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thecurioustale · 2 months ago

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I Went into the Caves

I reread nostalgebraist's The Northern Caves (TNC) this weekend for purely selfish reasons, and wanted to share a few thoughts...

I originally read this book when the final installment was published, late in October of 2015. For me, this happened to be during the single sharpest downward gradient of my entire life: I'd just finished up the so-called Year of 32, my most creatively productive period ever, but my life circumstances had changed drastically for the worse, with health and financial and family problems (and more) all at once, and I had found myself thrust into a new chapter of life that I call the (Joshalonian) Troubles. To go from one of the best years of my life to one of the worst was not a fun thing.

I had read TNC while still early in the "fall"; in fact things would go on to get much worse for me from there. But the seed had been planted for this story to be very important to me personally.

For those who aren't familiar, TNC is about a fan forum for the fictional Chesscourt series, by children's fantasy author Leonard Salby. Some members of this forum get the chance to explore Salby's unpublished final work, which, unlike the quaint children's fantasy novels of the Chesscourt series, is a cryptic, 3,000+ page tome of gibberish and horror and surrealism. The monstrous nature of the book gets into the minds of these forum members, and they end up in a drug-fueled, days-long manic state, reading the book together out loud at the house of one of the forum members.

For me, this monstrous book, which also has the title "The Northern Caves," was the draw of Rob's TNC. Even though we only get to see a few fragmentary excerpts of it, I was completely riveted by the premise and by the excerpts. The story of Rob's TNC, about the forum members engaging with this work, wasn't what drew me in. Yet when I was rereading it this weekend, I also read some of the AO3 comments on the chapters, and I found that most people had been almost completely absorbed in that aspect of the story, and didn't seem to be trying to directly comprehend Salby's TNC at all. It just goes to show that different people will get different things out of the same source material.

One of the things I most deeply crave in life is to encounter and experience "the other world," i.e. the mystical, the beyond. This has always been a pursuit of my storytelling, and is indeed how my mind has been structured for my entire life. Even when I was very young, I would map this desire onto things like vacation road trips, where we would drive away from home and into some other, wonderful place, by way of passing through many other, wonderful places, liminal places, to arrive at our destination.

Well, those final months of 2015 and the first several months of 2016 went very badly for me, till in March of 2016 I finally escaped the situation that was the single biggest source of my stress. But harm had been done to me, damage of a kind I had never before sustained. What followed was the mortal demise of the old Josh: Once I was in a safe place again, albeit with many other troubles still among me and ahead of me (not least that I was homeless at the time, and relying on the hospitality of friends), I first felt a great fatigue, which preoccupied me for several days. Then, a few weeks later, I had one of the most interesting experiences of my life: I think the term that would most quickly get the point across is "psychotic episode," even though I wouldn't use that term myself, as I was fully in control of my behavior and speech. But a funny thing happened to me when I would sit down to write, in that sunny office of the home where family friends were hosting me, during a week when they were out of town for Passover and I had the whole place to myself:

I composed a series of short pieces loosely telling a bizarre story. This is where the seed planted in my mind by TNC months earlier finally bore fruit, for my style was very much inspired, directly, by the Salbian style in TNC.

My story consisted of material like this (this is one, continuous excerpt; there are no cuts here):

May I ask you a persona lqoeutns? How do you know ll 26 nbubers? If where more than 26 numbers how would we have mathemathicsmomg? A don’t nw’ ijow gonigo to the bakery o ngo minutes on et imo elovne fnow tmrweio ncoirrect toemperautre.

HUSH NOW MY DARLING THE NUMBER NINE IS

static

Gracious are the houses of the DORAL> Plentiful are the tables he spreads for his esteeme dugest. Even though the splendors of his bounty are bested only by the GREAT SLN.

FLESDGLFGING MY WINGSO THIDID NOW THOGING THNOW NOW EW E FALL FROM THE NEST OTO BA F TAKE FLIGHT AFOR THE FIRSRTR TIMRO BUT THE WUNDERCARRIAGE OF OYUR WINGS IS TNDER AND YOUNG AND WE CANOT GUARATNEE EGHEROGUNA AND THE FLIGHT IS ROUGH EVEN WITHOUT THE TRUBULENCES WTHAT WE KNOW ARE ALL AROGUND US THOU IT LOOKS EASY BY THE ECAMPEL OF THE EPXIERENCED GENERATION YET WE STRUGGLE AIND FLUTTER AND WE ARE TRIRED WHEN WE LAND.

good grief gentle gosling now for the dinner table you are

if we don’t know what the air is ssupposed to be?

IU WANT AND EXPLANTION FROM THE CAOSMOR.

Understandably the selkie preferred to eavesdrop:

“Pray what is the abstractification of fulfillment?”

“Let us go ask Father Christmas.”

And thus a great transversal of geography ensued.

“Father Christmas what is the abstatication of fulfillment?”

“Do not take that tone with me child.”

��Then what of my many toys?”

“They have been destroyed.”

“How is this a reply?”

“It is none other but a reply.”

“So be it Father Christmas I now know the antithesis of what I ask and thus I know what I ask.”

“Yes you do stripling. Now go on to Mount Sghar where F shall await you. and though in fact it be only the month of April may your Christmases ahead be equally merry.”

“It shall be so and merry do.”

What I wrote in that strange week wasn't principally a mimicry or emulation of Salby's writing, although Salby's writing was clearly the inspiration and certain conventions and devices used by Salby were appropriated into my own work at a low layer—such as the deliberate spelling mistakes, a character ("F") known only by a single letter, the direct reuse of certain words that were still in my mind months later such as "vouchsafe," and so forth.

But the work was all original. I didn't copy any of it, either directly or in the manner of rewriting phrases and passages that Rob had written. I wrote all of it myself, and rather effortlessly at that. I did not labor over every last spelling and misspelling; it all just "came to me."

What I would say, then, is that Salby's TNC was "the right inspiration at the right time." It was what my brain seized on to express the inexpressible. What I was actually going through was nothing less than the mortal demise of the Old Josh. My entire life as I had known it, and my sense of self, had perished, and I had escaped just enough of my ongoing emergency to have a few weeks of rest, and that was when I "grieved" or "coped" or whatever word you want to use. Really it wasn't grieving or coping; it was a spasm. A spasm of the psyche, poured into words.

Something that I have struggled with my entire life, although I only developed the language to talk about it very gradually over many years, is the fact that I find it exceedingly difficult to say what I really mean. If you know my writing (fiction and nonfiction) you know that it tends to be overbuilt: formal, in-depth, pretentious, and quite verbose. This is, in great part, a result of me trying to say what I really mean. Pithy, aphoristic speech doesn't usually serve my needs, and although I am at least moderately capable of writing it I don't tend to reach for it often. It's much more typical of me to try to pack as much meaning as possible into my words, resulting in quite a lot of words and rather a slow pace.

But with this week of essays I abandoned all of that, by saying what I really meant without regard to its comprehensibility to the reader. Everything I wrote that week, including the excerpt I shared up above, has a meaning. I can look at it right now and still see the meaning nine years later. It is perfectly clear to me; it makes as much sense to me as a typical piece of writing from me.

The only difference with it is that I'm quite sure it makes very little sense to you. It isn't readable. For that one week, I abandoned the effort to be understood—another lifelong struggle of mine—for the sake of saying what I really mean.

While the individual excerpts are fascinating by themselves (I think), they combine to become something considerably more interesting. Taken as a whole, the story I told isn't a particularly coherent one at a face-value narrative level: Very loosely (and with much oversimplification on my part here), the action of the narrative is about carefully following "indicators" to traverse "atmospheric geometries" and arrive at a place called "Mount Sghar." However, it does this by way of many detours, such as:

A1: CLASIFEDS

WANTED: EVIL LOGICIAN

aAre you prepared fro a fast-apaced career in the exciting world of LGOI>?e Yet you don’t wish to sopend oyour life giving lectures to students who don’t want to be there and engaguing in intraepartmental fueds with other lecturuers.? You think there’s no other way don’t you fiend . findout there’s another way o redound into the WORLD OF WORK!

PUll up your jodhpurs and your justaucorps until rthe sentiment overtakes you that LOGIC shall deliver your remittances frmor the cEntral Authority.

Live in the lap of luctury with swimming pools and bars and wet bars and gymnasia and sitting rooms and drawing rooms and solaria and convenientiously spacious closets with thpower of EVIL LOCI> But don’t fret supplicant! Your candidacy is not ineligible soimply because you have no logica ofl your wn. All you need is THE ONE OAMEWETH. then the appointment shall be yours without ado.

must have own railroad, biogenic weapons program, a trifle really

That's a classified ad. It doesn't literally figure into the story before or after its appearance. It is a standalone statement if you will, a single "sentence" embedded in a larger paragraph. But because so much of the writing for this story comes in incongruous and disjointed forms like this, it isn't really possible to extract a coherent plot per se, nor is there a protagonist or even a point-of-view character most of the time. Those roles are filled by me, personally. It's like a first-person POV story without the first-person POV.

As for what the story is actually about, it's a mixture of two things: The first, though I didn't consciously realize it at the time, is that, like I said, I was dying. It was the end of the old me. But that doesn't actually say anything about the contents of the story. For that, and the true answer to the question of what this story is about, is that this is a story about trying to be understood. Ironic, huh? 😂

I wanted to say what I really mean so that I could be understood. This was what I was expressing, during this death-of-self, because I had never truly achieved it, and I was bitter and frustrated, and I was leaving this world without closure or resolution on those matters.

To "not be understood" is one of the fundamental conditions of aloneness. We are each apart; we cannot truly share our perspectives in full. We can never be understood in totality. And that fact hits a lot harder for someone like me who never had unconditionally loving and emotionally present parents or a ludicrously loyal and always-on-call gaggle of "best" friends as a kid.

In full disclosure, this story is saying a lot more that I can't see myself getting into here, because to explain it in communicable terms would, after all, be a rather tall ask; that's why I wrote it so incomprehensibly in the first place.

Rob's TNC gives us Salby's TNC as something that is deliberately meant to be inscrutable but with profound insights just-on-the-cusp of becoming realized, as a way of engaging the mind of the reader, giving it something to chew on. The story I wrote isn't "deliberately inscrutable"; it's not a toy for readers. It has a clear message—to me perfectly clear in every detail; I'm sure I could account for you nearly every single turn of phrase in the entire thing, even nine years later—but it necessarily isn't clear to you. That's kind of the point. It is a demonstration of my struggle to be understood.

This is the last thing I wrote in my journal before those stories began:

I am so frickin tired of playing by the rules: having to communicate coherently, having to crack my eggs from the right damn end, having to live like a bolt of lightning in a suit and tie and cubicle. It’s not dignified and it’s not true.

That statement about the comprehensible stuff being both not dignified and not true really rings for me even today. The incomprehensible stuff was more honest, in a way, and carried more majesty in its word count.

That one week was a very special time in my life. I have never been able to write like this before or since that one week. I've tried for much of my life; see for instance the words of Sourros in The Great Galavar, from 2014 before any of this happened.

The Troubles would continue for another two years, and in March of 2017, eleven months after I had my crazy storytelling week in California, I wrote the first major contribution to what would become the Galaxy Federal Inaugural Novel, which in many ways is the direct continuation of my work in this incomprehensible story. I've even found ways to incorporate some of this bizarre text!

Rob's story gave me an "other world" I could sink my teeth into. I find Salby's disturbing philosophy of Mundum very interesting, and am able to comprehend it (I think) without actually subscribing to it. But Salby's unhinged writing in particular is a lasting wellspring, and it shows how "built different" I am that so few other fans of TNC focus on this aspect of it. Like, I just don't really care all that much about the adventures of the Chesscourt forum members as they get together and pop pills. They were merely vehicles for me to get more glimpses of Salby's TNC. Rob's work in creating the coherent-yet-inscrutable ravings of Leonard Salby is extraordinary, but, ultimately, unless I have missed Rob's meaning (which would also be ironic, lol), there is no deeper purpose to it than that. My inscrutable ravings, on the other hand, are "real." They actually contain important messages that I personally endorse.

There is something so compelling about text which is perfectly meaningful but nearly incomprehensible to anyone but the author. What happened to me that week was just an altered state of mind. But of course it felt at the time, and ever after, "magical." Such is the sentimentalism of the human mind.

I don't struggle to be understood any more. I accept that I won't be. And in some ways the Galaxy Federal Inaugural Novel is me describing how I feel about that. But! While its ultimate messages may remain forever hidden, unlike the gibberish above at least you'll be able to read it.

#The Northern Caves #Galaxy Federal #The Great Galavar #The Curious Tale #Leonard Salby

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dragonrider9905 · 1 year ago

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Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him.

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart.

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing.

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same.

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands.

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could.

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for?

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart?

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.”

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering.

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage.

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.)

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them.

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok.

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could.

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little.

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.”

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved.

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out.

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better.

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh.

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit.

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that.

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door.

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you.

Kriff. He had to fix this.

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship.

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before.

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken.

He was lost.

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it.

A lost love.

And it was his fault.

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible.

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on.

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep.

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty.

He saw it. And he caused it.

And he hated himself for it.

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t.

Turns out he was wrong.

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that.

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt.

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold.

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality.

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else.

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be.

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her.

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice.

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed.

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack.

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy.

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated.

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands.

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face.

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for.

It was ‘that’ look.

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone.

You squeezed his hand.

“We’ll find her. I promise.”

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long.

He squeezed your hands.

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore.

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself.

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering.

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free.

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him.

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again.

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before.

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead.

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him.

Taking a look around, you carefully considered.

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.”

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker.

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back.

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?”

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.”

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.”

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?”

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you.

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go.

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two.

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun.

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had.

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed.

Your voice.

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training.

“Meshla, no!”

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror.

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you.

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you.

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter.

Your painful cry.

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart.

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge.

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.”

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…”

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body.

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled.

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly.

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?”

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep.

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run.

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.”

Hunter came in running.

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him.

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls.

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open.

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you.

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space.

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand.

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat.

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up.

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating.

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing.

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat.

Oh well, you could only push forward.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help.

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding.

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago?

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry.

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing.

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face.

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak.

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened.

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing?

You had an infection.

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly?

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you.

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you.

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water.

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle.

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter.

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes.

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least.

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt.

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late.

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response.

“Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope.

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him.

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk.

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand.

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her.

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed.

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area.

You blinked your eyes open with a smile.

“Hey Handsome.”

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss.

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?”

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him.

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled.

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.”

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help.

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words.

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.”

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon.

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you.

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level.

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets.

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern.

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way.

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm.

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out.

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most.

This one, he couldn’t do.

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could.

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you.

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow.

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes.

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself.

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips.

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air.

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain.

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard.

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there.

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.”

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again.

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—”

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier.

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace.

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened.

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler.

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest.

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24

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yoroshiu · 17 days ago

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Sora: "That Dull, Ordinary Boy"

3 AM thoughts led me down to thinking about the ongoing and consistent mention of Sora being an ordinary person. In the couple of years I've been invested in KH, I think I've seen every possible opinion on this and have developed my own thoughts on it.

For me, Sora is ordinary. From a perspective of typical narrative roles characters can be, he's a supporting character turned protagonist. But the way the series goes about this aspect of him is fascinating and I haven't really seen it done in other media, at least not in this very specific way.

If you're interested in this post then know it'll be another long one, thank you in advance ^o^

(WARNING: This might be the most incoherent essay I've written yet since I'm not sure if I'm getting my thoughts across clearly. I'm just saying the obvious ngl...)

As said, Sora's a support character turned protagonist, which is something that can be agreed on by most of the community.

Within the Destiny Trio, he's the most normal one. Riku was the original chosen one, a figure that had Keyblade wielders like Terra notice his strong light and was actively chosen to go through the Bequeathing ceremony. He's also the one with the ambition and determination to leave Destiny Islands and as a young Sora mentions, Riku apparently says all sorts of weird stuff (difficult things in JPN). By KH1, he's the boy that's not like the other kids *hair flip* with the way he's able to beat the others on his own while they try to team up on him. Overall, as he goes through his arc, we see how main character he is. The way he devotes himself to protecting those he holds dear. The way he struggles with his darkness (his trauma). The protagonist energy Riku radiates is immense and he'd fit right in with Final Fantasy's lineup.

Kairi is a Princess of Heart. She came from another world, has a mysterious past that hasn't been dealt with fully, powers that are exclusive to her Princess of Heart attribute. Though a supporting character, her background alone scream special. She was led (fated in a way) to end up on Destiny Islands where a strong light was so she could be kept safe (Aqua's little spell + Terra-Nort's work). She's on an arc to become stronger and more confident in herself.

Then there's Sora. He's an outgoing and friendly boy-next-door. He's like a typical shounen anime protagonist on the most basic level but also has that comedic supportive side character energy to him. It's interesting how he notably doesn't have Riku's fascination with leaving their world and exploring. He's going along with it since Riku is (he was always following after Riku's step), and while he is curious, it's more from a childish wonder rather than the profound obsession Riku has. One of the earliest things we see of Sora's character is with the way he shirks his duties in helping build the raft. You can even see parts of it with the way he's indecisive about where to go and what to do in KH3.

(Funny trivia, Sora and Riku's JPN voice actor, Miyu Irino and Mamoru Miyano respectively, said that if the Destiny Trio were able to go on an adventure together, Riku would be the one making the decisions while Sora would just go along with him (KH3 Ultimania Interview))

If you look at the traits that make Sora the "Child of Destiny", they aren't exclusive to him (I also have a note on the whole way the Book of Prophesy works in the KH universe later). And if you look at the events that happen to him, more often than not, they're in tandem with the "special ones". Him saving Ventus back as a newborn heart is arguably not an exclusive ability. We see it in different ways and forms throughout the series, though not done with the to fix another's heart (Xehanort and Hoder, Eraqus and Terra), it's just that Sora's circumstances are a really weird exception. It's not an average Tuesday for someone's heart shattering and needing to connect with another to heal. I'd imagine that other characters have the capability of doing so.

What I'm trying to get at is that, Sora's not special by means of some exclusive ability. It's beacause of who he is, and more, who he chooses to be.

Now that isn't some big revelation. I'm pretty sure many people of are that opinion so it's like, "duh, you're writing this to say something that obvious?" and no, not entirely LOL

Sora has the Empathy but that's something that's shared with Xehanort and Baldr (and look at where that got them). Sora got the ability to wield a keyblade because it passed from Riku to Sora in a "going down the list" way, but Sora, by his strength of character (which also isn't exclusive by any means), proved himself worthy. Sora came back from becoming a heartless because of Kairi. Roxas is a special Nobody because of the manipulations of the Organization and Ventus being there (dual-wielding becomes a skill because of Ventus). He managed to escape being overtaken by Darkness because of his friends, especially Riku.

(I'll probably make a post about this later but funny of KH to present a narrative of "empathy" being a trait that brings the downfall of multiple characters. And funny that Sora also has this trait.)

The "exceptions" (in the case of KH's universe's laws) that he's involved with are due to his connections or his personality being in the "right place at the right time".

And that's where the interesting part comes in.

Sora, despite becoming the protagonist, has those shadows of "not being The One" follow him throughout the series. He's the easier one to control between him and Riku. He's the one that's the second or even third one down the list (The idea that Organization XIII needs Sora, but the power he's managed to acquire through scuffed means). Despite arguably being one of the most worthy of being a Keyblade wielder with the way he proved himself, Sora (doesn't seem to think of himself that way.

And if you take his conversation with Xigbar at the beginning of KH3 (especially in the Japanese context, you can see my translation post for that scene), he's considered to be one of those "ordinary people" compared to someone like Hercules who is a "special existence".

Sora is not "special" enough to escape from breaking nature taboos without consequence. He had to go through a timed and tedious process to do this. He can't get away with "saving everyone" and "getting a pure happy ending for himself" when he bends and breaks the universe's rules. The universe will simply erase him.

And the consequence of having those connections, the thing that he says is his power, is that they will suffer from losing him and trying to get him back. Xigbar argues that ordinary people, aka Sora, cannot self-sacrifice without cost. Those "special" connections can maybe get him out of it, but what does that really mean in the end. I think KH4 and onward will explore that.

On the topic of the Book of Prophecies, I always see points being made about Sora and how he's affected by it in a narrative role sense. I've seen people make arguments about Sora's specialness with this. But when you think about the circumstances in which it was written, MoM wrote the book while picking and choosing the events that would help him. His whole thing is about manipulating events and people to work in his favor for his greater good. I think it was his intent for future wielders (Scala ad Caelum especially) to grap those words tightly and push his plans along. Whether they tried to defy or go along with it, it would work in MoM's favor in the end. From what we know as of now, prophecies in this case aren't some "divine intervention" it's a guy actively writing things to get what he wants.

I must say that I'm aware of the wider span of the meaning of a "protagonist". There's no single way an archetype for a protagonist is written. I wrote this post with the typical heroic protagonist from a fairytale in mind. There's a lot of different interpretations of his moments and interactions (Like, why was he the one having those weird dreams in KH1's beginning). Sora was placed in very specific circumstances and just so happened to have the right heart and mentality to make the most of it. I mean, if he didn't, we wouldn't have much of a story to follow with him otherwise.

It's the way that Sora always has to work with what he has to press forward, not knowing everything, and oftentimes not getting happy endings devoid of some kind of tragedy or angst in the background (sometimes not even in the background). Not that stories are limited to "oh, the real protagonist gets a perfect happy ending" but in terms of the most typical standard fairytale story (which stands out more with the Disney connection).

It's the way that Sora being an ordinary boy is emphasized despite arguments otherwise. Nomura and other characters in the story itself insist that he is despite the special things he's done, and I think that's a fascinating part of KH's identity.

Sora's story is one of a normal boy being put in extreme circumstances. Not really by his own choice, but he moves forward out of the love he has for other people. However, while resilient, he isn't impervious and often bends and sometimes breaks. He is Kingdom Hearts's main character but he became one at a cost. There's an irony of sorts with having your actual protagonist be treated as a side character-turned-protagonist by the narrative. I find this interesting because we're actively exploring trauma this way.

Sora is special as people, as individuals, are inherently special.

Considering that he was made for players to be able to put themselves in his big ol' shoes, we are special because we are who we are. No superpowers, no connections to anyone "higher up", no book to dictate destiny.

Being the protagonist in our own lives is, obviously, no fairytale, but we can still do amazing things just by being ourselves.

Kinda cheesy, but I think that's neat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making Kingdom Hearts Stuff Until KH4 Comes Out (Day 65)

"Yoro, you just said the most obvious things, haven't people already talked about this before?!"

I know...I just have a lot of thoughts about having characters be impacted by narrative roles in quite a literal way ToT

He is, but isn't, but is the protagonist is a fun thing to explore. Actual protagonist but treated as if he wasn't meant to be one but he is one in his own story, type beat. Some of us tend to think of life as a story, and it's interesting hear people talk about "roles". No one's ever truly set in a narrative role, and that's also one of KH's notable themes. People breaking away from what they're told, expected, to be.

I'm sorry if none of this essay made sense or was connected well enough TvT

That's enough yapping from me LOL

#kingdom hearts #kh #kh sora #analysis #making kingdom hearts stuff until kh4 comes out #yoroshiu rambles #yoroshiu analyzes

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neptunes-sol-angel · 1 year ago

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Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll down for its corresponding message for insight on what's next for you in love.

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Pile One ♡

I strongly feel that most people in this pile would be considered as someone who is inexperienced in love, maybe you guys are bookworms, maladaptive daydreamers, and writers yourselves when it comes to visualizing your future, different settings for how the world could be, and breathing life into the people that you haven’t gotten the chance or time to get to know yet. What’s next for you in love, is practice. You’re upgrading from being Bambi by becoming the Great Prince of the Forest by taking risks before you are able to know and find what is right for you. Some of you may believe in holding yourself tightly before you meet “the one” but the message is that you are being unfair to yourself by putting your life on hold to revolve it around someone who is also learning too, but isn’t waiting like you are doing. This doesn’t mean to be reckless or to feel coerced into going along with people you don’t have a good feeling about just for the sake of finally being in a relationship. This stage is about exploration and enjoying yourself before you meet your life partner. If you resonate with being a bookworm, you could be the type to read romantic fictional stories on a platform like wattpad, and while it serves its purpose which is to make you feel good, it could create an irregular perception of love for you, like subconsciously romanticizing traits that are toxic or wouldn’t be something that you would actually like if you were to actually experience it. For some, it could be re-evaluating your attraction to individuals, like when you crush on someone, you could find that they really look good, but do you yearn for more from them? Your path in love could be redirecting you to pay attention to how a person makes you feel than what you get from them on a surface level of interaction.

Pile Two ♡

There was someone in your life that you once felt like you couldn’t live without or took something from you that seemed irretrievable, but you’re being blessed in a way that’s shutting all of those lies down. You’re getting you back, in whichever way that it applies. This could be your motivation to take care of yourself, to do things that made you feel happy and at peace before this dwindle ending happened, like going to the gym, arts & craft, writing, solo trips or going out with friends, and even something simple as such as looking good for yourself, but it’s not limited to what was mentioned. This could even look like getting closer to who your deity or deities and spiritual maintenance. The best way that I can describe this, is that this phase in love is like this big circle of energy, stuff that was taken or borrowed from you, that’s being marinated before it is returned because it isn’t just aspects from the past, it’s also the time for creation. This whole entire time, your rain of tears that were collected from this heartbreak were observed yet not ignored, but transmuted into this empire that you’re building off of the corpses of failures that you’ve experienced with not just people but life circumstances, maybe when that break up happened it just seemed that more tragedies kept following you after that and it drove you into insanity like when does this pain ever end? Although you can’t forget about it, you’re learning how to soften from these things that stung you in the past, so that you can keep moving and consolidate your wishes. For some, this is personal, and an era that you’d like to be selfish with in order to see what else you can create, like developing a strong daily routine, starting that business, or maybe even working on yourself so that you can heal others, while the other side of this collective will open their hearts again to a new love which can be romance, friendship, or even adoption that is just as equally healing.

Pile Three ♡

The next thing in love for you is learning how to stop trying to win. I’m picking up multiple scenarios for this but the premise is that people in this pile are in love situations where there is no winner, and if there is, let the other person be the one to have it so that you can walk away and stop blocking yourself from better to come in. Some of you are in a long battle with a person by competing with them on who has the upperhand in the situationship, this involves the runner and chaser dynamic constantly reversing and both of you keeping tabs on each other when you’re supposed to be in no contact. The second scenario is sticking beside someone who has a wandering eye but trying relentlessly to get this person to choose you the way that you choose them. The third scenario is in general, trying to prove yourself in order to gain love from others by manipulating yourself and even them to win their affection. There is this storm brewing, you can even call this a tower moment, that could happen to finally get you to see the many ways that you are downplaying yourself with people who have stayed in your space and energy for far too long. You’re going to surrender from these situations to know what it means to pick yourself up and see how beautiful and worthy you are to the extent where you’ll be baffled by how much you’ve been settling for people who don’t deserve you. This phase will come with new connections, but what makes it different is realizing your authority in this by realizing how possible and freeing it is to choose people that choose you. Once you realize that you’re the prize in this game, let the winner take pride in being the fumbler, and be proud of yourself for not being the one to fumble you.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot community #love reading #love readings #valentines day

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deepdreamnights · 1 year ago

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Hey, you know how I said there was nothing ethical about Adobe's approach to AI? Well whaddya know?

Adobe wants your team lead to contact their customer service to not have your private documents scraped!

This isn't the first of Adobe's always-online subscription-based products (which should not have been allowed in the first place) to have sneaky little scraping permissions auto-set to on and hidden away, but this is the first one (I'm aware of) where you have to contact customer service to turn it off for a whole team.

Now, I'm on record for saying I see scraping as fair use, and it is. But there's an aspect of that that is very essential to it being fair use: The material must be A) public facing and B) fixed published work.

All public facing published work is subject to transformative work and academic study, the use of mechanical apparatus to improve/accelerate that process does not change that principle. Its the difference between looking through someone's public instagram posts and reading through their drafts folder and DMs.

But that's not the kind of work that Adobe's interested in. See, they already have access to that work just like everyone else. But the in-progress work that Creative Cloud gives them access to, and the private work that's never published that's stored there isn't in LIAON. They want that advantage.

And that's valuable data. For an example: having a ton of snapshots of images in the process of being completed would be very handy for making an AI that takes incomplete work/sketches and 'finishes' it. That's on top of just being general dataset grist.

But that work is, definitionally, not published. There's no avenue to a fair use argument for scraping it, so they have to ask. And because they know it will be an unpopular ask, they make it a quiet op-out.

This was sinister enough when it was Photoshop, but PDF is mainly used for official documents and forms. That's tax documents, medical records, college applications, insurance documents, business records, legal documents. And because this is a server-side scrape, even if you opt-out, you have no guarantee that anyone you're sending those documents to has done so.

So, in case you weren't keeping score, corps like Adobe, Disney, Universal, Nintendo, etc all have the resources to make generative AI systems entirely with work they 'own' or can otherwise claim rights to, and no copyright argument can stop them because they own the copyrights.

They just don't want you to have access to it as a small creator to compete with them, and if they can expand copyright to cover styles and destroy fanworks they will. Here's a pic Adobe trying to do just that:

If you want to know more about fair use and why it applies in this circumstance, I recommend the Electronic Frontier Foundation over the Copyright Alliance.

#AI discourse #long post #copyright #copyleft #fair use #AI art #adobe #PDF

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valjeancrazylover2 · 3 months ago

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Javert's Inspirations

So, neither option won that poll, so I'm making this post first. This is probably going to be me ranting more about Javerts I like than actually talking about my own Javert.

The characterisations of other characters have been taken from either one primary source, musical actor, or my own personal take. For example, Cosette is mainly inspired by the 1982 film, but has some influence from musical actresses such as Beatrice Penny-Touré.

Exeptions to this is the versions of the characters post-barricade, as from there is where my story mainly diverges, as most Javert & Valjean Live AUs do. Most of that is my own interpretation, since they are no longer in "normal" circumstances.

As such, Javert has been very fun to work on, because there have been many different characterisations that I find VERY entertaining. They all seem to lean into one aspect of his character more than the others, which makes him... strangely versatile, for such a rigid character?

So... what does this mean for my favourite baldie?

Let's start with the guy who started it all, and my blog icon: Todd Alan Johnson. There will be several musical Javerts listed here, but nobody was doing it like TAJavert. I blame him in part for getting me into Les Mis, as I had been a fan of TAJ for a while, when I stumbled across him in 2021 in Little Shop of Horrors as Orin Scrivello (my favourite character - can you tell I like villains). After being introduced to Les Mis through the work experience I was doing in Feb 2024, i revisited TAJ, finding out he had in fact played Javert - first in the third national US tour, and a few other times in smaller productions.

Thats when I found the pictures from Surflight's 2013 production.

And thus Chauvert was cemented in the brain. simply couldnt have it any other way. he just HAD to be bald. Because of this, and at the time I began designing him I didn't know anybody else who played Javert (this would later be changed when I saw stewart clarke live, but nothing really changed after that except for the javert bug eye truth to be solidified)

I really wish there was more footage of this production past these photos, because I NEED more of his bald head as Javert. And look at those sideburns! They're all-natural! Plus, i thought his face was a good fit in general for Javert. It's less obvious with his sideburns, but he's got that big jaw, talks with his bottom teeth showing, intense eyebrows, big buggy eyes when he wants them to be.

Pic from him as Sweeney Todd. My Javert's face is just a heavily cariacaturised version of his.

Additionally, I'm sure you're all familiar with jadenvargen/melancholyarchivist's art. I was a fan before, so finding out there was les mis art too was huge. My Javert was always a bit on the larger side, but that one drawing with Javert and Valjean labelled something like "tremendously large man" and "bigger even huger man" or whatever, cant find the piece right now. anyway that definitely confirmed for me that they were BOTH gonna be built and fat, rather than the lanky javert that I see most people draw.

So, that was the foundation.

From here I'm not really sure in what order inspirations came, but next was probably Anthony Perkins in LM1978, because you just dont get more diva that that. We all know how much of a drama queen Javert is, and in fact Perkins was so good at this that the first thing I did after watching this film was go downstairs and ask my mother if Perkins was gay (to which she replied "Oh, absolutely flaming")

My inspiration for Javert usually comes from small, inconsequential little actions or demeanour that catch my eye... Perkins had plenty, as well as a ring on his finger, which I always forget to draw, but my Javert is supposed to have.

Here's a select few bits I like of his, that have directly influenced my Javert. There's probably more, but I can't remember off the top of my head.

1) the walk. 2) the way he hold's the cane??

3) this whole scene, but specifically the there is no monsieur in this room! there is only a scoundrel! line. 4) the way he reacts to finding out valjean is still alive. VERY similar to how it goes down in my canon, just in a different setting/scenario.

outside of 1978, there havent really been any non-musical adaptation Javerts that have particularly stood out to me. I havent watched 1998 but he doesnt look like he'd be like my Javert, and 1982 despite being my favourite adaptation ... did not have the most memorable Javert.

Even in the radio dramas, which i love to death, don't really have much influence over my Javert, since I already have a very clear idea in my head of his speech, and most inspiration comes from visuals. the CBS radio drama probably comes the closest to the way he speaks, though. (his voiceclaims are either roger allam, todd alan johnson, or some random french guy with a really deep voice who came up on my instagram feed once. yes, I'm serious, my javert sounds like that.)

My javert is not exactly expressive, or outwardly "sassy", per se? I think he's more subtly camp, perhaps with the way he stands sometimes. Don't worry, he's still the absolute drama queen he is in the brick, with "would you like my hat?" and all, but he delivers it in a much more flat way. that's why I don't exactly look at the way perkins delivers "monsieur, monsieur le inspector now!" for my javert. yes, he'd say that, but with a little less visible sass, if that makes sense.

Pre-seine, he's expressive in his own way. whenever he loses control a little he's prone to getting visibly angry; distressed (see: losing valjean when chasing him through paris); when you can see him setting his jaw with a visible vein in his head, short-tempered and curt; or that sort of sinister glee with his "bark" of a laugh or patronising sneer. But other than that... you've gotta hear it in his voice. Sorry to all the cuntvert fans out there, my Javert tries to keep it professional when he can, but he's still trying to out-diva everyone at any given opportunity!

So we return to musical Javerts, then.

I've seen a few, so it's hard to gauge who's had an actual effect and who hasn't. There are a few I do know for a fact I have taken little bits from:

Terrence Mann is familiar to everyone I'm sure. sass-central, which contradicts the above paragraph, but he does it in a wonderfully weird and kind of menacing way which i LOVE. My javert leans more into that menacing side of things. He's always JUST in the shadows, just so that you might not notice him, but if you were wary of authority, you'd see him lurking. his stature, you might think would make him a bit lumbering, but he's shockingly agile and snakelike. Think of a tiger. (oh yeah, shere khan from the jungle book is another inspiration i guess, but I won't include him here - we know.) Terrence Mann is delightfully snide and insane and I love it.

Gifs of small bits of his performance I like.

And his soliloquy? oof.. believably absolutely losing his mind.

The Javert who has probably influenced mine the most is Hartwig Rudolz, from the german Duisburg production in the 90s. He's commanding, he's dignified and haughty, he's even got the sinister chipperness about him from time to time (he's chummy with Madeleine in the cart scene, even laughing and smiling with him. While not really my Javert, it's worth a mention. Also does a condescending chuckle when Thenardier asks to be let go before Stars.)

More gifs of bits I like!

Bonus gif, cus that wig is loooong!

Three more would be Nic Greenshields, Jordan Simon Pollard and Michael Ball. They are all great Javerts (which might be a hot take, I'm not sure if ballvert is popular but I've been a fan of his for 5 years so maybe i'm biased.) I can't say TOO much on Nic and Michael acting-wise, because Michael Ball has only been in the arena tours, and the footage ive seen of Nic Greenshields is not the GREATEST quality - but they all have an air of haughty dignity about them, which obviously i try to give my Javert.

Jordan I've had the pleasure of seeing in person, twice, as well as meeting the guy. He's been the understudy for a while. He takes quite an expressive approach to Javert, using mainly his eyebrows, which i definitely think makes up most of my Javert's expressiveness. He really knows how to use his face to act - seriously, I can barely believe it's the same guy ! He usually has quite a furrowed brow, with his chin jutting out a little, standing with his chest puffed out. He's 6'3, and quite broad-chested (seeing as he works out) so you can imagine what kind of a presence that creates.

Both Nic and Jordan, being in the same production (Jordan was Nic's u/s in the UK tour, is now Stewart Clarke's on the West End) had this moment, but after Thenardier asks to be let go, on "it was me what told you so!", they turn and step forward so that Javert is basically chest-to-face with Thenardier (and the guy playing him at the time was like, a foot shorter than the both of them). I liked that a lot. Absolutely something my Javert is doing. He's got the height and the tits for it, there's no way he isn't, cmon

Also, both Nic and Michael also have the benefit of being broader than most Javerts, Nic especially, as he stands at a whopping 6'6, so he's a SERIOUS presence onstage. My javert is around that margin at 6'6-6'7, so that checks.

I know a lot of people say Ballvert is "too cute" or whatever, and i'd totally agree as a michael ball fan, but if you ignore the fact it's Michael Ball, i think he seems a bit more "unsuspectingly cruel" than outwardly intimidating. While this doesn't exactly reflect my Javert, he DOES have some good bits. From my notes when I saw him in the arena tour:

the wway he takes off his gloves in the confrontation was not only kinda sexy (sorry) but a bit foreboding. he has a nice amount of sass, which of course is always appreciated. his general attitude in Stars, too, like he's truly earnest, and someone mentioned how he sings it like a love song - yuuup. His soliloquy is also amazing, the way he portrays Javert as being just so scared of what's happening, but lapsing into anger... ouuh.

I have not fully planned out my Javert's suicide (attempt) yet, how he would be responding, but I've been leaning into the more fearful approach. I mean, his entire worldview has been shattered like that, the entire structure of which he built his life on has just crumbled in front of him, i'd be frightened too.

Anyway, random detail - if you were interested in the origin of Javert's scar, like, from a meta perspective:

Adam Robert Lewis, of course, with his cool nose scar.

My javert had a scar anyway, just a small cut on the lip, probably from a nasty hit to the face which never quite healed right and scarred, but something about ARL's scar really worked... so the scar extended a few inches up the face. It's changed places since then, originally going from the lip to the nose, then from the lip to below the eye, but now it's branched off to both. I still don't have a specific origin for the scar in canon, so you can make one up yourself.

Linking to that scar, and also linking back to Michael Ball - i mistook a shadow on his eye for a burst blood vessel, and thought it would be an interesting look for my Javert. I'm a sucker for temporary details (Javert's moustache post-msurm, for one), so I've given him a bad eye for early M-sur-M. Very recent development.

HONORABLE JAVERT MENTIONS, THAT INSPIRED ME SLIGHTLY OR CEMENTED A SPECIFIC IDEA:

Stewart Clarke. He was the first I physically SAW, and also the one I've seen the most, since he's the current West End Javert. Very good javert, unsettling with those eyeballs, very spitty, which I totally forgot to mention is also an integral part to my Javert. So, thanks Stew! His soliloquy is also just out-of-this-world, seriously. Seek out a recent audio of his if you haven't heard him. He's nuts.

Jeremy Secomb. Sir Eyeballs Supreme. If you want a Javert with an unsettling stare, he's your guy. And he's currently the Bishop in the arena tour! What a way to convince Valjean to be a good guy, just staring him down with your evil fucking peepers. When partnered with Peter Lockyer, they form THE valvert duo, they kissed on video in costume, so many cute photos of them together, and they LOOK the parts. Jeremy looking like those toys you sqeeze and their eyes pop out vs Peter's soft face and kind smile like a golden retriever or something. Seriously perfect.

Nick Rehberger. Current US Javert. Great at really minor acting choices, sassy man apocalypse. Very dignified. VERY handsome. Bit gay. Amazing voice. What more could you want?

Roger Allam. Now, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. I've already mentioned he's one of the 3 people I cycle through for my Javert's voiceclaim, and there's like NO (publically available) footage of him. I am planning on viewing the footage they do have, but that's some time in the future. The OLCR is my personal listening choice when I'm listening to the musical soundtrack, so Allam is kind of burned into my brain. I know it probably sounds crazy but the way his voice sounds really influenced the way I have Javert physically speak, with his heavy jaw. Anything about his specific physicality is completely imagined - but hopefully not for long.

Chris Murray. Another german Javert I really like, from a 2007 nonrep production. If you like unhinged Javerts with eyeballs for days, he's your man. He's also just greatly unsettling. He almost made the cut with gifs, but unfortunately Terrence Mann won out. He was just a little TOO chipper about things. But i do love how his amiability is very obviously a ruse, with the way he holds a stiff smile in The Robbery on "But where's the gentleman gone / And why on Earth did he run?" (or, the German lyrics, whatever. It's that part of the song.)

Preston Truman Boyd. One part only. He's the reason I gave Javert a moustache and weird little chin beard thing post-msurm. I just thought that was important enough to get a mention, other than that I haven't really seen much of him enough to say.

ANYWAY, that's about it !!

There's probably more i've missed, but it's 5.30am right now, and I'm flagging. Plus, the post is long enough as is.

If you've read this far, I gotta know - who's your favourite Javert, or at least top 5? Have they influenced the way you view Javert in any way?

If you're like me and like taking tidbits from different sources, what are yours? Im curious to know !!! PLEASE tell me!!!!!!

Much love to my favourite bald freak <3

#les mis #byron wisdom #les inspo #javert #todd alan johnson #terrence mann #hartwig rudolz #anthony perkins #not tagging the other javerts....... they didn't get gifs.

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ladysouthpaw1213 · 16 days ago

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How I got into the Call of Duty Fandom thanks to Adler x Bell 🕶️🔔

(Header Image created using Kyoumeikaitou’s Neka C.C: Click)

As you all know, March 15 has a certain event associated with it. There is of course the backstabbing of Julius Caesar on this date. But Call of Duty fans(especially Black Ops fans) will recognized this date as the event of Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War’s two endings(Final Countdown and Ashes to Ashes). Fitting considering that someone is getting betrayed in either of the two endings. And I decided that this is a perfect date to go into how I got into the Call of Duty Fandom and specifically how I got into the AdlerBell ship.

Before 2020, The closest I gotten to Call of Duty was watching a friend of my mom’s son and his friends play the original Black Ops(I don’t remember they ever manage to complete a mission. They either keep dying or someone kept accidentally hitting the turn off everything switch in his room when trying to turn on the lights). One day in 2020, I had notice that a favorite streamer of mine had did a stream on twitch for Cold War. Watching him played it, something about the game just drew me in to the point I was thinking about it after the stream was over. My mind soon connected that it was the dynamic between Adler and Bell that drew me in. Went on Tumblr and AO3 soon after for Fanart/Fanfiction of the two and I was hooked and I wanted more. So many amazing reader inserts where Reader is a Fill in for Bell(R.I.P to some of my favorites that got deleted over the years though. Skyfall I still miss you) as well as Bell OCs.

You may been wondering,”Why was it these two specifically that I latched on this paring?” If you ask me, I can give several answers. First being that Adler is Hot, sue me. But also that there is just so much possibles to explore in this ship for me. Maybe they were always doomed but maybe as well against all odds, they manage to work(not exactly the very model of a major modern stable relationship but still…) or maybe they kinda form a love hate relationship. Perhaps things would have been different between the two had they meet under different circumstances(Like if Bell had willing deflected in the first place). What if they were in different settings(like say a royal au)? Had they been together or reunited in 1984(Multiplayer), what would change and how would Bell react to Adler’s capture or would have they been able to rescue him at the mall where it all began? If they had kids, what would they been like? Would they had gone on the run together in 1991? Maybe one believes they are more alike than one thinks. And then there’s exploring the more darker aspects/implications of their relationship. What happens when you once view someone as disposable and a means to an ends becomes an obsession? What exactly is the relationship between puppetmaster and puppet? Did some of those so called false feelings did become real or were genuine in some form at the get go? Did Adler grew to or did care (in a sense) about Bell? So many questions that so many amazing Fanfiction/Fan artists have asked and answered about these two. And it’s always been fascinating to see what they conclusions they drew from what they interpreted

It’s helped me break of my shell on Tumblr too, I used to be pretty shy about commenting and reblogging as well as making posts(I liked and maybe comment once in a while but that’s it). But this ship and the community helped me open up. I started talking to people that I once was scared to talk to because of my nervousness and shyness) You would not believe that my own posts used to be around 7-9 in total before I started to reblog and makes my own posts(whenever is aesthetic boards, fanfic idea rambles or just taking about My Bell). This ship and the community in general also helped me during a rough period in 2023 when my grandpa had passed away suddenly in November and my grandma spend December in the hospital. It in a basic sense, bring joy to me and thanks to everyone out there for such amazing stuff(if I named everyone, we would be here all year. Shippers, Nonshippers, you all rock). And I’m excited to see what comes of this ship or just Black Ops in general next in fanon.

💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙🩵💜💙

(Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated)

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world-of-wales · 23 days ago

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What are your thoughts on this new public persona of Meghan's?

I have been thinking about this a lot yk? Especially after the show trailer dropped. I don't blame her for trying to get into the lifestyle influencing shtick, despite all my thoughts on her and her career trajectory, the tig was quite possibly the most steady piece of work she had pre harry. So, it makes sense that she'd like to go back to that. I mean there's only a few chances that you can milk 2 years of ur life that you spent in the UK. Logically she would have had to pivot to a different strategy, and this is her doing that.

But the thing is, I don't think she or her team realise is that this whole thing is not new, people have seen this formula already from different people across both sides of the Atlantic. And they saw it years ago. It's like she's permanently frozen in the early 2000s era and is trying to emulate that. Yes, people used to like lifestyle shows and maybe some people still do, but you would be naive to think this is the type of content they want to consume in 2025. There's been a complete shift in the narrative surrounding them.

For instance, take the aspect of wealth, these aspirational lifestyle shows/blogs etc enjoyed a lot more popularity pre-social media. And a lot of it had to do with the fact that there wasn't much public discourse over how it's just the rich showing off their lives to us all regular people. At most, you would get one opinion piece in some magazine or somewhere about how these shows are not it. But that was about it. Now, post social media, people have a proper channel that they can use to express their criticism of all this. And they do it too. There's a very anti-rich movement brewing on the surface, and you can easily see it. People don't want to see you try and show them how you are living a picture perfect life and telling them how they should be aspiring to live theirs, when they are completely detached from what you are showing due to circumstances.

Across the globe there's a cost of living crisis, food inflation is at an all time high. People are unable to buy the basic necessities of life. Water and electricity bills have skyrocketed. People, especially the younger generation cannot even fathom investing in their own homes as the costs of real estate/home loans etc etc, are too much to bear. Healthcare systems are overshot, just look at the USA, whose audience this show is primarily targeting - you just had a Luigi Mangione. People are being pushed below the poverty line every day.

Fresh produce is a luxury now and there's no denying that fact and we already are seeing it being portrayed as an aspirational item signifying oppulence and wealth. Just look that photoshoot Hailey beiber did, the kardashian fam has been having these parties with all those fruits as decor, one of them even posted a photo with cut oranges in a flower bouquet. And people can try to deny all this, but the fact of the matter is that just as things start going above the reach of regular people they are co-opted by the rich and high class to show off their wealth and living standards.

In this climate a very very rich woman, a royal essentially for all means and purposes, put out this show about how -

she uses all this organic produce (which is one of the most expensive product categories already), People cannot afford all this rn,

has all these beekeeping, chickens etc etc to source all the things she uses (animal farming across the world has been rising in costs, just these past 3 days I have been interviewing farmers in areas bordering india's national capital and all of them even the bigger players have had things to say about how their costs have risen dramatically when it comes to the animals and their care, while profits are going down the drain because of corporations) I took this photo on Thursday on the drive back home.

When she goes and harvests her own veggies, etc, she forgets that there's a farm crisis going on, not just in the developing world but also in the developed states. Farmers are just not able to sustain themselves with the income they have. And suicides among them have risen by a huge margin. She is trying to project their situation as very glamorous without putting in any thoughts of the ground reality. This is a hobby for her, but it's a very bitter reality that countless people suffer from due to apathy from everyone, including their governments. Farmers have had very visible movements across the world these past few years, trying to get their concerns addressed and still continue to do that.

This show looks to me like nothing except a personal ego trip of somebody who's unable to grasp the simple fact that nobody in the real world can relate to this or think about this kind of life at all. Tone-deafness has always been a primary characteristic of the way the sux potray their problems, but this takes the cake. It's the sheer lack of sensitivity and glamorization of an extravagant life that nobody can afford & the disconnect between it and the real world realities is what gets me. She isn't being an authentic, this is my true self person with this show. It's contrived disingenuous slop for me that's just been made for the rich by the rich.

There's a lot more I want to say, but this is already so long that I'll stop here.

#ash's asks #anons #sux

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actuallyjustabiscuit · 2 months ago

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Kinger is Cursed With the Consequences of His Actions, and That's What's Making Him Crazy

Oh yes! The character we've all officially designated as Pomni’s new papa has got me reminiscing about another silly crackpot monarch who is actually an intelligent man in his late forties, an identity that has been buried so deep within the recesses of his altered mind that it can only emerge through special circumstances of which he has no control. But I know I'm not the only one who's made connections between him and Simon Petrikov from Adventure Time.

Btw did you know that they're also nearly the same age?

Yeah, this comparison has already been made by plenty of people. But if I may, I'd like to point out one other similarity that I've noticed; the fact that both of these men tragically lost the love of their lives, yet even in their broken minds the love they felt for them is still remembered fondly.

But, what if Kinger was also indirectly responsible for losing Queenie?

So........what exactly causes someone to abstract?

Of course, this would be an important question considering it's baked into the premise of the show itself, but I find it to be particularly relevant when dissecting Kinger's character because if we only assume that abstraction occurs when a human loses their mind, then how is someone like him still hanging around the Circus?

He’s been trapped there the longest, how long exactly is yet to be confirmed, but it’s safe to say that all those years haven't been kind to him. In the pilot he’s characterized as extremely erratic and forgetful, getting easily startled because his spatial awareness and object permanence are practically nonexistent nor can he retain previously established information for very long. On top of that, he regularly spouts nonsense that seemingly has nothing to do with the current situation. Because of this, his general demeanor tends to range between ridiculous to downright frustrating to the other characters.

So it’s no wonder that his fellow humans have more or less dismissed him as just being insane.

But I think this is a completely reductive view of this poor man because Kinger’s got that “he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit” energy that I love about him.

I think this is one of the more adorable aspects of Kinger's character; he's always trying to help. He tries his absolute darndest.

And what makes me sad is that, with the way that he is, he has such little control over how much he can actually help the people he clearly cares a lot about.

In Mystery of Mildenhall Manor, it's revealed that Kinger's lucidity is apparently affected by his exposure to darkness. How this works exactly is a bit inconsistent as we've had scenes of him in complete darkness and still acting pretty goofy.

However, based on my observations, I believe the change is not instantaneous. Like, he doesn't immediately become the Kinger we see in the adventure with Pomni if he is suddenly enveloped in darkness. I think what primarily plays a part is the amount of time he spends in darker settings. The segments we get with Kinger and Pomni are significantly dimmer compared to the rest of the episode, and we even get hints of Kinger progressively becoming more logical before we get to the cellar.

I’ve also noticed a small pattern in which he prefaces these brief moments of clarity with “I think…”.

This could be completely unrelated, but I find it interesting that Kinger's big advice to Pomni on how to overcome something difficult is to try "not thinking about it". I may be reading too much into this specific bit of phrasing but I feel that it's worth noting if this really is the mentality he lives by, because this is the advice he gives her when he's in two totally different states of mind.

Anyway, it turns out that when this silly man finally gets a good grasp on himself again, he’s actually extremely competent. Kinger shooting down the angel is a pretty obvious example of him being a BAMF, but I want to give these two moments a bit of focus.

I like the idea that Kinger has been in the Circus long enough to become so familiar with his weird digital body that he uses his detachable parts and disembodied hands to his advantage. It’s just a neat little detail because we get a taste of just how capable Kinger can be in this world if it wasn’t for his handicap.

And what really sucks is that the amount of time it takes for him to regain his sanity in the dark is really disproportionate to the amount of time it takes for him to lose it when back in bright environments.

Take the scene where Kinger is having a conversation with Ragatha in Candy Carrier Chaos with the bucket on his head for example, which definitely foreshadows this detail since it's the first time we hear him speaking more sensibly.

and then this happens

Notice how he taps the handle of the bucket? Like he's realizing that he does, in fact, have a bucket on his head that's obscuring his vision, before lifting it off of his face and going right back to responding in the way we've come to expect from Kinger.

It makes me wonder if Kinger has ever tried to tell the other's about this, but just couldn't. Ragatha clearly isn't aware of it despite having known him the longest out of any of the current residents of the Circus. And Kinger himself can't seem to pinpoint when exactly he shifts between sane and insane. Like a man who blacks out and feeling ashamed of his drunken actions when he sobers up again, despite having no control or awareness in the moment.

Describing Kinger's usual behavior when not in darkness as a "blackout" is pretty ironic, but I think it fits beautifully because it perfectly explains his short-term memory loss. Or I guess it would be more accurate to call it a "brownout". Either way, the point is that his memory becomes more obscured when he's in the light.

As for what initially caused this impairment, we still don't know.

I also don't want to get too clinical with Kinger's "symptoms" because I am in no way schooled enough to diagnose a fictional character who has only had a single episode focused on him.

But even just one episode proved to be very enlightening (...heh...see...see what I did there? Enlight-eh forget it) because after comforting a freshly traumatized Pomni, our girl interacts with Kinger at his most coherent long enough to learn some very crucial information.

It seems that the abstracted humans are not inherently dangerous, at least not when secluded in darkness, which Kinger was fortunate enough to witness with his own wife before they were separated (not legally, divorce doesn't exist in the Circus).

I've made this connection in another post I made, but yeah I really do think that it's the Circus' garish lights that make the abstracted so aggressive. I mean when you have that many eyes, that shit would aggravate the hell out of you.

But now comes the real question, and I'm tying it back to the one I made at the start, what made Queenie abstract in the first place?

How very convenient, Kinger. How did Jax put it, "gotta keep the mystery alive"?

Well, I'm playing detective here and I say you're the key suspect!

That's right! I'm accusing you! But unlike Baron Moldydick's crime, it twasn't homicide.

Yeah, everyone has picked up on how Mildenhall killing his wife acts as a parallel to what Kinger may or may not have done to Queenie. But I don't think it's as cut and dry as Kinger losing his mind and then somehow putting Queenie in direct danger as a result.

No, I like to think that it's definitely a bit more complicated than that.

It's not clear when exactly Kinger began losing his mind, but I certainly believe it had everything to do with losing Queenie. And it would actually be a pretty fun bit of character design if it does because in chess the King becomes most vulnerable when the Queen is taken off the board.

I know we all want to imagine that Queenie had existed alongside the other characters sometime before Pomni's arrival, but based on what we're given in canon, I'm starting to think that was highly unlikely. Because if everyone knew who Queenie was, then they would also deduce that Kinger wasn't always the way that he is now. I just don't get the impression from everyone else that they know about Kinger's dual state of mind. Otherwise, it'd be kind of awful that they wouldn't do more to help him if they were aware of this fact.

Kinger has always been crazy to them because all they know is that he's been in the Circus longer than anyone else. Which really goes to show how little they truly understand one another despite having only each other for company.

And it's not like they don't care enough (well, except maybe Jax) to want to understand and be there for each other, but it's almost like they are never given enough opportunities to really...bond.

And yeah, unfortunately, a lot of it has to do with each of these characters having their own hang-ups that keep them from doing just that. It's not just Caine constantly shoving them into his adventures to distract them.

Ragatha is dishonest with her feelings

Gangle is insecure when her mask breaks

Jax hates being vulnerable

and Zooble is never comfortable in their own skin (or at least their body's equivalent of skin)

I don't want to downplay it either, these are real issues that need consistent work. These people need help and the only one really capable of supplying that is a little broken himself.

This is why it's so fortunate that Pomni was with Kinger when he started speaking more sensibly. She has already displayed a remarkable level of emotional maturity with Gummigoo, but that's because Gummigoo was the one in need of reassurance at that moment. When exposed to problems far worse than your own, your problems in some way appear much more manageable in comparison. Pomni may be trapped, but Gummigoo doesn't even get the luxury of existing outside of what he was made for. That alone gave Pomni the confidence to live in spite of her circumstances and inspire someone else to do the same.

But it's hard to maintain that confidence when your new support system gets literally deleted right in front of you.

It's ok tho! Thanks to participating in Kaufmo's funeral, Pomni begins to open herself up to the others more, which allows her to have...some faith in her new friends. This is especially good when she gets to finally break down for a minute with Kinger because honestly, it's amazing she's held herself marginally together this whole time without crying at least once.

Pomni experiences her (so far) all-time low, and this segues to Kinger sharing his.

It's pretty terrible, losing someone. The previous episode pretty much forced that onto Pomni. How exactly do you completely move on from something like that? Well see that's the neat part, you don’t. In fact, Kinger even alludes to how you shouldn't. Even though the memory of losing Queenie is painful, it's what anchors him. He lost Queenie, but he still has everyone else, and he refuses to give up on them. So despite his mind constantly working against him, he does what he can to help his friends. In his own clumsy and confused way, he's there for them.

To me, abstracting isn't going insane. It's giving up. Giving up on yourself and giving up on others. It's easy to get to that point without the occasional necessary affirmation that you shouldn't give up.

This was the hardest lesson Kinger had to learn in the Circus. And he's doing his best to get the others to understand as well. But Kaufmo's recent abstraction proves how unsuccessful he's been.

Thankfully, Pomni takes it immediately to heart.

This is crucial, not just for Pomni's development, but for everyone else. Kinger even assures that it's more important for Pomni to remember than for him to not forget. That's why her name is more than just an ironic punchline, it's meant to represent her purpose in the story. As long as she remembers, hold on to the good, she'll get through it. Kinger is putting just as much faith in her practicing what he just preached as she is in letting him lead her through hell.

Oh no I've made more biblical allegories! The Pomni is Jesus theories are winning!!!

Ok but in all seriousness, we see just how much Kinger's words influenced Pomni's actions in Fast Food Masquerade. It's all but said that Gangle was close to abstracting towards the end of the adventure.

Yeah she’s about to turn into an eldritch horror, but c’mon we’ve all been there after a long shift.

Trying to talk things out didn't work, so Pomni then took a more practical approach to helping her.

Something as simple as allowing Gangle to get some rest and verbally reminding her that she doesn't have to handle things on her own. It's almost poetic how although Pomni can't leave the Circus, she's constantly telling others that they can leave and she's going to help them.

And Pomni doesn't save Gangle all on her own either. It was Kinger's insistence to have Zooble take his spot in the adventure that allowed them to witness Gangle's manic-depressive decline. They also had a practical way of showing support by offering to stay past their designated shift and relieve Gangle of the burden of transporting a drunk Ragatha.

Episode 3 really was all about acts of service, wasn't it.

If Zooble wasn't present for that adventure, they wouldn't have had the full context of why Gangle feels like she's not wanted.

Zooble saying "I still like talking to you" carries far more weight than if they had said, "I like talking to you". Especially when Gangle already feels insecure about how honest Ragatha is with her. Zooble got to see Gangle spiral and still accepts her. On top of that they are adamant about calling her their friend despite her doubts. That means something. Everything really.

This is what cherishing someone looks like.

I think Queenie abstracted because, at some point, Kinger began to neglect her. Perhaps he became so obsessed with finding a way out that he forgot what was most important. It's too early to really say if that's how it went down, but it'd be a poignant bullet point to the tragedy that is Kinger.

So I guess the real question is: How does one lose their wife?

Well in the wise words of Cody Martin

#I'm embarrassed with how long this took me to write #I can't believe how long this got #I realize this goes beyond just a Kinger analysis because I sprinkled in some more Pomni analysis as well #Pomni is very important #that's what happens when you're the main character #did I indirectly call Gangle Zooble’s wife #yes yes I did #Mix&Mask all the way #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc pomni #character analysis #biscuit bakes #kinger #pomni #tadc queenie #queenie

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ozmodai · 8 days ago

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If you had to organize the blood caste from favorite to least favorite how would it go

HMMMM! HMMMMMMM! i'm going to pop a tier list here and then rant on some reasons for each one down below! granted, none of these are a "i hate this caste" rather than more of a "i dont think about this caste much".

ofc, these are also usually what castes i'm drawn to making fantrolls of LOL

teals: self explanatory if you've followed me long enough. i like narratives about struggling with conformity and autonomy and with the detail from tyzias that teals by mandatory-or-die order must be part of the legislacerator corps that play as a status quo upholding middle man... i think theyre fun. also the color is one of my favorites already.

purple: who doesn't like clowns? also chucklevoodoos are fun. i also see them as working closely with teals (legislacerators and subjuggulators go hand in hand) so i like the connected association and how those relationships would play out.

jade: i didn't think about them Too much until i started talking more with my friend who is resident Jadeblood Guy (@kimquatz), now they're really up there for me. similar themes with teals where they have their role for them all planned out by the empire. dweeb city. cloistered jades being so isolated from other castes is also really good food for different kinds of narratives.

burgundy: with them being the lowest in the hierarchy, i think they're interesting whether they're characters who are just so fed up with their lot in life or embrace it bc it's all they know and escape just doesn't seem plausible. or both!

cerulean: jack of all trades sort of type where they don't really have much canonically instilled on them by the empire that they're free to sort of do. whatever they want LOL which i think heavily applies into their general vibe of kind of being a bunch of little shits. i enjoy little shit characters.

fuchsia: i really like design aspects of the seadwellers, so they get pretty high on that alone LOL. i also like there being very VERY few fuchsia hatched at a time and how they deal. they have a territorial instinct at the sight of each other but it's like a foregone conclusion that once any of them are old enough to go off-planet, they're doomed to be cut down by condy. what a life.

violet: fish design points. also imagining violets as being similar to a sorority/frat house with a bunch of nepo babies is hilarious to me.

lime: to be honest, this goes up a little higher just because by zodiac, i'm a lime (hell yeah canries), so i'm biased. i do like speculating though what they would have been like before they were obliterated by condy and ofc, the rare surviving lime or mutant in hiding or other circumstances is a romp.

gold: neat, but i don't think about them very much! i do think the idea of them having a few different types of kinetic abilities are fun (hydrokinesis like my fantroll novaya, pyrokinesis, electro, aero, etc), for the ones that actually are born with psionics.

indigo: they're very funny, i also like them being a bunch of rich blueblood noble types even though they ultimately hold little authority up against purples and up. insane strength but doing nothing with it really because they're comfortable in the system. unless...?

bronze: also neat, i just don't end up thinking of them often!

olive: on the same coin as ceruleans, they have so few rules set on them by alternia but they also don't have a possible psychic gene so they have even less traits to make them stand out to me FKJDASF they're like the forgotten stepchild. it's like having TOO much freedom to work with so i end up with very few ideas that scratch the itch in my brain.

obviously, these are moot if you don't work with hiveswap's canon, but that's always been a big part of the fun for me, working with how to twist and explore the few "rules" sprinkled around. it'd likely be the same tierlist for me regardless anyway!

#ask ozzy #anonymous

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jeannereames · 5 months ago

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Do you think that Alexander was truly liked by those around him, in a personal level? True friendship. Not really Hephaistion but also like Ptolemy, Seleucus, Roxanne, Arrhidaios, those who grew up with him or were his closest circle. Or was it all cynical politics?

Found it! That was weird. Appearing/disappearing asks?

Did the people around Alexander like him?

Did the people around Alexander like him? Hephaistion did. But the rest?

The asker refers to his personal circle, but I want to address this more broadly. I’ll return to his personal circle at the end.

First, we must beware of that pesky “shading” by later authors as part of their attempts to use Alexander’s career for commentary on their own time. They meant to show how success and power spoilt him and made him into a tyrant. That said, I believe he was well-liked overall. Yet things did change over time.

He began as king of a (relatively) small kingdom in northern Greece where all a Macedonian had to do before addressing him was to take off his hat—didn’t even use the title “King.” By his death, he’d taken over in a tradition that depicted rulers as “King of Kings” and “King of the Four Quarters” [e.g., the Whole World], even a god-king (Egypt). Going from (little) Macedonia to (enormous) Asia naturally cut down on his availability to soldiers and even his own Companions/Hetairoi—which pissed them off. Partly, it was simple logistics. He had too many responsibilities, and too many people wanted a piece of his time. Yet after Darius’s death in 330, he also added layers of court ceremonial to better align with ancient near eastern royal expectations and secure Persian respect.

That alienated his own people (maybe more than he expected). However exaggerated I believe the objections to his adoption of Persian custom, there’s little doubt it wasn’t well-received by traditionalists who preferred their kings approachable. Now, be aware: that approachability was more curated than our sources admit, as these sources inflated shifts to serve their own themes. Macedonian kings had bodyguards for a reason, and certain aspects of divine charisma were associated with their physical person (see below). The average citizen could NOT just wander up to one for a chat. Even so, elaborate Persian ceremonial was quite alien to Macedonia.

Nor was such ceremonial required of Macedonians in 330; our sources note that Alexander was essentially running two parallel courts with differing expectations. Nonetheless, the Macedonians took exception to the changes, offended to see “their” king “succumb” to foreign ways. He was getting uppity. They may also have feared it would trickle down to them eventually, even if it hadn’t yet.

Kleitos the Black’s exact words to Alexander in their infamous, alcohol-fueled spat is 99% invented. (Except maybe the line from Euripides; I’m least suspicious of that.) Some of it involved a play mocking officers who’d died recently at the Marakanda massacre as a means to absolve Alexander, who hadn’t been present, but whose failure to clarify the chain of command got them killed. I suspect that was a lot of it. But as with all “straw that broke the camel’s back” fights, it quickly escalated into a litany of complaints. Some of those were about the changes at the court. And Kleitos didn’t survive the encounter.

Alexander’s remorse appears to have been genuine. And the fact the army was ready to convict Kleitos of treason after-the-fact, said a lot about their empathy for the king. Nonetheless, after that, NOTHING was the same for his inner circle. In the right circumstance, he might kill you. And the army would absolve him of it.

Yet the army didn’t regard every negative act by Alexander as forgivable. They were not willing to overlook the murder of Parmenion. If they could understand/see themselves getting worked up enough to kill even a good friend when drunk, the cold, calculated removal of a potential (not even demonstrated) political threat was something else again. Especially a threat who’d served Alexander (and Philip) with such distinction.

E.g., nuance is required when assessing soldierly opinion.

A couple more things suggest Alexander was—overall—beloved:

1. At the battle of Granikos, he was elected the ancient equivalent of MVP; an award made by soldiers. He accepted, then never allowed his own name to be in the running again. Yet it was an award from the soldiers, and means he was respected not just as a leader, but as a fighter.

2. During both so-called “mutinies,” the soldiers didn’t want to kill him, they only wanted him to change his policies. If there’s some doubt the first actually occurred, the second at Opis certainly did. Yet when he showed the soldiers what it would mean to reject him (he replaced them), they came crying for his forgiveness. They didn’t say, “Good riddance” and head home.

3. On his deathbed, the Macedonian soldiers clamored so to see him that his top officers had to knock down a palace wall in order for them to parade through and say a final goodbye.

Now, that’s soldiers. What about his Companions/Hetairoi? At this high level, liking or disliking also involved personal advancement and family position—as the asker alluded to.

Those willing to “play ball” (so to speak)—go along with Alexander’s changes—had a whole new world opened. This wasn’t just his personal circle but included figures such as Krateros who understood what side his bread was buttered on. I’m not sure how much love was lost between him and Alexander, but they certainly respected each other. There were others who fell into this category, such as Koinos and Kleitos the White. Non-Macedonians/Greeks too, who may have seen him as a road to higher office than they’d held under Darius, or perhaps just to survival. Although I do think Poros and Alexander had a Moment; Poros remained loyal even after it served him to do so, despite his own son’s death at the Battle of Hydaspes. Something actually clicked with those two, I believe.

As for those who grew up with him—Hephaistion, Perdikkas, Leonnatos, Seleukos, Lysimakos … it seems they did like him, even if they didn’t always like each other. Seleukos was responsible for Perdikkas’s murder, in the Successor Wars later. There were others, but those names float to the top again and again. Similarly, although older, Harpalos, Ptolemy, Erigyios, and Laomedon all got themselves exiled for his sake. And Alexander never forgot it. The man who brought news to Alexander of Harpalos’s first flight (due to embezzling) was initially arrested for a false report. Alexander simply didn’t believe his friend had betrayed him.

And it wasn’t just those men. The tale of Alexander drinking a medical potion given him by his doctor Philip—despite a missive from Parmenion warning him about Philip—became famous as a tale of trust. And sure enough, the drought cured the king, so ATG’s trust was well-placed. A later story about Alexander locking up Lysimachos in a cage with a lion in punishment is almost certainly bogus (with overtones of Roman-era stuff). Other evidence suggests great affection for his men. That’s perhaps why Philotas’s failure to inform him about a conspiracy endangering his life came as such a blow.

One may wonder if some of those guys, like the talented—and older—Krateros, didn’t want to replace him as king? Certainly after his death, they did vie to be kings.* Periodically, I run across some misguided person arguing that Philotas and/or Parmenion wanted to take his place, hence the conspiracy. It’s even embedded in our ancient sources, which didn’t understand Macedonian kingship (were thinking on Roman models).

But those men couldn’t be kings. They weren’t Argeads, and it mattered. (Such supposition also assumes they were part of the real conspiracy, rather than Philotas simply being an arrogant dumbfuck who failed to report it.)

The Argeads had Royal Charisma. Charis is a gift from the gods: literally. It can be beauty and grace, sure, but at its base, it simply means “favor.” The difference between a king and a tyrant was that the former had charis by descent. The men who became tyrants (or tried and failed) all believed they had it too, but by their own demonstrated aretē and timē. That’s why they were never just popular Joe Blow off the street. They were Olympic victors, winning generals, etc. All were also aristocrats and fully intended to establish their own royal dynasties…but failed.

Until the Hellenistic Age. The Successors were just tyrants who made it work. Some (like Seleukos) even created mythological origins for themselves. Daniel Ogden has a good book on the creation of this myth: The Legend of Seleucus: Kingship, Narrative and Mythmaking in the Ancient World. If you’re curious about how all those things go into charis, I recommend it.

It’s not enough to be competent. One also needed the gods’ blessing. Charisma. That’s why Alexander’s officers might compete with and snipe at each other…but not with/at him.*

As for figures such as Roxane or Oxyathres (Darius’s brother who joined ATG’s court after Darius’s murder), it’s impossible to know what their opinion of him would have been. We have zero reliable evidence. It would seem Sisygambis (Darius’s mother) genuinely liked him. But again, this may have served later narratives, so I wouldn’t swear to it. She might have just made the best of a bad situation.

So! The final vote is that he seems to have been more popular/well-received than not … for a rather ruthless ancient world conqueror. Ha. I think that’s part of his eternal fascination. He’d be far less interesting if he’d simply been a monster.

Also, I forgot, but I did a separate post a while back on a related topic: Did Alexander's Companions Like Each Other

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* It took some years before the Successors started using the title “King” (Basileus). Antigonos Monophthalmos was the first, if I remember right, around the same time Alexander IV was murdered by Kassandros—and he didn’t claim the title himself. It was given him by Athens. Up to that point, they’d all simply called themselves “governors” and/or “regents.” Even if they might have been privately considering how to become kings in their own right, the charisma of Macedonian kingship belonged to the Argeads. Getting rid of Alexander IV (quietly), then Olympias’s murder of Philip III Arrhidaios and Hadea Eurydike left no Argeads. Then Alexander’s empire could become “spear won” territory.

#asks #Alexander the Great #Kleitos the Black #Hephaistion #Harpalos #Krateros #Philotas #Parmenion #Alexander's soldiers #ancient Macedonia #Macedonian politics #the politics of friendship at the Macedonian court #Classics #tagamemnon

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