisons to how he attempts to handle alien encounters to be inspired from watching Star Trek. Given that I think his relation to the androids would develop in a certain direction. Once the initial shock of a) the amount of time passed and b) that these people he thought were human aren't passes, he wouldn't feel comfortable having an intelligent race acting subordinate to him. I can see multiple incidents where some variety of complex philosophical quandary or just plain relationship question from 6O results in him telling them that humans really didn't have a better answer. Long term this would likely take the form of a very serious conversation where he points out that Earth, and what of its culture and history still lives, isn't in just human, whether the dead ones or genetically altered human descended Sebaceans. Or even in any hypothetical offspring that he might have. Basically, 'Mankind' includes them, as they're what's keeping the memory of it all alive. Aside from some bonding scenes between various androids and Crichton as they go over bits of alien tech, one idea I have in particular is that he takes a tour of moon landing sites, including the one his father visited. Effectively the only place he will ever see any lasting evidence of that man in particular. And the reaction of his android guide (White perhaps?) as well as the Apollo 11 plaque cements his decision to change the way the androids view their relation with humans, at least in so much as he can. 2. 2B and 9S (and others perhaps). I think there's a lot of fun to be had in placing the androids into weird situations with the aliens, and even more so if for some reason they have to head off away from Earth for a period of time. Since I can easily see the plan being for them to lie constantly. Lie about being human, lie about the 'Glorious Terran Federation' which is totally a military power that we didn't just make up, lie about what they're capable of, lies upon lies as they try and deceive the Scarrens and the Peacekeepers and keep Earth safe from either side those aggressive powers. In general I think 'Androids pretend to be human to deceive aliens' is a good plot for lots of stories, and could easily be turned into a rather long plot. Since the androids wouldn't want to let Crichton head off to parley with these alien aggressors on his own. And he could really use all the help he can get for whatever crazy ass plot he comes up with next. 3. Aliens would want Android tech. Probably just Scorpius, but others too if they find out more about Earth. I hadn't realized it at the time, but there was a period of the show where the hybrid Scarren-Sebacean was working with Crichton, and that would be the perfect opportunity for him to learn something about the androids and Earth history. And being him, he would look at all this extra-dimensional BS and android super soldiers and see potential weapons. He'd probably be disappointed that the Queen's Maso wasn't around anymore and that Hamelin Organization stopped human testing after Emil, since it would mean he'd be working from scratch if he could just get back into the good graces of the Peacekeepers and do so with enough of the demonic element to set up another research base. Hell, he'd probably try to directly convince Crichton get the androids to agree to serve the Peacekeepers, since that would technically put them back into contact with 'humans' if genetically engineered ones. Arguing that he could get the entire remaining population of Earth a ticket off world (to a nice Peacekeeper controlled colony where the can serve their new military overlords) if destroying the machine lifefroms proved to difficult even with a few starships to blast them from orbit. 4. The Terminals. The central intelligence of the machine lifeforms would likely reconsider its direction of evolution far earlier with a living human to observe, especially one that tries so hard to avoid aggressive resolutions. Even if that doesn't work, Crichton's crew and allies proves that he has managed to connect and form lasting bonds with entirely alien beings over and over. A direct repudiation of what the machine network had thus far found to be the fastest way to accelerate its own growth. Whether this would lead to a quicker conclusion that it needs to escape Earth and find its own destiny, likely expedited by FTL tech it took from the androids once Crichton revealed it to them, or an attempt at some kind of allegiance against the various hostile powers of the greater galaxy is unknown. While I can easily see Pascal and various pacifistic or non-hostile machine lifeforms being taken into account as potential allies the actions of the terminals past and potentially present would form a barrier to attempted cooperation. 5. Allying with the Worm Hole Ancients. The aliens that gave John Crichton knowledge about worm holes in the first place did so because they were running from an unstated catastrophe that had destroyed their home world. They originally decided against direct contact with Earth because it was likely to be divided and hostile. 21st century Earth that doesn't exist outside of Crichton's memories. It would be very interesting to see how they might react to finding out the new status quo. I've got a couple ideas that might be fun with them. One being that their dimension/time traveling tech lead to them accidentally creating their own personal Watcher related incident and the subsequent self-inflicted annihilation of their home world to stop it from spreading to the greater portion of the galaxy. Creating a situation where despite their far greater technological adeptness they find a reason to deeply respect humans/androids for facing down and defeating what they truthfully could not, reclaiming their world instead of burning it and running. (Though I'm iffy on that alteration/crossover expansion as it sort of makes them more like the Stargate's Asgard.)

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 400

PRECISE TIMING IN A MICROCONTROLLER AND IN THE UNIVERSE

The 80C196KC is a 16-bit micro controller of the MCS-96 family produced by INTEL. It operates at 16 MHz with high performance. It has the capability of registering architecture, so no accumulator is needed, and most operations can be quickly performed from or to any of the 256 registers. It has many peripherals like a serial port, A/D converter, three PWM outputs, input output lines and a high speed I/O subsystem which can be controlled by any one of two 16-bit timers/counters. It can be used mid-range of control and in signal-processing applications like modems, motor controls, printers, engine controls, photocopiers, anti-lock brakes, AC motor control, disk drives, and medical instrumentation (INTEL 80C196KC user’s guide).

Synchronization is a problem in many areas of science, notably in electrical and electronics engineering. In synchronization, there must be at least two events, one of which serves as the reference for the other. Synchronized events always follow each other in a regular manner. In electrical engineering at the instant of synchronization of two busbar voltages, both voltages must be equal in magnitude and period and they must be in phase so that they can be switched in parallel if desired.

In my research I was synchronizing output voltage with line voltage; more recently I was trying to add certain further features into my program like time delay. At this stage while trying to generate synchronized outputs with a delay I failed to allow a few microseconds to the related registers (necessary because of some time delay caused by a few instructions) and also (as I later realized) I was putting some instructions in the wrong sequence. Maybe the beauty of the micro controller design is that it does not allow you to generate (actually you command the microcontroller to generate at the related outputs what you want it to generate) just anything you may happen to have in mind. The input has to be correctly ordered. If you give the right instructions in the right order, it generates (of course, within its limitations) the correct result, otherwise it generates the wrong result or just rubbish.

I spent a whole week looking for the reason for the problem which I have very roughly described. The program ought to have worked correctly because every instruction looked to be all right. But I didn’t see far enough into just how important a few microseconds and the sequences of instructions are. So, I got very frustrated and annoyed at not being able to find the reason for the failure of what ought to have been a simple program.

At night, while thinking about the problem, I realized some of the reasons for the problem, with the help of God. It was only a matter of a few microseconds in every cycle. I did not think that the program could be affected that much by that little. The outputs appeared quite stable for a time but then, after a while, the program would suddenly crash.

Ordinarily we might think: What can a few microseconds matter or the sequence of instructions? When we ask such questions, actually we are starting to think about the complexity of the universe.

The cause of the problem I was having was a few microseconds in every cycle (one cycle is 20,000 microsecond). A few microseconds in one cycle may seem nothing, but in fact the few microseconds are out in a continuous system, every cycle is affected. As a result, the program was causing the wrong outputs to be generated.

If, at this juncture, we think about the magnificence and/or complexity of the universe or for that matter of human beings, we begin to appreciate the greatness of God. In reality, it seems to me, it is impossible to imagine fully or to realize exactly the greatness of God since we cannot even grasp fully how complex the organization of the universe is. Take my problem as an example: it was a simple system with single input and single output, and yet neglecting to compensate a few microsecond of delays caused my output to crash. In the universe, every action and event in every bodily process in every plant and animal, must take place with the most minute exactness in real time, and not in the microsecond range but maybe in many times more or less than that range. Any oversight, be it ever so small, any error of sequence, any delay however small in any event in the universe, will affect all the other events in a chain of effects causing the system to crash suddenly, locally or, maybe, entirely. In short, the existence of the universe depends upon the correct instructions being minutely programmed in the correct sequence.

When we look at either the universe or at an individual creature in it, a human.being or plant or animal, we see that each operates as a large, separate system. We cannot even imagine how many inputs and outputs these systems have, we cannot imagine the complexity of the innumerable problems that are solved in such a way that life has been going on for millions of years. Whenever we look with open mind at any living organism within the universe or at the universe as a single, whole system, our sight returns to us, dazzled and overwhelmed-exactly as is described in the beautiful words of sura al-Mulk:

Then look again and yet again, your sight will return to you weakened and made dim. (67.4)

We see in the sky billions of stars turning in synchronization with each other according to some extraordinary law of harmony. And this harmony has been operative for millions of years, so effectively that its continuance is not in doubt. The same extraordinary miracle of harmony can be studied at the microscopic level: Within a single atom huge numbers of particles whizz past each other around the nucleous at unimaginable speeds in a continually renewed and vital process of creation.

Our understanding cannot fathom, nor our researches exhaust, the wonder in which we live and which we behold. And when we realize the complexity of the innumerable systems which compose the universe and whose inter-related functions have been managed not for seconds or hours, but for hundreds of millions of years, can we do otherwise than humbly acknowledge the wisdom and power of God? Equally, when we accept, as logically we must, that in the universe as a whole, everything is organized in the right way for its continued operation, are we not bound to conclude that every event, seemingly good or bad, has occurred at its own time and place, precisely, as pre-ordained (or ‘programmed’ we might say) by God? Thus, we are led to acknowledge the Creator, to marvel in humility at His grandeur, and His greatness.

[pokkop15]

(Ok so I was a fool and had had a lot of this meta written up yesterday and instead of saving it as a draft while I watched critical role, I, like a fool, just left all the tabs open and then went to bed after the episode. Then firefox crashed in the night and everything was lost. Press F to pay respects I guess cause here I go again.)

First off, Aradia is best girl and I am so happy she's RELEVANT again. I had a whole preamble the last time I wrote this post, but I can't remember what it said other than mentioning that this is gonna be a long post beneath the cut and that I have other metas that will kind of overlap with what I'm saying in this one so I will try to keep my discussion of the narrative styles of the The Prince and The Muse to only what is relevant to this post and to what is RELEVANT. Also previous metas should be reblogged directly before I post this to make it easier to check them out before hand or to reference them more easily.

The main points of focus will be: The differences between how the two Time gods interact with The Muse and her narrative, as well as the general level of metatextual awareness of characters within Candy. | The juxtaposition of the Knight and the Maid. | The possible suppression of the Ultimate nature of The Knight, and by extension The Seer. | The Muse's unique state of power and presumed Awakening | I swear there was more but I flat out don't remember what they were.

One last thing. I am a rambly motherfucker so if you haven't read my previous metas, here's your warning to expect a very long and very chaotic mess of a post beneath the cut. Also for anyone confused anytime I emphasize someone as 'The Class' it's referring to their actions as a potential narrator and as an Ultimate Self. For example, the difference between The Muse and the Muse is that 'the Muse' would be for character moments like when the dead cherub possessing Jade's corpse in Candy is just talking with Davebot and Aradia, while 'The Muse' is for when talking about her influence over the narrative. (There's a lot of different ways I put emphasis on words or phrases, but “The Class” was the one I felt really might need clarification)

I find it interesting how Davebot acknowledges and shows distaste for The Muse interjecting her narration and thus inhibiting his ability to live in the moment. I find this interesting because as an Awakened god of Time, he is simultaneously living in every moment but as a Knight, and as The Knight, he is also intrinsically separate from those moments as he is the Ultimate One who Wields Time. Aradia on the other hand is the Maid of Time, who while almost assuredly having reached the pinnacle of her god tier after the hundreds of years we now know her to have lived, is not ascended to her Ultimate Self. As a Maid, Aradia literally embodies her aspect. As such she doesn't worry about living in the moment because she is the moment. Because of this Aradia is more prone to just accept, agree, and repeat the sentiments The Muse dictates in her constant exposition. However, despite acknowledging the narration, Davebot still ends up being incredibly passive in the face of it. Even though he has an Active class and is a dreamer of the Active moon, Dave himself has always come off as an incredibly passive character to me in a lot of ways. (Even the aspect of Time itself and its heroes are specifically denoted as incredibly Active in the {official and Canon} extended zodiac test [which means its contents are NECESSARY, RELEVANT, and TRUE]). Always acting under the direction of other characters, subject to The Lord's rule over Time, and constantly struggling with his seeming lack of control. Here, even after reaching his Ultimate Self, he still only makes passive-aggressive remarks instead leaving the flow of the story and the big decisions to others. (In my last post I went into deeper detail about the nature of, and relationship between Aradia and Dave's classes and how that affected their sessions, but I can't remember what the tie in was unfortunately so for now I'll leave it at this and move on)

Among the human players of sburb, the Strilondes have always been the most genre savvy and possessed the most awareness of the narrative and its' influence, (although Dave was never near the levels of Dirk and Rose). But up until this upd8, direct interactions with the narrative have been few and far between in Candy (at least as far as I can recall). I mentioned this in my previous meta as being a result of The Muse being the type to inspire characters to action whereas The Prince is far more heavy handed in is dictation and rarely attempts to hide his presence in the narration these days. But we see here once again, that not only is The Muse bad for the people under her influence, she's also just really not good at constructing a story. She relies too heavily on tropes and cliches, on plot contrivances; she tells too much and doesn't show enough, (something that should literally be her greatest strength as a Muse). Yet despite this, Davebot and Aradia are seen multiple times to interact with her dictations directly and Aradia even points out on page 284 that she is aware of The Muse “observing (their) every action and noting its relevance : )” (the emphasis on 'relevance' being mine). As such we can infer that it doesn't take an Ultimate Self to recognize The Muse's narration. But if not that, then what? If it was just pre-disposition of character that let them notice, then between her own abilities and self awareness, surely Candy!Rose would have by now, but she hasn't. Then is it proximity? Maybe The Muse is getting complacent and starting to unknowingly imitate The Prince and his methods? Or is it because both Davebot and Aradia are Heroes of Time? The aspect opposite The Muse's. After all, The Muse did express that the way (either Aradia specifically or that the both of them) experience time is “woefully unfamiliar” to her. Perhaps that makes it difficult for her to write a story that resonates with them fully. Whatever it may be, all the information up until this point doesn't come to a head so much as it is something that I believe to be RELEVANT.

With that, let us switch gears while keeping the previous information in mind. As I said before, in spite of all the active components of Davebot's Mythological Role, his character has often been passive. And the precise story beat I want to focus on right now is his Awakening to his Ultimate Self. Candy!Dave was out on patrol with a wife who he loved, but who also had very much always been the driving force of their dynamic. He was pulled to the ancient bunker by the narrative where a hologram of Obama expertly guided him through a conversation like a true politician, somehow knowing a lot about Dave while at the same time withholding “classified” information as if that word had any meaning without a country or government holding Obama accountable. (Unless of course Obama was still answering to someone... *Cough cough*the authors*cough cough*). Look, all of this is me saying that Obama was a leftover contrivance of The Prince that The Muse utilized for her own means. Dirk was a skilled programmer and engineer. He had a deep understanding of how to build AIs that could easily impersonate someone. He had an even deeper grasp of how to manipulate Dave. Dirk built the bots. The Bots. The bots that are supposedly NECESSARY for one to Awaken to their Ultimate Self and survive. And yet even if that is TRUE, it isn't true. The Prince claims he was a special case but his powers are of the soul, not the body. And it is the body that breaks down. And we know that Rose really was suffering in her path to Awakening, but I will remind you that her poor condition was first established through narration that we know was under the control of The Prince. Further more it happened prior to the Meat/Candy split, in which the Canon still possessed TRUTH, which is why it still remained RELEVANT in Candy (and it was obviously NECESSARY in Meat for reasons about to be discussed). Both Rose and Dave ultimately played a passive role in their Awakenings, guided to their Ultimate Self by another even though they are both Active players. I believe that The Prince established these rules about Ultimate Selves and built the robot bodies as a way to give him an upper hand against the two characters most likely to overtake him. Because to reinforce a point from a previous post, Rose is the only full on published author among the players and Dave himself has written comics and presumably screenplays for his films, making them the two people who might not only do a better job than The Prince or The Muse, but just do a flat out GOOD job. The Seer especially, which is why The Prince went through the extra effort to disrupt her sense of self as she was coming into her Ultimate Self. If these two had played an Active part in their own Awakening and without The Prince’s influence I think they both would’ve been quite capable of giving The Prince a run for his money. But the humans are not the only players in this game...

As I've already alluded to, Lord English (The Lord), was almost certainly his Ultimate Self. Awakened and Empowered by the treasure (a juju so powerful that it enabled John to retcon things in a way that overrides the timeline instead of splitting it, and it did so without even granting him its actual power). When The Knight awakened, The Muse described it has having all of Time flow through his consciousness, allowing him to experience every instance of his own self. Conversely Jade described that her Ultimate Self would be “like... one ultimate self distributed across multiple bodies. so in multiple places and states at once. every jade that exists is like a light being shined through a thousand cracks in the timeline.” (Hey remember those cracks in the universe that had light peaking through them? Idk, seems RELEVANT if you ask me.) So if we reasonably assume that ones aspect heavily affects how one's Ultimate Self first Awakens and how it operates than that means there will be similarities between those who share aspects. If Awakening for a Hero of Time is an experience of everything that ever has, is, or will happen to a version of themselves, and Lord English possessed a juju that allows one to retcon and not split, than the combination of those powers would make it so he could be the singular instance of himself while at the same time always be “Already Here” than there is truly no difference between Lord English and the theoretical Ultimate version of himself. And since the Muse consumed Lord English at the end of Candy, granting her the power to punch a wormhole in the black hole. This is also presumably where she gained the power to “...exist in several narrative structures at once” (pg 286) (also see the above explanation of Jade's Ultimate Self for why that is RELEVANT). Because of this, we can assume that The Muse is just as indistinguishable from her theoretical Ultimate Self as The Lord was. But these powers and this simultaneous existence is not without consequences because the Muse's collapse at the end of this chapter is almost assuredly a result of Meat!Jade's rebelling against The Muse in chapter 6 (specifically the action on page 167/168). And finally, to tie this back to the imposition of bodily destruction to those who Awaken their Ultimate Self, it is worth noting that The Muse does not possess a body of her own to be destroyed. Instead inhabiting the body of various Jades.

Alright, so once again sorry if you thought there would be some big culmination to this post, and hey, what pumpkin?

[throwingideasatthewall]

Clone Wars:         Season 2

      Episode 1 Holocron Heist

We just   had     a heist

[One   nonsense    enough    to knock    me into   nonsensical   incoherent      rambling...]

    Two

Okay...

I’m prepared...

To do.   nonsense...

  Urgh

   Okay..

[Title      Screen]

  [Woah!]

    ....  ..    

Aight

    Okay

A lesson learned,    A lesson earned

Oh..

     That         snapped me out of it,

     A lesson earned                  is           a lesson earned

        [you don’t need a        person to tell you     basic         common sense                                you can figure out yourself]

  ....

   Assumed authority is     bullshit                                       Don’t need to                                    earn any-      [Sorry,              Still           Recov-       er-         ing           From           Last          ep-        Isode]

                  Okay...

                   Any-way

                   Jedi on a                        planet                             . .

                     Some-how                         tr                            ap                               ped                                 -                          Surrounded                               Clones                                  -                                Right-                                     -                           Why?

                           Like - if you needed parts-

                           Okay-

                             I’m                                  in  

                               -terested

                                 Any way...

                                     Wait                                      cruisers?  

                                      Gun   ships?                                                                   R-escue

                                       Oh                                              wait-

                                          That’s                                              Good

                                            Oh                                                  No,

                                              It’s                                                    Plo..

Jokes       About       How       He      Got       His      Men      Blown      Up                         Just                                gonna                                 put                                   this                                 over                                 here

                              Been a                                 while

Also Hey     yeah      what         is         he        doing         here?

  Doesn’t         he       have      Jedi        things        to       do?

      Get           a         new         fleet?

        I mean                th-            (Don’t                Condone               Child               So-                L                diers!)

  But    every     time       it’s     always    Obi-Wan      and    Anakin    because        all         the           rest        of          them        are         too        busy

     So             What-

     Alright          -          Whelp           -          I      don’t       care         —-

   Whelp          —        Ex-plo          —         Is      this       just       going         to       be       an     action        piece?        (Nothing       wrong        with           that;           just        need           a      different      mindset,)

     From          the     applications             of        child       soldiers           -          To          Shoot-

    -Why?

      It’s-       Nice-

-Droids

   Plo-

 General-

     ?

Ev-

Neat-

Good-

 Whelp-

  Grab ‘em to the medic        And Go!

   (Seriously       Windu figured this out yesterday.)

    Grunts

    You’d         think        the Jedi would give the      order?

Seriously,         Good miss,          Five           Min-           Got          Some           One-          Killed

   “ Asoka,”

   First Asoka       mention in the first five minutes

                                [maybe they got her character                                     better.]

                                  -Jungle

                                    You sent-                                         A child

                                    That                                        Logically can’t improvise                                      ...                                              Into                                              a jungle

                                      ....

                                      The  

                                     Fuck    

                                    Skywalker?                                     

Con-tact      Her        -         Dead      -       She’s very likely      dead-       -      Anyway       -        Hope   Anakin     taught       her    those    moves-       -      That’s       a      lot       of     emotion          -           In        the        movements;         Again;

     Monotonous,           Stunted,            Robo              Tot              -ic

         That’s                How              Child-

Nope-

   Tone’s          Off

So,         just           to           go            over;

       1. Tone ❌        2.  Dia-                  Log                   Ue- (?)

        3. Move               -ment    ❌

              I’m hop-

Extract-

     Taught-  

     Okay- 

     Teach         -ing   s

     Aight           Mary          Sue-

      I’m        sorry         but         the        light          is       literally       coming         out!

      Whelp-

      Okay-

        So it’s Ahsoka an    adult yet?

         Like that can be explained away as   acco-untability

          Otherwise,     she should   have a hard time        with        one       Droid!

      (No wait didn’t Obi-Wan just call her                  ‘young one ‘)?

                 Nope!

           Movie, get over there in your               shame corner

  That-        Was painful       over-      reacting

 And         Focus-

   I    Don’t        -      You    couldn’t      have     forced          it     more             if     you    tried         -

        The             Force-           d cha-          nge i          -n         Perspective           Not      Apprec  -iate      D-        . . .    .      Moving         on

  Whelp        ...

    Get            In          -

   That’s           a      direct      order-         -

  “Can’t-”

   Nope!

   That’s            It-

   Tone ❌

   Dialogue; ❌,?

   Move;   ❌    Ment

  Turn in your bad  

  writing card,    

   Movie

   ❌

 (Not a series strike,        Just             A          “Fuck         You,          Strike

          On the            Movie                 And,                This            Chara              -cter

          ��                    (We just had such a good-

                                              Maybe; it gets better?

                                                                               Skipped ahead;                                                                                          It doesn’t

                                                                                       Sigh-

                                                                              *Puts on earmuffs

                                                                                 Meta-phorically

Aight      Back        To       19:06      (Original      time     stamp;           Play

*Think

 Friendly      Fire-

 Nvm

*Thing      Ex-plodes

   In-       stantly

Whelp-     

 You   called       her   before      a   council            ??

   Child          -ren          Can’t          Think           -

Okay

        Movie

       Children                  can’t                         think-

    From ag-

      “This is-”. 

       It should                    be   

         -But                           The              writers                        -                refuse                      to                  write                                  her                                   as                                   child                           -       

The       Pro-

“I-

The          Pro-            Blem         As         the     story       seems   to         be        placing            the               Jedi            on            a            high          pedestal     

        .....                Their             actions               here                as              reasonable       

           .....                         But                          it’s                  not                            ...                If Ahsoka was a child it would be a cruel use of power showing how used only to put the younger generation down before they’re                  old enough to understand it

              And how they’ve given Anakin the illusion of power   

                  -Boomer                               Bait

              If she’s an adult;                           This would be a show of        how             she’s childified by her peers

               As it stands;       

               The writers refuse to chose

Concerning,  due to the fact that  

Child-ify                 Ing            An                Adult       ......    Is    Wrong

  And      adult-ify        ing        a       child       is    wrong         ...      

  Un        equivocally,

Tally    Of       How     Many       Times       Ahsoka-        Is        Adult          -ify          Ied-           ;     

      This is necessary

 [Excuse for odd formatting           The “Movie”,                (Under the                picture)                  Caused                    Tumblr                    To                  heck                   up                  my               spacing)

           Continuing                   on;

“Time    away      from     the      battle-       field,”

  Good,        For          A        Child       Solider        -     (And   would’ve     been       a     good     show      that      any     kind   -ness     from     them       is   performative           ...

                   “Guard duty,”

Tally   Of      How   Many      Times      Ahsoka-       Is      Adult         -ify        Ied-         1

 Cite;      Child     ren    Don’t       have     that    much   emotion,        Nor    Pre-      fer      ence-        -

                 “Longer                       now,”

                    Dick                         —-                     Kinda

                     It’s                          better                            for                           children                             not                              to                               be                                in                              battle                                  —

                              So                                 not                                     a                                  complete                                    dick...

                                But                                   not                                    optimal...

                                 “Sorry”

So he said by people who don’t wanna take accountability for their actions and just stop doing the thing and     stop bringing the toxins into the world                                  

Point;     If you    were sorry    you would       stop     doing it,       stop     bringing         it        up,       and            do      better...     —-       Trying         to       control         the      narrative         isn’t          nice          (When           the          truth            is        objective)

       Only           the           self           may            be          both             .....

Security      -

  “Knowledge,”

    *Bag-age

      “Hm,”

  . .. .

   ...

...

Fisto  

...

 In-side

 St-upid      Forbid       Den    

Know-ledge

   (It’s likely   about     plants        Or      Weapons)

Also;

     Boomer         Bait!    

     (That’s something they offer younger         generations to follow their           stupid outdated tradition)

      It’s always          worse...

     (Also, this isn’t about Ahsoka trying to steal the         Holocon thing is it?

      Because her character is already                                                  -hateable- enough

        And if she has enough initiative             to steal the holocon

          - She’s an adult

           And should              be allowed entrance             anyway

          “Jedi            Council,”

             So,                  lady was a Jedi?

               Aight,

                Keeping an eye                     on that                        ...                  Aight                       -   

                 No

                 Went through one.                     drug trip

                   Already

                   .....

                 [Okay...

                ..Got                   a Drink                  of water                   ——                        Interrupt                     -ion

                  Wait I thought he was just a                     ball of                     fuck your plot

                  You’re telling me he actually works                      for                       Palpatine?

After   threaten       ing      Palpatine?

   This      dude           -        fucking         drug           trip            -

...Ser     vices

    I       honestly       thought          he         was             a          [fuck           your          shit]            guy

Now    he’s      a     de   tec- tive

Noir    ....

Movie     that’s      too      many     genres        .....

  You-     need       to    slow   down      .

          Your main            Chara-                   Isn’t                 Even               Esta-                    Blish                      -ed                      Prop                          er                         Ly

            Nevermind                    the           characterization

                 Note if it had been established he changes things every so often that would be neat

                 As                   it stands

               This                  dude is a                 fecking roller coaster

             Not any                thing                resembling                   good

[Giving    your      aud-   ience     a       drug   trip   isn’t   good   writing]

      It makes        them         dizzy!]

      So...       

    Holocron

    Like Palpatine is literally doing this just to fuck over       Ahsoka?

     Also, this is going to result in Ahsoka    being     unchild     -like       To take them out      too?

   I’ll get the -      counter     ready

[yes I have seen it    literally            every   Mall cop/ security guard movie   ever

The   fun     .    seeing how your    (Good)    chara      cters         -     interact     with      the   scenario          -       That’s      not   happening       here        -          If she was a child this would show how    Anakin‘s orders react with the environment

    If       she’s      an    adult;        We’re working through a checklist;         About        what we know about         her;

      Likes, dislikes, how they might come up in a   situation...

       The suspension...            coming when they do

With      Ahsoka...

  What do we know about her?

   Honestly?

    We know she likes         fighting         (Already in enabler of toxic behavior           -against other living beings)

       We know literally       nothing else about          her

       Except...

      That she’s      perfect...

Re-moving         All      Tension;

  Deal

I’m surprise he just wasn’t like    oh      yeah      sure,”

   [Ditches         with       the money]

    ...         ..

   Oh they’re actually talking   strategy

   Usually it’s just         ‘fuck em’ up            And that’s all             we ever           hear

Er-

Whelp-     Yodi’s    dead

Alas,       Poor      Narc

[assuming he can actually sense     disorder in the ranks]

 Gen.      Leader      Ship.      Tox

 He should know     he shouldn’t be doing that

  Focusing     on him       self

    And        practic        ing     accountability          ....       Constantly     micromanaging           and      checking            in            on             your           peers                   ..            Isn’t           going          to make             them           more           likely           to be       accountable..

        It’s         going            to          piss         them             off              ...

      Your (evident) distrust creating a toxic environment              As you were refused to               trust their   char   -acter

  You can’t give me   respect the guy that was just snooping      (Through the whole   uni-verse)

      That’s           the         point...

         A         dis-turbance          in the force

     Yeah?

     Intruders there will   be

     Okay, bullshit       he can see that

   Like;           Peri-pheral            Okay

    (Still tox that you don’t expect your peers          in a peripheral.          to be able to hold             accountability)

But this is galaxies     away        (Ac-tually.    on    Corousant)

  But.      He         Should        n’t       Know        That-

  ‘The      Narcs    pulling    authority     again,       master,”

  “Shh,       this         is         what         we        train-    I mean groom -        you         for!,”

     “But          You            Said,”

      (Con-tinuing             Earl-ier,)

   [Seriously        I meant to bring it up                                earlier,

             But are they really inhabiting                      Zero the hutt’s                         old hotel]

Like it could just be a Noir hotel

 But the positioning       and location         seem         familiar             . . .

     Tell        me...

    Who          the       frick           is          this?            ?

   “What            you        are      doing      back      there?”

    ...   ..

  Aight...

 Assis      -tance

    God          Lord,           He’s           Try             -ing

        -

    Main     tenance

     If I don’t idea   (who this guy was )or what was going on    then maybe that would make sense

       As it stands,             Nope,

        Crash-               es

        What’s             that?

         ....

       What?

       Seriously.             all he did was put another thing into another thing?

        ???

        ...

      Aww, he actually trusts           Bane..

    Thank you         ...

    Door..

    Techno         Service         ...       Droid

     As in a      “tech      -nical  service droid?          (Rt          (IT)     Tech             Guy?

     Or a technical     assistant         (One made of       tech)?

      (Or one specializing in    techno dance moves?)

     Also   is he supposed to get them      in?

  Is    that thing?

 They-   didn’t     really     establish     much-

 Butler      Droid...

Change?

 Todo...   “You are what I say    you are,”

Roomba- kicker

Also, having a roommate is just straight up       detective fiction...

 Like     buddy-cop detective but still     detective

  With noir,      Which       is supposed to be focused on independence        Dis(trust) in society        Which is       admittedly       (toxic)

   Or         seems          to be

     Those two   themes...

          Directly contra-      dictory

[with   Griev-      ous     they       made       it    work,     But     he   wasn’t      this    -         ]

“Uh,”

You    are    not   “The   Doctor,”       -      [that work      ed as    manif-   estation      Of    Greiv-     Ous’s      Toxic    Be-      Hav       -ior-         And      Human      Want        For        Com-        Pan    Ion-        Ship        -       Or         At        Least-      Vul-          Ner-          Aba-              ili            Ty-           -           This          Guy            -          So far he’s a       n(e)igh        invulnerable       Douche          Bag            -            With           No            -thing          Humane-            -           Not           quite      Ahsoka         levels              -       Intend       -ed           To be          an adult            -          Just-            -            Really needing to go     ham -           On the arrogance            And            inhumanity               (He sold his soul for      money- But makes it look      so good- what                    he                   does-                  Gets a sick       kinda  enjoyment from it,”)

             That’s how you   have,  to pull it off

             As it stands;    there’s      no    emotion     with      this    character

Is   the   robot   supposed to be like his   morality pet?

But he’s a   dick to   him   too

Really   he gets nothing   from me

How do even in the    “I-don’t-feel-anything-I’m-so-edgy-and-cool     look at me!’

  Vibes

   There’s nothing     fun...

   Yeah you can throw all the   ...clichés         you want in there

   [But that doesn’t work       if you don’t use them          properly]

     [I see the team up        with a female bounty       -hunter]

    [Predictable         “I work Alone...]           The only thing          those stories               share

            In minute]

But ‘once the effect of’   ‘wow that’s a lot of things.    Has worn off

 The story and character left   heartless

“Non-of- your       Bus-        iness,”

  Doesn’t have the     cockiness to make it      work

  [this isn’t    power-         Ful-]

    Down       right        ..cringe

      As it tries to shove shove two genres.. .    At least...        That don’t          Quite          .work                ...

        Least not the   way they’re trying to make them     work  

.....

..Today

 It’s noir

 The point is      no one’s          in a    good mood.. ...

Aight,

Wasn’t that-

Also,   shouldn’t      he    know-

 Based on how      open-     She     is-      To un-     veiling        her       mask..

   - -

   Robot

So sh-   ouldn’t she ask the robot to leave the room?

(If it’s such a big deal     to her?”)

   He can just run their       face through a     face scan       no?

 Mid-rim

   I thought he didn’t have a way   in?    [That’s a   pretty pathetic   way in.. .]

    [Palpatine’s      screwing           with            him]

       [Giv           -ing            Him             a          hard          time         and       satis    -iating           -          The    ab-    omin-      ations    desire      for    blood🎵,

    Two      birds,         one       stone,

     Also,       Movie,           That’s           the       wrong      amount         of      planning           for        the      wrong      genre          -        We don’t care how the   bank ro    -bbers      Art      -thieves

      Got           There

       This           isn’t           Heist              -           [Money           Heist,              Not              Terr-              Esc]             Got              It           Wrong              [Pre              dict-                   The                  Plot-]               Last                Time.                -

           The                 Focus              isn’t           Character              building-                  - it’s the                   ‘out of depth                     characters reaction to the                    scenario,’

And the wacky hijinks that    ensue

 Using their   talents...    

   Contrast-      ed against the environment        (Mall        cop        example]     

     Which seems to be the best       fit

   Stealing         the-  Holocron-           -         WHAT WAS THE         PURPOSE-

        Well-                At least they ack          -now-ledged                 Planning          really isn’t part of the subset,

                 Good                    (For them?)

                Aight                    Impossible                     ...

             What are the              emotions?

           [like they              literally.             just through in                   the              “the only place...”

             Why..?

             So quick rehash                    (Sorry                      but I can feel the                        drug                          trip coming through,)

                      (Effects-                             Of                            Dealing-                           With                              (bad) excess character;

                         (Deserts                               Metal...)

                       [Refresh]

                       He has a map of the Jedi temple                            Chip                            (Oh so that’s what that-                              (Isn’t he                            still-)  

                    [Changlin’]

                     Aight

                 Bog

                  [Refresh                        End]

                  [Voice                       acting?

                  [Mouth                         sync]

                      ...                        ..                      Aight

                      ..

                    In                         Tru-

                   Maybe                       take                        the                       teen- off guard duty

                     A thought

                    [but-seriously

                       No high                           Alert?

                        Only these   two..?

                        Info-     -Mation

                      Baggage

Seriously money would be a better   option

                        Or       just    street     cred

                     (Adult) humans,                         Aren’t that Liniar...

                    Any way...

                    East   Tower                          ....

  Well that’s better than some   dusty    old     books        -      Holos

  (Seriously at least that’s   present    baggage.)

  Whelp

   Nobody       notices         this       bullshit!

       On a supposedly          secure a       military          base            ....        ...

      Also in the Mid- day break           fecking           daylight!               (With the         hiest it made sense,                 That was a hostage                 political situation                Meant                  to draw in a huge                                              crowd;

               How?

              Cool                   Alright,

               Hey                   isn’t                   she                supposed                     to                      be                    standing                      still?

                 (Guard)

                  Doing patrols?

                   Like                       no                    emotion,                       Face                     Forward,                    Professiona                  -lism

                Not                 Greeter

             (Didn’t they literally call it       guard duty?)

              Like just say you’re sending her to   library service...

              Assis                  -tance

              Again,                  Wrong                     Field...

              They’d                    be                  talking                     to                    the                  library                   helper                    (Official)                      Con-

                 Bother

Not   how a   child   reacts Tally   Of      How   Many      Times      Ahsoka-       Is      Adult         -ify        Ied-         2/3  

   Cite;      Asoka       shows    intentional       over involvement      instincts        more       befitting          of          an          adult            ....

     Good

     Fully    understand        able      reaction          (Kinda)

    (Don’t          yell         at       children)

      Don’t      over involve       yourself             in          the          future            ....

    (But if you’re an        over-         involv         ed         and           (un-)childlike       abomination              (Getting          shoved             for              this                is               likely                 going                  to               happen)

              Dude was actually nicer than       an adult

             Enabler

             (Rule                    Of                    Excess                   Society;                    While                   excess                  verbalization                         is                      ex-                  pected,                   Getting                   in                     someone’s                   way                    (non-sport                        Ing-)                         (Or con     -ferr       ed-)            U-pon

                       Is                          not,                            Attemp                          ting                            to                          move                           them                             away                               the                           customary                                five                              times                                is                            expected)

                            Aight,

So the librarian was right there as     she     harassed        her     client)

    (Not saying;           But           you should get involved        in tox that doesn’t involve you)

      Just don’t         think that would excuse           Her         from ire

      “I can’t do anything right,”

Tally   Of     How   Many     Times     Ahsoka-      Is     Adult        -ify       Ied-       3/4

 Cite;      Child         -ren          Aren’t aware of      self        Ahsoka would repeat a line      blank       -ly

   “Likely      ‘sorry’

   Then back   away

  [Or      the      or     dered    rea       ction-)

    Aight

   Whelp

   Yes

   Just at the librarian be the      pro tag

(She’s      Tox        But..    .        Less         Tox..    ...

   But           Still..

  [Make         [Better]   Pro-ta  g        Than      Ahsoka           ]     

   In..   ...

  That’s a        library   computer..

   You      need        a      pass-        word.       -    The     robot-

   How?

  -

  What?

  Weak     Point?

  You know for     Boomer bait         They      mis-construe        How the library        works a lot

     [I know           -Hav-             Ing            Dealt-]

       Talk-ing            in the            library,

         Is pretty           off

         Like there’s        a reason people are encouraged            to go into the hallway             to take phone calls

          Loud

         These are the guys that value    meditation

          Dude.     Would be shushed       By   Several     irate      Jedi          ...  

    Told to     take it      outside          ...      ...

   I-

[I feel bad   For the Roomba]

[like dude, gaslights him      and then takes       his memory]

Like, Adults      Out     of     it.   ...

  But      ...Droids

   [we don’t know much about the       sentient ones     Or how much   senti ence]

    But          this         whole       scene...

    Makes me feel     dirty

    Like;       it’s played     for humor

    When;       it should be played            to how much         a bastard           this guy               is

      Screw-   ing         with       anything-  

       Like            That              ...  

      Toxic            ...    

      Sick..

  How?

     Aight..

    What.         .

    Re-          Cyc

    Why?         ... ..

Kenobi

Jump-ing coincidence

     [i’m con   -clusion]

       Damn,        the narc

         [No one   tell him   anything]

   [Might       fake         a       heart       attack]

    Comm.

     [How half assed is         Yoda’s peripheral?]

     Venti -lation

  -That’s        Smart-

   Almost       -Too             -Smart-

        👍  

  -Tower

    High         Alert

   Place            the       Temple        -

    Wasn’t, already?

    Left it undone

   Way to go     smart     guy           -      Cool        -        But      kinda    pointless..

 Aight-       Never mind

  I-  Might’ve       Been      Wrong-

 Al right

[Seriously,   no one hears this?]

 [In most heist movies      they at least had the    intelli-     gence-

    [No hate       -villains can be stupid]

  Do you some small well           re-lativel unknown library

   [or at least not the one     at the place they were robbing]

   Because everyone would      recognize that the actions occurring match up to what he’s describing         And the description        Of their       building.]

   Aight

   Neat-

   Past

  Whelp-

  Aight-

  Shred-          (Un-acc         Oun         T-able)

     K-Pop

     Well        that’s            a       name...

    Whelp..

Cool.. ..

Bane    ...

Whole..     temple

   And I heard you very          obviously        plotting...  

   So...  you’re getting kicked

Also he could be possibly looking up     intruders plans.. ...

Like pretty one dimensional     opinion    of on ‘High Alert’, lady

  [Especially       for a         librarian.]

Thank    you

 Whelp...

  There went my expectations

   Also,     Every Jedi leaving the library didn’t notice that that     shit?

   Like,  they didn’t have guard’s ready to apprehend him 

   ...On the           Other              Side?

         Okay...

         You just           moved her...

         Do you know this could’ve been an episode             with a lot of emotional depth              Showing how terrifying adults that abuse children can be             adults that            swear to have their interest in heart               And how overinvolvement               Is harmful              regardless of who it’s coming from                (Neglect- of child-                   And - accoun                       tability)                   Working off the                “blank line”,                 ‘I can’t do             anything right,’                    And the Jedi                -Council’s treatment of                   her                “Foreshadow                   -Ing,”                    (I use              that word              loosely)   

            Their            down-                fall

             Instead                     we                got                  this-

           And              he just abandons            the computer-

     Aight,             Just contin          -ued on - with          -out his         instruction

       Despite          see-ing           how bad           that          went.       Al-right

     Okay-

    Aight

    Really?

   Without    instructions?

   .

   In

    Calls       friend

     You were               fine       without him       the last few        seconds              .....

      “Give-”

   Not gonna      question that?

      “Voice-”

       She’s            a changling..

            “Now,”

          Hidden

          You’re              in a vent?

           Oh, Skywalker has           immediate            intuition               ...

           And a breech           didn’t somehow sound off alarms

          Yeah. .             Good..thing you didn’t close up the thing              ..

        Whelp..

        How?

       Okay. .

      Shame..           they didn’t get a hold of a force sensitive         kid             (I- don’t want it to       happen)

       Just-

      .. .

   .. Here

     Hurry          I can         Hear..       .        Bull-        Shit         .

   You have rocket boots        they have the force

    You shouldn’t         hear shit-

   Sur-prisingly,         No Ahsoka

     Good

    The lower       the counter stays..   

       The        better          for       humanity

 [and my      brain]

   [Vent]

   Seriously,       you didn’t tell your       partner?        About the Jedi on       High Alert?

   Ser-          Force-

   How deep         is that        thing?

   [Aight,          Pat-

    You’re telling me they still haven’t figured out the        Holocron?

     We only           saw-

     Shouldn’t one of you go one way and the        other go the other?

    To cover     more ground?

    They’re-        Really       putting       a lot      of faith-

In the   Comms

  Also shouldn’t there be more   Jedi crawling over the place?

   Seriously,         it’s just these two?

     [We know Plo       isn’t doing anything important.]

    [We saw       him near the opening?]

    And        Kid Fisto..

     Heck...          Is   everybody else doing?

    A-ight

   “Closer,”

    Shouldn’t it be      ..further

     Archive..     [Library]         Comms?

     Got it-

     Whelp..

      Okay..

      Not, putting up that       door,

      What are you         smiling about?

      There’s plenty of lasers

     And      you don’t even know        where the thing       you’re looking for               is

           (Inside the compartment)

      ....

   Aight

   Might- not have been a   smile-

    Look for       the open         vent   

    (Dude clum-           Un-          Acc             ountable)

       With             Vents

        Also look at all these        assholes standing around          doing nothing

  Also, no one’s going to check up on the child 

  Like, Ahsoka surely got that message      right?

   Temple-

   Deep in the         temple-

   Use-less

      ...

    ‘Cause you’re idiots       who don’t check for open vents           Or cover      more ground?

   Or...  

    [Get, anyone to help you, in this big ass vent,”

   It’s not very hard to see       why.. .

   Ass         -itance

  Ahsoka’s,         not gonna get blamed for this      is she?

   Won-

   Yeah, the narcs      pretty     useless

    Also, why can’t you have the dude just shut off those lasers like he did the rest?

  Done

    Oh, they address it   

     Good,

     Yep,

     How?

     But...

   Okay...   

...

    Okay   

   ....  

    What’re you         still       doing          ...

   Okay,

  What’re        you      doing?

   [Is the Holocron seriously right       there?]

     That’s. lucky

      Weirder               and             Wei-rder

         Hey isn’t your personality        over-written?

           By the               chip?

            Aight

          S-eriously?

         Still              Here?

         On- alert-?

Coin-     cidence?        !

  Augh

    Is that’s seriously the alert?

     Several          minutes-

       No wonder         those guys           were so late...

          ...

       Sense           De-          Cep          Tion

     Po-          S-ing            As            A           Jedi.

       Okay           now         Yoda’s            just         reading             the          death               report

     Jo-casta

     What?

       But           that’s         actually             a           good            idea                -              If shits about to go down you might as well find the person who might hold them accountable instead of letting you get the shit beat out

       Run-

       Serious-ly           shouldn’t she just shout out her name?

       [Like I know                       - High Alert-                     But Ahsoka isn’t going to be much use against a                    Adult...                Either way                                        Might as well   find her [and     scare off the intruder-]

  Also how come     “innocence”        doesn’t get           the same notification

       Did they forget his              wristwatch?

       [Like-            seems important-]

       Who are you?

           Dang                 It?

            You               were             supposed                  to                report                 back!

               Also no one           heard any of this before

           Also; are you going to tell me that AHSOKA, the child   soldier,      Is going to beat this guy       When      the fully trained elderly Jedi got her ass kicked?

   Nah.. .

   “You,”

    Dead

Tally   Of      How   Many      Times      Ahsoka-       Is      Adult         -ify        Ied-           4/5

   3x

-Un-orthodox show of initiative              1x

-Counter          1x

- Surviving this            1x

(4x) 

  Getting her on the           run!

        1x

Tot; 7/8

-Surviv-ing;

   - 1x         - 1x

    -1x

    -1x         -1x

    -1x

    -1x

    -1x

    -1x

   -2x         (I’m tired of counting them        one by one-)

     -2x

     - 2x

     - 2x

     - 2x

     - 2x

    - 

    Er

    Okay

     Whelp

    Aight

    -Right

    Shape

    -Skill

     -Ew

     Whelp

      Okay-

      Where did         your get your skills from?

     Abomination?

     Aw-  

     Todo-

   -Yet

    What-ever

    Butler

    Tech

   Neither         of       which       have     anything        to do         with       ironing        doors        open           ....   

      ....       There       he goes

     Sy-mpathesize-  more with him            than this douche bag even if his          turn does make a little sense

     Aight.

     Whelp

      Finally found that          vent.. .

       Right

       No, he wasn’t

      “Comms,”

        Not            Holo-          Cron

      .....

     Completely un-realistically        

Tally   Of     How   Many     Times     Ahsoka-      Is     Adult        -ify       Ied-        28/29        And         1/2

    (1/2 because referring to the action what respectively doesn’t count as a whole- sin-          It does deserve note that you decided to repeat your bad writing-)

         Jedi

   She       Says-

  (Un       Be        Li       Ev        Able)

 Holo      -cron

 Jedi       To      Open      It     ..  

Okay,   

..   

Up-     To-

 Again, with the   communication     center-!

  Dude, just wanted a   Holo-cron

   (Seriously        that was very tortured      logic,       Think the writers;     just wrote this scene        Then realize but wait       “why are they in the Holocron/             Comm           Cent,?”

     And that’s how        Anakin/Obi-Wan           Obsession with the com      center began...

    [sorry but there was no reason for them to be in the        Com center!

      That I’ve heard!]

   In

   Aight,      What?     What       -ever

   ...  ..

  Wrong-

    Yes

    Com-          Center-

    Ser-iously     even he doesn’t know what’s up

   You   heard      me

  And        my     stupid      plan

    To send you to the     Coms center to justify Obi-wan’s     obsession-

    Craw-          ling

     And we have no reason      to-o

   Why?

    Now!

   Yelling- doesn’t mistake the clear lack of   reason

   What-     ever-

    Right

    That’s one way      to do it

    Really

  Also, how does   -that not-

That was less than   one minute

Also,   but no one else will hear that but   these two      . .

 And they’ll   still progress to the   comm center        ...

“It came from the com center,!”

   How!?

You, guys,

  Comms,       Archives,

   Aight,       Nice

  Com-munication        center-

    Ha-           ha-          ha-    (I’m sorry   but that has come back around      to kinda funny,”

 [something Happens across the     galaxy]

Obi-won; It was the com’s center

—-

Aight,    right, 

...

O-kay

...

How??

 Where?

 Okay      ...

Cloak       Ing?

 What?

[you can’t defy the   rules of logic that much       (Physics)       You need to explain where he went   otherwise it’s a loony tune      Of    sus-    pen    sion-

Okay?

What??

I thought-       the thing-  

....

O-kay

right

Take it,

Which       ,One

 That-

 Right

What-      Ever-

  Aight-

He knews

 What-      Ever

  Don’t call   your eggs

   Move

  Restraint

  Whelp

 Use-less

    Just     There

     Whelp

     Nope-

      Okay-

       He           Try

      [Hey         guys,]

       Off               That’s           some         assumed          authority              over         familiarity..

        Aight..

      Okay,

      They’re really            letting             him             get            away             with              the             story

         Tries-

       What?!

       -When-

      Bomb-  

        Both-

[Also   Mace   Windu        is     still      the       only       semi-efficient      Jedi...

   Asshole !

    (Can’t          make the text bigger enough to display my           outrage!)

   [they      played that off         as humor!]

     That was a scream of death!

     Of         Murder!

   [if that was a sentient-       And my God     it seemed damn close!     Dude was just murdered

   The surprise-        “ I didn’t        see it coming, h        onestly not his fault kind!”

      One that would call for      immediate robotic vengeance!

    * im-mediate    ac-countability

      If sentient,

   What the Hell?!

     That-

     Horror        -        fy-            Ing-

      Oof

“Was        it     sentient?      Crud, I      might       lose        my       least       toxic    credentials

  (           )

   Whelp

    How?

     No        Way-

   A-ight

   Shit

  -shit

- she did     nothing  

   I-

  Call      Sec-

  Whose       that?

    Whelp

     Okay..

     That          Who

    Dys-   functional          family          road         trip             -           War

       No          shit

 Oh wait at           the comment table was by all the other Jedi

       So...

       the whole time Obi-wan was just complaining        he didn’t want to do the job

     Skywalker          agreeing with him...

      And...  wanting to ditch their post

 In chara,

   Just, a little bit funny      when you think about it

  Right,

 You bought            them      all the way         here?

      ...

Also look isn’t the unchild-like abomination adorable when she’s talking about punishing people more severely

Holo-cron

The heck     is a       holocron...

Wait-

 What-

   Why-

   How-

   ??

 Why is this     being allowed to      happen?   -

    ...

  Snitch

[like seriously how is it helping her   case, whatsoever?

Plea     Bar-gin

Aight,

Okay

That was just a completely random target   on his list...

- -

The one accountable adult

Keeper       Kydra      Crystal-

- Holocrons

   Data

     -

   You get out of here         youngling

     Force         Sensitive       Child ?

     Are we really going to get into the        powers        eugenics?             (Or         power        genetic       superiority)

       Also would it be a kin to basically every child or just any child destined for leader ship

   (Like gen       leader ship?)

    Cause..

Also, yeah   good idea keeping that around

And you named...

...

Young’lings

 Future

Oy!     You put that back where,   it came from so help me

Future  

vision

is cheating

In reality,   if you did have that power,    you should keep     your mouth        shut

And it completely negates   the point of a choice based universe

   (Takes all the       risk out of it)

    Making the story     completely useless

    (For the sake of tension       I’m going to ignore        that..)

    Going on the       assumption...

     That’s the Jedi           are just a bunch of          narcs

       Who           like        claiming they know the future

       When in reality only the future              knows the future...

           Worn.                 Them

              Oh so it’s just School    roll call...

    Contact

   You must

Ya no dude’s already a    headstart...

Ahsoka

 Dude,  he just override   the punishment   

  Does he   have the authority to do that?

   [I     don’t     think        so]

 Cad bane

   He      probably isn’t

   And you already know him From the previous episode

    Good for         Obi-won

      Aight

     Mace Windu         don’t give a fuck

      Kid Fisto              disappeared

      And. .       Luminara(?)

       Went to go get a snack....             ?

        I don’t             know

        Yoda

        Got          Overruled

       Aight,           Okay

  .....

     This episode...

         Makes me feel disgusting              Watching                The middle                 At least

           It’s very clearly                 boomer bait...

           The beginning...

          Focus-ing on the           importance of taking orders           (With no                       sarcasm                                   to my understanding,)

       Progressing,               Into, 

             Dah, de, dah,                          Generation                        ____                    doesn’t               understand                  books!

                  *We might  if they got out of our way, let us do our thing, dis-covered and pract-iced excess, on our volition

                   *if we wanted   to

Honestly   convinced.  I should’ve      given       them          a        strike       right       there 

Out     of  

Malicious

 Won’t   (Out of restraint)

But     a   thought   none-       the-  

 less

Being        a     (toxic)      Boomers     Fantasy        in   which    they,      the     all   powerful      all   knowing       adults     must       help       poor     Ig-      nor        -ant       (Child)-

(I’m sorry   this really       disgusts me)

  -with enough initiative            To praise their Brilliance

         (It’s re-ally   di-sgusting)

           This isn’t            seen as an overreach                   Or con-                Des-cion                      Of                       A                     Gen

And gives no   in-dication it recognizes how creepy what it’s doing is

Apart from the lighting in the council room

  *Which       I’m now convinced is permanently broken

    And continues with the assum-ption of a   life-time                       Over the future

     Breaking; the story pretty thoroughly

     And announcing the       return to      mediocrity...

     (Border       -ing on attempt at          lower        standards)

 (Also they playoff the death of a semi-sentient species      For            Humor?

       He          died        screaming!

[nookishposts]

Managing Messages

It would appear that there is a sea change going on in my brain. Self-reflection seems to be a mid-life given and I believe that has ramped up for many of us during restricted pandemic conditions. Once we tired of bread making and Netflix binges and being unable to wear anything but buffet pants, many of us got contemplative; involuntary monks in retreats that needed dusting.

As a storyteller I listen a lot and try to see the funny in the foibles and fairy-tales of everyday living. We tell ourselves whatever we need to in order to get from place to place,between frustrations and surprises, for better or worse. Case in point : “I will eat this last cookie, in addition to the two I just had, because it would be silly to put the bag back in the cupboard with just one cookie left.” Please tell me it’s not just me....

Rules of comportment have changed a lot in the last year and we have been more often confronted with the quirks of our own company.  We examine the world through a lens of a necessarily more domestic perspective, noticing the dust dinosaurs under the bookshelf from our horizontal couch-lolling, seeing the cobwebs near the ceiling, remembering that we’d promised to freshen the cupboards with a coat of paint, and scrolling, scrolling, scrolling the hours away.

There are things I promised myself last November that I would spend the Winter doing; among them squats my own personal elephant-in-the-living-room; the actual work of assembling/organising some of my writing for publication. I have promised myself this every Autumn for the last 4 years, maybe more. Not following up has absolutely nothing to do with the pandemic and everything to do with the mixed messages in my early brain-wiring that I have managed until now to avoid reconciling. No, I am not blaming my parents for my failures; but I am finally acknowledging that they inadvertently gave me a puzzlement of fears to figure my way through. Analysis paralysis. That particular writing assignment is way overdue. I guess I have to start somewhere. 

My parents, both born pre-Depression grew up in financial poverty, in families that strove to keep them fed and sheltered rather than striving for the sake of striving itself. Neither finished school because it was just not a priority next to taking on some responsibility for keeping the families basic needs of living met. They were taught to keep their heads down and noses-to-the-grindstone, to never think of aspiring beyond their “station” in life or if they did, to keep it to themselves. Which I think they did. I don’t recall either of them ever talking about having dreams for themselves except in the most self-deprecating or pipe-dreaming kind of manner, as if dreams were to be sloughed off, abandoned to the past, along with childhood.

So I grew up the eldest child of two very hard-working people whose attitudes combined in a united defensive front against those they’d been taught to believe were their “betters”; people like academics, doctors, and politicians. People of means, likely inherited. People of power and influence, genetically programmed to screw the little guy. Seriously. 

I was a dreamer from the get-go. I had a hearty imagination fuelled by a belief in magic and a natural disinclination to follow the rules, a deeply curious little kid who had a knack for remembering and a sense of wonder at the world itself. My parents, like most of their generation were more concerned that I be prepared for harsh reality than for questioning the status quo. I too was to work hard, keep my head down, and not entertain any real ambition for fear of life beating it out of me. They both knew how to laugh and were not without creativity, but all of it was directed and drained off in matters of pure practicality. 

Mixed messages have dogged me ever since, though I have long been of an age where I know it is my responsibility to  unravel things for myself. Distilled, the messages that I carry are as follows: from Dad it was “who the hell do you think you are with your book-learning and big words? You think you are better than us? The hell you are!” And from Mum it was: “Well, good for you, but don’t get used to success because it doesn’t ever last.”  Both attitudes came from fear, his from being usurped or found wanting and hers from being afraid of serial disappointment. Translated in my brain, those echoing, looping messages have kept me from believing it is okay to just take a grand leap of faith in myself. Good lord, what if I fail and embarrass us all?! The child in my brain wrestles with the adult who logically knows there are no guarantees either way, but that to do nothing is also futile.

I am a storyteller. My maternal grandparents were too. I read from a very young age and made up my own stories, even inventing a couple of imaginary friends to take along on my adventures. In school, I loved to read and write and went through systematic progressive phases of writing poetry and one-act plays and folk songs and short fiction. As an adult, I have written as therapy, for myself and for others of my generation who can relate to the things we all go through but I am willing to write and often laugh about. Writing is confession, and community, and collective consciousness. For me it’s most often spontaneous, off-the-cuff riffs about flushed car keys and public prat falls. Stories are how I make sense of the World, as well as the world of possibility. I write, I send it out like a flimsy paper airplane and hope it doesn’t crash too soon.

This past Winter I was all set to organise the many musings that I have blurted out on Facebook, in my blog, as a result of writing groups and workshops and the encouragement of kind readers. I wanted to prepare for publication a collection of mostly lighthearted observational spit-takes and rim-shots. But I didn’t do it. Every time I sat down, I would find a distraction to wander towards instead of the focus I needed to cobble my pieces (literal and figurative) together.  I have watched friends publish works over the past two years and been so very proud and thrilled for them, admiring of and inspired by what they have done. Yet, I seem paralyzed in my own attempts.  They tell me this is quite normal, this abject terror of imposter-ing, of discovering that I am just not any good at what I love so much that it is a significant part of my identity and therefore too personal to withstand the possibility of repeated wounds of rejection.

Possibility. It’s a double-edged sword  of a word if ever there was one. We could fall. Or we could fly. The net between the two is full of holes.

I hear the words again; “who do you think you are?” and “don’t get used to it” and they stop me in my tracks, they burst the shiny pink bubble of joy that comes with delicious combinations of sounds and ideas, and I drop to the ground in a heap, feeling simply foolish, embarrassed to be caught dreaming. But I am a big girl, and I know full well that the real joy is in the doing, and the real fear is in the letting go...in sending those bubbles of joyous play and pondering out to fend for themselves in a world where most are shot out of the sky with a sharp stone from the slingshot of publishers simply trying to dig through a constant avalanche of submissions to find their own diamond..a money-maker that will keep the rent paid and the doors open. It’s really  just a different degree of striving isn’t it?

I don’t ever expect to make much money from writing, although between copy-writing and biographies, I do make some. I would like to find the guts to write one really good book made up of many quirky little parts, something that other people could enjoy and relate to. (Yes,I’d settle for a bathroom book.)The very best part for me about telling a story are the stories that other people tell in response..that lovely, luscious, leveller of hearing “me too!” makes me feel like I’ve accurately described our human-ness. It’s that thing connects us all.

I’ve read lots advice from writers I admire...all the bits about getting my ass into a chair and just DOING it, letting a good editor chip the mud away from the motherlode, and suspending self-criticism in deference to those people paid to do it as their part of the journey toward publication. I have researched the publishers who accept the kind of work I think I write (that definition is hard!) and I have several versions of my elevator-pitch all ready to go. I have a ton of material to be shaped, and another ton in my head yet to be written down. What I am currently working on, the linchpin to all the rest, is courage. And perhaps a refresh button on my discipline. I really want to do this in spite of and perhaps to some degree, because of those old worn thin mixed messages. Wish me well.

[slx99]

Hostage Interlude - Run

A small silly one-shot that I wrote after speaking to @maedre13 aaaages ago. Also thanks for the encouragement from my writer-tribe! Also posted here: AO3

Run

Luke dropped to his knees, panting heavily. “I… need a… break,” he heaved out. His legs and arms felt like lead and Luke was certain that he couldn’t block even one more of Vader’s relentless blows with the training lightsaber.

A pair of large black boots and a heavy dura-weave cape appeared in his line of vision, much too close for comfort. Luke squinted up. Vader towered above him, his thumbs hooked into his belt as he regarded his son, prisoner and apprentice from above.

“Pathetic,” he remarked. “Your physical fitness is truly abysmal.”

“It’s not my fault,” Luke gasped in between gulps of air, his temper flaring up at the casual remark. “I’ve been locked up for months, how do you expect me to stay fit like that if I only get out for an hour or two here or there.”

+++

In retrospect, Luke maybe shouldn’t have said that. A sharp knock on his door, a mere hour after his latest training session with Vader had ended, made him look up from the datapad he was studying. Luke switched off the datapad and hid it behind the pillow of the narrow couch he was lounging on. It would raise unnecessary and hard-to-answer questions if he was caught reading training handbook for junior navy officers.

Luke had refused to study it at first on principle, but boredom had gotten the better of Luke. Of course, he left out all the loyalty and propaganda material. Trimmed of all that dripping praise for the Emperor or the appalling lines about non-human species, the remaining topics on tactics, supply chain management and fleet movements were actually quite interesting.

With a frown, Luke checked the chrono. It was way too early for his dinner and after his earlier training session with Vader, his father was unlikely to come to see him again.

Emsee whistled.

It was no food delivery. The doorway was blocked by a huge crate, pushed in by two technicians in grey jumpsuits. They began unpacking the box and assemble what was inside under the watchful gaze of an officer.

“What is that?” Luke demanded, eying the crate and the parts the soldiers.

He didn’t get an answer, but it didn’t take long either and the men left Luke with a fully assembled and functioning treadmill occupying most of the free space of his living area.

+++

“You have not used it,” Vader remarked.

Considering his father rarely went to see him in his quarters as not to raise suspicions why he was paying his hostage too much attention this must be the reason why he had come this time. Luke wouldn’t put it past his father that the whole training monstrum was rigged to feed back his activity, or rather inactivity, on his father’s daily update report.

Luke crossed his arms defensively, glaring at the treadmill and back at Vader. He wouldn’t back down on this. “Is that a joke? Do you think I am a mooka that I just run on it like on a wheel?”

“It is beneficial for your health and will help with your training.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Vader eyed him, disapproval hanging heavily between them,

“Your stamina is abysmal.”

Luke flustered. “And whose fault is that, I used to play nuna ball twice a week, I hadstamina.”

“But now that you are here you have to adapt to it. All troops and personnel on board are required to exercise to offset the detrimental effects of the limited movement-“

“I’m not personnel. I am a prisoner.”

“Regardless, exercising will help with your overall wellbeing.”

“Like that is motivating.”

“Perhaps I can find new ways to motivate you.”

Luke glowered at him. “It’s just a cheap way of keep me locked up in here even longer.”

Vader straightened up, crossing his arms behind his back. “I understand your discontent with this arrangement,” he said. “I propose an incentive.”

“Like what?” Luke asked suspiciously.

“How about a holo movie of your choice.”

“Try again.”

“I can have the admiral procure you more datapads.”

Luke just huffed.

“What is it then that you desire in return?”

“How about you take me planetside. I haven’t had any fresh air since Carida. You just went planetside last week.”

“And how would you know that?” Vader demanded sharply.

“I saw a shuttle leave while we were in orbit above that blue and purple planet.”

“What makes you think I was on board that shuttle?”

“The admiral came and visited me for a whole two hours. He only has that much time when you are away. So what about it, will you take me on your next trip?”

“Perceptive,” Vader conceded. “But I cannot grant you your request.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like I can run away when you are watching me.”

Vader just stared at him, impatience and disapproval hanging between them.

“Fine then how about dessert?”

“You already receive the best rations available.”

Luke snorted. What would he give for having back the fine food they used to have at the palace in Aldera. What the imperial navy considered the best possible standard rations, reserved for their high-ranking officers, was already an unappealing pre-made, de- and later rehydrated tasteless substance.

“Like you can’t procure anything better than that, surely-“

Vader waved him off. “Very well. But only if you run ten miles per day.”

“Ten miles?”

“Yes, for a start, over time you will have to increase-“

“That’s way too much!”

“Then you better get to it if you wish to have your reward.”

+++ Luke had halfheartedly run for a while until he had well and truly lost any interest in whatever desert Vader could come up with. Luke had always found it dull to run and it only got worse when he had to do it on a treadmill three sizes too big for his quarters and staring at a bare grey durasteel wall. The machine still only showed just under two miles performance, despite Luke’s effort.

Luke jumped off the thing.

“This is stupid,” he huffed when Emsee beeped questioningly. “I’m not doing this.”

Emsee rolled forward and nudged against the treadmill.

“Really? You want to try it?”

Luke only got a flurry of sounds as response. He shrugged. “If you want. Not sure you can get ti moving though.” He bent down to put the small mouse droid on the belt. Emsee whirred forward on his small wheels and to Luke’s surprise the machine started counting again. Faster and faster the distance measured rose, two and a half miles, two and three quarter, three miles, as Emsee sped at his absolute top speed. It didn’t take long and the treadmill had logged ten miles. Luke laughed and cheered Emsee on for another while until the little droid needed to power down.

The cheesecake he received as his reward later that evening was surprisingly good even though Luke wasn’t sure if he’d actually want to know how Vader had managed to procure it.

+++

It took only a few days until Vader stood again in Luke’s living area, giving off the air of impatience and anger. Luke looked up from where he was lounging comfortably on his couch. Luke thought he was lucky that Emsee was currently recharging in the corner. He tried to look innocently.

“You are unwise to believe you could fool me this easily,” Vader said, without preamble. “You should have kept the parameters at a believable level. 16 miles within one hour?”

Luke crossed his arms defensively. “Fine, then no more rewards.”

“I am afraid it is not that easy, your Highness. You have received three rewards so far Since I upheld my end of the deal, you now owe me a total of thirty miles.”

Luke stared at Vader incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“Start. You will complete the first right now.” Vader stalked over to the couch that Luke vacated only with great reluctance, his bulk more crashing onto it than sitting down.

Luke clambered on the treadmill with a glare that could melt durasteel.

“Fine, but don’t think I would run a single mile on this thing after I am done.”

“We will see, son,” Vader replied smugly and if anything, that strengthen Luke’s resolve not to take even one step on the blasted treadmill.

+++

From the safe distance of the overlooking balcony, Admiral Piett watched the conflict unfolding in the multipurpose hall 14-2, usually training ground for the Executor’s Stormtrooper compliment, below him. Vader had enlisted the duty of one of the most feared drill sergeants of the 501st, Vader’s dreaded fist. It should have been a simple task for the experienced man to call a sixteen-year-old boy to order and discipline. But it seemed that General Veers had put his money prematurely on his sergeant. A fact that was dawning on the General, watching the drama standing next to Piett with a shaking head.

Organa’s son had yet to do a single lap on the obstacle course put up in the hall specifically for the boy’s training. And by he looks of it this wouldn’t change anytime soon, no matter how much the drill sergeant was yelling at him. Despite his unassuming stature and polite behavior, Prince Luke seemed to possess a level of obstinate pacifism that eclipsed that of his father by a wide margin. The boy mere stood, is arms crossed and chin raised to glare up at the sergeant, a good head taller than him, citing a bunch of paragraphs straight from the Imperial Charta that would make this encounter between a peaceful civilian like him and a member of his Majesty’s armed forces illegal on at least three different levels.

“Guess I better get him out of there,” General Veers announced and shoved a hundred credits Pietts way. Piett was quite certain the General was meaning to save the sergeant before the poor man would suffer a stroke from sheer consternation.

+++

Vader glared down at the sweating commanding officer of the imperial outpost, guilty of letting a flock of rebels escape by sheer incompetence. But still the man couldn’t help but let his gaze dart away from Vader to watch the young prince of Alderaan wandering around in the distance, followed closely by an escort of Stormtroopers.

But no matter how often Vader had mentally nudged, Luke seemed unable to wipe that unseemly smile off his face.

Vader decided that this was a small price to pay for finally having convinced Luke to train to improve his stamina and strength. And his satisfaction had definitely and absolutely nothing to do with feeling the unrestrained happiness of his son to be on a planet again and feel fresh air and sunlight on his skin.

[lvminae]

SwSh Opinions

Actually fuck it I'll make an in depth post on swsh since I'm sick and it is 2:30 am and I can't sleep.

Keep in mind that these are my opinions and I’m not out here to argue with anyone, I just want to share what I think. And there is a lot. Since I wrote this in the middle of the night and edited the next day, I probably forgot some things, but it is long enough as is.

I don’t think I actually went into anything spoiler like.

Things I like

- Characters: I adore the variety in the characters and a lot of them are loveable. Some stick out as ones I don't particularly like, and some are silly, but that variety is good and it isn't so common that it becomes irritating.

And I have reasons to care about characters I initially disliked (like Bede; his development is JUST enough for me to not hate him). Some I still don't care about, and some characters deserve more development, but it isn't bad to the point where I am not happy with it (and I will address this more later).

- Pokemon (Variety): I'll talk about pokemon later on the neutral list, but I do really appreciate just how varied and even wild the pokemon are. Design wise, anyways - I don't know jack about competitive stats and don't care.

- Wild Area: The wild area has the silly mechanic of sudden weather changes depending on the areas, and the pokemon who pop up can be repetitive when you are dex filling. But other than that, I LOVE it. It is huge, and immersive, and I much prefer running around there than on routes.

And the pokemon popping up and approaching? Amazing. Can be annoying sometimes when pokemon you don't care about chase you (looking at Tyrouge and Electrike seriously Leave Me Alone), and hunting water types that hop around is frustrating (but makes sense), but it's still a wonderful addition.

- Exp. Share: I know a lot of people are pissed off it can't be turned off, but as someone who cannot get into old games because of not having it/how long it takes to get it, I appreciate it.

Some people think it makes it too easy, but now that you can box pokemon at p much anytime, you can (mostly) avoid the effect by boxing pokemon. I say mostly cause not all situations work with it, but I don't think it is common enough to say it is bad.

- Improvements of life: To add to my point above, I enjoy things that makes the games easier. I'm not a hardcore gamer. I want to have fun and actually be able to reasonably beat a game. Difficult games aren't bad, but these are for all ages. And it is easier to make things difficult than it is to make them easier if they were made difficult, yknow?

Things like showing the effectiveness of moves is one of those things- which I am glad they kept from SuMo- because I have memory problems. Lots of fans do, or are young, or just can't remember Every Single Type Matchup. I prefer having that than having to google type advantages constantly so I don't get a 1 hit ko on either my pokemon or a pokemon I want to catch.

It isn't quite as hand holdy as SuMo was (love ya rotomdex, but pls give me a break), but it is accessible to a range of players. That is how it feels to me, anyways.

- Side quests: Having little quests that give incentive to explore the region and just give a little spice of life to the region. And they aren't super confusing to do.

- General aesthetic: I love how the region looks. It hits so many aesthetic points for me. It is a pretty game with pretty locations, and the graphics are far better than anything I would have expected for pokemon.

Seriously, I've seen people comparing it to BotW and.... That is not the style Pokemon i or ever has been going for. It's an unfair comparison. Also BotW graphics are :/ in my opinion. Beautiful locations, but I don't like how people look. Pokemon? It looks nice, all fit together well. Feels like POKEMON. Not like other games that people compare it to.

There are some graphics that need fixing, like the berry trees and the whole mess they are when you shake them. But it isn't nearly as bad as people pre release were saying. And the battle locations are fine too. Seriously pre release thoughts were a mess.

- Performance: It runs well. I haven't had issues. Frame rate is fine, very rare drops, graphics work fine. I've only had a crash once, and that's because I was chaining max raids and the vibration was too intense for my machine. I took a break, turned vibration off, and everything was fine.

Note: I know that there have been some issues with glitches and stuff, and those are an issue. I haven't experienced any myself so I can't complain. And I'm not any sort of expert.

- Regional variants: I love regional variants in general. It is just So Good. And there are more than just gen 1 variants in these games! Thank god! Obviously many are still gen 1 but they aren't Exclusively gen 1.

I'll talk about that pandering later.

- Gyms: I love how the gyms works. I love the entry trials. I love the feel of the gyms and the competition, and the cheering and the music!!! It is just a great time!

- Character customization: Not quite as extensive as I was anticipating, but still super expansive and I love it.

Things I am neutral on

- Post game: It isn't that bad, but it isn't super interesting either. And I hate the sword based dude. His hair looks like a dick. Yes this is a genuine complaint. Both his and his brother's designs are... silly, and kinda uncreative, and I don't like it.

But they do pose a challenge, and it gives an interesting look at lore and the concept of people believing their assumed ancestry gives them certain rights and just how far these people will go.

- Pokemon: I think we have a good amount of new pokemon, but overall I am... eh on the designs of some. In my experience, regions have either a good amount of good looking pokemon, or a good amount of bad looking/boring pokemon. Obviously this is purely subjective, but this region has me drawn down the middle. I have pokemon I adore and are new favorites, but also quite a few where I just.... Don't like them at all. I've never been this split on them, so while I appreciate their variety like I noted above, I don't necessarily like all of them (especially the fossils. Their story makes sense, yes, but I can't fucking stand them.)

- Dynamax/Gigantamax: I get it's ties into the story, and I love that tie. And it is the gimmick of this region, which I absolutely am ok with. But in use... yeah, having a large pokemon is fun! But I don't really... Care about it? And I only use it in gym battles where I know the leader is gonna Gigantamax (even though generally I didn't need to), or max raids.

I like it more than Z moves, but it does make me miss Mega Evolution. At least it gives people something fun to design. And some of the gifantamax designs are great (and some are.... Basically dynamax. Pikachu and Eevee especially.) The raid make for good leveling though so I do like that.

- Story: I like pokemon for the stories. I actually don't like the style of the games gameplay wise. Pokemon I can handle and enjoy because it is simple compared to other games in the genre, at least enough so where I can be pretty clueless but still have fun and drive to play/grind somewhat. Bur ultimately for me, I enjoy pokemon for the story and characters.

Story... is lacking in this game. I love what we get! It is super interesting! But it is so much on the back burner compared to other games in order to focus on the gyms that it feels... I dunno. I miss a larger, more involved story. The focus on specific characters like Hop do still give me something to focus on, at least.

But the story could have been improved overall had it not been shoved to the side so much. A different, less involved story could have worked better, or something that involved the league and gym leaders more since the gyms were the focus.

Or find a way to involve the player more! It really comes down to the goal of the game, which was the improvements for competitive play. As a non competitive player, this isn't anything I care about or want. But some do, and with that being the focus, I understand the story being a bit lackluster compared to previous games.

Doesn't mean I have to like it, though :P

- Dexit: I don't... care about dexit. Having to play only with the pokemon from the gen isn't bad, and you can still use some. Yeah, a lot of pokemon I like are missing, but that gave me incentive to use pokemon from this gen. I think people making a huge fit over it also made me just Not Care. I'll miss my old pokemon, but maybe I cam actually complete the dex for this gen.

Things I dislike

- The trading system/y link: The fact you have to have nintendo online for this is awful. It is alienating to all those players who can't afford the subscription. All you should need is an internet connection just like the other games. It's a cash grab and I hate it.

The trading system is also irritating to use in general. I know the gts was not the best, but being able to search was nice. And one on one trading was so much easier. Using these codes is problematic because people you don't know can use the same code and you might not know! It fucks up trades! It sucks. It just sucks.

- Gen 1 pandering: Leon's key pokemon is a Charizard. Charizard got a gigantamax pokemon. Most gigantamax not from Galar are gen 1. Most regional variants are gen 1. I Do Not Fucking Care About Gen 1. Meowth has both an alolan AND galarian form AND gigantamax! It's annoying! Give the other regions some light. Please. I am so, so fucking tired of pandering to gen 1. The pandering makes me hate the gen, not want to go back to it.

- Version exclusive gym leaders: This one doesn't irritate me like the other things, I just think it is dumb. Especially since they didn't change the towns to make sense for the exclusive leaders.

- Cost: I am not made of money and I really do believe it should have been the normal $40. But it is a main series game with a lot and switch games seem to generally run at that $60 mark - main ones anyways - so I'm not surprised. Just disappointed.

[leonawriter]

The Smell of Coffee and Bandages

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairings: Chuuya/Dazai, pre-relationship.

Summary: Chuuya works as a barista at a coffee shop, and sure it's something he's bored doing, but he's good at it. And then some guy in way too many bandages walks in and ruins his day.

Notes: Entirely inspired by me complaining with my friends over how there are coffee shop AUs in every fandom, but so many of these things (as well as most other mundane AUs) leave out the very things that I see as being the most interesting about the characters.

So, this is more like a mix between a 'mundane' AU, and a canon divergence of probably well over a decade ago.

...

Life could be worse, or at least that's what Chuuya thinks to himself as he makes yet another cafe latte. He's lost count, and it's only mid-morning. If he's honest - which, given he has to not drive the customers away, he can't be - he's bored as hell and can't wait to get free of this.

But still, things could be worse than a boring, stepping-stone job he's going to get out of and be only too happy to leave behind him as soon as he can. Although it's best not thought about why, when it's his ability to control gravity that's keeping the coffee shop afloat. 

Quite literally floating, to the discomfort of some who've either never seen an Ability being used before, or never seen his Ability being used before. A few of his old classmates had even given him strange looks, having only seen him floating pens and pencils in plain view before, if he could help it.

So, he busies himself with his work, mind half on the monotony and people watching, half on about a dozen other things he's hoping to be doing, making mental notes of what name goes to who, wondering if any of the people waiting in line had Abilities of their own.

It wasn't like there were that many of them, after all. Just enough that the general public knew they existed. Enough that there'd been laws enacted, to make sure those with Abilities had the same rights as anyone else - like people thinking it'd be just fine to do things just because they weren't like them-

A cup gets passed to him by the new trainee who's manning the tills, as well as the order; it only takes a moment, the actions ones he could do in his sleep by now, and then he's calling out the name written on the cup, and...

He blinks, taken aback just for a moment, because most normal people just don't have that many bandages everywhere. Chuuya can't see much more than the fact that they disappear into the guy's clothes like that, but, all the same. It's kind of concerning.

Bandages Guy - "Dazai", if that's the guy who's waiting for his coffee - smiles, though, as if there's nothing wrong with this picture at all and also as if he doesn't look like he's just escaped from a hospital ward.

Chuuya reaches out, coffee in hand, to pass it over, and that's where everything goes wrong.

...

First, he doesn't really notice anything, other than the fact that his fingers are brushing against Bandages Guy's in just that sort of way that's kind of awkward.

A moment later, and sure, the guy's got his coffee, but by then, Chuuya isn't really paying attention to that.

The sound of a great many things suddenly crashing to the ground as gravity - for a split second, just long enough - took hold once more, was deafening.

For a moment he just stands there, confused, because he's been doing this for so long he knows a simple lapse in concentration won't phase his grip on his Ability, so what-

How-?

...

It's about this time that Bandages Guy - or, as Chuuya is going to start calling him very soon, The Asshole - starts to laugh. It'd probably be a nice laugh, one he'd want to listen to, if it weren't for the fact that right now it's aimed at him, and the entire cafe is filled with the smell of coffee, and he's starting to wonder, and yet it can't be, the world can't be that cruel... can it?

"Oh!" Then again, by the expression on The Asshole's face, maybe it can. "So it was you who was keeping everything up like that! I had no idea!"

Chuuya leans forward, furious with the knowledge of knowing how much he's going to have to clean up, how much is coming out of his salary, and how much time is going to be wasted, and all because, if he's right, because of this person.

"Bullshit," he says, breaking his customer service face just for this one man, who barely even blinks at the anger directed at him, "what was it you just did?"

"Did? All I did was take my coffee," he says, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Bullshit, Chuuya wants to say again, especially because the Asshole is smiling again. "Although, perhaps I would have been more careful had I known that you were the one with the amazing Ability. Or, you could wear gloves!"

Chuuya might not have that level of intuitive smarts of some people he'd heard of, but even he could read between the lines.

"You caused this, didn't you. You-"

"Now, now, you're in front of so many people, you don't want to give your shop a bad name, do you? But since I helped cause this, I'll help you clean up!"

He span around, turning away from the Bandaged Asshole and barks orders in his role as Assistant Manager for his subordinates to get the mops and buckets and cloths out to clean up the complete and utter mess, and only once he's done that, does he turn back around to face the customer-turned-disaster instigator.

"No. No way. You're going to stay at least five feet away from me at all times while I'm working. Understood?"

"Does that not count for when you're not working, then?"

Chuuya opens his mouth, and closes it again.

No, just... no. Don't give in to the temptation to deck a customer in the face. You're a trained martial artist. Asshole or not, he's obviously already beat up enough, even if it obviously hasn't taught him anything.

Aside from which, it'd be counter-productive in the extreme, since then everything Chuuya had started to fix using his Ability would then be ruined again.

And the Asshole, this Dazai, was still just stood there, holding his coffee, smiling, even though like everything and everyone else in the shop now, he was smelling strongly of coffee from everything that had spilled.

...

C. Oda.

.

Dazai walks out of Yokohama Port Coffee with a smile still on his face, and waves sheepishly over at the man who'd arrived earlier, ordered his coffee earlier, and had been waiting, as well as watching everything go down.

"Don't look at me like that," he whined, "it really was an accident. Besides, like I told him, I didn't really know that it was him."

The older man shook his head.

"Really."

They continued walking a little way, and Dazai took a sip of his coffee, making a satisfied expression at the taste of it. It really was good coffee.

"I may have had my suspicions," he admitted. Which was tantamount, with Dazai, to a full confession that the entire scenario had been planned from the start.

"You do realise he's never going to let you back in there again, don't you."

Which would be an actual shame, he thinks, even though he did know before that it was a possibility. Who knew the short barista who needed gravity manipulation just to get at the harder-to-reach tools of his trade and who just did his job oh so nicely most of the time, bit back like that?

So many amazing, fascinating, and overall fun reactions.

"Awww, but Odasaku, we hardly even know each other, he only said he wouldn't let me near him in working hours!"

"Dazai, whatever you're thinking..."

"...Yes?"

"....Be careful, at least? You I can understand, but I don't want to get kicked out of everywhere too just for associating with you."

"Right, right!" There's a pause in conversation and train of thought both while they cross the road. It takes a few paces on the pavement again before Dazai remembers what he was going to say. "I really do want to talk to him again, though. An Ability like that... who knows, maybe in another life we'd have known each other in some other way... ah! Hey, hey, maybe you should add something like that into your book?"

Odasaku sighs, still looking straight ahead, and says, "Maybe."

A maybe like that most likely meant probably not, Dazai, but it wasn't an outright no either, and just like with the Barista from earlier who was cute when he was angry, all small and red and full of temper, Dazai would take what he could get.

Although, maybe he should wait a while to let things settle down before going back.

[stopthefeeling]

I know @justleavemebreathless has an anon going round wondering how to accept Seb, and I know there are people who still haven't yet, and I get it. I've been there, so I'd like to share my story/tips on how I dealt with it, and if it helps anyone then that's great!

So I started by seeing Seb as Lily. Lily is a real life human baby and she's bloomin adorable. I completely stripped away any form of context and just focused on her facial expressions, her lil movements and how much of a cutie she is. So if watching seb scenes on mute and just focusing on lily works, I would definitely try that.

So that took a month or two to work, it didn't necessarily happen overnight. Next I focused on Aaron. His reactions and his relationship to Seb is much like that of the audience. It was difficult at first, but for me the scene in the portakabin where Aaron held seb for the first time properly was a real turning point for me. Sebs reaction to Aaron was... the best thing for me and I found watching the reaction on repeat for... ages, I lost track of time, made me warm a lot to him.

I'm not and I'm never gonna be a fan of Robert's insta love for Seb, so if you're gonna rewatch to help, I wouldn't recommend watching pre crash. I know some people love Robert's relationship with Seb even back then, and that's great! If you're not one of those, that's cool too, put those scenes to the back of your mind.

If it's Rebecca that upsets you, then I'd say these last few weeks are the prime time to get to know Seb and to accept him, there's plenty of content to enjoy, and if they ever talk about Rebecca and that's not your thing, that's cool! Mute it

Generally that's good advice, mute seb scenes and watch the way Danny and Ryan interact with Lily, it can often help to separate the characters from the actors

Some lines are always gonna be a hard pill to swallow, that's alright! A lot of what Aaron says, though, helps for me, he didn't love Seb overnight and if you didn't either, that's alright! Aaron took a while to accept Seb, it took time but he's so happy now, if your feelings are tied into Aaron's happiness then you just need to see him interacting with Seb now, he is happy and even if it might've felt forced for some people at first, it's not anymore, I promise

Look at how much Lily has grown! She's changed so much and it's brilliant to notice little things changing in her every time she appears. If you see her as just a baby then in time, if you learn to love Lily then you can learn to love Seb too! That's what I did, and honestly now I don't even see Lily, I see Seb, and I love him

It's okay to feel down about it all sometimes, once you start to accept Seb you're allowed to have off days where you feel uncomfortable about it all, I've had so many of them, and I still have days where I'm not quite there with Robert's relationship with Seb

If you have Tumblr, blacklist is your best friend. I had all variants of Seb blacklisted until about June??? Maybe July even! If you've not fully accepted him then it's not gonna help having him shoved in your face, so I waited until I did fully love him before I unblacklisted his name. That doesn't mean you can't look at posts you have blacklisted though, if there's a scene you maybe did actually like, look at gifs, look at posts about it, it'll help you normalise him and might just get your further in your levels of acceptance (Also if you don't have Tumblr and you only lurk, might be a good idea to make an account just to use the blacklist, you don't have to post anything)

Try not to spend all your time thinking about him, it's not healthy and forcing yourself to like him is just gonna get yourself lost in your thoughts and possibly distort your feelings even more

The most important thing is to take care of yourself, if it's making you feel worse then quit the situation, come back to it, it's not worth your health deteriorating, nothing is, and if you feel like it's never gonna get better and is affecting you, it's alright to take a break and stop watching altogether

You'll get there eventually, I promise!

[kriatyrr]

The many ways in which Fallout 4 could have been better.

I’ve had so many ideas run across my mind that I have no hope of getting them all in writing, but some of the big ones..

During the opening, when your spouse goes into the cryopod in Vault 111, instead of merely waving to you, they could signal “I love you” in ASL. Your character mirrors the gesture and whispers “I love you too, hon.” Even if sign language never comes up in the game again. Just that little thing could mean so much to some players.

The intimidate perk could be used to resolve some situations peacefully. In Diamond city when that guy pulls a gun on his brother, thinking him a synth, you can pacify him if you have the perk - and nothing happens. The security goons don’t arrest him, they just stand around doing nothing and the encounter does not resolve until you put your gun away or walk away, where it resumes as scripted and security shoots him. 

Not to mention in the Railroad ending... Haylen surrendered to me, and then Tinker Tom comes along and fucking murders her anyway. How awesome would it be if you could talk her into joining you, in order to reduce collateral damage. While you’re planting bombs on the Prydwen, Haylen rounds up the squires (+Emmet) and take them down to the ground and away from the blast radius. Or you could even tell Desdemona that no, we’re not blowing up the Prydwen, there are children on that ship. Your plan sucks and I will not do it until you come up with a better one. At least in the Institute ending they had some time to evacuate - the last thing I saw before being forcibly relayed away was Elder Maxson in power armor, running away.

Everyone has already mentioned actually fixing Danse’s dialogue post-Blind Betrayal. A redemption arc would be nice too. He doesn’t strike me as the type of hypocrite who would accept himself being a synth while still hating every other synth in the game.

You learn Danse’s synth designation, but you can’t do a damn thing about it. You can’t ask the Railroad about what happened (granted, they’d have a lot of personnel changes since 97 originally escaped, but Deacon at least was probably still around back then, or they might have records. Or maybe those were destroyed at the Switchboard)

You can’t ask anyone in the Institute. Not even Liam. Obviously he’s too young to have been involved back then, but he’s pretty good with computers, surely he could dig up information about old synth escapes.

you never actually get to see the intel that Quinlan decrypted. All you get to know is he was on the list of “missing or escaped” which Arthur Maxson can’t tell apart from “infiltrator unit” and they announce his synth designation to the entire division as if there is no risk of actual institute infiltrators who can then contact their superiors to get the recall code. So I get at this point that bringing Danse back isn’t an option, but surely there is no danger in Danse existing after the institute is destroyed. When Maxson tells you that we will never speak of this again, I wanted to tell him that I’ll obey that order until the institute is destroyed, but after the dust settles, we need to talk.

Or how about some delightfully awkward situations where BoS members see you with Danse and you run away instead of killing them. Have Maxson exposed as a liar. Undermine his authority. (They sure gave us a lot of fanfic fuel...)

How about being able to assign settlers to corpse disposal or general clean-up and slowly over time get rid of those trash piles that are everywhere and those infernal skeletons that you can’t even drag around. But no, we had to get a mod for that.

How about after getting rid of the raiders at Nuka World, they actually start wearing normal clothing and take off the damn shock collars and get someone to work in the radio station - it’s still on air, Red Eye just left the studio without turning anything off. I bet they meant for that guy in Cappy’s Cafe to take over and then just never finished it.

Also wouldn’t it be cool if you ran into Red Eye in a random encounter that could go many ways depending on what you say to him. I wanted to say I loved his station and it was the only thing I missed from before I killed everybody. Offer him a ton of caps to come back and work for me again.

If you let the raiders take over Commonwealth settlements before turning on them, they’ll randomly show up and try to kill you - again and again, long after you exterminated them at Nuka World. How do they keep getting new recruits when all their leaders are dead? How does the Brotherhood keep getting new vertibirds when they crash all the time? There are always more raiders. Where was this massive population when I was just thawing out? Encounters should get less frequent to reflect the dwindling population.

There is no sense of scarcity beyond the first few levels. Things respawn at a ridiculous rate. Just the other day I was picking up some scavenge, wandered into a different area, backtracked and went through the same area later the same day and everything had respawned. This is so upsetting to me. I want my efforts to mean something. I am cleaning up the commonwealth, one discarded beer bottle at a time, but all the clutter just keeps coming back! I hate it. I have yet to play a character who is a cannibal because I really can’t imagine needing to do that when the world is just full of food. I plant some crops and tell a settler to tend to them, and when I return a day or two later it’s ready for harvest.

Speaking of harvest, there are no seasons. The daylight hours don’t get longer in summer or shorter in winter, there is no sense of the passage of time, the date is just a string of numbers in your pip-boy with no meaning whatsoever, you get a quest and everything just waits on you, for months or years, Father doesn’t start to question your dedication to the Institute when you STILL haven’t relayed to Mass Fusion six months later, nor will he be a good boy and just die already from his rapidly progressing terminal illness, no he’s going to force you to kill nearly all of your friends before he’ll let you actually take over. Not that you get to do ANYTHING at all as Director. All you get is the institute power armor paint job and the ability to buy synth relay grenades. You don’t get to say “Oh by the way I’m abolishing slavery, have fun doing your own menial work from now on” (I keep thinking I’d be able to do more good for the synths as the leader for the institute than I ever could with the railroad) and why can’t I tell Desdemona to go deeper underground and I can just tell Father they had already left when he sent me there to kill them. Why can’t I tell Elder Maxson to go back to the Capital Wasteland because literally no one in the commonwealth wants him there. We have the Minutemen to defend the settlements and the Railroad to fight the institute and all he’s doing is making things worse.

And let MacCready stop being such a deadbeat dad and bring his son to live with us in the Commonwealth.

I loved the Far Harbor DLC, but it was so disappointing that none of the companions other than Nick had any new voice lines. 

Why can’t I bring my romanced companion to the Memory Den for a date in a simulation of the pre-war era? Danse would love that, I’m sure..

why can’t I pet cats? Why didn’t Bethesda spend a quarter of the effort they did on dog animations on making cats look more realistic. They should be napping on beds and chairs, rubbing up against settlers’ legs and tripping them and interacting with their environment too. Have you seen the animation that passes for a cat’s yawn? The first time I saw it, I thought Ashes was about to throw up a giant hair ball.

If you are caught pickpocketing, that’s it, game over. Diamond City Security doesn’t try to arrest you, it’s shoot to kill. Same in the institute. I’m sorry to say it, but that was something Skyrim did better. 

why can’t you romance non-companions like in Skyrim? I want to marry Arturo Rodriguez and be Nina’s step parent.

Synth relay grenades should not work after blowing up the Institute.

The AI should not fall off things quite so often. I should not go through an entire Research Patrol assignment for the Brotherhood only to have the Scribe I’m escorting fall to their death when I take the vertibird up to the Prydwen.

When an enemy panics and decides to run away, they should keep running and not turn around and go right back to trying to kill me seven seconds later.

my companion should not be quite so bloodthirsty. They should not attack a fleeing enemy, particularly a civilian like the institute scientists.

Every companion shouldn’t have all the same animations. Preston should not inhale Jet if you linger around on the top floor of Drug Den. Curie should not smoke.

The companions should have preferences as to what food they prefer to eat, which chems they take or under which circumstances. I gave Danse a whole bunch of different stuff to see what he’d use, and the first time I got in a fight he had taken med-x and berry mentats (fun fact: your companion takes berry mentats and you see the pink haze). You’d think Yao Guai ribs were his favorite things to eat, but no, it’s just that the AI will favor taking anything with damage reduction. Other companions do the same. Synths will not favor Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. Little things like that would have made the game so much more fun to me.

Damn it there should have been a terminal with journal entries in Danse’s quarters on the Prydwen. Or he should have continued to update his terminal at the Cambridge Police Station. Maybe wash his face once in a while after the Prydwen arrives.

You should be able to give people caps. I hate how caps only flow one way in the game. You can take your settlers’ measly pocket change, but you can’t pay them for working for you. You buy property in Diamond City but you never pay taxes or utilities. (that might help with the sense of passage of time).

You build a peaceful utopia at your settlements, but your settlers never form relationships or start having kids now that it’s finally safe to do so. The world could feel a lot more real. (I mean I love how absurd it is, but absurdity and realism can coexist, I promise)

“Crop’s been growing pretty good lately” - there’s never any crop failure, or natural disasters making food a scarcity. Rad storms don’t affect anyone but you, and people will not seek shelter.

Nick and Ada remind you that they don’t need to eat or sleep or anything, but neither does any other companion. I mean I guess they’re adults who can take care of their own basic needs, but they don’t have any money of their own unless you specifically tell them to pick up caps you find.

You never find out where Danse got that lovely suit of X-01 power armor from.

Hate me for this long post yet? I’m not even done but this’ll do for now. Uh, how do I do a Read More thing again?

[stuffgetswatched]

Star Trek: Beyond

Well next on the list, it’s Star Trek. This film was... it was maybe the best of the new Star Treks, but it wasn’t quite tight enough to make it fantastic on it’s own. More Spoilerific thoughts below.

This film was at it’s best when it was engaging in the relationship they had developed between existent characters. The duets, especially Spock and Bones, they were fucking fantastic and highlighted why we enjoy their chemistry. Bones himself is basically part of the three main characters, simply due to how well Karl Urban has carried the role. Sulu continued to secretly be the most competent person on the ship and the obvious next captain, Chekov (RIP Anton, you were the best) and his sexual exploits in the background, they were all done fantastic. Obviously Scotty had the most to do on his own, but what I found weird was that Uhura was almost underused? She was there but she wasn’t doing anything massive on her own, like she wasn’t distinct aside from being a part of Spocks little arc. That was kinda disappointing.

I honestly wish more of the film had been spent on those relationships? I had huge hopes with the plot seeming to be ‘shore leave interrupted’, but as we came to realise that the station they were sent to was insanely advanced it dawned on me that it was going to go to the well again with the big stakes explosions destruction. Thankfully they didn’t break the Yorktown, but they certainly broke the old Enterprise.

Why do they have a fetish for blowing crap up in these films. Is it necessary? The mutilation of the ship initially was more than enough for me, then I had to sit and watch them just... crash it again.

I mean look at that. The film looked incredible, as they always do, that’s the best warp has ever looked. But I honestly didn’t need it to enjoy the film. It’s nice that they do it, but if they could avoid studio shutdown by cutting the CGI budget down by twenty five million then I’ll be more than happy.

All credit to the production crew and Simon Pegg, it did not feel like a production as dogged with issues as it was. Rogue One is a great example of a similar modern film that was butchered before release with rewrites and reworks, but Beyond came out very comprehensive. Up until about... an hour in it was working and functioning perfectly, I was even praising the writing for being surprisingly top notch. Then... is starts to struggle a little bit. The world was defined as a graveyard world, and they tracked the crew by tracking the only bit of a rare Vulcan metal that should be there, around Uhuras neck (sadly her largest plot contribution aside from getting Kirk on the other side of the door). However the graveyard was old enough that it caught the Kelvin. Surely in those centuries, more federation ships, with pre-destruction Vulcan numbers, would exist? I don’t know, niggles appeared at this point and some of the set pieces started to struggle.

The writing also struggled with the main non crew characters, Krall and Jaylah. Because of the massive focus on the core characters, and the promotion of Bones to equal screen time, these two were sharply curtailed into relatively basic roles. Jaylah started interestingly, but never really came back again in her own - she got a moment to resist the flow of the plot but was easily persuaded to ‘be brave’ which isn’t really how one overcomes deep trauma but okay sure whatever. She had a rivalry, i noticed, with the subcommander of Kralls folks, but that was so sandbagged by time restraints they had to break the battle flow to inform you it existed.

I was shocked that Idris Elba was Krall, mostly because... Krall was so painfully generic. I feel like we’ve done this a hundred times before, and this specific story twice. Villain from the Federations past, a soldier who can’t let a war go, ‘unity makes you weak’, ‘conflict is a part of life so blow up a monument’. It’s kinda painful how often I have seen that plot in relatively one dimensional villains. His subcommander had a line where he was like 'Complete the Mission' and that belonged in a different film that gave the idea that ‘captains do anything for their crew’ more time. It was the only tie in to the attempt to make him make more compelling. Didn’t work.

Neither of those two actors were used to their potential, and Idris Elba was most likely a shocking waste of money that wasn’t needed to be spent. He had nothing to do, nothing to say and no emotion to elicit, speaking in a guttural voice with a heavily covered face. And Paramount wonders why it’s struggling financially!

This film was sometimes annoying to watch because it had a lot of very good ideas, and it came surprisingly close to being truly great. The cheesy but awesome music killing the enemies should not have worked, but it did. The cinematics were beautiful and the camera work was fine. The heart and soul was in, and details when they were used were used well. But for every great touch was a moment of waste, such as the unintentionally hilarious reverse of the Into Darkness shot of the Enterprise crashing into the sea, but now with the Kelvin surfacing out of the pool. It was held back, especially in the second half.

What else to say. ‘Sulu is Gay now’ was the most understated thing, and I mean... yeah sure. It’s fine, I’m not going to complain about more representation. Fuck anyone who argued it was rubbing it in faces, it was exactly the same level as the Guardians of the Galaxy “the nova core guy has an alien wife and kid” and no-one complained about that. It’s actually sad how easy it is for them to play with inter-species relationships in the film more than same sex ones, I’m glad they are doing it, but you know.

I think the weird thing I actually got from Beyond is the realization that a film like this without human protagonists couldn’t exist today. People have a hard enough time watching or making films with female or minority protagonists. Imagine if they got one of the thousand Federation vessels without any humans on board and just followed that. Maybe they could be working on the frontier, not the best vessel, not the worst vessel either, just a Defiant level ship trying to keep a minor sector from erupting into internal conflict on the Federation border. An important job, but not a real threat. A thankless task, letting them focus on the extended crew, all those aliens that no-one cared about in the background of other sci fi films. Not played for laughs, not treated as fodder.

Wouldn’t that be interesting?

[qqueenofhades]

the dragons on the map: v

Rating: M Summary:  After the Lifeboat is nearly destroyed, the Time Team ends up stranded in their strangest and most unfamiliar destination yet: 1195 France. With Rittenhouse to stop, medieval adventures to be had, and a pair of rival kings at war, it’ll truly be a miracle if they ever get home. (Garcy/Lyatt/pre-Garcyatt, Flogan, Rufus Is Judging, general Time Team relationships and bonding. Guest appearances from the Plantagenets, for reasons.) Available: AO3

The training yard is a square of roped-off mud, about twenty feet by twenty, decidedly at odds with what Wyatt was expecting. To be fair, he doesn’t know what he was expecting (motto of the entire trip, and frankly his damn life in general) – the fancy grandstands from A Knight’s Tale, complete with blasting Queen songs? No, probably not. There’s a weathered scarecrow thing with a padded crossbeam, which Flynn says is called a quintain. When Wyatt skeptically asks if they’re supposed to be hitting it, Flynn informs him that he’s welcome to. It’s jousting practice, actually. For twelve-year-olds.

“Jousting?” Wyatt repeats. “That’s the thing where they ride at each other with lances, right? Big tournament, fair maidens? That doesn’t sound that hard.”

Flynn carefully does not look over his shoulder at the fair maiden sitting on the steps of the bailey and watching them both, but Wyatt still senses the way his head wants to turn. Then he says, “Yes, something like that. But they aren’t quite the lavish chivalric spectacle that they turn into in the thirteenth century and on. They’re war games, training for real battle, and you’d be smeared into a pulp if you went against a squire, let alone a knight. They’re also a public attraction – Richard just licensed them to be imported into England for the first time last year, in order to raise revenue. Popular sporting events.”

Wyatt blinks. “So, Sunday Night Jousting, then? Something like that?”

“Yes. They have football too, actually, though not in any way you’d recognize it. The teams are entire villages, the games can go on for days, and there are definitely no rules.” Flynn pulls his sword out of its sheath, tests the edge with a thumb, and licks the small cut. “Right, we can’t train with these. I’d kill you. And that would be very enjoyable, believe me, but right now, it would also be a bigger problem.”

“You’re a riot.” Wyatt does not want to admit it, but he is somewhat relieved that Flynn and bladed weapons are not going to be paired against him. “So what?”

Flynn nods to the rack of blunt-edged practice swords. But as Wyatt starts toward them, Flynn says, “No, not that one. Take a wooden one.”

“Let me guess,” Wyatt snaps. “Because that’s the one for kids?”

“Well, it is.” Flynn’s voice is still level, but there’s a sharp anger underneath. “But maybe if you stopped being an arrogant ass for two seconds, realized that you don’t know this world or how to fight in it, and if we’re going to keep Lucy and Rufus safe, you might want to learn. Now what’s more important to you? That, or your pride?”

Wyatt stops short, cheeks flaming. There’s an awkward silence, he resists looking around to see if Lucy heard that, and then finally, nods once. Bends stiffly and gets out a wooden sword, which is heavier than it looks, tapered and fullered to match the weight and heft of a real one. “Okay, fine,” he says. “Are you going to teach me, or just snark?”

“Do you want to be taught?”

“How the hell do you know how to swordfight?”

“I’ve picked up a few techniques here and there,” Flynn says. “The first war I ever fought in, we barely had any guns. And I’ve been in my share of guerrilla campaigns where the best weapons we had were knives. It’s not quite the same thing, but I can adapt.”

Wyatt pauses. Then he nods again and lifts the sword, as Flynn goes over to get a practice one for himself – made out of metal, but without an edge. The first lesson is how to hold it, which is apparently not self-explanatory. Flynn spends ten minutes critiquing Wyatt’s grip, before he moves on to critiquing Wyatt’s footwork. It would probably be similar to fencing, if Wyatt had ever done that (he’s not a rich prep school twit, obviously he has never done fencing) but the technique is entirely different. Fencing is all about control, about grace and skill and poise, elegantly striking blows in targeted spots, with a lightweight rapier that doesn’t have an edge. Maybe if they were still in the eighteenth century and Wyatt was going to have to pull a sword-cane and duel a cravat-wearing rogue in a back alley, that style might be applicable. Here, however, it’s not. This is (or will be) a heavy broadsword. You are not trying to tap your enemy to score aesthetic points, you are trying to kill him, while also preventing him from killing you. You have to be conscious of where you are leaving yourself open for him to get in over or under your guard, how to deflect his attack and turn it back on him, and what parts of you will or will not be protected while doing this. Some knights fight with a shield, but Flynn thinks they need to get the sword down before they try adding that. Likewise, if this was going to be accurate, Wyatt should be wearing a thirty-pound chainmail hauberk. Try jumping and skipping around in that thing. You’ll be winded (and dead) in five minutes.

It only takes about twenty minutes of this, not having gotten anywhere close to an actual sparring match, for Wyatt to begrudgingly realize that Flynn’s plan for them to start at the bottom was a good one. He’s trained Delta Force, he’s not exactly coming at this from scratch, but it’s an entirely different range and focus and engagement with your enemy when you can’t just point a high-powered automatic rifle at them from however many yards away. Wyatt is also realizing that Flynn was not exaggerating at all when he said that real knights would wax the floor with them. These guys are stronger and tougher and better-trained than 99% of modern men, don’t have any of their coddled comforts, and the sword is only one of the weapons they can use. There are also longbows, crossbows, lances, axes, morningstars (the club with a spiky-ass ball on the end), daggers, and God knows what else. Basically, Wyatt thinks, the rule is simple. Do not fight a knight. You will get fucked up, and die.

He's valiantly reminding himself not to check for Lucy’s reaction every two minutes, especially since it’s probably better if she’s not paying close attention to his humiliation, when there’s a stir at the courtyard entrance, and the next second, Richard blows in like a hurricane. Wyatt’s getting the distinct sense that this guy never just walks anywhere. He always has to enter as dramatically and dominantly as possible (has that in common with Flynn, really) and expects to be the absolute center of attention when he does. Flynn breaks off from their lesson at once and turns to incline his head, so Wyatt does the same, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lucy scramble to her feet. Gotta make sure you look sharp when the big boss strolls into the room, after all.

Richard comes to a halt and eyes them appraisingly, as if he’s pleased that they took his advice to hit the gym. He and Flynn exchange a jocular few words which Wyatt, yet again, can’t understand (this is really getting old – do they have a crash course or whatever? Because he’d take it). Then Richard raises an eyebrow at them in an expectant fashion, nods at Wyatt’s wooden sword, and asks Flynn something else. Flynn answers with a succinct few words that, Wyatt has no doubt, are casting all kinds of shade on his sword-related abilities, then turns to him and switches back to English. “He wants to know if we’ll give him a demonstration. Wants to see how we do.”

“What, so you have the chance to beat me up in front of Richard?” Wyatt is at least under no illusions about how that would go. “Look, man, you’re right. I suck at this, okay? You don’t need to keep rubbing it in.”

“King’s orders.” Flynn looks at him goadingly. “And the one thing Richard hates the most, on any side and any stripe, is cowards.”

Wyatt grits his teeth and swears inventively. Mostly under his breath, but he does as ordered. Backs up ten paces from Flynn, as Lucy gets to her feet and takes a few steps closer. It’s not clear whether she thinks she has a shot at stopping this, or she’s preparing to administer emergency medical intervention once it goes horribly wrong. At least without edges on the swords, they can’t do each other too much damage, but being whacked at full force over the head with a heavy blunt object is never exactly therapy. Lucy does her cute little awkward curtsy to Richard, who nods back regally, but it’s clear where his attention lies. Flynn raises his sword into a loose guard, and Wyatt does the same. They eye each other up and down. Then, on Richard’s command, they charge.

The only thought Wyatt has time for is that it is, in fact, really a good thing he’s not doing this while riding a horse, wearing a shit-ton of armor, and trying to control a ten-foot-long stick with a piece of very sharp iron on the end, and he will definitely apologize to any jouster he meets for dissing them. The next second, there’s no time for thinking at all. It becomes clear at once that yes, Flynn was setting it on beginner level for him (and Wyatt doesn’t honestly think that he should have acquired years and years of hard-won competence in one brief lesson, but still). Flynn himself isn’t a world-level expert, maybe, but that doesn’t matter. In fact, Wyatt realizes after about two excruciating minutes that Flynn is still pulling his punches, just a bit. Maybe to make this take longer, since he can’t keep hitting Wyatt at his leisure if it’s all over in an instant, or maybe (much as Wyatt disbelieves the possibility) not to completely destroy him in front of Richard. Flynn has even tilted his head once or twice, or hissed at him through his teeth, as if to hint to him where to hit or how to move. Wyatt sometimes gets these clues, and sometimes doesn’t. Mostly the latter.

The end result is that after about five minutes, Wyatt pretty sure he will have more bruises than skin tomorrow, and well aware that Flynn allowed him to get in the counterattacks that he did, he is smartly disarmed by Flynn and his sword goes flying. Oh God, and Lucy’s standing right there, because this just needed to get worse. Wyatt raises his hands. “Yield,” he growls. “That’s what you say, right?”

“Yes.” Flynn looks extremely smug. Of course he fucking does. Then he turns to Richard, who has been watching with an extremely critical air, and remarks something in a tone that does not need much translation, though Flynn provides it anyway. “He says that I’m bad and you’re terrible, and he really hopes we didn’t come here intending to be soldiers.”

That rocks Wyatt, given that he and Flynn are soldiers, and by the standards of their own time, pretty damn good ones. He wipes the sweat off his brow and realizes that an audience of about a dozen castle retainers and servants and so on have trickled in while the fight was going on; the king rarely goes anywhere by himself, after all. Great, more witnesses. He finds himself actually hoping that Flynn told Richard that he was in fact a manservant, so his general ineptitude can be forgiven. You know what, screw swords. If it’s necessary, he’ll just throw it away and punch someone in the face. (This plan will backfire if they have a sword, which they undoubtedly will, but Wyatt’s frustrated. Sue him.)

Wyatt wipes a trickle of blood from his nose and glances around, realizing that Rufus isn’t among the onlookers. That’s not entirely weird, since he said he was going off for a nap, but given as it’s the longest time they’ve been apart since landing, and there’s still the strong possibility of a Rittenhouse assassin lurking around a corner to do in Eleanor, it makes Wyatt nervous. He’s about to suggest that he go off to look for Rufus when Richard says something that makes everyone’s heads swivel around. Flynn, for the first time, looks unnerved, and Wyatt abruptly changes his mind. Rufus is probably fine. If Flynn is going to get pantsed, he wants to stick around and see it.

Whatever Richard has said, it also makes Lucy look a little worried, and she opens her mouth as if to say something, before clearly remembering that this is not a situation where she will have any influence whatsoever. Wyatt glances at her, struggling to repress the usual prickle in his stomach that she seems more anxious about Flynn possibly being hurt than about him. “What did he say?”

“He wants to spar Flynn himself,” Lucy supplies, after a pause. “With real swords.”

Oh-ho. This just got interesting. Wyatt supposes it’s too much to hope that Richard will flay Flynn to a pulp, though he knows that they can’t actually let that happen, and Richard probably won’t do it anyway. (If nothing else, because it shuts off the possibility of anything else later.) “Is he allowed to do that?”

“He’s the king,” Lucy says wryly. “He can do whatever he wants. And he was – is – known for his bravery, it’s how he got his nickname, and a total disregard of danger. He always fought in the front lines in all his wars and he loves getting his hands dirty, he’s not some modern royal who waves from a balcony and cuts ribbons.”

Wyatt knows a little of this. He read a book on the crusades while he was in Afghanistan, because there was not a lot else to do in the desert and because a lot of people kept saying the post-9/11 War on Terror looked like a modern one, and he wanted to know if that was true. He still isn’t sure, though he remembers the parts about Richard kicking a lot of ass. The siege of Acre, the battles of Arsuf and Jaffa, the siege of – Wyatt can’t remember the name, but it started with D – and a few others. This guy can take on half a dozen fully trained knights at the same time, he’s legendary for a reason. Oh please, oh please, oh please make Flynn fight him. Even he is going to have his hands full and then some.

There is a brief move among the retainers as if someone should probably discourage Richard from doing this, but it’s clearly part of his daily schedule anyway, and nobody wants to take on that thankless task. Richard shucks his cloak, rolls up his sleeves, and ties his thick red-gold hair back, then steps into the ring with a quick, agile motion. He’s just as tall as Flynn, and in an age before protein shakes, there is still a lot of lean muscle. Wyatt finds himself looking a little too long, in fact, and glances over at Flynn instead. He looks intimidated, if only briefly. Better you than me, pal.

Flynn changes out his practice sword for the real one he wore from Paris, and Richard draws his own. Wyatt thinks that if by some mad fluke, Flynn is the one to hurt and/or kill Richard and that’s the reason history gets fucked up, Rittenhouse is really going to have a nice long evil chuckle later. Even he can’t do that. Right?

The combatants pace backward, as before. Lucy makes a brief, nervous sound in her throat and clutches at Wyatt’s arm, and he refrains from voicing his desire that Flynn comes out of this with an equal number of injuries – it’s only fair, after all. Still, any substantial medical care is going to be a bitch in the twelfth goddamn century, and Wyatt doesn’t want him dead. (Well, that’s still up for debate, but anyway. Certainly not before they get home. And besides, nobody gets to kill Flynn apart from him. It’s a very confusing relationship.)

Richard nods at Flynn, who nods back. With that, and no further preliminary, the fight starts.

Contrary to Flynn and Wyatt charging each other like a pair of maddened warthogs, neither Flynn nor Richard moves to close the gap immediately. They circle instead, deliberate and consideringly. Flynn, who is not an idiot, is not about to race headlong at Richard the goddamn Lionheart, though Wyatt still kind of wishes he would. Both of them feint briefly, as if trying to draw the other into an attack, but neither of them falls for it. They step closer, and then closer, as the crowd seems to be holding its breath. Annoyingly, Wyatt is too.

There is a final instant, and then Richard spots an opening. He goes for it almost too fast to see, as Flynn is forced to duck rather than try to block it, and this puts him off his footing for Richard’s next attack, which whistles through the air sharply enough to make even Wyatt wince. Flynn manages to get off half a parry, as the swords tangle and screech with a flash of sparks, and Lucy’s grip tightens on Wyatt’s arm. Under other circumstances, this might be more enjoyable, but his attention is too fixated on the fight. He can’t help it. It’s… a lot.

Flynn twists his head out of the way of another series of surgically precise blows, finally gets his feet under him enough to try a proper counterattack, and Richard flicks it off like a man swatting a fly. He is holding his sword easily in one hand, while Flynn is using two, and after a pause, as if to make it more sporting, Richard shrugs and switches it to his left hand. Flynn backs up and considers him, breathing hard, a small nick in one eyebrow that is bleeding down his face. Wyatt feels an absurd urge to do the wave, which he suppresses. He’s also pretty sure you’re not supposed to cheer for anyone except the king in this situation, but he finds himself raising his voice anyway. “Hey, come on, Flynn. Come on, Flynn!”

Lucy gives him a surprised sidelong look, though she seems too nervous to actually say anything out loud. There’s a few-second interlude as Flynn catches his breath, which seems as graciously allowed to him by Richard as his hints were to Wyatt. It’s clear that the possibility of hurting Richard and pissing him off is also on his mind, though Wyatt’s realizing that the only way Flynn could kill him is if Richard dropped his sword, stood dead still, and let him do it (which seems, to say the least, unlikely). It’s almost vindicating to realize that even Flynn has met a historical figure he simply cannot brush out of the way, as he has done on noted occasions before, and that indeed, said historical figure is whupping his ass. Wyatt knows that Flynn is a machine. Someone this much better than him is scary.

After a final moment, Flynn apparently decides to hell with it, and closes in for an all-out barrage. Now they are really going at it, Richard’s sword flicking and flashing and scraping up and down and side to side as none of Flynn’s blows even get near him, though it looks like it’s taking slightly more of an effort than before. They end up briefly almost nose to nose, then Richard does something very fast, Flynn’s arm gets twisted behind him, and his sword goes flying. The next instant, the tip of Richard’s is at his throat, Flynn is on his back in the mud and breathing like he’s been chased by a train, and raises his hands. “Je cède.”

Richard pauses, then grins. Sheathes his sword, offers Flynn a hand up, and the two of them slap each other’s shoulders and pound each other’s backs in the time-honored tradition of men everywhere. Watching it, and having the distinct impression that Flynn has just earned Richard’s respect, sends another strange twist through Wyatt’s chest. God, this… happens all the time, doesn’t it? All the time. Reflexive as being sick. He doesn’t even like Flynn, but he also doesn’t like it that Flynn seems to be getting so chummy with Richard. And for Richard dismissing Wyatt in one word as “terrible” and not paying him a single bit of attention since… it’s not that he wants Richard to notice him, at least maybe not in the same way he’s clearly noticed Flynn, and yet…

Wyatt swallows, not even sure what’s lodged in his stomach, other than it feels cold and heavy and he is only now wondering how long it’s been there. Is it the scrawny kid who grew up in a West Texas double-wide where everything was always broken, they were so poor that they ate off reused paper plates, and whenever he went to school, he was consumed by jealousy for the kids with their fancy clothes and backpacks and parents who picked them up in gleaming SUVs? Hell, those kids weren’t even rich; there wasn’t exactly Dallas oil-baron money where he grew up, though there were plenty of the stiffs who worked the pumpjacks. But everyone was rich to that angry, dirty kid who got C’s in class, hid his bruises from the teachers, and went to Bible study for three years before they cottoned on that he was only there for the free food and none of the Jesus stuff had stuck. Wyatt spent his entire childhood being madly, soul-deep, burningly jealous of the whole world, and maybe the habit has stuck far deeper than he ever realized. Anything that anyone else has, he wants it, no matter how many problems it’s caused him as an adult. It’s how he lost Jessica the first time, and arguably the second time as well. It’s how he’s fucked things up with Lucy. And now, it just hits automatically because of course it does, and he can’t tell if it’s aimed at Flynn or Richard or both of them, and…

Wyatt turns away, staring up at the castle walls, which have gone dark as the sun has vanished behind them. It’s close to sunset, it will be dinner soon, with whatever they’re supposed to do at identifying and catching the Rittenhouse bastards. God, how the fuck has a white-trash gearhead poor boy from West Texas ended up in this job? Standing in medieval France before the great-great-great-great-granddaddy of America is even invented, let alone most of the modern world, with his time-traveling companions, trying to wrap his head around him being more jealous of either his nemesis or Richard the Lionheart. God, this is too much. It was supposed to go away when he drove his dad’s car into the lake and rose up from the water, the closest to a baptism he was ever going to get. It was supposed to go away.

“Wyatt?” They might be estranged, but Lucy has still sensed his distress. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Wyatt harrumphs, clears his throat, and forces a smile. “Oh yeah. Fine. I gotta say, that was pretty good. Watching Flynn get his tail whipped for a change.”

It was, at that, though it feels more artificial than he might have expected, and she glances at him for a moment longer, with some concern. Then she glances back at Flynn, who is still breathing hard, but grinning, as he talks to Richard. Richard claps him on the shoulder again, then goes over and climbs out of the ring, putting back on his cloak and striding out of the yard. The coterie hurries after him, and the bells from the church just down the way start striking the evening hour – which, Wyatt remembers, is Vespers. Supper will be soon.

He turns around to see that Lucy has gone over to Flynn and is checking if he’s been any more hurt than a few gashes and bruises. Wyatt’s first impulse is to make some sort of passive-aggressive comment to her later about how she didn’t do that for him, but then, she did just ask if he was all right, and he deflected. Jesus. Maybe try something different, for goddamn once? So he awkwardly crab-walks over and clears his throat. “I think you took it way easier on me than he did on you. That was pretty hardcore.”

Flynn’s mouth twists up wryly, as if understanding that that is close as Wyatt can presently come to a compliment, and they nod at each other again. Then Flynn says, “No, he definitely took it easy. If he was actually trying to kill me, I’ve have been dead twenty minutes ago.”

“So, moral of the story, don’t give him any real reason to kill us.” Wyatt wonders how well that would concord with Richard finding out that they’ve been sent by his mortal enemy to spy on them, and decides that the answer would be: hella not. Great. “He seemed to think you didn’t completely suck, though? Right?”

“He said I fought well,” Flynn acknowledges. It’s a small but genuine smile that pulls at his mouth this time, and it does further unwelcome things to Wyatt’s insides. “Anyway, we need to get changed for supper. Where’s Rufus? We should probably find him.”

“I’ll go look for him.” For once, Wyatt doesn’t feel the need to hang around to spy on Lucy and Flynn, and would welcome some time to gather his thoughts. “Go and see what – whatever we’re staying. Do we actually know that yet?”

“I don’t think so.” Lucy glances at Flynn. “Come on.”

With that, they head off, and Wyatt goes in the opposite direction, where they last spotted Rufus. Part of him wonders if it was really a great idea to let Rufus wander off by himself, and his anxiety is humming in his chest as he speeds up (well, so much as one can speed up) the tower staircase. Reaches the top, starts out, and –

It’s really an unfortunate thing for Wyatt that he just got beaten once, and hence is already in less than tip-top shape, as he catches a whirling shadow out of the corner of his eye. The next instant his head is cracked hard against stone, he sees stars, and flails out to punch wildly, thinking that he really was not counting on having this makeshift theory of self-defense tested so soon. At least his opponent does not seem to have a sword, not that that’s really a fucking comfort, and as his spinning vision resolves to see a long, thin dagger at his throat (did Flynn call that a poniard?), the person holding it is absolutely no comfort at all. She is grinning in a satisfied manner, red wisps of hair escaping from her braids. “You know,” she says. “I guess some things just never change no matter the century, huh? Like you getting your butt kicked by absolutely everyone.”

“You.” Wyatt grits his teeth. “Great.”

“Me.” Emma sits a little more solidly on top of him, green skirts flooded on the floor, as she twists the poniard leisurely into the hollow of his throat. “Had a nice view for your Braveheart session earlier. Very. . . stirring.”

“Where’s Rufus, you bitch?”

“Oh, look. Nobody’s ever called me that before. Really original.” Emma grins, canines sharp and white. “As for Rufus, I don’t know. You tell me.”

Wyatt considers the odds of knocking her off without getting stabbed in the neck, which at the moment, look bad. Besides, it sounds as if she hasn’t actually seen Rufus yet, and therefore is trying to get him to cough it up. Maybe Rufus saw her, but was hopefully smart enough to immediately hide, or at least stay out of the way until she was gone. Trying to keep her talking, Wyatt says, “So is that your big plan, then? Turn up here and what – convince Richard to marry you? Get knocked up, hope it’s a boy, then kill him?”

Emma makes a scathing noise in her throat. “God. Me? Are you crazy? Do you think there was ever the tiniest chance that I was going to settle down as some submissive, wimple-wearing, embroidering little medieval dormouse to pop out royal babies? Like I got through Caltech for that. Besides, aren’t you the one who should be more concerned about that? Jessica misses you, by the way. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.”

That catches Wyatt more solidly between the eyes than any of either Flynn or Emma’s blows. He tries to summon up something snarky, but it gets lost. “Oh?” he says at last, as coolly as possible, which is not very. “Does she?”

“Yeah. Couple months along now, she’s getting a little poochy. And probably broody too.” Emma shrugs. “Like I said. Misses you.”

“Look.” Wyatt hates hearing the pleading note in his voice, but he can’t help it. “You did whatever you did to Jess, and – fine, just – just don’t hurt her and my kid, all right?  Please.”

“Why would we have to hurt her? As long as she’s a loyal member of Rittenhouse, she doesn’t have anything to fear.” Emma is clearly enjoying this, stringing him out, taunting and testing him. “In fact, you’re the one who’s hurting your presumable unborn child more, trying to stop what we’re planning. Then again, Wyatt, really. When do you ever make the right call? Jessica’s useful, sure. And like I said, she thinks I don’t know that I’m on to her. But if she steps too far out of line, well. . .”

“Please. Jesus, please!” Even as he begs, Wyatt knows that it’s not going to do any good, that Emma can and will kill Jess and the baby too if she poses too much of a threat. Maybe they can keep her delayed in the past somehow, but as long as she has control of the Mothership, she could still transmit the order. “You bastards brought her back as some version of herself that always remembered being one of you, and then you’d just kill her?”

“You got her killed last time. Remember?” Emma raises both gingery eyebrows. “Or is that something else you’ve selectively forgotten?”

Wyatt doesn’t know what to say. He clearly cannot in good conscience endanger his own child, especially when he’s just been thinking about his own upbringing, how his father failed on every level. Nor can he agree to endanger Lucy, Flynn, Rufus (again), and all of history, either, especially when it’s already been a clear struggle to build back what he’s blown. There’s another queasy pause as they stare at each other. Then Emma says, “I’ll make it really simple for you. You don’t tell your friends that I’m here for, oh, another twenty-four hours. Or, if someone has tragically already spilled the beans, you divert or deflect or whatever else. One more day. Easy, huh? Then Jess and Wyatt Junior are safe. You know, I really hope it doesn’t take after you. That would just be depressing.”

“One day, huh?” Wyatt tries to sound offhand. “So you can get your evil ducks in a row?”

Emma shrugs. “The idea is that you don’t interfere for that time, yes. Your call. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to change.”

With that, she slides off him, gets to her feet, twirls the poniard away, and strolls down the corridor and out of sight. Wyatt lies there for several more stunned moments, before gathering the wherewithal to pick himself up and stumble in the other direction. It’s dark enough now that torches and lanterns are starting to be lit across the castle, and he emerges into the courtyard, into the cool spring evening, and follows the crowd across into the hall. It’s loud with talk and laughter, though it doesn’t look like the meal has started yet, and he spots Lucy, Flynn, and – thank God – Rufus seated at the high table. If there is royal favor to be had, it appears they’re in it, and Wyatt squirms through the crush to the empty chair at their side. “Hey,” he says weakly. “Rufus, looks like you’re fine after all, huh?”

“Yeah, though that was in doubt for a little while there,” Rufus says. “I gotta tell you, I just told Lucy and Flynn. Emma’s here, I saw her in a corridor earlier. Obviously, I hid from her like a sane person until she was gone, but – ”

“Are you. . .” God, Wyatt hates doing this. “Are you sure it was her?”

Rufus gives him an odd look. “I’m pretty sure I recognize the woman who shot me, yes.”

Wyatt grimaces. Lucy and Flynn are also staring at him as if wondering if he’s all right, and he really, he really needs to try to not totally blow this. Finally he says, “Fine. Yes. I just saw her too. That’s why I’m late to the party. She jumped me back there.”

“So you just tried to get in some bonus gaslighting?” Rufus shakes his head. “Man, you know we’re mostly friends again, but what the hell?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. She. . .” They’re gonna take this really well, by which Wyatt means they’re not. “She threatened to kill Jess and my kid if we didn’t let her have free rein for twenty-four hours, all right?”

There’s a communal grimace and wince visible on the other three, which all things considered, is fair. “Great,” Rufus says. “Another award-winning episode of Wyatt Screws Us Over, now available on – what’s even more prehistoric than VHS? Betamax?”

“It’s my kid, all right? I know none of you trust Jess, and yes, I know I messed it up, but – what was I supposed to do, just agree to it?”

“No,” Flynn says, which is an unexpected choice of ally. Then again, he is obviously sensitive to the idea of Rittenhouse murdering people’s children. “And I’m surprised you told us, though I don’t think you would have if Rufus hadn’t first.”

Wyatt winces. Cruel, but again, fair. “I know we can’t let Emma just do whatever for a day without trying to stop her, but – guys, can we just. . . think about this?”

“Sure,” Flynn says. “We find her tonight and kill her. Problem solved.”

It’s on the tip of Wyatt’s tongue to say that there’s no guarantee this will keep Jess safe too, but he knows he can’t push it. Just then, there’s a stir and a fanfare, and everyone clatters to their feet, pulling off caps and hoods, as the hall doors swing open and Richard and Eleanor enter, arm in arm. They’ve both changed for dinner into matching green velvet that sets off the fire in their hair, tall and stately and beautiful, and the torchlight catches on the gems and gilt. They clearly enjoy looking good for the masses, and process up to the dais, where two servants, tabards emblazoned with the twin lions, pull back their chairs for them. They graciously sit, and Richard waves a hand, beckoning everyone else to do the same. There’s a clatter and a scrape as they do, and Richard says grace in Latin. After the murmured “Amen,” hands move to cross themselves, and servants enter with the food.

Despite Wyatt’s brief panic that this was going to be some big fancy feast, it’s not actually that formal, and after the day they have had, they’re starving. It’s definitely the best they’ve eaten thus far, as is only fitting at the king’s table. There are small roast birds in rich creamy sauce, seasoned with exotic (and extremely expensive) spices like saffron and pepper. Shellfish soup, venison boiled in almond milk, mutton and onions baked into flaky pastry shells, meat and mince pies, and more. There’s also some kind of tender white-meat fish in butter and garlic that looks very appetizing, until Flynn informs them that it is lamprey, aka a kind of small blood-sucking eel. Big delicacy. No one’s sure they feel up to trying that (Rufus snatches back his knife in a hurry). But there’s a lot to sample instead, it’s all very tasty, and there’s also plenty to drink. The servants are keen to keep filling their goblets, and have to be firmly discouraged. They need to keep clear heads.

Flynn gets distracted in talking to Richard, and Lucy is gazing adoringly down the table at Eleanor. Wyatt and Rufus sit side by side rather awkwardly, until Rufus mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “Mind not trying to make me look like a liar and/or an idiot again?”

“I’m sorry.” Wyatt stares down at his plate. “Emma just – caught me off guard.”

“Yeah. She’s good at doing that. You can’t still keep trying to play both sides, remember? Jessica chose Rittenhouse, not you. She’s not going to care if we die, and let me remind you that some of us already did, so. . .” Rufus hesitates. “Maybe we don’t have any responsibility to care whether she does. I know it’s complicated since she’s pregnant and all that. But if we still can’t trust you to pull your weight, or actively go against us – that’s going to be a problem. I’m not gonna pussyfoot around.”

“I know.” Wyatt blows out a bleak breath. “I’m going to be there for you, for all of you. I want to do better. I swear.”

“That’s nice,” Rufus says. “I mean it. I really hope you will be. But you know that I’m with Lucy and Flynn on this. There’s gonna have to be more than just talk.”

Wyatt looks at him, trying to think what else to say, when he’s distracted by a movement at one of the nearby tables. One of the noblemen, moving as if to scratch his nose, then dropping his hand out of sight. There’s something about that which seems off. Or rather, Wyatt knows exactly what it reminds him of, but it’s not something that you’re supposed to see here, not when they’ve spent the afternoon with the weapons of choice, not when –

“HEY!” Wyatt jumps to his feet, rocking the trestle table and startling everyone. He whirls toward Eleanor, who looks (understandably) startled. “MA’AM, DUCK!”

Obviously, she doesn’t understand him, she’s staring at him like he’s lost his mind, and Wyatt’s pretty sure that tackling the queen is going to get him beheaded pronto. But he doesn’t have time to waste, and he doesn’t know what the bleeding blue hell Rittenhouse is playing at, trying to assassinate her with a modern weapon in full sight of everyone. Not to mention her legendarily talented-at-kicking-ass son, who will tear the killer literally limb from limb the instant he gets his hands on him. This seems wrong, this seems very wrong, but they still can’t take that chance. Otherwise –

Wyatt launches himself at Eleanor –

– just as, all the more shockingly given that pistols won’t be invented for oh, another five hundred years, the shot goes off.