#which means the actual meat of the actual character is just wholly lost

[moonstandardtime]

an lu version of mangoball would be insufferable bc the fanon is insufferable. i would love to see it and i think it would be incredibly funny

[animatedminds]

Star Wars: Visions - Episode 5: The Ninth Jedi

Here we go. The one everyone’s talking about. The one reviewer tend to agree is one of the series’ best, if not the best.

This one is another one that’s almost impossible to talk about without SPOILERS. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, but SPOILERS just in case. We are, of course, talking about...

Episode 5: The Ninth Jedi Developed By: Production IG Directed By: Kenji Kamiyana

The first short to have intro narration, in a style clearly meant to audibly call to mind the narrative text that opens most Star Wars films. And this drop of classical Star Wars reminiscence sets the stage for the whole

Set in an indeterminate period where the Jedi are all but extinct and have been for “generations,” no one has seen a lightsaber in many people’s living memory, and the Sith run rampant hunting down any resistance to their rule, an elusive recluse sends a message out to the galaxy for any Jedi still able to hear: come to his star system, and he will provide you with that weapon from a more civilized time, in an effort to rebuild the Jedi Order.

The status quo for the Jedi here are interesting. They exist, but are scattered, and the initial focus character assumes that any Jedi he meets would be master-less and self taught. They desperately need the skills of a smith who can make lightsabers, desperately need the unity that this recluse - known as The Margrave - offers, and so assemble at his doorstep even though they know it could easily be a trap. The last arrival, Ethan, is an bright eyed youth who is eager to find solidarity, but the wait will be long.

Meanwhile, the saber smith and his daughter just about finish the last touches on the order of lightsabers for the Margrave. His chipper daughter, whose connection to the force is starting to develop, is happy to take the order to their employer when suddenly a group of dark, mysterious strangers arrive asking questions...

This is a great set up for a great narrative. It’s a strong story that is going to be a point of reference for me as a writer in the future, on how to write misdirections and fakeouts without taking away from the narrative experience: twists run the real risk of taking the audience out of the experience, especially when they’re twists just for the sake of having them, which can make people give the concept a bum wrap it doesn’t inherently deserve. This story is proof positive that twists are not a bad thing, as the story is all about misdirection but executes this in a way where every shocking serve feels like a turn you have already been prepared for, just didn’t know about yet, another thread that needs to weave into the story for it to feel complete: You think the meat of the story is going to be with those Jedi waiting for the Margrave, but then the plot instead centers around the sabers and the daughter’s desperate attempt to deliver them as the Jedi Hunters attack - because of course, these are the very things they are waiting for, not the Margrave itself. You start to realize that some of the assembled Jedi are not who they seem (there’s one in particular, who is so obviously going to be a twist villain that you can imagine Kamiyama’s tongue well in cheek when designing him), while our host - the Margrave - features a lot of traditionally “evil” design traits (not the least being glowing red eyes), but he starts to clearly be shown to be what we initially expect him to be, and the enormity of the answer to “where are the Sith” manages to be shocking even if you were genre savvy enough to be catching on. The character you think might be the protagonists aren’t, and the ones you think might be the antagonists are really your last hope.

And that’s not even getting into the visuals. Lightsabers are portrayed even more as an extension of the characters’ wielding it, in a way I liked a lot better than the “Anakin’s saber is Excalibur” idea from the ST. Not just the color, but the glow and visual presence of a lightsaber directly ties to the characters’ sense of purpose, there’s a point where the color of a character’s saber changes mid-fight as they finally find their resolve: it’s a beautiful visual representation. The fight at the end is a delight as well. Probably the most violent scrap since The Duel (though not as hardcore as that), while there’s no blood characters do get visibly chopped up and burned in this one, and the battle feels all the more ruthless for it. The Sith are interesting here - they outnumber our heroes, yet by the end of it they almost feel like the underdogs, only able to watch as their fully pissed off opponent executes their allies one by one. But the fact that others in the fight are much less experienced, and the fact that we know the Sith have done one particularly nasty thing over the course of the plot, keeps the sympathy away from them for much of it.

This, like The Twins, is another that intentionally and wholly adopts a classic Star Wars trope - though unlike that it is not a short built on being entirely referential and tributary, but rather it’s own crafted narrative. Still, the Jedi must always be underdogs. They must always be hunted, always be seeking out ways to bring peace back to a lost galaxy. But the implication here that they are building something where there was one nothing gives this take on the idea a strength and permanence that I very much enjoyed: rather than another story about a ragtag band of Jedi, this felt like I was watching the beginning of something. As I said, the time frame is indeterminate, but I could almost see this as the beginning of the old Jedi Order as we know it.

This was definitely a wonderful episode, and among my favorites. It had I think the best ensemble of protagonists thus far: not that the protagonists previously were poor, but as I noted in my Tatooine Rhapsody review, once you get off of the main protag in some of the shorts the supporting characters drop off some (though the previous episode, The Village Bride, was also great with minor character characterization). Here, everyone - even the Sith - get at least a little characterization to endear them, and all the main characters are well defined and endearing. I could easily see more of any of these characters. Heck, I’d even watch a series just about the pilot droid that’s only in there for a very rare spot of humor. Great episode, is what I’m saying. And lastly, as I always do, I’m going to look at this one additionally in terms of canon potential. All of the Visions short films are noncanon, but like with many studio or franchise if there is enough support (and if they actually fit into the setting) for any of these characters there is always a chance that the studio could choose to revisit them and officially incorporate them. But with that in mind, I’m going to look whether this does actually fit into the setting.

Reminding the reader that this is a wholly separate question from “how amazing is this episode” (for which the answer is “very.”), I’d only give this one maybe Okay Chances, but more likely Not So Good Chances. The premise of this one necessarily requires a very major status quo: that of a period where the Sith take over the galaxy and the Jedi are nigh wiped out. This means that this would either have to set in stone a big part of the backstory of the series, or hard-set the far future of the series, both things that LucasFilm very likely doesn’t want rigidly defined. You might have heard of the KOTOR remake by now: that’s not confirmed canon and probably won’t be, and I’ve been presuming that its for the same reason: they don’t want to definitively say “this is how it all started” right now, and even moreso they definitely won’t want to say “this is what eventually happens” either. The concept would have to wait in the wings for when a time comes that they have an idea in mind that they can incorporate it into. But that doesn’t diminish the experience of watching this for the first time. Heck, the final shot of the short - a visual assurance that the will and power of the Jedi is never going anywhere - that’s still giving me goosebumps. And it makes me wish I had a lightsaber of my own...

[morwensteelsheen]

I just have to tell you how much I ADORE “Finger Back.” I keep retreading it! I’ll be starting my masters in the autumn and reading this AU put a huge smile on my face and a warmth in my heart. (If only lecturers looked like Faramir or Aragorn, though. *sighs*) I do have a question that I’m not sure you addressed already: I read your endnotes that say you’re protective of Denethor, and I’m curious as to what your reasons are. Could you flesh that out for us? Cheers!

Thank you so much!!! I’m so glad to hear you dig it — and good luck with your masters!! 

So, yeah, The Denethor Problem. My answer to this is gonna go under a cut because this is gonna be such a long answer lol. 

Some of it is in response to how he’s portrayed in the films, which is I think wholly unfair, but a lot of it is because I think I recognise the real life cultural/social archetype (I think) Denethor fits, very much unintentionally on behalf of JRRT. For context, I’m a historian of modern British history by training, and gendered/political history specifically, so I spend a lot of time dealing with the social implications of WWI/II, if not the actual wars themselves. 

Denethor to me fits the mould of a very specific member of the Lost Generation (yes, I realise this is a largely-American generational identifier, but I think the cultural stereotypes fit well enough for the WWI generation in Britain), which is the sort of man who was, in effect, completely and utterly destroyed by the meat grinder that was WWI. Whatever he may have been had the war not existed doesn’t really matter, because the war was ultimately the end of life for him. A lot of British men of that generation faced what was essentially a systematic unmanning (not in the gendered sense, as in, total depersonalisation/dehumanisation), and were never given the care or community necessary to recover from it. They then went on to live through WW2, the slow and miserable recovery from that, and the repeated crises of the 1970s, which is typically when they died — see JRRT himself. 

These were men for whom the abject violence of war never really went away. Lots of them had severe PTSD, though it was never diagnosed and certainly wasn’t treated adequately, and almost all of them had some form of war-based trauma. They were men who were so scarred by the violence of WWI that things like love and joy and other positive human emotions ultimately ended up requiring too much energy and too much heartache to express, and so they retreated in on themselves. It’s not to say those emotions weren’t there for them, but what they experienced during the war was so traumatising it became hard to ever fully become “human” again. They were weapons of war discarded at the armistice. 

So, socially, I see a lot of Denethor in that, this man who has, effectively become the war. 

But also I think when you read the text there’s a lot to actually recommend Denethor. For starters (and I do intend on elaborating on this more later), we tend to only see Denethor when he’s in direct conflict with Gandalf, and Gandalf is obviously given the privilege of controlling the narrative. It’s this huge elephant in the room with most of the Gondorrim: we never really get more than fleeting glimpses at how unbelievably shitty and miserable life has been for them at the frontline of this war to end all wars. 

Actually I think I’ll run with this Gandalf comparison for a second. 

Gandalf is portrayed as this political and military mastermind, who rides from kingdom to kingdom fixing the problems of the free men of ME. We rarely ever see the aftermath of Gandalf’s time in these kingdoms, which means we never actually see what sort of political effort has to go into enacting Gandalf’s provisos, or covering up for the strange politicking that goes on. What this really comes down to is: Gandalf is a consultant, not a ruler, and in his status as consultant enjoys this moral distance from the practicalities of keeping a country/state afloat. 

Denethor, however, does not. Unlike Gandalf, he doesn’t get to go gallivanting about Middle Earth searching for Elendil’s heir or Isildur’s bane or whatever, because he’s got a kingdom to run. If there’s a plague in Lossarnach, it’s ultimately Denethor who has to take responsibility for that (even if there are multiple layers of vassals below him, the buck ultimately stops with him). When there’s an entire looming cataclysm at Gondor’s (and, in effect, Middle Earth’s) eastern border, Denethor’s the guy who has to coordinate that response. And in that it’s not just Gondor he’s responsible for. If Gondor falls, everywhere else will fall too, but as far as we’re told, Gondor’s running this defence almost entirely by themselves. 

And, importantly, Denethor’s a mortal. He’s a Man. I know that mostly is associated with death in LOTR, and, in the movies, the folly of Men’s pride, but what it really means, I think, is the tangibility of life. Life and time means something to Men, they have to feel and live in each second in a way the others don’t. They are tethered to the world in beautiful but also terrible ways.

The big gripe about Denethor is that he sends his son to hold Osgiliath. Okay, fine, but think about that this way, Denethor sends his son to Osgiliath. For us, the readers, and for Gandalf, the consultant, that could be anyone. But for Denethor, that is his son, flesh and blood, someone he loves dearly, one of the last living connections he has to his dead wife. The war is real and intimate for Denethor in a way it isn’t for other (yes, including Aragorn), and he bears this unbelievably difficult burden of being the ruler of a kingdom without having any of the real political legitimacy to be that leader. 

Which is to say: Denethor is the Ruling Steward, but he is no king. That’s a hugely important distinction, I think, and limits a lot of what I think Denethor has the right to do. He’s essentially managing the decline of a kingdom because he doesn’t have the right to play offence for it. Everything about his life and title is about making him subservient to something else — in his case, something that literally doesn’t exist (as far as he knows). Imagine how soul destroying that is. You have to bear all the horrible psychological and emotional burdens of ruling a kingdom with none of the benefits of getting to shape it in your own image. Horrible. 

We tend to give Théoden a pass for his weakness and (to be frank, even though I do love him) shittiness because he’s brought back to his senses. Denethor has suffered essentially the same problem as Théoden, except worse because he’s getting it direct from Sauron, and he never gets the chance for healing. And why doesn’t he get the chance for healing? Because he’s literally holding back the apocalypse. By the time anybody thinks to come help Denethor out, the world is already ending, and — so far as we’re told — nobody’s actually bothered to help Gondor out until the very end.

A lot of this is, tbh, wrapped up in how angry I get about how Gondor is treated by literally every other kingdom in ME, but I think Denethor-as-Gondor is a salient and important point so I’ll keep it in. 

Oh also, sorry for jumpiness (my ADHD meds are wearing off) but my other gripe with the Osgiliath thing is — okay so Denethor sent his son. But he had to send someone, didn’t he? If they hadn’t held back the army at Osgiliath Minas Tirith would’ve been overrun before anybody had the chance to get there to save them. So they have to do it, somebody has to go, so who does he send? Not his son because we, the readers, have a total crush on sadboi Fara? Okay fine, so then he sends someone else’s son. But that’s still someone else’s son! We just hate Denethor because he has to make the decisions none of us would ever want to make lol

Anyways. Yes. That’s why I’m super defensive of him, I just don’t think he gets a fair shake all things considered and wish he would. He’s not a villain, he’s a man at the edge of the world, and I think we all oughta have a little empathy for that.

Like, I do think he makes the wrong call on a lot of things, and, to put it lightly, I think trying to kill your own son is Not Great, but I think as a character Denethor deserves a more nuanced interpretation than what he gets. I actually spent today writing like a three thousand word Denethor POV on the idea of hope and his kiddos which I might post at some point. But yeah. Yeah. God, sorry, that was such an info dump lol 

[askmerriauthor]

Starbound AU World and Character Lore Notes

Things worth being aware of for characterization and such, either based in canon lore from Starbound itself or extrapolated off reasonable evidence to support the notion.  Likely Part 1 of ??? submissions:

Conservation of Matter, Energy, and You The Starbound setting is futuristic to the point of magic, including also featuring actual magic.  So that gives us a ton of wiggle room on handwaving away just about any nonsense, but there are some constants that continue on regardless.  In this setting matter and energy are flawlessly interchangeable and can be preserved in a permanently stable, non-degrading state with no loss in conversion.  The methods and specifications of how this wondrous technological development works are never deeply explored and frankly it’s better we keep it that way.  So what applications does this have for people who live in the setting?

- Virtually Endless Storage Through the use of various forms of technological tools, matter is either converted into pure energy/data and stored within the tool, or matter can be spontaneously constructed via “nanites”.  That is to say, a legion of microscopic robots with a unified hive mind that can cooperatively build complex structures seemingly out of nothing (in this case, converting some form of stored/ambient energy/mass into the necessary materials desired).

We see this sort of of functionality constantly within the setting, usable both by the player and NPCs alike.  Whether it be a capsule pod, or a ray gun, or a Matter Manipulator, or any other bevy of trinkets that may come into play.  Need a giant mech suit to explore the void of space, or a hover bike to skim a planet’s terrain in style?  Just press a button on a handy little device and poof!  Nanites instantly construct the vehicle for you on the spot.  Want to carry an entire mountain in your pocket?  Transport billions of gallons of molten lava from place to place without it cooling?  The Matter Manipulator has you covered as it converts matter into energy and categorizes it in an easy-to-interpret list.   Have a farm of cute critters which produce natural animal byproducts for you but need to relocate in a pinch?  Just aim a ray gun at each and zap!  Your adorable animal friend is converted into pure energy, stored within the gun’s capacitor system, and held there in perfect status for easy transport.  You can even capture and tame wild animals and monsters from alien worlds by throwing pokeba-- er, “capture pods” at them to the same function.

Mind you, this manner of matter-to-energy-back-to-matter conversion is 100% efficient and suffers no degradation.  Similarly we don’t have any of the Star Trek “teleporting actually kills you and spawns a clone that just thinks it’s the real you” nonsense either.  When you pick up a volume of dirt with the Matter Manipulator, the device doesn’t replicate the molecular composition of ‘dirt’.  It takes that exact piece of dirt, turns it into energy, and when you want to recall it later it gives you back that exact piece of dirt.  This even works on conceptual forms of matter like “storage”.  You can use the Matter Manipulator to pick up a storage cabinet and tote it around in an energy/digital form.  However, you can also fill that storage cabinet with items and then scan it, at which point you energize/digitize the filled cabinet.  When you bring it back out again, it still has all those items stored inside.

Say you have a storage unit that can hold 300 items.  Now let’s say you have 300 of such storage units.  You fill all 300 with whatever you want and then pick up the many units with the Matter Manipulator, store them into that single original 300-capacity unit, and then pick up that to put it in your pocket.  Container-ception!  This only works one-tier deep, however.  You can put a filled container inside another container and then pick that up, but you can’t put both of those filled containers into a third and then pick that up.

What this means within the context of the setting is that moving vast amounts of materials, goods, even living beings is a completely negligible effort.  It would be completely plausible for entire cities to be constructed seemingly out of thin air, or wholly relocated from one planet to another, with no real trouble at all.

-Functional Immortality So remember what I said before about being able to convert animals into energy?  Yeah, that’s not just animals - it’s all creatures, including sentient beings like you.  Teleportation is the primary method of transport throughout the galaxy (followed shortly by ship-based faster-than-light star cruising) where the target individual is converted into energy and hurled across the galaxy in point-to-point teleportation.  This of course can be activated intentionally in order to facilitate mobility (be it long-range teleportation or short-range “blinking” to traverse one’s immediate surroundings) but it also has the potential to activate automatically when one dies.

Being a video game, of course there’s a “respawn” function so you can continue playing after you die.  But this isn’t a benefit only the player gets - NPCs get it too.  When a Being dies from whatever traumatic event, they burst into energy and vanish.  Compare this to when you kill a wild animal on some hostile enemy world - such critters die with a wet squelch sound, a spray of blood, and often leave behind organic matter like raw meat, pelts, chemical compounds, and other facets of their anatomy.  If you have a friendly NPC you’re escorting as part of a mission and they suffer an untimely doom?  The game prompts you with a message saying that they’ve respawned safely nearby so you can continue on.  Whenever you the player die in-game, your character respawns back on their ship’s teleporter platform after a short animation sequence unique to your species.  The animation is clearly just visual flavor and not meant to be taken literally, but the process it represents is what really matters.

Basically what all of this means is that whenever a being travels via Teleportation, there’s some built-in security function that will monitor their biological signal (which is how they can allow for intergalactic teleportation on the fly in the first place) that will prevent a Being from dying.  It doesn’t protect one from being injured (especially since wounds can be immediately healed through similar technological processes), but at the moment one would expire they’re instead recalled to safety by the teleportation system.  This sort of technology operates on faster-than-light processing speeds, so it’s not like it could ever really come up short in the heat of the moment, after all.  But even with that it isn’t infallible.  In the events of the game, Earth was completely destroyed and countless lives were lost in the process, presumably because there was no recall function operating at the time.  I mean, Ruin showed up to wreck the entire planet in short order, so no doubt whatever security systems might’ve been in place on Earth were likewise destroyed in the process, which required survivors to flee via ship.  At the time of its destruction Earth had been a peaceful paradise for ages, so odds are they might’ve been a little lax on having redundancies to cover their butts with since there were literally no genuine threats to be vigilant against.

Back to the point; this serves as functional immortality.  Not actual immortality.  Beings in the setting still age, can suffer diseases/toxins, lose limbs, and so forth.  Similarly, if one were to somehow disable the means of teleportation (putting up a no-fly-zone anti teleportation field, destroying a teleporter array entirely, etc.) that would put someone relying on such a means of security in mortal peril as a result.  There might even be naturally-occurring cases that could prevent teleportation recall as well, which the player may experience during the events at the end of the game which I won’t discuss fully here to avoid spoiling anyone.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Adam Watches the 92nd Academy Awards

The 92nd Academy Awards have come and gone. As always, there’s plenty to be happy about and plenty that’ll make you wonder what the heck the voters were thinking. I watched the ceremony and while I may say that I don’t care… I do. Those awards are a big deal. Legions of people who would’ve otherwise dismissed Parasite as some movie that requires them to read subtitles saw it because it was nominated. One of those golden statues can make a career and let’s face it, you like to hear your love for something validated by people who have even the semblance of authority on the subject.

But here’s what you may not know: most of the voters really don’t know what they’re doing. While cinematographers NOMINATE what films are up for that Best Cinematography Award, EVERYONE in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences gets to vote for the winner and there’s no guarantee they’ve actually seen every nominee, know what the technical terms mean or are voting because what they saw is what they actually believe was “the best”. Once you take into account the dollars required to produce a nomination campaign, the stigma many genre films face, the prejudices against certain types of roles and/or actors, and how popularity influences votes, a win hardly means more than a bunch of people you don’t know saying they liked a movie.

If you want a better idea of which of 2019’s films were “the best”, you’re better off asking someone you know and trust, someone who can prove they’ve done their homework and aren’t just voting for their friends, the one they’ve heard is good from their kid, or got a special gift basket from. I may not be a paid professional, but I have put in the time and effort to see EVERYTHING nominated (with a few exceptions I’ll detail below). Reviews for some of these (The Irishman, Judy) are coming to the blog in a couple of days. If it were up to me the list of nominees would be different but we’ll get to that later. Without further ado, here’s who SHOULD’VE won. 

Best Visual Effects

1917 – Guillaume Rocheron, Greg Butler, and Dominic Tuohy The best special effects are the kind you don’t even notice. I couldn’t tell you where the explosions, sets, and actors in 1917 begin, and where the computer-generated imagery takes over. It’s seamless.

Best Film Editing

Parasite – Yang Jin-mo Got to hand it to Parasite for its amazing use of montage and the way it stitched its footage together. Some shots I initially thought initially were one take I realized under carefully scrutiny - and by that I mean frame-by-frame examination - were actually two melded together. The scenes showing how the Kim family infiltrate the Park’s household should be shown in film class to demonstrate how the art of montage is at its best should be done to maximum effect.

Best Costume Design

Little Women – Jacqueline Durran Funny how every single film nominated at the 92nd Academy Awards was a period piece. My vote goes to Little Women not because it was necessarily the most accurate (I couldn’t tell you what people wore in 1868) but because of the way the costumes were used. You can tell a lot about the characters from the multiple outfits they wear throughout the film - check out that purple bonnet adorned by Aunt Marsh (Meryl Streep).

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

Bombshell – Kazu Hiro, Anne Morgan, and Vivian Baker I called it when I reviewed the film. The makeup used to transform John Lithgow was nothing short of incredible. It was an easy pick.

Best Cinematography

1917 – Roger Deakins I’m glad to see The Lighthouse on this list but I have to hand it to 1917. The one-shot motif adds so much to the story. Then, there are the individual shots I remember so vividly. The quiet meadow just outside of No Man’s Land, the raging inferno Schofield sees when he wakes up, the trench he must run in front of to reach the Colonel are all shots that permanently imprint themselves into your memory.

Best Production Design

1917 – Production Design: Dennis Gassner; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales Tempted to hand it to Parasite for the house they constructed for the movie but I’m give it to 1917. The trenches, the blasted landscape of No Man’s Land still haunt me. When you see the craters, it’s jarring. Then, as your eyes become adjusted, you notice the rats. Then, the chunks of bone and charred meat that have now become part of the landscape. It’s horrific.

Best Sound Mixing

Ford v Ferrari – Paul Massey, David Giammarco, and Steven A. Morrow What you remember most from Ford v Ferrari is that big race at the end. The climax wouldn’t have been the same without the sounds we heard. The roar of the engines, the clacking and grinding as the pedals are pushed and gears are switched… the air rushing by. Out of the nominees, it’s the one whose sounds I most remember.

Best Sound Editing

Ford v Ferrari – Donald Sylvester This year, the Best Sound Editing award goes hand-in-hand with the sound mixing. Obviously, the actors were never moving at the kind of speeds depicted in Ford v Ferrari but you wouldn’t be able to tell because of the foley and sound design.

Best Original Song

Stand Up from Harriet – Music and Lyrics by Joshuah Brian Campbell and Cynthia Erivo Stand Up plays during the end credits of Harriet and it perfectly caps the film. Whenever I hear its lyrics, I’m transported back to that moment. It’s the most memorable and emotional song on this list.

Best Original Score

Joker – Hildur Guðnadóttir I chose the best song for its ability to stand out. In this category, Joker wins because its music doesn’t stand out… at least not at first. While you’re watching, those notes don’t draw attention to themselves. They subconsciously build the mood, augmenting the performance by Joaquin Phoenix, the visuals, and the story. You don’t notice how much of an effect it has on you until you see isolated clips. When you do, it’s shocking.

Best Animated Short Film

Abstaining (I’ve only seen Hair Love)

Best Live Action Short Film

Abstaining

Best Documentary Short Subject

Abstaining

Best Documentary Feature

Abstaining

Best International Feature Film

Abstaining, as I’ve only seen 2 films (Pain and Glory and Parasite)

Best Animated Feature Film

I Lost My Body – Jérémy Clapin and Marc du Pontavice I Lost My Body is the most audacious and inspired of the animated films nominated. The only movie among these to be aimed at adults, it often tells its story through visuals alone but when you get to the end, you realize it’s about more than just what was on-screen.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Little Women – Greta Gerwig based on the novel by Louisa May Alcott Greta Gerwig does more than merely adapt the classic novel, she breathes new life into it, makes it her own, makes it feel wholly new and modern. This version of the film surpasses all others we’ve seen before because of the changes she’s made to the story’s structure. 

Best Original Screenplay

Knives Out – Rian Johnson What a ride Knives Out was. It’s got so many twists and turns, so many delightful characters you want to re-watch it the second it’s over so that you are no longer distracted by its central mystery and can simply step back and admire the handiwork by Rian Johnson. A sequel’s been announced and I can’t wait to see it.

Best Supporting Actress

Laura Dern – Marriage Story as Nora Fanshaw Laura Dern was also in Little Women and her two roles couldn’t be more different. Here, she’s loathsome and captivating. As soon as I saw Nora take off her shoes before she kneeled down on the couch to console Nicole, I knew there was a whole lot more to her character than what we were told. The more you see her, the more you want.

Best Supporting Actor

Al Pacino – The Irishman as Jimmy Hoffa Al Pacino has the advantage of getting A LOT of screen time as Jimmy Hoffa. The Irishman clocks in at over 3,5 hours and he isn’t in the whole movie but when he is, the seasoned performer gives us so much. At different periods of the story, you’ll feel differently about him. There’s no point comparing him to the real-life person. He takes the meaty role and makes it his own. His voice, his mannerisms, I can’t think of anyone who could’ve done it better.

Best Actress

Renée Zellweger – Judy as Judy Garland Judy was the very last movie on my list to watch, having missed it when it came to theatres. When I think back to Zellweger’s performance, I don’t see her. All I see is her character, a rich, complex person you sometimes hate, sometimes love and feel sorry for. The movie is not going to be on my “Best of” list but she is.

Best Actor

Joaquin Phoenix – Joker as Arthur Fleck / Joker To me, there was no question Joaquin Phoenix would take this one. I saw Joker three times and each time, I found something new in his performance.

Best Director

Sam Mendes – 1917 With this award, I’m awarding Sam Mendes for the craft he displayed in 1917. It’s such a visceral experience that when people asked me how it compared to Dunkirk, it felt weird to lump both together. This is coming from someone who gave both pictures a 5-star review, who put both on their respective “best of the year” lists. It’s a movie I’m going to go back to and wondering “how did they do that?!

Best Picture

Little Women – Amy Pascal It’s a tough call for me this year, partially because I loved Parasite, 1917, Joker, and others so much. I’m planning on adding those three films to my collection so I can pop them into my Blu-ray player any times I feel like it. That said, I would’ve given the Best Picture Award to Little Women. You’re so emotionally invested in this little story that telling you why with merely words is impossible. You fall in love over and over. It made me cry and every time I think back to that scene at Christmas, I tear up again. I’m choosing it because of all the things it does differently from the other films. At the end of the day, it isn’t a big story. It isn’t about people with guns, corruption, war, a turning point in history or even necessarily the biggest event in the lives of the characters but it feels like it is. That’s exactly why it’s so good. 

Disagree with my choices? I don’t blame you. What kind of idiot finds a way to leave out Marriage Story from their list? You let me know where it should’ve gone. Hopefully, commenting keep you warm until MY Best of 2019 list gets posted in the next few days.

[skeletorific]

CLASSPECTING TIME

You have no idea how fucking long this took. Also I’m willing to like hear ideas about this but as these are my personal headcanons don’t be like….weird about it ahfdksafd classes are FAKE AF and we are all just guessing bitches out here.

Ardata Carmia: Maid of Doom. A Maid is typically understood as “one who creates [aspect]/creates though [aspect]” for the benefit of others. The Doom aspect represents death, suffering, misery and destruction, something Ardata quite literally serves up on a silver platter for her subscribers. She creates (relatively) low stakes of misery for her subscribers to watch and enjoy, as well as to feed her lusus’ hunger for blood. Despite the apparent selfish motivations, its clear that Ardata doesn’t really enjoy what she does. At least, not for its own sake. Its a means to fulfill the role she believes society demands of her, even if filling it makes her actively miserable and very, very lonely. 

Diemen Xicasi: Page of Hope. A page is typically understood as one who “provides [aspect]/provides through [aspect]” for themselves. While his meal of choice may be some savory meat products, Diemen’s real bread and butter is his unwavering optimism. Not to say he’s always looking on the bright side, merely that he allows the miserable realities of being a homeless rustblood on Alternia to wash off his back. Like other pages that have proceeded him (Tavros Nitram and Jake English), Diemen has been noted to have an effect on people that makes them want to help him, without any apparent psiionic tricks to force it out of them. Furthermore, when he really wishes for something (and its usually hot dogs), well, things have a way of working out in his favor, no matter the twists and turns it takes to get there.

Amisia Erdehn: Heir of Mind. I’m gonna be honest, Amisia was tricky. Mind doesn’t on first glance seem like a natural fit for her. However, while there’s a variety of definitions for what an Heir does, I prefer the description of the Heir as someone who strives (or succeeds) to wholly embody their aspect. As such, Amisia is the pure embodiment of both Mind’s decisive problem solving and single-minded logical framework. Need paints? Well, blood is multicolored. Actual creation is difficult, yes, but when it comes to getting the right materials, well, there’s no one more driven and no one less deterred by mere sentiment. This isn’t to say she’s emotionless, merely that emotions are often an obstruction to her true potential, rather than an aid.

Cirava Hermod: Prince of Hope. Awful dark class for such a chill motherfucker, but like most things about Cirava, it makes far, far more sense in context. Hope is about convictions, about right and wrong, about doing what your internal code compels you towards. And, there was a time when Cirava felt like this. They would constantly get into fights on Chittr with highbloods, despite knowing it was risky, because they felt it was wrong to take credit for their work. However, the Prince is ultimately one who bring about destruction through/destruction of their aspect. Cirava certainly brings about destruction in a physical sense: they destroy their eye in order to prevent injustice. Likewise, they take the time to try and destroy their own connections to the hopeful aspect, attempting to kill off their morals and content themselves with keeping their head down and quietly streaming.

Skylla Koriga: Knight of Time. While Time is perhaps the aspect most bound up in the mechanics of Sburb/Sgrub, its ultimately defined by a determination to triumph despite the odds. In Skylla’s case, like Dave Strider, that desire is tempered by a sense that what she does should be for the sake of others. Skylla is one of the most selfless trolls we encounter, expressing generosity and kindness to a stranger even at her own personal costs and even expressing confusion when others (like Konyyl) are not so kind. Skylla, while she may slip into despair when the situation is pulled beyond her control, ultimately refuses to take anything lying down that she can fight against.

Bronya Ursama: Sylph of Breath. The typical verb applied to a Sylph is “one who heals through/heals their aspect” for the sake of others. In general, I prefer the verb “restores”, as it has a broader application. However, in Bronya’s case, that healing is for the most part literal. Breath is the aspect of freedom and individuality, which seems an odd choice for the rules-oriented Bronya. However, by looking at the people in her life it begins to snap into greater clarity. Bronya may restrain herself, but her presence provides freedom to so many characters: she gives the reject wrigglers a chance at new life even when the culling system would condemn them to death. The other jades are allowed the freedom to explore themselves and the world around them because, on some level, they know Bronya will protect them from consequences as much as she can. Bronya does not serve freedom or necessarily provide it wholecloth, but she restores it to others who would have it taken from them otherwise.

Tagora Gorjek: Thief of Space. Space is hard. Like time, its an aspect very bound up in the mechanics of Sburb. How Kanaya describes it, as concerned with propagation, didn’t seem to have much to do with a guy who doesn’t seem concerned with much more than the propagation of his own wealth. This is part of why Thief felt natural for Tagora: “one who steals/steals through their aspect” for themselves. However, as we’ve seen from Meenah and Vriska, while the motives of a Thief may often be selfish, it doesn’t mean that they are necessarily harmful to the party. The Thief will take the most direct path to getting what they want, but if what they want is the good of the party, then they make powerful allies. Space heroes, like Tagora, are creative and very aware of the way they go through the world. Tagora is environmentally aware, which is part of what makes him an effective legislacerator (and an effective con artist).

Vikare Ratite: Mage of Mind. The Mage, like the Seer, is bound up in knowledge about their aspect. However, they are often cursed by either an excess of or severe shortage of their aspect. Vikare, arguably, suffers from both an excess AND a shortage of Mind. On the one hand, atmospheric flight a logical first step before interstellar flight, and the fact that Alternia didn’t take that step is in fact, pretty fucking wild if you consider it. Vikare suffers by being (apparently) the only one aware of this level of absurdity. However, in other respects, Vikare is cursed by a lack of Mind when it comes to decisive action. Rather than actively pursuing his desires, he hides them behind an apparent embrace of his true role, and eventually has to have flight “forced” on him for him to truly enjoy it.

Polypa Goezee: Rogue of Breath. Polypa here can be seen to be stealing her aspect in two regards. One, she is literally stealing “breath”, or life (not to be confused with Life GODS ASPECTS ARE HARD) from her targets. Two, she is in some sense stealing their movement and independence, in particular from highbloods, who are not used to the fear of death impeding their choices in the way it impedes the lowblood. However, unlike the Thief, Polypa steals for the sake of others, whether it be working as a hired killer, getting vengeance for her lost lusus, or protecting her friends from the uncomfortable truths that would force them to act against their true wishes (as with Tegiri).

Zebruh Codakk: Heir of Doom. One who invites misery and despair wherever they go. Definitely sounds like how it feels when Zebruh walks in a room. Jokes aside, Zebruh is drawn to situations of misery and destruction (e.g., his attraction towards lowbloods) out of some latent sense that he can exploit it. If the Heir is someone who reaps the benefits of their aspect, then Zebruh certainly fits the bill. Likewise, the world is affected when the Heir is finally allowed to “Become” their aspect. Easily one of the endings most literal about it being a “doomed” timeline is Marvus’ bad ending; notably, its also the only ending where Zebruh dies. When Zebruh finally fulfills the promise of doom, the entire timeline goes down with him. That is very possibly some powerful godtier commentary.

Elwurd: Witch of Hope. One who changes their aspect/changes through their aspect. Elwurd doesn’t believe in shit if she doesn’t want to, and if she wants to believe something then damn it if she won’t make it true. She commits herself consistently to relationships that she knows are a bad idea under the presumption that she can change them. You can’t ever properly convince her that she’s not hung up on her relationship with Bronya. In the end, the only one who can change Elwurd is Elwurd.

Kuprum Maxlol: Knight of Hope. optimistic Duelist has a good video already on the topic and while I disagree with their classpecting for Folkyl ultimately I don’t really feel the need to add much onto it. Suffice to say, Kuprum defies fate for another person. Rather than let voidrot run its course, Kuprum volunteers himself as a battery for his moirail. While its perhaps a short sighted plan, its one that stems wholly from Kuprum’s belief in his ability to make a difference, if not for society at large, at least for one person.

Folykl Darane: Seer of Void. One who is wholly in sync with their aspect, in full understanding of it. Folykl is entirely aligned with the nothingness and emptiness associated with Void, being quite literally denied vision, power, and even the ability to ambulate on her own. Likewise, though, she has a clarity of vision in the metaphorical sense. She accurately assesses both Kuprum’s feelings towards Trizza and Trizza’s worthiness of those feelings, emblematic of Void’s disdain for a comfortable lie. However, true to the passive nature of her class, while she often chastises Kuprum for his feelings she isn’t ultimately willing to do more than bicker about it. 

Remele Namaaq: Page of Space. Initially I thought we might end up with two Thieves of Space, but what important to note is that whle Remele does steal artwork, theft isn’t necessarily her true nature. At her core, she’s an artist that has been forced to become cynical because of the society she lives in. Sburb roles aren’t just meant to embody you. Often they’re meant to challenge you. As such, her more derivative works can be seen less as the final fulfillment of her role and more the beta stage of her coming into her aspect. While it may not show in her artwork yet, Remele demonstrates a great potential for on the spot creative thinking that could potentially be bolstered into a powerful force in its own right. Likewise, like Diemen she demonstrates the Page’s intuitive ability to get people to aid her in her quest, regardless of whether or not its in their own best interests 

Konyyl Okimaw: Prince of Light (because gendered classes are FAKE NEWS). One who destroys/destroys through their aspect. Light is associated with both fortune and knowledge, and Konyyl can be seen destroying (and destroying through) both. Her matesprit, Azdaja, is the Mind aspect: he supplies knowledge to Konyyl, who in turn uses that knowledge to destroy the lives of others. Likewise, she’s heavily resistant to doing the thinking for herself, seeming to intuitively sense its not her role. She’s also a bit on the unlucky side (I mean, what are the odds of an adult troll being there at that exact drop off point) but can destroy the luck of others. By killing them. Worst luck ever. Also she’d look cute in the puffy pants don’t tell me otherwise.

Tyzias Entykk: Page of Blood (damn there’s a lot of pages in here its almost like most of these characters have yet to come to their true potential or something). While its not always the case (Jake English being a notable exception, to my mind), Pages may often start the game with a deficit of their aspect. Tyzias has a deficit of friendships. She mentions she doesn’t have time for any quadrant but her matesprit, who is arguably the only troll on Alternia more overworked than she is. Beyond that, her social circle is restricted to people she meets in class. Despite this, Tyzias has a unique capacity to reach out to other people, which, once tapped into her, makes her a force to reckon with, especially so far as the empire is concerned.

Chixie Roixmr: Witch of Mind. GODS Chixie was so hard. However, what ultimately unlocked it for me was the rap battle. A witch is one who manipulates/manipulates through their aspect. Chixie, for as sweet as she is, is a pretty effective manipulator. She keeps Zebruh on the hook without getting forced into a quadrant with him, she manages to sway the crowd into her favor (despite the fact that no one in their right mind should be siding with a bronzeblood in a highblood owned club), she even manages to get the Reader to act in her favor on certain occasions. She does this through clear, decisive action, and through careful combinations of absorbed information, all of which come to a head in the rap battle. Despite potentially risking everything she’s worked to build, she forces herself onto that stage and, under pressure, synthesizes everything she knows about the band from social media and her own encounters with them into some pretty sick lyrics.

Azdaja Knelax: Thief of Mind. Azdaja, as previously mentioned, is the information half of Konyyl’s duo. Utilizing powerful psiionics, a quick grasp of strategy, and a willingness to do whatever it takes (all of which can be understood as part of the Mind aspect), Azdaja manipulates scenarios into ones that will directly benefit him. Often, he quite garners literal monetary gain, but equally as powerful for him is the added notoriety his actions gain him.

Chahut Maenad: Knight of Hope. No title more fitting for a defender of the faith. Chahut has strong convictions that run to the core of her being, something vital to a Hope player. However, while her convictions may render her single minded, they do not necessarily render her selfless. When the player does not antagonize her morals Chahut seems happy to benefit them (although most players would probably not view being a sacrifice as a benefit). She is happy to learn at the feet of people who have earned her respect, and defend those like Amisia who she considers worth protecting, all of which render her an apt candidate for the Knight category.

Zebede Tongva: Heir of Light. One who embodies their aspect, often perhaps to the point of excess. Zebede is many things, but he is certainly knowledgeable, in particular about his interests. At times, that interest can be cute, but at other times it can lead him towards creepy and possessive behavior. He knows everything about Cirava, to the point that he feels comfortable posting fanfiction about their life. Likewise, he displays frustration and anger when he is not allowed knowledge (or, in a meta sense, is denied union with his aspect), as in hs bad end when the Reader implies they are talking to other people while at Zebede’s house. Zebede, though his method of expression isn’t the healthiest, at his purest form is really just curious about the lives of the people he watches, and allows that curiosity to overcome him. 

Tegiri Kalbur: Rogue of Void. If Tegiri embodies anything to me, its how much the temperament of a person affects their expression of their classpect. On first glance he and Roxy Lalonde have nothing in common. However, like Roxy, Tegiri has the ability to “steal” nothingness by replacing it with something else. He replaces it with order, imposing laws whether otherwise no sane troll would think to enforce them. By doing so, he’s not only stealing away the chaos associated with the Void, but also the sense of meaninglessness he might otherwise succumb to if he ceased to believe in Alternian law (much like a few other teals I could mention). Also like Roxy, Tegiri seems troubled by the sense that he may be irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, and becomes determined to impress his status as a hero of the blade upon us as quickly as possible.

Mallek Adalov: Witch of Time. Ok this one’s a little weird, but hear me out: a Witch, inherently, is about a refusal to accept your aspect as it is. Mallek demonstrates an understanding of the lacking nature of Time. With his Rites of Maturation perigrees away, he has a hard time coming to terms with how little time he has to do everything he wants to do. This might imply a Mage or a Seer, but what strikes me is not that Mallek wants to understand time, but that he is frustrated with his inability to do anything about it. We aren’t really told what he does after his conversation with the reader, but it can perhaps be assumed that, inspired by their words, he is doing what he has to to give himself the time he needed. Were an sgrub session to take place, he would be given the literal chance to do just that.

Lynera Skalbi: Maid of Rage. Again, whipping through an unusual class combo. The Maid is one who creates their aspect, for the benefit of others. Rage is not just about anger (although Lynera certainly has that in spades), but about convictions and truth. Lynera creates her truth and beliefs, and makes them in alignment to the people that matter to her. When she understands that keeping under the radar of Alternian society is important to Bronya, she becomes the bad cop needed to enforce those convictions. When she understands her making other friends is important to the Reader (and to Bronya), she immediately latches onto them as her nearest and dearest friendship. Ultimately we never see Lynera at a healthy place with her aspect, but she’s a dedicated soldier, ready to evangelize (or, create convictions) on behalf of the people in her life to matter to her.

Galekh Xigisi: Seer of Blood. The Seer is of course, associated with understanding. However, its important that unlike the Mage, one who already understands and suffers from it, the Seer is rather one who invites understanding. They may have a large knowledge base already as regards their aspect (a la Terezi with Mind) but are constantly on the hunt for more to the benefit of their party. Galekh, while he can be pompous and uptight, at his very core wants to understand people, and the people who matter to those he cares about especially. He is one of the few trolls to approach us with the explicit intent of forming a relationship (and deepening an existing one with Tagora). That wordiness and sense of self-righteousness likewise aligns him with our other known Seer of Blood, Kankri Vantas, although Galekh has arguably gotten more of a chance to mature than Kankri got.

Tirona Kasund: Thief of Heart. Tirona seeks to override the convictions, and by extension the “soul”, of others, whether by force or by persuasion. Her memeaganda is one branch of this, ingratiating the Heiress to people in a way that will make them forget the various ways in she has harmed her. Likewise, she goes rooting through the offices of their friends to dig up details about their personal opinions and politics in order to expose them for her own gain. Heart Players really can’t catch a break outside of Boldir huh. Speaking of…

Boldir Lamati: Muse of Heart. Unusual, I know, but then, she’s an unusual lady. Not much is known about the muse class, given that our only Muse is Calliope. Typically, the verb that I would assign to the Muse is “inspires” or “unifies”, as a contrast to the Lord’s “command” or “dominates”. Boldir’s strong unity of the self would likely explain how she demonstrates an uncanny awareness over the strange time activities. She is, arguably, on the verge of becoming her ultimate self. Likewise, simply by being around her the reader becomes deeply aware of their alternate selves. However, unlikely Dirk’s existential dread in the face of his splinters, Boldir inspires that peace and independence unique to the Muse class which allows her to transcend the division of self so often toxic to Heart Players.

Stelsa Sezyat: Knight of Blood. Together with Galekh, they’re two halves of a whole Signless kin. Knights defend their aspect and defend through their aspect. In the case of relationships, Stelsa does both. She is a loyal and caring friend, always on call for both the Reader and her matesprit Tyzias even when she disagrees with their actions. Likewise, Stelsa’s strongest asset, in addition to her boundless energy and organizational talent, is her capacity for networking. More so than perhaps any other troll, Stelsa understands that the key to victory sometimes isn’t what you can do, but who you know. In the event she goes godtier, though, the first thing she’s doing is ditching the hood. Not subjecting her hair to that, no sir.

Marsti Houtek: Heir of Void (side note, Inherit Nothing by phemieC may have been written for Equius but it is a jam and a half and kind of snaps this class into greater perspective for me). Like every troll on Alternia, Marsti has been forced most of her life to confront her limited options under the hemocaste system. True to her nature as a Void player, she seemed to have accepted her apparent irrelevance in the grand scheme of thing. As an heir, she embodies not only this irrelevance, but the enigma around it. We’re never truly given an insight into how Marsti actually would want her life to go. She seems resistant to any attempts to force her into some kind of emotional arc. Rather, she frames her actions in terms of simple “this is what I do” statements. Marsti is content with her own nothingness, and is frustrated by people who cannot accept that about her.

Karako Pierot: I uh…..really like the Lord of Mind theory. There are a lot of mind players in Hiveswap, but Karako, to me, embodies the karma aspect of Mind more clearly than any that proceed him. He either gets justice against his attackers, or, should he be killed, the reader feels compelled to enact that justice on others. Karako at once breaks the rules of his aspect (his illogical speaking patterns, his afterlife return to the Dark Carnival, the embodiment of whimsy and mystery) while commanding it through his will and the forces surrounding him. 

Charun Krojib: Sylph of Rage. If Lynera embodies the part of Rage that deals with convictions, then Charun embodies the more anarchic, confusing parts of the Aspect. However, they do not seem to use it for destructive purposes, but deconstructive. Charun meets the player at a point when they are feeling low and burnt out and angry. However subtextually, Doc Scratch’s imposition over their narrative is starting to chafe at them a bit. Charun utilizes that anger and that confusion into a tool for healing via their art. They encourage the Reader to make something. Doesn’t matter what: if it turns out crap that it can just be stripped down and made again. And working with those nebulous guidelines, the Reader is able to process their frustration into art. Art that has no set meaning, but who’s lack of stakes and general confusion bring healing to the reader. Thus, Charun embodies the Sylph’s restorative role. 

Wanshi Adyata: Seer of Doom. Seers are often seen as already understanding their aspect in some respect, but the role of Seer is one who is perpetually learning and understanding more about their aspect. Notably, Rose and Terezi are both still having revelations about the nature of their aspects and abilities even as late as Act 6, where most of the other players have broadly figured out their own as far as they need to. Wanshi has demonstrated a proclivity towards knowledge and understanding, being a voracious reader. However, we as the Reader are there with her as she takes her first steps into her aspect. Though no stranger to the suffering of Alternia, we see her experience death in the most direct way she has at that point in her life, and struggle to comprehend it. Depending on how Hiveswap goes, as she grows older she may be forced to reckon with this role, and part of her maturation will be whether she buckles under the negativity of doom, or successfully incorporates it into her worldview, allowing it to inform her without sinking her. 

Fozzer Velyes: Bard of Heart. Man, heartbound derse players just canNOT catch a break….criminal. In any case, the heart has to do with the self, the soul, and the identity. The Bard is not someone who destroys, but someone who invites destruction of (or destruction through) their aspect. Notably, bards often demonstrate avoidant personalities, often refusing to directly confront the things that scare them (as Fozzer with the ghosts), and are prone to talking big game but falling victim to minor hitches in their plans (as the Reader notes contrasting his cowardly reactions with his revolutionary spiel). Fozzer’s self is in fact destroyed over the course of his route, and rewritten by forces beyond his control. Its possible he will continue to enact this role on others. If we’ve seen anything from homestuck, its that bards are the ones to watch out for.

Marvus Xoloto: Seer of Time. Alright, so like I said, I’m like 99% sure we’re do for some kind of twist with Marvus. However, the Caprist sign he’s been previously associated with is timebound, and based on his bad end especially I’d say that’s a good fit. The Seer is the role I chose because Marvus doesn’t really seem to exert any particular control over his aspect, nor does he feel bound to serve it (actively defying it, in fact). Rather, he demonstrates a more in-depth of the machinations of paradox space and “canon” than any character prior, arguably even more than Dirk. Marvus may not successfully wrest control of the narrative, but he provides further insight into the function of doomed timelines, as well as some possible hints as to how paradox space’s pull can be resisted by means other than the retcon juju. 

Daraya Jonjet: Rogue of Hope. Something notable about rogues is that in their immature stages: a lot of them seem to initially covet their opposite aspect. Roxy, Rogue of Void, struggled with a desire for recognition from others (Light). Rufioh, Rogue of Breath, tries desperately to forge relationships that ultimately he isn’t ready to live out (Blood). Likewise, Daraya seems desperate to perform the anarchic and embittered Rage aspect. Her bad ending is her giving herself fully to these bitter teen “burn it all down” impulses. However, that’s not ultimately how she’s happiest. She is at her best when she learns to redistribute Hope to other people. Notably she’s the first person we make legitimate effort to connect with Tyzias’ revolutionary actions. Tyzias is a powerhouse in her own right, true, but she’s one person, and though her Blood aspect gives the the ability to connect to other people, as we’ve seen she’s not the best at rallying the troops (given that her attempts at a pep talk with Daraya fall flat with the Reader not there to help). Daraya, as she grows into her role and partners more with Tyzias, may be able to help with that, stealing the Hope so long denied alternian trolls and giving it back to the people with her rebellious actions. One things for sure: the two are stronger together than they are apart.

Nikhee Moolah: Knight of Rage. She weaponizes anger into her powerful arsenal, but arguably does do it for the benefit of others. In her good ending she strengthens the reader to their utmost, actually reaping muscular benefits as a result. Likewise, her fights are (arguably) a place of catharsis for Alternian trolls and may draw in more outsiders (given the only non-clown purple we have ever seen is….there PLEASE SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS NOT CLOWN TO ME WHAT’S THEIR STORY). That anger becomes just as powerful a tool turned against the Reader as it is for the Reader, but ultimately Nikhee seems to do what she does for the good of her audience.

Lanque Bombyx: Thief of Life. Insert mandatory vampire joke here, but its not far off from how Lanque goes about his day to day. Life isn’t just about literally being alive, its also associated with growth, betterment, and positivity. We see Lanque take these things, especially from Lynera. While the amount of growth Lynera really demonstrated is VERY debatable, its hard to argue that Lanque immediately shut down the first attempt at reaching out to someone romantically that Lynera has done for anyone but Bronya, immediately turning it into an opportunity to put the moves on someone else. This may nudge him into the Prince class, but I think its more accurate to assert that Lanque isn’t destroying his aspect, necessarily, as he certainly seems to benefit from it. Instead, he’s simply ensuring that no one else gets it. Lanque is childish in temperament, and may assume that other people are as slow to mature as he is. Likewise he displays the Thief’s attitude that “I should get what I want if I’m smart enough and strong enough to take it” that we see with both Meenah and Vriska. Like both of those characters, he’s not necessarily doomed to evil behavior, merely that its more realistic to hope that he’ll start to see the good of the party as beneficial to him as well, rather than wish he’d just lose his self-interested ways (as Bronya does).

Barzum and Baizli Soleil: the fact that these two embody two different aspects (Breath and Doom respectively) seems to imply that there is at least some difference between the two twins, but whatever it is is hard to riddle out, given that they effectively switch personalities on a whim. As such, its possible to see Breath and Doom as merely two potentials towards which they could drift, either becoming more and more individuated as they embrace their Breath aspect or more and more singular as they embrace Doom. As such, I would probably assign them both the page role, as they are both untapped potential yet to mature enough to really embody anything but chaos.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 6.7K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Steven can’t sleep.

First | Last chapter

While I’m cross posting all of these to tumblr, I’d love to have your support over on AO3 too! Plus, it’s easier to subscribe there. A win-win, I’d say.

Chapter 6: Unfamiliar

He doesn’t dare peep at his alarm clock.

Its digital readout glows a soft green in the dark, temping him same as any edible Cookie Cat would, but to no success. He doesn’t sneak a peep because the moment he sees the time, that time becomes real. No longer will he be able to pretend that he’s been staring at the ceiling beams for only a few minutes, or that he’s still got plenty of hours left until morning. Instead he’ll finally have to come to terms with the fact that he’s not getting any sleep tonight. His dad gives a soft snore, laying in a tangle of covers next to him. He’s a known and certified blanket stealer. Not that he minds— he’s cozy enough in his pajamas, and he actually enjoys the rush of cool air over his toes. Unfortunately, that’s the extent of his peace on this particular sleepless night.

He’s long since lost count of how many times he’s tossed and turned, desperately longing for that one perfect position that’ll be the answer to all his problems. The optimum balance of breeze and toastiness! The ideal degree of springy cushioning! But just like a fake identity, the difficult truth is that the answer he seeks doesn’t truly exist. It’s a fabrication. A sham. And try as he will, no amount of misplaced belief will ever change that reality. Elsewhere within the oppressive silence, (or rather what would’ve been silence), every single creak and moan of the house’s foundation is amplified like an electric guitar through an amp. He’s expecting it by now— expecting the dull tick of the wood boards as they warp with the slow change in temperature, expecting his dad’s even snores from beside him— but his nerves are so shot from all the chaos of the evening that he can’t help but seize up with each new noise. It’s just... all too much.

Laying on his mattress as flat as a plank, Steven crinkles his nose with annoyance. He’s not usually the Universe who has trouble falling asleep. That’s Dad’s turf— once he finally gets to dreaming he doesn’t wake even if someone shoves an entire meat lover’s pizza in front of his nose, but arriving there in the first place? That’s an ordeal on its own.

Gosh, he’s so, so tired. A dull ache throbs behind his eyes. In his chest his heart thrums staccato at an identical rhythm, never fully settling down to a resting pulse. It’s been like that ever since Bismuth’s forge, ever since… all the unpleasantness. Distantly he bets that’s because this fully organic body is still trying to compensate for the loss of his gem. He was born with it, after all. That’s like adjusting to everyday life after losing an entire limb. It doesn’t just happen in a day.

He shuffles onto his side once more, his back facing his slumbering dad, and glances longingly at the deep cut pink gemstone that rests on the kitchen counter, swaddled in the folds of a bath towel. Little to his surprise, it’s still as inert as ever. Is… is that it? he wonders. Steven Universe, former Crystal Gem, forever benched from the team because my gem’s now a glorified paperweight??

And if it… he… does reform, what then? Can they re-fuse? Are there two Stevens forever? Is he sure that the diamond will actually reform as him, and not as his… not as Rose/Pink Diamond? Will Pearl ever be able to explain why Rose/Pink faked her identity and then lied about it to her own friends for thousands of years? Was his… was Rose Quartz even a good person? Was Amethyst right, did she just create him so she could— questions, questions, questions! Geeze, no wonder he can’t fall asleep. There’s far too much stuff bungling around his head!

Steven crawls out of bed, no longer willing to tolerate the impossible notion of trying to rest. If he can’t sleep, then he might as well sit on the shore to get some fresh air. His feet meet the floor with renewed purpose, and without further ado he begins to gather a few items. First, he swipes his phone off the nightstand and slips it in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. After skillfully avoiding the squeaky step on his way to the ground floor to keep from disrupting Dad’s well-deserved slumber, he crosses to the counter. His gemstone glints in the moonlight shining through the upper window. He purses his lips, deliberating… and then carefully scoops it up in his hands.

“You’re coming with me, little guy,” he whispers to the inanimate Gem, hugging it to his chest. “Who knows, maybe some ocean time will do you some good too!”

Ignoring the fact that he’s basically talking to himself (at least, he thinks he is?), he turns on a dime and prepares to leave. At the door, he slips on the spare pair of flip flops he always leaves by the seat under the window, and then tiptoes outside.

The fresh, crisp breeze dances through his dark curls. He leans against the patio’s railing, lips curving midway into a smile. One of the arms of the Milky Way is visible tonight, dotting the sky with billions upon billions of twinkling stars. Beach City produces minimal light pollution, so thankfully he’s always had a stunning view on their side of the hill. Any other night he’d be delighted to stargaze the night away, wistfully dreaming of stellar horizons far beyond their reach, but his heart’s not into it right now. Insidiously, the gemstone he holds seems to grow heavier as time ticks onward. Against his better wishes his thoughts shift at the reminder. The rest of the Gems never like talking about it, so he can’t pinpoint its location to any degree of accuracy, but somewhere light years beyond this galaxy of theirs sits the Gem Homeworld. Pink Diamond’s origin. This gem’s origin.

And that’s a bizarre thought. Before today he’s always been under the impression that his— his mom was made on Earth, just one of hundreds of Rose Quartz soldiers. Alien, but not wholly extraterrestrial. Now, however...

He stubbornly shakes his head, clearing his mind. Nope, now’s not the time to think about all that. He plods down the stairs to the sand on automatic, the heels of his sandals clapping rhythmically against his feet with each step. Ah, there’s nothing better than the soft squish of sand under flip flops to brighten one’s mood! His eyes briefly flutter shut as he crosses the beach, breathing deep to let that cool, salty air fill his lungs.

Eventually Steven seats himself a fair distance from the cliff, smack dab in the middle of the shore. His flip flops are quickly discarded. Under the stars’ faithful glow he erects a raised mound, and carefully nestles the diamond atop it. With a long, heavy sigh, he flops onto his back. As he does so, the sudden shift in weight distribution paired with the light breeze causes a fine mist of sand to waft into his face. He sputters and spits.

“Euuugh, no, that got in my mouth!” he complains to no one in particular, and shoots upright. He sticks out his tongue and wildly scrubs the remaining grit off. When he’s satisfied he’s no longer swallowing bits of powdered rock his tense shoulders relax.

His glance moves to his gem, still as dull and lifeless as ever.

Another sigh.

“Okay, this is sad.”

The pink diamond glints in the moonlight. He chooses to believe it’s a wink.

“Maybe I can... watch some post midnight TubeTube?” he asks out loud, and pauses.

Besides the constant ebb and flow of the ocean, the beach is unwaveringly silent. He frowns.

“Yeah, that sounds like an excellent idea, Steven!” he chimes in a muffled character voice, and hugs his knees to his chest. “Sheesh, maybe I should’ve just stayed in bed and kept staring at the ceiling after all.”

He shakes his head. No, no… less brood, more Tube. It’s pocket time. He plunges his hand deep in the pocket of his pajamas, in search of his phone. Thankfully it’s not a boundary-less magical dimension like Lion’s mane, he thinks with a laugh, otherwise he’d be in trouble. Then it would really be a ‘pocket dimension!’

He pulls out the phone and switches it on with a flick of his finger. He can’t help but crack a smile upon seeing the lock screen, an older selfie of Connie and him that they took up at the sky arena after practice one day, but that definitely isn’t the headline. His eyes snap wide open as he notices the battery indicator at the top right corner.

“What??” he cries in clear betrayal. “Nine percent?? Aw, dagnabit!”

The sad thing is that this kind of electronic tragedy is not a rare occurrence, not at all. He can’t even count the number of times it’s happened on two hands. Oh, why must he always forget to charge his phone at night? Still, this means that TubeTube is out. Watching videos will drain his battery to zero faster than Amethyst can shovel down an entire gallon of engine oil.

His shoulders slump as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. Mind wandering, he plows his fingers through the sand, gouging deep lines in the damp shore until his knuckles go white.

“And then, what? She creates you just so she doesn’t have to deal with the fact she’s a liar?”

He almost feels nauseous. Almost…

(The way his pink double— the fully Gem part of him, the part the gemstone Mom left behind projects— looks at the world when not trapped within emotionless monotony, pale irises burning with an anger he didn’t know he was capable of…)

“You knew, you knew Rose was Pink Diamond, this whole time!”

(Other Steven screams no, solid stone fragmenting under his feet. The others quiver as they struggle to remain upright, even Bismuth, a self made Gem warrior. Even Garnet, the most unshakable person he knows.)

But the portrait of Mom that hangs on the wall of his room, its gentle strokes accentuating the rosiness of her cheeks, the softness of her hair… the tape she left behind, spinning loving encouragements recorded specially for him...

“Maybe she just wanted to be Rose Quartz. Is that so bad?”

“Depends on what her motives were,” Garnet replies matter-of-factly, adjusting her opaque glasses.

(The solid weight of the gemstone in his hand as he delicately submerges it under the fountain’s pool, familiar and alien all at once… It’s part of him, right? Has been for all his life. And yet…)

“-and Pink D’s like, the bad guy, Steven!”

(For once, Dad becomes his rock amidst the stress of all this Gem business. Steven clutches at his arm, desperately trying to let his dad’s warmth and comfort and perspective soothe his worries.)

“-despite everything else she probably lied about, her love and respect for all of you was not a sham.”

He buries his face in his arms, shivering in the throes of the nighttime breeze as its intensity ever so slightly picks up. His teeth chatter, and he shrinks even smaller in defense against the sudden burst of coastal wind. Even his long sleeve pajamas don’t provide much comfort. And because of this, no matter what he tries his mind can’t stop looping back to the deadening sense of cold he felt radiating through his very core when he split apart from his gemstone… how disoriented it left him, unable to focus or even walk for the first few minutes. The scariest part is by far the gap in his memories, from the second that unbearable pain shot through his nerves to the moment he opened his eyes to find himself held aloft in Bismuth’s grasp.

He literally blacked out, in the mercy of someone who hurt him. He was helpless and alone, and in way over his head. This was like the incident with Jasper and the hand ship all over again. He— his bottom lip quivers as he pulls his legs tighter to his chest— he could have died. And now, because he’s separated from his gem, entirely human, no powers at all, he may never get to go on a serious Gem mission ever again. But what bothers him even more than that is...

He peeks out from between his arms, tired, glossy eyes drinking in the sight of that glittering pink gem in the sand.

Pink Diamond. Rose Quartz...

Why does there have to be so many contradictions about who Mom was? Why can’t he just know?

Not a sham, one source claims.

She’s a liar! says another.

His heart doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

Steven huffs in frustration, and he crawls on hands and knees to the shallow mound he rest the gem upon. He picks it up, his fingers splaying wide to securely support its full diameter. With a sharp cry of lingering discomfort at the sudden physical exertion, he pushes himself to his feet. The ocean calls him closer, the predictable rhythm of its tides so mesmerizing. Step by step, he emerges from under the temple’s shadow into the full light of the moon.

“Why’d you have to be so secretive about everything, huh?” he asks pointedly, staring daggers at the gem. In the diamond’s mirror-like surface, his hurt scowl is reflected right back at him. “Why’d you have to lie to all your friends? And why did you dump me with all this?”

Not that he expects anything else by this point, but the gemstone remains silent in the wake of his questioning. Funny that, huh. It’s rather reminiscent of some other Gems in his life. He catches a glimpse of the temple statue in the corner of his eye, the face of the fusion carved into the cliffside gazing out at sea impassively in all her monolithic glory. Unchanging in her manner, no matter the centuries long gone.

(Thick ringlets, prominently carved into the cliff face in a way he can’t ignore, not for anything.)

He exhales heavily.

“I just…. wanna know the truth, for once in my life,” he says. “The whole truth, y’know?”

Steven lowers his gaze to the diamond in his hold as he contemplates this desire, and accompanied only by the gentle lull of the ocean, begins to sing a slow melody.

“I thought I knew, I thought I saw… All the writing that you left me on the wall...”

He takes a breath. Mind overrunning with conflicting ideas and secrets and fourteen year old promises labeled ‘for Steven,’ he turns to face the water, planting his bare feet solid in the damp sand.

“Through the gem you left behind, And taped encouragements to find... Your portrait hanging like a lighthouse on the shore. And all what for?

“What do I trust? What should I say? Don’t think I know you well enough to feel betrayed…”

In his hands, he flips the inert gemstone so its five sided facet faces up, obscuring the point below. His brow creases.

“About the gem you turned to hide, And how easily you lied… But after all of this…

“Why does the thought of living up to you make me feel small?” he asks, his singing voice cracking on the last note. Five fingers grip his pajama shirt tight where normally they’d wrap around the familiar edges of his gem. “When now I’m not sure you’re worth living up to after all…”

Far above, a constellation he can’t quite remember the name of twinkles at him.

“It’s so… unfamiliar.”

Echoes of recent memory pool around him like mirrors into his past as he drinks in the sight of the night sky. Bismuth’s presentation of the breaking point, their resulting moral disagreement, his mom’s sword lying across the room during the most heated moment of their fight… (If it lay in his reach, could he have done it? Is he even capable of poofing a non-corrupted Gem in self defense?) The memories swirl around him faster now, the breeze picking up. His pink tinted double standing parallel, nothing but his own intuition giving answer as to what the hard-light figure represents. The silent shock drawn across Amethyst’s features at seeing him hurt, wordless but still so tangible and raw. The terror they all felt as his glitching gem self’s scream sent cracks spider webbing through solid rock. Garnet’s instability, the horror of the truth nearly wrenching her apart. Pearl’s hand involuntarily clamping over her mouth. Bismuth’s exile. His dad clutching him to his chest fiercely tight as he drifted to sleep...

The collective weight of the past finally grows too big for him to carry. Brimming with exhaustion, he falls to his knees.

“I wish I knew how to fix this,” he says with a lump in his throat, the lull of the ocean soaking up his hoarse whispers. His thumb glides across the pentagonal facet, right across the length where the crack had been. “I wish Bismuth and I could’ve just talked, that none of this happened in the first place. I- I wish…”

Prolonged exhaustion wringing the strength from his body, he lists forward, pressing his forehead against the diamond’s cool, glassy surface. His eyelids flutter shut. Otherwise unhindered, fresh tears slip from the corners and dampen his cheeks. Steven’s breath shakes as he folds in on himself even more, elbows propped on his thighs.

The wind and waves soak up his cries like an acoustic sponge. And so with no witness, and no awareness of the passage of time, he lets slip the full depth of his jumbled emotions, tears eventually mixing with the messy snot running from his nose. In a comforting way, it’s strangely cathartic. All those unspoken stressors weighing down on him— his status as a Crystal Gem, his mom’s questionable morality, the unshakable memory of his near-death experience— begin to fade into the background as he cries. Things of course won’t instantly become better, but… he still has his friends and family to help him through this, right? Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl, Dad, Connie… Peridot and Lapis… Sadie, Lars… Kiki, Jenny, Buck, and Sour Cream… maybe Onion? He bites back a half hearted laugh upon recalling the surreal evening he spent playing with Vidalia’s youngest a few months back. Okay, so maybe Onion isn't exactly as great a source of support as the others, but the point still stands.

No matter how isolated and lost he feels, he’s far from alone.

Abruptly, a gentle chime interrupts his train of thought. In seconds flat light erupts into his world, soft and pink, so vivid in its glow that it’s visible even between his interwoven eyelashes, sparking a kaleidoscope of color on the backs of his eyelids. He gasps. Eyes opening wide as day, he jolts upright.

The diamond in his hands pulses with life, its glassy surface thrumming under his fingertips. Acting on its own volition, it then lifts out of his grip. For a split second a surge of panic grips him. He claws at thin air, desperately trying to reclaim what’s his, but then… It’s okay. He’s okay. He’s seen this, he knows this. Reformation. Steven slumps back in the sand, neck craning to catch a glimpse as his gemstone rises straight up, stretching ever closer to the stars it came from. Perhaps a testament to the raw power contained within, the same breeze that tousles his hair is unable to lay a finger on it.

Transfixed, he watches with mouth agape as the gem pulses a pure white. Radiating outwards from the diamond, a series of forms— one he doesn’t recognize, and two he does— take shape out of light in quick sequence. The first is shockingly tall, at least fifteen feet, and has poofy hair, the gem oriented on its side at her navel. Pink Diamond? he wonders, hating how the thought of that name makes his guts twist and churn with uneasiness. Unfortunately he doesn’t have time to commit her shape to memory. In a flash the diamond rotates, baring its pentagonal facets. At the same time the shifting hard light form collapses in on itself, flaring outwards once more in the unmistakable shape of his mother. His heart hammers in his chest at the sight of her. But then once more, the light collapses back into the gemstone, and weaves back together into a far more compact form... A form he’s intimately familiar with.

With another resonant chime his hard light self bursts into colorful actuality, reformed once more. He’s wearing the same pajamas he himself is currently, except tinted in shades of pink like his skin and hair. The Gem stretches his arms out and allows himself to effortlessly drift downwards, his bare toes making first contact.

Steven’s mouth is still wide open. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious in the presence of a being who’s so cool and adept he makes floating look like child’s play, (even if technically, that being is supposed to be him), he wipes the streaks of his tears from his cheeks.

“Um… hello,” he says with a small wave.

The other Steven merely acknowledges him with a nod, the motion so subtle that if he wasn’t watching him with such laser focused intent he probably would have missed it altogether. He chuckles nervously, running a stray hand through the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

“So you’re really another version of me then, huh?”

The full Gem doesn’t respond this time. Instead his attention is drawn elsewhere, as he drinks in his surroundings with an empty, impartial gaze. He’s clearly alert and conscious, but there’s no clear sign of emotion in his full pink irises. (His pupils, he notes with alarm, are diamonds.) There’s no point in lying, it’s pretty creepy. Bemused and unsure as to what to do next, Steven presses his mouth taut and sighs, the passing air vibrating his lips. It sounds just like a motorboat engine, and in any other scenario that comparison would make him laugh.

“Hey, I- if you were a sandwich,” he begins lamely, at this point desperate to incite any kind of response from him, “I guess you might say you’re… all Gem, hold the human?”

He throws his arms up in a grandiose shrug, beaming so wide that his cheeks hurt. Once more, other Steven doesn’t utter a word. He doesn’t blink either, which is unnerving in and of itself, but nevertheless he can’t help but feel like he’s being silently judged by this being. His smile recedes.

“Wow, tough crowd,” he mutters under his breath, sweat beading at his brow. “I know it’s not my best joke, but gee, you’d think a hard light projection of me would be a bit more talkative…”

Not sure what else to say for the moment, he shies away from the Gem. Instead, he focuses back on the ocean, on the tides steadily lapping at the shoreline a few feet from where he stands. Steven frowns pensively as he contemplates his current situation, hand balled at his chin. At this point he’s not sure what he expected to happen when he nicked his gemstone to go on a little outdoor adventure, but it certainly wasn’t this. Then again, he’s sure there’s a excusable reason Other Steven is acting all silent and emotionless. Maybe it’s just that… he’s still shell-shocked from almost being shattered. Geeze, that had to have been terrifying!

After a moment of consideration, he decides to approach him in a different way.

“I’m sorry you got cracked. That looked like it really hurt.”

Silence. He feels kinda itchy pinned under his double’s unyielding gaze.

“I mean,” he says with a weak laugh, “that sucked for me, and I didn’t even have my gem at the time.”

At this the Gem’s features shift ever so slightly into an expression suggesting concern. His brow lifts, and his diamond pupils dilate.

This time Steven returns his stare, squinting at him with unveiled curiosity.

“You are able to talk… right?”

“Yes,” he finally replies, as if this is supposed to be obvious fact.

(He has to admit, the sound of his own voice coming from another source in cold monotone kinda gives him the heebie jeebies.)

“Okay, so why—“

“There was no need to.”

He’s about to open his mouth to respond, pointer finger held aloft, when the words building in his mind dissipate like the morning fog that always hugs the docks. How does anyone respond to that? This whole situation— talking to his own Gem— is so strange and surreal that he wishes he wasn’t alone for it. He wishes another of the Gems was here with him, or Connie. At least then it wouldn’t be so awkward.

At the thought of his best friend he gasps, and slams his palms against his cheeks. “Wait! Oh my gosh, I have to take a picture for Connie! It’s not everyday there’s two of me!”

The Gem watches with mild bemusement from the sidelines as Steven whisks out his phone. Running on nothing but a surge of sheer enthusiastic impulse, he swipes to unlock and opens up the camera, poking the tip of his tongue through his lips all the while.

“Okay,” he says, holding the phone at arm’s length in front of the two of them. “Switching to selfie, and… cheese!”

The camera flashes. Eagerly, he taps the screen to look at the photo. In it, he stands grinning like a loon in the foreground, breeze blowing his hair every which way. Behind him, his pink counterpart squints at the burst of light, mouth slightly ajar in blank confusion. It’s by no means a flattering image. All the same, he hums in satisfaction, and decides to use his last few drops of battery life to shoot Connie a quick text.

“By the way,” he dictates as his fingers fly across the phone’s digital keyboard. “Accidentally… got separated… from gem… I’m mostly okay, I think… but now there’s two of me. Say hi to—“ He glances up at the other Steven, who’s watching him with faint intrigue. “Uh… Hey, I just realized I never asked what you wanna be called? I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me!”

The Gem pauses for a moment before responding. “I don’t have any name but ours.”

“O- oh. Well, that’s okay, I’ll just call you that. So gimme the deets, my good twin Steven... “

“I am not a twin.”

“Uh, Other Steven?”

“We are not separate people. I’m a half of a whole, just like you.”

He purses his lips. “Pink Steven,” he suggests, gesturing towards him with his phone in hand.

The hard light version of himself nods in agreement, a stiff solitary action. “That is acceptable.”

He peers close at him for a second, bemused. The Gem doesn’t even noticeably breathe.

“Pink Steven it is, I guess,” he shrugs, and finishes typing his message to Connie. “And, send!”

The text pops up on the screen in a blue bubble, attached alongside the selfie of the two of them. Quickly, he scans back over the message, realizing far too late that he probably should have done that before slamming his thumb on the big red button. His eyes narrow as he reads:

btw accidentally got separated from gem, mostly okay i think , but now theres two me’s say hi to pink steven! ill call later, some kinda scary stuff happened but gems and i are fine so pls dont worry too much

“Really, Steven?” he says, exasperation framing his features. “Don’t worry too much? Of course she’s gonna worry!” Voice cracking amidst his melodrama, he captures loose fistfuls of hair from either side of his head, phone still clutched in one hand. “Noooo, why did I write that?”

Steven groans, promptly dropping to his knees, and flops over into the sand like a mannequin with its strings cut. He lays there for a while, absentmindedly nibbling at the inside of his cheek just like he’s chewing over his thoughts. And hoo boy, there sure is a lot to unpack here. Mainly, he spends this time switching between scoffing at his own lack of tact, questioning why his Gem self has to be so darn enigmatic, and dreaming of a better world where his family isn’t crumbling under the weight of a long-kept secret and everything actually makes sense. But in the end he knows there’s no good to be found from silently wallowing about all of this. Instead, he thinks of Garnet, and everything he admires about her. About how despite her ability to trace the paths of potential futures, even she can’t predict every twist and turn of life. Even Garnet is no stranger to the fear of the unknown. The only difference is, she never lets that hinder her. Instead she channels all the the jitters and uncertainty of that fear into something else entirely, lets it empower her to confidently rise to solve the issue at hand.

And sure, he may not be the best leader or fighter or strategist like the rest of the Crystal Gems, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s asking questions.

“What you said earlier about… being half of a whole,” he says to his counterpart, sitting up. “What did you mean?”

“You already figured that out,” Pink Steven responds in cryptic monotone.

“Really? I- I did?”

“You already know that I am a hard-light personification of our gem half. I exist in this form because it’s who we are.”

The Gem extends his hand expectantly, as if waiting for him to respond in some specific way. His diamond pupils focus on Steven with an almost pleading intensity.

His brow furrows. He suddenly wishes he could read minds. “What are you—“

What does he want, a high five, a secret handshake, a—

“We’re not supposed to be apart like this.”

His eyes widen, suddenly understanding the invitation the Gem’s giving him. “Oh, you want to fuse? But I’m human, I’m not—“ At his sides, his knuckles tighten— “I can’t do that anymore.”

“Not human,” he reminds him with a shake of his head, more feeling present within his voice than he’s heard since his Gem self screamed at Bismuth. “Half human.”

“And you want to fuse with me?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well yeah, of course! But it’s just…” Steven folds his hands together, fingers loosely interlocking. “Doesn’t that make you weaker?”

“I think it makes us stronger.”

This gives him pause. He’s not sure he agrees, or understands why, but regardless he can’t deny the rush of peace it brings him to know that this other half truly wants to be a part of him. Of them, together.

“Okay, I’m in,” he declares decisively, mind set. “I’ll try to fuse with you. But can I maybe ask about a few Gem things, first?”

“I only know what you know.”

“But you’re still another perspective! Looking at stuff from another angle can be really helpful sometimes. It’s just…” Steven trails off, wrapping his arms around himself protectively as if fearing injury from asking this very question. “It’s about my mom. Is she… still in there, somewhere?”

Pink Steven’s frown deepens, ever so slightly. Even if he’s not super emotive, it’s become clear to him that his counterpart still feels things. He just doesn’t express his emotions to the same degree. (Or at least, that’s his theory.)

“She’s gone,” he whispers.

“But you’re sure she’s really—“

“GONE!”

“Okay, okay!” he says, holding his hands up. “Touchy subject, I get it. But please don’t wake up the whole town. Or our dad. Sleep’s super important for us human beings.”

“You’re not asleep,” he responds, deadpan.

“That’s— that’s different! I can’t fall asleep in the first place, coz’... well, because of this,” he admits, and gestures awkwardly between them.

He sighs, and shuffles his feet in the sand. There’s still so much he’s aching to ask— how did we even split so abruptly? Does this mean we’re technically a fusion? How come it took me twelve whole years to summon my shield for the first time, what’s up with that? What Crying Breakfast Friends character do you identify the most as, Sniffling Croissant like me, or are our opinions different on things? Like, do we like the same foods? Do you even eat food?? How the heck did I never notice that my gem is pointy, shouldn’t I have been able to feel that it’s, erm... jabbing into my insides whenever I’m laying down?— but in the end there’s one that weighs on his mind more than all the others.

“The other thing I’m confused about is… if Mom’s really gone like you said, then why did you almost reform as her?”

“Gemstones retain memory.”

“Oh yeah, Pearl mentioned that once,” he says with a soft smile. “So, then… those are just forms this gem used to take?”

Pink Steven nods in confirmation.

“But Mom’s… soul... is gone forever?”

Another nod.

“Then… it’s just us,” Steven breathes in wonder, the words cathartic the moment they pass his lips into permanence. His eyes grow damp. “Just me.”

At the realization, that shadowy thicket of thorns that’s increasingly entangled itself around his heart for the past few years finally begins to recede.

“Okay,” he says, extending his hand to his Gem counterpart. “I think I’m ready now.”

The moment their fingers brush against each other, strength surges through his body like he’s gasping awake from a disjointed dream, and immediately his baggy, weary eyes snap alert. Hand in hand with his hard-light double, he’s suddenly focused, able, nerves alight with a warmth he never realized until now he missed. A subtle grin curves across Pink Steven’s face in response, vulnerable emotion bursting to life for the very first time.

And as the two of them— human and Gem alike— stand parallel on the shore regarding each other under the constellations’ careful watch, an all-consuming understanding crests over him as solid as the tides are strong.

I can do it, he realizes with glee. I can actually fuse!

He can’t help the breathy laugh that bubbles up from within as he clasps his fingers secure around his counterpart’s pink ones. The Gem quickly grows to match him in his joy, and takes lead of their impromptu dance as the two begin to skip and spin across the sand, the ocean’s pulse and the wind’s vibrato acting as their only accompaniment. He’s dead tired, and his muscles still ache beyond belief, but in this blissful moment he finds he genuinely doesn’t care. Not when the breeze is tousling through his curls, and his other half’s eyes don’t look so cold and void anymore, and their steps surge with new confidence with each and every revolution they make. Not when there’s so much magic to be found in this world. So much hope, even despite the bad days. No more lies, he promises himself, no more thoughts of despair. No holding back. In a heartbeat the spinning world tints bright pink around them. Beaming, he throws his head back right as his vision blurs to white, the fathomless night sky the last thing he sees with fully human eyes.

Steven Universe, whole and uncracked once more, emerges from fusion’s pure glow.

He gasps for breath upon finally reforming, teetering and stumbling a few steps as he regains his sense of balance. Experimentally, he wiggles his toes against the cool sand, reveling in the way the granules tickle the bottoms of his feet, and laughs in sheer relief. Every stimuli is a thousand times more vivid now. The crisp wind dancing against the nape of his neck, the crash of the tides upon the shore echoing through his ears with a percussive strength… When he inhales, he inhales deep and strong, filling his lungs entirely with the fresh salty air. Now in one piece again, he suddenly feels more connected to his gem than ever. There’s a comforting thrum running parallel with his human veins, one he’s grown used to feeling whenever he summons his bubble or shield, except now it seems to be a constant presence. Channels of hard light, his mind excitedly supplies, recalling Pearl’s lessons. Just like a Gem circulatory system!

He breathes in deep again, grounding himself. He splays both arms outward, focusing upon the thought of self preservation. In a flash, the familiar sheen of his pink bubble blooms around him. Steven grins so wide his cheeks almost ache. He allows the bubble to drop, and next aligns his emotions with the idea of protection. His shield, forged of solid light and etched with rosy thorns, immediately materializes in front of his outstretched arm. It’s absolutely effortless, more so than ever before. Giddy in all the joy of being whole again, he dissipates the shield and launches himself high into the air. He’s giggling breathlessly by the time he begins his slow descent. For a blissful moment, every other stressful thing in the world disappears, and it���s just he, himself, and the glittering night sky. Far above, Ursa Minor winks at him. He blows the cosmos a kiss, eyes filled with stars.

Gently, his bare feet touch down on the shore.

For a moment he doesn’t budge an inch, doesn’t make a sound, as if he’s waiting for reality to pull the rug from under him. It all seems too idealized, too lucky. And yet— as he stands idle in the moonlight, fully alert and able— clearly it’s not. Beaming from ear to ear, he takes off running across the beach. As a testament to his sheer joy, his toes leave the ground behind again as he cartwheels.

...well, tries to cartwheel. Just because he’s more integrated with his gem doesn’t mean he’s any more graceful. He’ll leave the grace to Pearl and Connie.

His hands don’t hit the ground at the appropriate angle, and as a result he flips on end and lands face first, getting a mouthful of sand for all his troubles.

He spits as much of it out as he‘s able. “Euughhh, not again!” he says, although this time there’s renewed humor in his voice.

Steven rolls onto his back, and it’s then that he realizes, heart sinking low in his chest… that something feels different. He’s not sure why he didn’t notice it before. The unfamiliar way its weight settles, the distinct difference in shape that he only noticed when lying flat on his belly...

Hand quivering, he lifts his pajama shirt to check, and...

“W-wait, wha—!?”

The gemstone embedded flush at his navel is not his.

Well, it is, since obviously he fused with it and can summon his shield, but it’s certainly not the pentagonal cut he remembers. Instead, the entire gem has somehow rotated on its side, exposing the facets previously hidden from view. He slowly traces his fingers along its edges. How could a gem just flip like that? This never happened when any of the other Gems reformed, so why did it happen here, now?

No more lies...

Was it because of what he was thinking when he fused? Before Pink Steven reformed he briefly saw an outline of Pink Diamond, and her gem was flipped on its side too. But could subconscious thought really influence gemstone position like that?

He frowns pensively, and drops the bottom hem of his shirt. Like it or not, it seems this’ll be yet another change he’ll have to grow used to. That they’ll all have to grow used to, he amends, realizing that there’s no way the other Gems wouldn’t notice. His eyes droop, his earlier burst of adrenaline beginning to run him into the ground. How late is it again? Oh, right. He doesn’t know.

Yawning, Steven picks himself to his feet, retrieves his flip flops, and begins his hike up the sandy path to his house. He rests his palm upon the newly exposed facets of the diamond in his belly, still somewhat dazed by everything that’s recently come to pass, and truthfully he can’t help but feel as if he’s encroaching upon a brand new chapter of his life. Where tomorrow, or the next day, or the weeks to come will lead him is a cosmic mystery only Garnet could dream of halfway answering. But in this very instant, at least he can say he's whole again.

Maybe now he’ll finally be able to sleep.

[caddy-whump-us]

Some questions/food for thought: Why can Lucian never be a Black Swan? Has he done something to discount him from that entirely? Does he ever beg to be treated like one (and get suitably punished for his insolence)?

Oh anon~ This is about to be a Deep Dive into the Lore and Backstory. Spoilers ahead for some of the unwritten bits of the vampire series. And this is seriously long, okay? And, more importantly:

CAUTION/TW for referenced non-con, sex work, and forced/non-con sex work, and physical violence. Nothing is described outright; all mentions are only oblique references. Still, please proceed with caution!

Okay. Lucien. This snide little asshole. Let’s talk about him!!!

Lucien could be a black swan–in theory. But he’s been passed over because he’s actually not entirely human. O wat? O yes.

So the “red light district” of this city (which needs a name; I generally picture something like Yharnam from Bloodborne but with fewer monsters and more of a functional city) is called Smoketown. And it’s off to the southeast corner of the city, on the other side of the river. And this is the part of town where the drugs, gambling, dance halls, and sex workers are found. To use the local slang, there’s grindhouses and ponyboy stables, and dollboys around Smoketown. 

There’s a bit of a hierarchy, I guess, in all this, with the “dolls” and “dollboys” being the top tier (charging the most), down to the ponyboy/ponygirl stables (middle tier), down to the grindhouse boys/girls (lower tier), on down to the “crib hoors” and “street hoors” (generally regarded as awful and only suitable for the most broke and desperate). This is a real simplification, but I guess that explains the basics? 

Lucien was, some time ago, a dollboy (so was Maggie Magpie, actually). They’re regarded as the prettiest and most expensive–if you want to be fancy you could almost call them courtesans. And, ideally, they’ll get themselves a particular patron and be a sort of love affair for pay.

An aside: so this imagined world has different views on sexuality (and to some extent gender? but not quite so much). Basically, when one is young, go ahead and fool around. You’re young, what you do now is less important than what you do later. But because this culture still very much holds to primogeniture, you had better be married to someone with whom you can have a biological child. That’s the ideal. But while you’re young, a teenager, a 20-something, go ahead and fool around–ideally not in Smoketown, but if you’re a boy and you find yourself drawn to a boy classmate, well, that’s just how it is when you’re young. And if you’re a girl, and you find yourself drawn to a girl classmate, well, go on ahead, because young love is passionate but rarely lasts. You can like whoever during this period of particular romantic and sexual freedom.

Once one gets a little older, it’s considered mature and responsible to “grow out” of this phase of experimentation and rampaging passion. You settle down, you marry someone with whom you can have biological children, and your firstborn will inherit your estate, &c &c. But, of course, some people just…won’t. Because this is how they are. In some cases, like Nikolai and Jonathan, they go on with their relationship and don’t grow out of it but rather into each other (this is why N&J staged a secret wedding between themselves, with rings and all; they can’t marry in the eyes of the law, but they consider themselves married). And, yes, this is not considered mature or wholly acceptable, so they keep these (quite committed) relationships as secret as possible.

In other cases, especially among the titled, the gentry, the upper-class, who all marry each other as one does, if you must indulge in this misplaced youthful exuberance, there’s Smoketown. And if must go to Smoketown, at least pay for the services of one of the sex workers of equally high status. (Does that always happen? No. But you get the idea.)

So you have this set of “houses” of highly-paid, highly-regarded “dollboys.” And these houses are both in competition with one another but not a strenuous competition. Any competition mostly plays out in trying to find or recruit new workers (Maggie, as an example, was born to a sex worker and, presumably, a client and was kept as a kind of a household servant in that same “house” until the proprietor of the Aviary encountered him and essentially bought him and kept on using him as a household servant until he was of age to actual start work; he’s in debt at this point). 

And, of course, the different houses have different aesthetics. The Aviary tends to have boyish workers that play to that nostalgic “school romance” or “university romance” aesthetic, Lucien’s house (no name yet) tends to play more with gender especially re: clothing and makeup. Lucien likes feathers and leathers and silk and lace and painting his eyes. He knows he can kind of saunter along and blur that line. And it works well for him.

So that’s Smoketown. Now. Off north of the river and outside the city (northwest of it, I think?) is a district called “The Five Churches.” And there are, indeed, five churches, that all share a large plaza or square onto which their doors open (p.s.: weddings are conducted on the porch of the church; just a fun fact there). The sixth side of the plaza is open to the city. Beyond and behind the churches is a massive, massive cemetery–it is absolutely the cemetery for the entire city (please picture Highgate Cemetery or the Glasgow Necropolis).

And somewhere out in or beyond or (actually) under the cemetery is a secret, hidden, exclusive…club, I guess. It’s not a cult, but it’s extremely secretive. A secret society, is I guess the best way to put it. And it is called The Red Circle.

The truth is, the Red Circle is really just a giant whump party. The rich and powerful (men, almost exclusively) have at their disposal a selection of whumpees to use as they see fit, to release the tensions of the lives or to satisfy urges that otherwise cannot be soothed or just because. 

Now it’s time to introduce a new character. His name is Cyprian and he is a vampire. And he is also under the control of the Red Circle (for reasons I haven’t figured out yet). They’ve got something to use against him if he betrays them, IDK. 

Etienne has actually found evidence of Cyprian but doesn’t know it. There are tally marks in a book hidden in Viktor’s library that add up to about 3 years and change and at the end are the initials C. G. That’s Cyprian from back when he was Viktor’s black swan. And, yes, Viktor turned him into a vampire. And, no, Cyprian wasn’t happy. He should have been Viktor’s heir, but that didn’t work out. And now he’s under the command of the Red Circle. But why?

Well if you have a bunch of whumpees and you love whumping them, how do you keep whumping them without constantly killing them and then needing new ones? The answer came from some of Cyprian’s research (he started digging into the whole “black swan” custom among other things): it is possible to create a kind of ghoul, a kind of half-vampire by carrying out the procedure used to turn a human into a vampire but carrying that procedure out only partially.

Rather than draining the human of all (or almost all) of their blood and then feeding them blood from the vampire that drank their blood, a vampire can inject a human with a small amount of their blood (not taken from the human victim in question here) and you’ll end up with what’s been termed a ghoul.

Ghouls are worthless to vampires: their blood is disgusting, they smell like rust and iron to vampires. And they don’t get many of the benefits that full vampires have–they can’t move so fast, they don’t have the sharp teeth, &c. they do have better vision at night but their eyes are inclined to reflect light like a cat’s eyes will. 

Instead, ghouls are more like humans but still have the vampiric sensitivity to sunlight (neither ghouls nor vampires burn in the sun, btw) and are bound by what’s called the Obligation of Flesh. Where vampires can sustain themselves with blood only, ghouls have to eat raw meat with some regularity. This both keeps them essentially sane and (more importantly to the Red Circle) helps them to heal inordinately quickly. Deny them meat and they heal like typical humans. Feed them some raw liver or brains or raw chicken and raw eggs and they’ll start mending right before your eyes (no, it isn’t comfortable, thanks). Yes, they can die and much more easily than true vampires and some of the Red Circle’s ghouls have, in fact, died.

Now you’re probably way ahead of me by now: Lucien is, in fact, a ghoul. 

The Red Circle’s method goes like this: one or more of them identify someone they want to add to their collection. This decision is discussed and debated until consensus is reached–and they’re very careful about how often and who they add to their collection. At that point, lower-ranking members are sent to the target’s working house and pay for their services–whereupon they whump them up but badly. 

This happens sometimes, even in the best houses, even in the Aviary. The target is allowed to heal but this means less money for the house. As soon as the target is back at work, someone else comes in and repeats the process: payment, whumping. The proprietor is not likely to put a bruised boy out on the floor in a good house, so back he goes to heal and, again, money is lost. And this repeats as long as is needed until word gets out that the proprietor is getting a little fed up with this pattern but it’s not one obvious person or one obvious group doing it. At that point, a messenger from the Red Circle will arrive with an offer to buy the target outright at an extravagant cost, enough to make losing this one boy worth it, especially if it means an end to having an unworkable boy so often. It may take time, but the proprietor is eventually coerced into accepting the offer and the target is spirited away by members of the Red Circle (or aspiring members maybe? pledges, if you will?) and to their secret meetingplace. 

Everything about this sucks, including the part where Cyprian makes them into a ghoul, because that alone hurts like hell. And then they’re stuck there, getting whumped regularly, then patched up and/or fed raw meat. One of the higher-ranking members serves as a kind of proprietor there; Cyprian is as much a servant (or slave?) as any of the ghouls.

So that’s how Lucien ended up being completely undesirable to vampires. But how did he get out of the Red Circle? Mostly because he was a very bad element to add to the collection and there was an uprising against the members of the Red Circle and there may or may not have been some revenge whumping and even cannibalism (gotta meet that Obligation of Flesh somehow). 

At that point, after the Red Circle was broken, everyone in the collection kind of went their own ways. Even Cyprian was free. Lucien, though, kind of fascinated by Cyprian and the things he talked about, sought out Viktor and offered himself as a postulate. And, as we all know, Viktor accepted him. And Lucien set out to be the best and most devoted because that’s how you get rewarded in the world he comes from.

But the first time he offered his blood to Viktor, Viktor laughed and called him a monster and refused his blood. And here Lucien, having learned of the whole black swan tradition mostly from being in Viktor’s house, had been hoping for such a place of honor and now it seems like it’s been absolutely denied to him forever–because he’s a monster with blood Viktor can’t consume. And, yes, Lucien is unbelievably angry and bitter about the whole situation, especially when Etienne enters the picture (unexpectedly).

I hadn’t thought about him begging for the chance to be treated as a black swan and then being punished for daring to ask for such a thing but, damn, now I want to think about that. He probably would–albeit in private. There’s a lot of jockeying for position among the postulates and Lucien has worked his way up to the top, almost a class by himself, and he will not let that go easily. So to be seen begging for something could weaken his position and that won’t do. And yet…and yet…he does want it…

He might get what he wants someday. But it’s going to take some interesting circumstances.

So that’s a bit of a deep dive into the lore, worldbuilding, and backstory that’s running along and behind the vampire stories. If you made it this far, thanks for reading all this! Bits of this will come out as I get more of the stories sorted out and written. But there you have it~

[failes-xtra-bits]

Review: Prince's Gambit Ch 1

Prince’s Gambit

Review Chapter 1:

So we start off this book with our characters riding towards Chastillon. What I really like about the beginning is that we see Damen becoming more friendly with the other men. 

“It’s hunting country,’ said Orlant, mistaking the nature of his gaze. "Dare you to make a run for it.”

This piece of dialogue is half joking, half wary (if that makes any sense) which I absolutely love and sets the foundations for the trust the builds as we go through the book. 

After a while Damen is summoned by Paschal, the physician:

It was fine. His back had healed enough that new scars had replaced new wounds. Damen craned for a glimpse but, not being an owl, saw almost nothing. He stopped before he got a crick in his neck.

  The physician rummaged in the satchel and produced one of his endless ointments.

  ‘A massage?’

  ‘These are healing salves. It should be done every night. It will help the scarring to fade a little, in time.’

  That was really too much. ‘It’s cosmetic?’

  The physician said, ‘I was told you would be difficult. Very well. The better it heals, the less your back will trouble you with stiffness, both now and later in life, so that you will be better able to swing a sword around, killing a great many people. I was told you would be responsive to that argument.’

  ‘The Prince,’ said Damen. But of course. All this tender care of his back, like soothing with a kiss the reddened cheek you have slapped.

I always found this exchange interesting (side note I found the owl thing kinda amusing.) The question “is it cosmetic” hearkens back to what we know about Akielon culture and how while male nudity is not reviled using cosmetics on the male body is. Damen’s reluctance is not just him being rebellious but is coloured by this cultural view and his reluctance is only assuaged by the physician propounding its practical value. 

Further the last bit is also very interesting, it serves to remind the reader of all the brutalities Laurent has inflicted upon Damen, but also symbolises the beginning of Laurent trying to remedy all of it. 

As they talk we find out that Paschal served the king and tended to the fallen at Marlas. 

“If you served the King,’ said Damen, ‘how is it you now find yourself in the Prince’s household, and not his uncle’s?’

  ‘Men find themselves in the places they put themselves,’ Paschal said, closing his satchel with a snap.”

This exchange is interesting because it really hones in the idea that there are people who serve Laurent out of sheer loyalty. Up until this point the reader is positioned to hate Laurent, so it's a surprise to see that there a people willing to be on his side. Slowly our hatred for him is unraveling. 

After this Damen goes to the courtyard and meets Jord who tells him to go to the armoury. Once there we meet Aimeric (who was briefly introduced at the end of Captive Prince) who was getting his ass beat. When Damen enters he tells the three men to stop. 

“It wasn’t Damen’s size that stopped them. It wasn’t the sword he held casually in his hand. If these men really wanted to make a fight out of it, there were enough swords, flingable armour pieces, and teetering shelves to turn this into something long and ludicrous. It was only when the leader of the men saw Damen’s gold collar that he shoved out an arm, holding the others back.

  And Damen understood, in that moment, exactly how things were going to be on this campaign: the Regent’s men in ascendancy. Aimeric and the Prince’s men were targets because they had no one to complain to except Govart, who would slap them back down. Govart, the Regent’s favourite thug, brought here to keep the Prince’s men in “and the Prince’s men were targets because they had no one to complain to except Govart, who would slap them back down. Govart, the Regent’s favourite thug, brought here to keep the Prince’s men in check. But Damen was different. Damen was untouchable, because Damen had a direct line of reportage to the Prince.”

I always think it must be weird for Damen (a prince, future king, war hero, etc) to see that his power doesn’t come from he himself this time but rather because of Laurent. I don’t really have much commentary on this other than it must feel weird for him. 

Anyway the men leave, Damen and Aimeric talk to each other for the first time. We learn that Aimeric is young, 19. Once again we are presented with notion of loyalty. 

“Aimeric didn’t budge. ‘You couldn’t take a flogging like a man. You opened your mouth and squealed to the Regent. You laid hands on him. You spat on his reputation. Then you tried to escape, and he still intervened for you, because he’d never abandon a member of his household to the Regency. Not even someone like you.’

Damen had gone very still. He looked at the boy’s young, bloody face, and reminded himself that Aimeric had been willing to take a beating from three men in defence of his Prince’s honour. He’d call it misguided puppy love, except that he’d seen the glint of something similar in Jord, in Orlant, and even, in his own quiet way, in Paschal/ him. 

“Damen thought of the ivory and gold casing that held a creature duplicitous, self-serving and untrustworthy.

‘You’re so loyal to him. Why is that?’

‘I’m not a turncoat Akielon dog,’ said Aimeric.

It’s kinda of interesting in hindsight now that we know Aimeric is on the regents side. I’m not going to comment on this bc idk what I can say. 

Anyway after this Damen delivers the inventory to Rochert as promised. It’s mentioned that the preparations should have happened a lot earlier and out of the 150 men the regent sent only less than two dozen are actually helping. 

Jord then approached Damen and says that Aimeric won’t foment any more tension which Damen knows is a lie. Damen asks where the Captain is and we find out that: 

“The Captain is in one of the horse stalls, up to his waist in the stableboy,”

And that Damen is going to be the one to fetch him. When Damen finally arrives at the stables we see Govart fucking the stable boy. When told that he his to see the Prince, Govart is adamant in wanting to finish his business and says Laurent is just 

“ really just a tease who wants cock”

This provokes an interesting reaction in Damen 

“Damen felt anger settle inside him, a tangible weight. He recognised an echo of the impotence Aimeric must have experienced in the armoury, except that he was not a green nineteen year old who had never seen a fight. His eyes passed impassively over the half-unclothed body of the stableboy. He realised that in a moment he was going to return to Govart in this small, dusty stall all that was owed for the rape of Erasmus.”

While we know that Damen and Govart have some history but its interesting that this reaction is provoked when Govart insults the Prince. Does it imply that Damen feels a weird sense of loyalty? Perhaps. Or perhaps he just really hates Govart. 

Eventually Govart gives in to the Prince’s orders. 

Finally it is time for Damen to report to the castellan and he is led to to the bedchamber. Here we get another crumb about the regent and Laurent’s relationship.

“The Prince stays here often?’

The castellan mistook him to mean the keep, not the rooms. ‘Not often. He and his uncle came here a great deal together, in the year or two after Marlas. As he grew older, the Prince lost his taste for the runs here. He now comes only rarely to Chastillon.”

While most of us picked up on their relationship, its a surprise Damen does not. Once again this serves to reveal Damen’s  naivety which stems from his trusting nature  and the straightforwardness of his culture. 

Food is brought and Damen waits for Laurent while pondering on the political situation the regent has created for Laurent. He intends to tear the group apart. 

Laurent finally arrives:

“'I have saved you till last'….Laurent calmly helped himself to goblet and pitcher, pouring himself a drink. Damen couldn’t help glancing at the goblet, remembering the last time they had been alone together in Laurent’s rooms.

Pale brows arched a fraction. ‘Your virtue’s safe. It’s just water. Probably.’ Laurent took a sip, then lowered the goblet, holding it in refined fingers. He glanced at the chair, as a host might offering a seat, and said, as though the words amused him, ‘Make yourself comfortable. You are going to stay the night.’

‘No restraints?’ said Damen. ‘You don’t think I’ll try to leave, pausing only to kill you on the way out?’

‘Not until we get closer to the border,’ said Laurent.

He returned Damen’s gaze evenly. There was no sound but the crack and pop of the banked fire.

‘You really do have ice in your veins, don’t you,’ said Damen.”

“Laurent placed the goblet carefully back on the table, and picked up the knife.

It was a sharp knife, made for cutting meat. Damen felt his pulse quicken as Laurent came forward. Only a handful of nights ago, he had watched Laurent slit a man’s throat, spilling blood as red as the silk that covered this room’s bed. He felt shock as Laurent’s fingers touched his, pressing the hilt of the knife into his hand. Laurent took hold of Damen’s wrist below the gold cuff, firmed his grip, and drew the knife forward so that it was angled towards his own stomach. The tip of the blade pressed slightly into the dark blue of his prince’s garment.

‘You heard me tell Orlant to leave,’ said Laurent.

Damen felt Laurent’s grip slide down his wrist to his fingers, and tighten.

“Laurent said, ‘I am not going to waste time on posturing and threats. Why don’t we clear up any uncertainty about your intentions?’

It was well placed, just below the rib cage. All you would have to do was push in, then angle up.

He was so infuriatingly sure of himself, proving a point. Damen felt desire come hard upon him: not wholly a desire for violence, but a desire to drive the knife into Laurent’s composure, to force him to show something other than cool indifference.

He said: ‘I’m sure there are house servants still awake. How do I know you won’t scream?’

‘Do I seem like the type to scream?’

‘I’m not going to use the knife,’ said Damen, ‘but if you’re willing to put it in my hand, you underestimate how much I want to.’

‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘I know exactly what it is to want to kill a man, and to wait.”

 This scene here is interesting. We are once again reminded of the assassination attempt and Laurent and Damen's tenuous relationship. They are clearly not friends, there is still hate between them yet a weird sort of trust is forming. Further last bit hints at what we know in hindsight is Laurent’s almost life long obsession with wanting to kill Damen in retribution for Auguste’s death. 

“Laurent said, ‘When this campaign is over, I think—if you are a man and not a worm—you will attempt to gain retribution for what has happened to you. I expect it. On that day, we roll the dice and see how they fall. Until then, you serve me. Let me therefore make one thing above all clear to you: I expect your obedience. You are under my command. If you object to what you are told to do I will hear reasoned arguments in private, but if you disobey an order once it is made, I will send you back to the flogging post.”

The terms of their relationship are now set and now Laurent reveals why Damen is here. 

“You said you knew the territory,’ ”

[rabbitindisguise]

oooo my phone died, killing the possibility of me doing my Daily Assigned Task (I only have one because aside from staying afloat with food and stuff that’s all my brain can cognitively handle. Yes, I also do this doing the school year. Yes, I know that sounds absolutely bonkers) right this moment so while I have my boredom captive in this textpost, let’s ruminate over the nature of humanity some more ignore me I’m talking to myself 

it is also very extremely weird and by “very” I mean “not at all” and “extremely” I mean “minimally, if anything, actually not super weird in any of the senses of the word” and weird still just means weird because otherwise the previous things I just said would no longer be accurate BUT

let’s just say it’s totally expected 

that people find These Weird Things That I Do generally, absolutely fascinating in fiction. Like, my original works for example are steeped in weirdness. Rolling with abnormalities. Boiling with oddity. And so on. And I don’t pull this out of my ass! Oh no. This is all like . . . gosh, inspired stuff. From things I saw and liked and felt reflected my very soul in fiction. 

But they’re totally hated in meatspace 

I wonder 

Anyway, it’s also really strange to see posts about this Weird Things That People Do on tumblr and to read people complimenting them and to feel a warm glow of pleasant optimism about the state of humanity, and hear the very same audience of tumblr people absolutely go nuts over the strangest bullshit I have ever seen or heard or conceived of in my entire life. Like I get weirdly tense and fraught subjects. I get really tense and pissy if someone headcanons a character as binary trans when I headcanon them as non-binary when I’m a nb trans it literally doesn’t matter aside from my emotional attachment to the concept. I’m not proud of it! But I get it, is my point. I understand. It makes sense to me. 

But what just doesn’t quite click, doesn’t snap into the convoluted logic of my brain meats, is HOW exactly SO MANY people have the same weird gripes of this obscure stuff that should be totally okay if people are accepting the activist principles of ableism as nonsense and weirdness not being bad. Many others who are probably smart have said it is simply, nay, merely hypocrisy and I’ve met a human or two in my time alive, I can see the potential for that sort of thing to happen. However, considering that Herd Mentality is what it is, I don’t think it’s possible that the plague is actually “being widely inconsistent in the execution of your beliefs to fit in to society” when that’s so stigmatized but actually that being angry about the same things is good for some reason. 

This is important! It’s important because Reasons. Because if you say “hypocrite!” when there’s a fire, I don’t think anyone will understand or listen to the concern. If the answer is anything but hypocrisy, talking about it generally pisses people off and makes them yell at you- a near identical response of an actual hypocrite, confusing everyone further. So I don’t think it’s unfair to talk about hypocrisy, of course not, there is nothing I enjoy more than finding logical inconsistencies because it means the world can be improved etc etc that’s not the problem. The problem is most definitely that if the problem isn’t even hypocrisy than the solution isn’t the solution to hypocrisy.   

If my theory is right, or semi-right, or at least not wrong, then approaching a bunch of people yelling about a thing to encourage others to yell in tandem is not going to be won by yelling something opposing to that, especially if it makes them angrier and also makes them feel wronged. Instead, calmly being like “nah, dude, I don’t feel the same way, but it’s chill” is way better. Not only because it makes them look ridiculous for having an out of proportion reaction to someone being weird in public (the horror, whatever shall we do about ~being weird~ and doing it ~in public~) but there’s no defensive position to get on. There is no “debate tactics” to use. There’s absolutely not a disagreement about ableism or politics or intersectionality. Rather, it uplifts a contrary option that is confident and secure and this is exactly the same rhetorical device that Centrists or whatever they’re called, use all the damn time. People have talked At Length about jeez, idk, it being exhausting to constantly talk to a person that’s not as invested and doesn’t see it as the Serious Issue It Is- but from the perspective of when they’re actually talking about serious issues, rather than complaining that someone referenced a tumblr meme in public or plays mc and oh, no, how cringey 

This is of course blatant emotional manipulation but as the fairness complaint generally goes, they did it first. Multiple people weighing in on a topic with angry voices telling someone not to do something doesn’t work because they have secret actual good reasons and that shines through, it’s because there’s a number of angry people and they’re trying to subdue someone’s Weird with force. Emotional force, but there’s nothing about consent involved in this exchange. No personal boundaries. Shame is a mode of control. Power, even. Which is why I hate those second hand embarrassment fics and avoid them like the plague because it’s icky to me and makes me feel gross and I guess one of my personal triggers is someone feeling bad for doing something Shameful in public 

Which brings me to Weird Humanity Musings part II (III? I can’t do math) that have taken a weird non-activist and highly personal turn for the worst: 

I don’t think people notice how often emotional manipulation plays a part in subtle power plays that go on in human interactions every day. Humanity made dominance ffs. Humans are the ones that get upset and feel challenged with eye contact- not dogs. Dogs use sustained eye contact all the time for a bunch of reasons. Humans too. But it’s humans that recontextualized that behavior as exclusively dominance, a wholly human concept, and, whatever I’m not going to spend too much time on this because I don’t actually particularly care about it. But the point is actually just that humans went out of their way to create this thing, and it plays a part in social interactions. Mothers and daughters and siblings and friends all have scripts of code that basically go for the emotional center of the other person to get them to obey. Most people can’t recognize it because society has that whole “if everyone does it THIS must be the baseline of normal” be as well All Know, normal doesn’t even exist so that reaction is bullshit before it’s even analyzed in any meaningful sense. 

Example time because I highly doubt I can just say that off the cuff and actually get people to follow that train of thought to completion (unfortunately, I’d rather not have to write this post at all because it means one less problem in the world and that’s a good thing). 

Anytime someone says “I’m your mother!” it’s to reinforce the authority of the child that this person probably have financial, social, physical (such a medical) and emotional control over for almost two decades of their life, or however much it actually was. This is often used to make the child of the mother Do Something, like maybe they’re questioning her judgement or smth I don’t know I get this one a lot and it’s lost all meaning to me by now 

Whenever someone says “thank you” it generally plays into the social script where they do the whole dance of “I got this service from you, I say thanks, you say you’re welcome.” This works as a subtle manipulation (not necessarily negative! these examples aren’t Get Mad and Force Conformity examples, just How It Works examples) when someone doesn’t feel like they’ve done something for someone else, so saying “thanks” shows appreciation for the effort and can force an acknowledgement of that effort by expecting a “your welcome” or “no problem” from the other person. This gets shitty and creepy when someone doesn’t take silence aka “I’m not doing the dance because I don’t agree” to a degree where they’re like “oh? are you not going to say you’re welcome?” aka are you gonna be a conceited shithead that thinks they’re better than saying “you’re welcome” the most common social nicety that supposedly always costs nothing? Which does nothing to make the person to feel better and everything to leverage the situation and make them preform social interaction for the other person’s amusement. 

“Good morning” is another example. It doesn’t actually matter if the morning is good or not, but it establishes rapport and focuses on the positives- one of those things called “small talk.” (Never heard of her.) This is something someone can actually observe better at the cultural level- someone says “good morning” in english, in another language they say something else. Both show ideological underlying beliefs of the culture Because That’s How Culture And Language Work because it’s a sneaky not-liar that can’t hide its true feelings about things. 

I’m not actually all that good with the line between “what is acceptable emotional manipulation in a social context when the fundamentals of the english language rely on subtle power exchange to function [and holy shit would some people hate knowing That] and the unacceptable abusive emotional manipulation” and I generally err on the side of stuff that people seem to be explicitly asking for and prompting but I don’t always succeed and I don’t know that I’m doing the best method but that’s the most chaotic good thing I could come up with  

But it still remains that calling things emotional manipulation is both true and a misnomer because in some ways, they’re necessary to exist in society without being considered a jackass (as a self proclaimed “I was called a jackass using many different words that all basically mean jackass” that mostly doesn’t participate in these social nicety dances because I don’t like my brain yelling at me that I’m doing the same bullshit I hated as a Youth and I don’t like disappointing myself) and in others, they’re totally unneeded and artlessly cruel. I mean, heck, going through this internal debate every time someone says “good morning?” Who does that? (I do. This is why people think I’m a dumbass lmao. Jokes on them unfortunately,) 

Regardless of what people actually DO about it though, these things are the underlying mechanics of how emotional manipulation works. It’s a concoction of societal expectations, situational contexts, personal histories, selective pressures, and a bunch of other things in smaller amounts. Most of the time it’s “normal” social stuff but with a ton of exaggerated features (I almost used my own handle from a different Social Media and that my friends is having a lot of issues and self hatred due to abuse! and also anxieties over becoming abusive ofc but who doesn’t have those these days). Which is why I think it’s so important that it’s expansively defined so much because otherwise people are really thickheaded about emotional abuse specifically. They think it’s impossible to do in some cases and in others, think it’s exclusively the realm of insults and humiliation. 

Those exaggerate features are even harder to spot if someone doesn’t even recognize the interpersonal dynamics of language in the first place. It all just becomes nonsensical and no one can tell what came from where or what this particular question is abusive and not this other one. The logic gets poked with holes easier and abuse survivors get dismissed. 

Of course, expanding that definition to reshape thinking might just go along the same direction as representation, where even alluding to the truly abusive mechanics of actual, you know, emotional abuse, is seen as abusive. Everything, literally, would become problematic. There could be callout posts about any human interaction in any context with anyone ever. I’m confident in holding myself to a higher standard than the rest of society but I Cannot overstate that being bullshit to the nth degree that I couldn’t even put up with myself telling myself to keep to it as a standard. It just doesn’t work. I’ve tried it. That way lies the nonsense form of madness as in the non-nd kind. That, along with purity culture and censorship and doxxing and death threats and so on: I don’t fully want to release this theory out into the world in practice because I’m afraid society will just use it as fodder to be cruel to people but I’m also equally afraid that not saying anything will just cause people to, I don’t know, keep accidentally causing suffering to others. So I’ll stuff it under a read more and hope that keeps the impact minimal but not non-existent. 

But yeah this whole post is a demonstration that just because someone’s behaving weirdly doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re bad people. Even if they do something that seems downright mean. I read a post that was basically “there’s no such thing as asshole disorder” but there really is, and it’s whatever I have. I get so compelled to Do the right thing by my ethics and morals that I go through above *gestures* and take longer than neurotypicals do to respond to “good morning” and I don’t mean anything by it so I assume that people can tell because I assume the best in others, and others are free to assume the worst in me so they do. 

I’m not upset by it but I also wish that there were a better system to screen assholes than assuming that non-compliance with normality is a sign of evil, because that’s the system we seem to have. It might have a high reward in the brain via confirmation biases and whatnot, but that doesn’t seem worth the risk of basically knocking down any and every mental illness symptom that’s unpalatable. Because they’re all unpalatable to someone, somewhere. That’s what makes them symptoms. We don’t have any “glowing green hair” as symptoms because that’s just sick as fuck and I want some. People who have working with their symptoms and turned them into something beneficial have largely challenged societal ideas about what is “good” and “natural” to get there, and that type of work isn’t someone everyone is cut out for. 

Many physically disabled people are all medical model, all the way because they’ve been largely neurotypical their whole lives, and I’ve read their grieving posts like people recommend that I read and I just don’t see how I can help them empathize with me as a person that doesn’t give a shit if my clicking pen annoys people if it helps me focus. That’s an Asshole move if any has ever be determined by society, but at the same time, a common fundamental symptom of many disorders, and as such, I don’t feel bad about it and I don’t know that I could, ever, be made to feel guilty for existing. I’ve never seen myself as a drain on society. I’ve never felt like a freeloader. And I’ll never feel bad for being disable or neurodivergent. Does that make me the bad guy? Or the weird cool antihero from fiction? My impulse is to say “yes” to both ‘cause what people like in fiction is not always what they tolerate in real life 

It’s kinda weird and paradoxical that I can feel bad about not feeling bad but not feel bad about being disabled at the same time but w/e I’m an abuse survivor we, collectively, excel at stuff and things that most people may not understand so I guess that’s all the explanation I need 

[readbythestarlight]

c2e36

So this will be 10 episodes since the one where we lost Molly. Just throwing that out there.

Also it’s apparently my 9 (NEIN) month anniversary for being subbed to G&S which means it’s also my 9 month anniversary for watching CR and also the show has been going for 9 months as of the 11th so. That’s cool.

I like that jacket, Sam.

Broadway advert lol

“Andrew Loyd Website”

“I could have backed up all night” and “I’ve grown accustomed to her encryption” I’m dead

Okay that was hands down Sam’s best ad he’s so goddamn creative

NEW YORK NEW YORK I’m so excited I loved the last live show

A SLEEVES ARE BULLSHIT SHIRT?!

I need it

Oh wait it doesn’t actually say sleeves are bullshit

I still love the shirt tho and I want one

And the bumper sticker

“It makes it sound bad when you say it like that” guys it WAS bad xD

Poor Caduceus is having an Experience

Cad: “You keep leaving”

Y: “They keep finding me”

Cad: “I think you might have the right idea”

THE FUCK? NO

guys you need to convince Caduceus to sTAY

HE’S ALIVE?!

HE HAS AN AXE IN HIS HEAD

Oh no don’t get Cad he’s sad and tired right now

I mean y’all almost left him behind which was crummy

Caleb really wanted to yank that axe out

Also how does healing work? Like does the guy have permanent brain damage in the are where the axe wrecked now? If it had hit somewhere vital to like, say, memory, would his memory be gone? Enquiring minds want to know.

When Caleb tries to be intimidating it both makes me laugh but also freaks me out a little

I LOVE when Matt has cool props

So does Travis lol

J: “Have you heard of THE Traveler”

Galen: “….Oh no not another one”

Nott and Jester building up Galen like “no no you’re totally special!!!”

“Missed all the major organs” sAM xD

“The Mist…ake” I’m crying

lol promoting this guy to first mate I’m crying

“We got a new pet!”

“Let’s call him Professor Thadeus the second!”

They forgot they had someone tied to the mast too what nerds

They cut up his nice shirt xD

I adore that Travis has totally got the islands and shit memorized so he can be super in-character

Also Cad is being too quiet it’s making me sad

Caleb The Navigator

Captain Fjord

First Mate Galen

Oh oh oh they should have a guest to come aboard and sail with them

Oh noooo they left the magic invisible cart

YES THANK YOU MATT y’all need to talk to Caduceus thank you Matt for pointing out that poor Taliesin has been silent for 30 minutes

Oh no have they somehow fucked over Cad’s mission?

I’m curious about this. Because obviously Taliesin knew this was exactly how the M9 were, so I can’t believe that he would have made Cad to be wholly incompatible with them.

He’s feeling really low and lost I think it’s time for a group hug

Him almost dying really freaked him out (and I think it really freaked Taliesin out too)

I’M HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS RIGHT NOW WITH JESTER AND CADUCEUS YOU GUYS

Caduceus is the ship’s cook

Mmm Beau is starting to feel like Caleb is trying too hard to excuse the bad things they do

I think the dock thing was a disaster for sure but I don’t think it was necessarily that they REALLY did anything wrong?

I’m not sure what exactly Beau is feeling bad about? Like freeing the genie wasn’t wrong, the boat thing was a mistake built on bad choice but it wasn’t them being inherently bad, and they didn’t kill Algar, so?

Ah, she’s feeling like she didn’t leave Nicodranus better than she found it

I like this whole “why didn’t we try to talk it out first” thing because it’s nice that two of them are having some moral conflicts. I also like what it says about Fjord and Beau as far as character development.

I mean I don’t think boiling it down to “like we were justified in our actions” really covers what Caleb said. He did say they could have handled things a lot better, but that they did what they had to to survive a situation they could have but didn’t handle better.

“I don’t want to drive you guys away” BEAUUUU my heart

Yasha staring off south “looking for a storm”

Caduceus cooking for the group is literally just my favorite thing. They totally needed a group member who could like make them slow down and eat and just like… take care of themselves, even just for the length of the meal.

Beau went from “I’m sorry for killing these guys” to “fuck those guys they’re dead anyway let’s smear their name”

We should not split up

There’s no way any of this could go wrong

Awwww Caleb showing Nott the stars and planets so sweet

SEE Caleb understands that things went horribly wrong. I honestly think he’s just trying to keep their spirits’ up.

Nott honey you don’t have to be okay with him using suggestion, I understand you both admire and need him but you can be mad at him

“Nott is a one-earther”

Have I mentioned how much I love Caduceus?

Fjord’s just like “please tell me you mean you talk to alive grieving people and not the dead people”

Oh no

They’re coming for them

You should NOT go back

Sam is like “why the fuck are we going back” and I agree so hard

Fjord should not stay on the ship Nott is right

N: “Oh, oh, what other languages do you speak?!”

J: “I speak Infernal”

Everyone cracks up

Oh this is going to be another disaster

Although I guess the guard guys wouldn’t be expecting them to immediately come back?? Maybe??

“YOU’RE THE SAILOR GUY THIS IS YOUR WHOLE EPISODE” lol sam

“I’m gonna bake, fuck it” I LOVE CAD

“I look like Captain Crunch btw” I’m crying can’t breathe omg

Except isn’t the captain dead lol

“Unknown do-gooders” well that wasn’t the reputation I expected

UH HEY I HOPE MARION DIDN’T HEAR ABOUT THE BLUE SKINNED TIEFLING KILLING HERSELF

These lies are getting more and more ridiculous

“The little devil girl who drowned a hundred years ago” Taliesin and the idea of a ghost story is just… so perfect.

Beau stop xD

If this ghost story isn’t in campaign 3 someday I’m gonna cry

I’m so glad that Orli is coming along

They hired the tortle! :D

Nott is really being adorable with the “we are a team and you are important” thing. Obvious, but adorable.

Taliesin wanted ghost stories and now we’re getting islands people avoid because strange ancient unnatural stuff

Okay quick aside but this conversation with Yasha and Caduceus makes me think — I love how there’s this group of people who seemingly should have nothing in common, but in a lot of ways they have things they can understand about each other. Struggles they can related to. It’s really nice.

Jester and her multiple message spells lol

I’ll miss you Marion!

Oooo a glow in the water?

Awww Matt that’s really pretty!

“Sometimes the things that are the most beautiful are the things that can hurt you the worst” that’s very profound, Jester.

I’m gonna cry I don’t want Jester to be sad don’t be sad (Laura needs to stop looking like she’s gonna cry because it’s gonna make me cry)

And the way she does this little laugh like she’s trying to brush off how sad she is like STOP IT IM EMOTIONAL.

Marion was gonna leave with Jester’s dad but then he didn’t come back and I’m thinking at some point they had better kick the Gentleman’s ass for abandoning her

The way Fjord is so sweet and soft with Jester is so cute I can’t decide if I ship them or if I just want them to be soft and close but not romantic I think I’d be happy either way but my god Fjord’s being so gentle with her is killing me

“There are vegetarian options as well”

Marius: “Thank you, thank you, it’s very good—they’re crazy aren’t they?”

Cad: “Oh yeah, they’re completely crazy.”

I desperately hope they get attacked by a sea monster at some point

“Captain Tusktooth”

Tiny elf-owl Frumpkin omg

He’s loaning her tiny owl Frumpkin for a week I cry

M: “I poke him to see if he bites me”

Tr: “He’s dead”

“I’m gonna probably start talking to fish at some point in the near future” Caduceus Doolittle

When Nott is sincere like when she’s talking to Caduceus right now is so sweet

I take it back it’s too soon to talk about Molly Sam

“Between you and me, Jester’s a really bad cleric, so…” and Laura almost spits out her drink lol

I want to meet the rest of the Clays someday I hope some of them are still alive

“A sign that there could be, for all of us, another chapter” Nott is getting me in my feelings tonight

Matt: “You get the sense that the fish would be happy to”

Cad/Tal: “I’m a lunatic aren’t I?”

M: “Yeah.”

C/T: “I’m sorry.”

M: “Yeah, no, it’s great! :D”

The fish: “sure, sure, suresuresuresure sure”

Oh godddd sky monster?

Bird?

WHAT IS IT

“Professor Thadeus…?”

Oh. Fuck. Creepy flying humanoid thing.

lol Beau making sure it’s not Yasha

Oh jeez poor Yasha

…Okay Matt that wasn’t cool because it’s past midnight and the windows are open and I’m feeling weirdly paranoid now

HERE WE GO

Harpies omggggg

Caleb’s really not gonna be able to use fire for this without risking the ship

Oh fuck don’t get the deck hands

Okay the sail isn’t that big a deal Jester can probably mend it, so save the deck hand first

Harpies are not sirens that shouldn’t be allowed to do anything

Oh poor Nott

SAVE THE CREW PERSON FIRST BEAU

I love Cad’s beetles

“Snack time” Cad you’re so creepy sometimes xD

15pts of beetle damage hell yeah

Okay I take it back Beau might have done the best thing saving the sail.

Okay this is too easy of a fight tho what’s coming that’s worse

Oh daaaaamn snapped her neck with the sail rope

Caleb Nott this isn’t nice xD

“We saved his life with the power of friendship” I’m crying

F: “How do we prevent further heart episodes?”

N: “MORE FRIENDSHP. MORE FRIENDSHIP.”

Awkward friend hugs are best hugs

Nott please don’t eat harpy meat

Cad’s gonna compost the harpy

Beau is keeping Frumpkin in her pocket of course she is

Poor Travis just like “I DIDN’T KNOW ID ACTUALLY HAVE TO KNOW HOW TO CAPTAIN A SHIP” poor guy

Oh god the ship is gonna sink

They’re gonna end up stranded on the cursed island just watch

Gonna try and block the hole…. with a mattress

I’m shocked they managed to patch it bless Galen for that Nat20

Caleb being clever to save the ship with his magic bubble

I hope they don’t get Orli killed

They gonna get sunk

Oh wait

Does Caleb have to stay inside the bubble?? I hope it doesn’t start to fill too much

YAAAAAS what a good episode!

SO MUCH SAILING PIRATE-Y FUN

Oh please wear pirate outfits I’m begging

I’m so excited for next week

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 9 Part 1

A Play-Date with Megatron Part 1

A/N – Based on a lot of head-canons from @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron so extra special thanks to them for that. Fun fact, Lepoteran is a word I made up based off Lepidoptera which is the scientific name for a moth.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Swerve watched as you paced the bar, speaking excitedly of the planet Hacathar which you would all soon visit. He loved seeing you like this, as did most of the crew. By now, quite the crowd had gathered to hear what you wanted to see upon visiting.

“I wonder what kind of people live there,” You beamed.

“It’s a space-port,” Nightbeat answered, happy to show off his knowledge. “Ships from all over the galaxy refuel in the port while the planet itself is for people to get a break from ship life.”

“Cool… Hey, will stuff there be too small for you?”

“No need to worry about us short stuff,” a slightly overcharged Chromedome laughed, patting your head with a servo which you playfully swatted away. “We’ve got to use our holoforms.”

“Holoforms?”

“The illusion that makes us look human,” Rewind explained. “We also use mass displacement to reduce our weights.”

“Oh yeah, I saw some of those when I was brought aboard. Rodimus, Maggie, and Rung used them.”

“They’re stupid,” Whirl complained loudly. “They don’t want us there! Then why fragging go?!”

“If you hate it so much, why are you going?” A mech called Wrecker asked angrily.

“Maybe I’m going to trash the place.”

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout you scrap off before I trash you?”

Whirl stepped forward threateningly, “You piece of scrap, I’ll-”

“I’ll bet,” You interrupted loudly, “that this planet doesn’t accept non-organics because they’re jealous; I would be too if I was faced with someone way more awesome than me. Never meet your heroes, right?”

Whirl laughed obnoxiously, “You’re right meat sack, smart fragger.”

“So, you’re not going to break anything?”

“Not when they clearly idolise me. Gotta keep the worship coming.”

Everybody watched in awe, all wondering the same thing. How had you stopped Whirl from fighting? Nobody could control him; it was a fact he was immensely proud of. If anyone bothered to ask Whirl why he’d acted so out of character, he would have lied or shrugged it off. In truth, Whirl was afraid of disappointing you. You were a clean slate, someone who didn’t know or care about his past. You understood him without trying to change him; in short, he respected you. Without showing affection or anything that would jeopardise his reputation, Whirl made the effort to find ways to listen to you, even if it meant taking the bait to obvious lies aimed at stroking his ego.

“Great because I’m looking forward to a little window shopping,” You chimed.

The conversation resumed at a normal pace once again. Meanwhile, when everyone else was in jovial conversation, Swerve worried between serving drinks. He’d spent so much time planning everything the two of you would do together that he hadn’t even considered his holoform. Swerve was no stranger to what passed as handsome on Earth and that concerned him. He wasn’t tall, slim, or remotely muscled and up until now, he hadn’t minded but what if you saw him and were repulsed or expecting more. There wasn’t time to change the holoform now but Primus, he wished he could.

Swerve opened his mouth to shoot a casual question about Earth shops but before he could, the ship’s PA came on, calling you to Megatron’s office.

When you reached the right corridor, Rodimus stomped out of the office. Upon seeing you, he pointed and yelled, “Just so you know, this isn’t my fault,” before storming off again.

You frowned, confused until Megatron called you in with a stiff, “Enter human.”

You stood awkwardly I the doorway, looking up at Megatron who’s discomfort showed. Despite his displeasure, Megatron spoke solemnly, “Thank you for coming, we have something very important to discuss. Tomorrow we arrive at Hacathar and it has come to my attention you intend to go to the planet’s surface. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to do that, instead you must stay here with Ratchet. You have my humblest apologies.”

“WHAT?!” You exploded. “Why can’t I go?”

“A foreign planet holds many dangers for… one of your kind,” Megatron lied. He couldn’t tell you the real reason; that a Cybertronian aboard the Lost Light was trying to kill you and the planet would provide too many opportunities to do so.

You sighed heavily, “Megatron, I’m afraid I can’t stay on the ship tomorrow. I mean, I didn’t want to bring this up and panic anyone but- but- I’ll die if I don’t get onto a planet soon.”

“Excuse me?”

“Human’s need exposure to natural pathogens to survive, we store them in our blood streams for ages but I’m beginning to run low; if I don’t top up soon, I’ll- I’ll-” You managed to start crying.

Megatron shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to do; your lie was taking a heavy toll on him. He couldn’t leave you unprotected, nor could he let you die; his processor was working hard to come up with a workable solution.

“Very well human,” Megatron said tiredly, “we shall reach a compromise. You may visit the planet to replenish your pathogens however, I shall be there to accompany you for the entire day.”

“I mean, can you believe it? Megatron actually told me I can’t go with anyone but him. Does he really think I’m that bloody fragile?” You ranted at Swerve who was feeling more and more crestfallen. Once again, all his plans to make you happy had been foiled. It was almost like there was a force keeping the two of you apart.

Despite his despair, Swerve slapped on a false smile and hid behind humour, “Hey, it could be worse, I can’t believe you managed to trick him like that. I mean, enzymes? That’s hilarious.”

You grimaced guiltily, “Gosh, I’m sorry Swerve. I’ve been bitching at you this entire time but you’re right, at least I get to go out now. I wish I could still go with you but there’ll be lots of time to spend together afterwards. Hey, how about we get a few bots together for a game night when we get back?”

Swerve gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, “You got it.”

You beamed and stretched, “Alright, I’m gonna get some sleep before we hit the planet. Night Swerve.”

“Right and I’ll be right here… recharging.”

Swerve laid on the berth, thoughts once again consuming him. Did he have a problem? He’d already considered this time and time again, constantly switching between conclusions. It was very possible that he needed to get over you, for you were the impossible; despite that, he didn’t want to get over you. It was near impossible to stop thinking about you except for when he talked with friends, providing a distraction to his overworked processor. The only problem with that method was that very few people considered him friend enough to converse with; in all honesty, he was lonely before you came along.

“Damn it, why can’t she go back to just a hot frag fantasy? At least then, I didn’t care.”

You pouted as various bots went to the ship’s docking bay and you awaited Megatron who had delivered you a set of rules while you slept. Never had you felt more patronised than when you read them.

Rule 1: You must wait till everyone else has left before we leave.

Rule 2: You will stay in sight at all times.

Rule 3: No wandering off.

Rule 4: No outside communication without my permission - that includes other crew members.

Rule 5: There will be no mention of Cybertronians on the planet surface.

Rule 6: There will be no consumption of alien foods so as to avoid injury or disease.

Rule 7: No visiting of bars, clubs, or any other such rowdy areas.

Rule 8: No participation in dangerous events.

Rule 9: No usage of the name Megatron upon the planet’s surface so as to avoid conflict.

Rule 10: You will follow my instruction at all times.

 You tapped at the datapad keyboard adding to the document.

Rule 11: No fun.

 Megatron cleared his vocaliser at you, “I see you’ve been studying the code of conduct I’ve given.”

You turned the datapad screen off, hiding the addition, and forced a grin, “I sure have, Megs.”

“Megs?”

“Rule nine, no use of your name on the planet; I was just practicing,” You said innocently.

Megatron frowned coolly; you were almost sure his face had only one setting by now.

“So… can we go now?” You asked.

Megatron nodded and applied his holo-form.

“Whoa… dude, you look awesome.”

Megatron ignored the praise, mainly because he didn’t know what to say; very few had praised him unless out of fear and now, nobody did, not that he felt he deserved it. He walked to the docking bay with you by his side where he could keep an optic on you.

You gasped upon reaching the ramp. The planet below was similar to a rainforest, with thick foliage of the lushest blue creating a tall canopy over the sandy floor. Buildings were scattered under the bushes and trees in a random order; they were seemingly made of sharp, long slabs of crystal. You briefly found yourself wondering if they were onyx. Various market stalls outside the buildings had thatched roofs made of yellow, straw like flowers. With a mix of odd foods on one, clothes the likes of which you’d never seen on another, and technology on a third, you were reminded of old bazaars seen on films. Then, there were the people, all organics like you, yet wholly different. There was a person who looked like a humanoid caterpillar with a long body and multiple hands. Then there were hulking elephants of people inching their way through the crowds with polite exclamations. Somebody examining jewellery had a large maw with razor teeth and apparently no eyes or nose; that person was actually licking the necklace it was holding.

You beamed excitedly at Megatron; it was like nothing you’d ever imagined. You ran straight for the first stall, a clothes stall with labelled racks that indicated not size but species. Megatron glared, he should have made another rule, no running. He paced towards you, maintaining a dignified speed while you listened to the shop keep, a sort of moth man, speaking with a customer; you were amazed by the ship’s translator that Perceptor had previously explained. Eventually, the moth man caught you staring.

“Can I help you?” He harrumphed disdainfully.

“Uh yeah, sure,” You breathed, attempting to calm your boggled mind. “Do you have any clothes for humans?”

“You can’t read?”

You glanced sheepishly at the signs, “Oh yeah, right, sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Megatron glowered, appearing by your side.

“What?”

“The rules.”

“Oh come on Megs, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Your communication says otherwise.”

“What that? I didn’t know you meant I can’t talk to anyone, I was only asking-” You faltered at Megatron’s scowl, “You know what Megs, when you’re right, you’re right, sorry.”

“Well, at least you behave better than Rodimus.”

Usually, you would have argued your point, but you weren’t willing to push Megatron too far lest he took away your outdoor privileges.

It took only a minute to find the rack for human section and when you did, you were disappointed to find only one hideous, mustard coloured jumper that was much too small anyway.

“What a bust,” You murmured, looking around for the next store.

Your excitement was quickly restored upon spotting a music store which was playing a song you knew well.

“Oh my God,” You laughed. “They have the YMCA in space.”

You grabbed Megatron’s hand, pulling him quickly to the music stall, where you started to dance, much to his consternation.

“Dance with me,” You giggled.

“I do not dance.”

“Come on, every ex-warlord should know how to dance. Besides, this one’s easy, you just have to make the letters. If you don’t like this one, I can see if they have the Macarena.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Megatron deadpanned.

You danced with even more enthusiasm, and started singing along with your own words, “Old man, you can’t help yourself. Old man, do it for your good health. Old man, old man, come and dance with me, after that I will set you free. It’s the YMCA, come and dance to the YMCA.”

As you crooned, Megatron suffered; as it turned out, you didn’t behave better than Rodimus.

While you danced, Swerve was miserable. He’d visited all the places he’d planned to take you… alone. None of it meant anything without you; he was once again friendless. Now, it was approaching the planet’s early sunset and Swerve was stood by himself on a curved, wooden bridge which overlooked a flowing river; in a few short minutes, it would also have the perfect view of an effect known to occur on Earth, aurora borealis, more commonly known as the Northern Lights.

Light moaning revealed that Swerve wasn’t alone as he’d first thought. He looked around and quickly spotted a pair of the planet’s native Lepoterans (the very moth people you’d discovered earlier) making out amorously in the side alley. Swerve sighed despondently, sloping off in another direction; he couldn’t catch a break.