#I miss when Star Wars cared about its animation department

[barissoffee]

I really hope the bad batch final season isn’t the last star wars animated project we see

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound 1/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

 'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 2 Part 3

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 Chapter 1: Scattered Amongst The Stars

Alfred is six. It was his birthday last Tuesday and he got to have a really big party and it was really really cool, but the coolest thing ever was that he got an e-tab from his Ma. Everyone at school already has an e-tab -as a July baby he's one of the youngest- so now he can finally join in with the special classes that they have and play all of those games at lunch time.

Alfred doesn't like feeling left out. It's not nice, Ma says, when you don't include people, so that means that the people who play games on their e-tabs when they know he doesn't have one are being mean on purpose and that really hurts. Except now, now he can join in and be their friend again and won't have to sit alone at his table when it's interactive e-tab time.

It's not real learning, Pa says. He didn't want Alfred to have one, says that it rots your brains and makes you lazy, and says that the e-tab time is just 'enrichment', it's not part of the curriculum because they're not learning anything, just downloading and watching stuff. Still, Ma must have talked him around because on Tuesday Alfred opened the box and there it was, all for him. There's some games on it, from Grandpa, and Ma had uploaded some of his favourite movies for him to watch as soon as he'd synced his mind up. Pa got there too, he must have done, because there's also some files on 'Earth History', 'The Fall', and one about extinct animals which Alfred really doesn't wanna read but Pa's been mentioning at least one of them every dinner since so he probably should.

He goes into school and begins to chatter happily to his friend Ben as soon as he sees him about 'Zip Blast', the current school-yard fad, and about how he can't wait to sync up and play because he'd been practising over the weekend and he thinks he's kinda good now.

Ben looks uncomfortable. 'Oh, I don't think we're playing that one any more.'

'Huh? But...' Alfred stops and looks at Ben in disbelief, 'but Friday you said it was the best ever!'

'Well it was,' Ben concedes, reluctantly, 'but now there's the new 'Rock-ite' out so we played that over the weekend.'

Alfred's heart sinks. 'We?'

His friend has the grace to look as apologetic as a six year old can look about these matters but nothing more than that and at recess Alfred is alone once more. He tells himself it's okay, he doesn't care anyway but it's a half-hearted lie at best and he doesn't try to kid himself for too long. Instead, he decides he may as well sync up one of those stuffy files Pa put on the e-tab to pass the time and nibbles a cookie to keep himself entertained.

His teacher finds him gormless, ten minutes later. His eyes are glazed as he stares unblinkingly at the wall and his cookie, one chunk missing, lies forlorn on the table next to his slack left hand but his brain is more full and awake than it's ever been. Information about a long dead planet far far away pound and crash in his head and as soon as the data file has been properly synced he reaches out for his tab and loads up another.

At eight, Alfred has become that kid. No matter what conversation he gets into or who he talks to, if there is an opening or an opportunity he will bring up Earth and once that's accomplished he can go on and on for hours. He's downloaded every possible data file he can find about the entire subject: life before the Fall, the Fall itself, and the human race's desperate escape across the stars and for him it's still never enough. There's always another e-file to sync: about ancient nations, about old sciences and religions, about old wars and songs and dances and food; every second he can spare he gives over to tales of the past woven from the binary of today.

They are a scattered people, he likes to tell his listeners, there are hundreds of us, strewn across galaxies and planets and ships and no one knows how many of us there are any more because the Fall ripped apart alliances and histories so we don't even know who else is out there to find. Everything was lost, everything; the history, the stories, the places, the-

At this point, someone usually either changes the topic of conversation or he realises that they've walked away and left him babbling to himself, his eyes shut as he imagines the flight to freedom that happened too long before he was born. Adults are usually nicer and listen for longer, but they don't mean it either and by pretending to be interested in what he has to say they only serve to hurt him more.

He just can't understand, why does no one else find this interesting? Why does no one else dream of where they as a species came from and long to see it for themselves? Alfred would do anything to feel the wind on his face, to have breeze in his hair and the sun touch his skin because although he could play in a holo-room or go on a special holo-holiday it's not real and Alfred longs to just feel it. The sun on his planet is strong but the dense material of the domes blocks it from actually reaching him; he can't feel the warmth. At school he's learnt that it's too hot out there anyway and he'd die, but according to his data files the sun should be warm and gentle and fill up summer days and spring afternoons, so he can't quite feel the danger as much as he probably should. There's no air outside the domes either and what's the point of feeling the sun without a breeze, so he's not as sad as he could have been. It wouldn't ever compare to mankind's old sun, the sun in the stories he's growing up on.

He sometimes spends his recess and lunch at school rushing about as fast as his legs can carry him. Trying to get his own wind in such space is hard, but not impossible and if he focuses hard enough on his self-made breeze he can imagine that he's running over rocks and cliffs and weaving in and out of long gone animals that only the sky can remember. If this doesn't work, he syncs with his e-files to learn about something else, he's started to get into the people recently and likes the stories about normal stuff the most. Food, clothes, toys. Relatable things that he can see in his own home and use to imagine that he's been transported back through time and space.

There are often pictures of houses and Alfred marvels as how big they are and how much stuff those people must have had, collected form all the many places they must have seen. You can't get wood any more, but maybe if he asks Pa nicely he can get him some of that building material they use for making the new domes and he can practise making his own, just to see if he can.

He spends his weekends tinkering in his room with old bits of plastic, metal and cables and every now and again he plugs in a new circuit board to the plug sockets in his room and sees if he can make the lights turn on or off from somewhere else. Last weekend he built a fan and managed to make it blow. He can sync up a sound file from Earth and imagine that he's in a town somewhere way back when and there's a breeze on his face and there's someone who wants to talk to him.

Alfred is fifteen and is the best engineer in his school. He specialised early -he'd always had a knack for building things and he's good with numbers- and now this is what he's known for. Alfred can look at a electrical hub or a circuit board and immediately he can see either what's wrong or how to improve it and this makes him valuable. He's been building and fiddling with this sort of stuff in his room for ages but now it's finally cool, people actually want him to do that now. He sees it as a lucky thing, that he was bullied so much for it previously, because now he can see how much bullshit people like to throw when they want you to do something, how much an opinion of someone can change depending on their age and talent. Too good too young: weird and a nerd, you're wasting your time. Then you hit the right age and suddenly you're very experimental, very mature, it's good to know what you want in life. But ah, still young enough not to know your worth, you'll fix this for me for free, yes? If he wasn't as good as he is, he thinks, how valuable would they think I am? The answer scares him because he knows what it is and knows how thin the line he treads is; there are others like him, don't forget.

What even is he, without the skills of his hands?

He is seventeen. Alfred hates it, but Ma could use the help and Pa's not getting any younger, so he accepted an offer not too long ago for a entry level job in the government engineering department. It is an amazing offer for someone so young and fresh out of school, he knows that, but as much as he enjoys what he does the days wear him out and he spends less time listening to his e-files and more time building the dreams of others far more affluent than he.

He thinks he's doing okay for a while. The days whittle by easily and he starts to build up a nice savings pile that he uses to help out his parents every now and again. But he's nothing special. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him on this planet who have been fed on a diet of strict, specialised schooling meant to produce only the best and Alfred knows that the only thing which sets him apart from the many many many others is his ability to just keep going. There is no safety in what he does at his age, no net to catch him if he slips up, so he begins to take on private jobs at the weekend to build up his CV further and get his name out there, making the chance of falling just that bit smaller. Before he realises it it's been a month since he last had the time set aside to listen to an e-file and that hits him, hard. He'd never had to set aside time before. Hell, he can't remember when he'd last done anything other than go to work, come home to sleep, and repeat.

He's struck by the monotony of it all. He can't see a difference between his life and that of his dad's, or his dad's friends, or anyone he knows, for that matter. Is this all there is? Is this all anyone does? When is there ever a break? Then, he gets it. There won't be a break. As soon as you can't keep up in this crazy race he's in, you're worthless. He's kind of been kidding himself, almost, that there'd be an end to it all, like a video game where you complete the level and then suddenly it's free play. You work hard to get a reward of, of something, or at least you can stop worrying and panicking about being left behind. There is no free play, he realises, it just keeps on going until you can't play any more because life has ground out your energy and sucked the vitality from your bones.

He goes running; pounding his feet on the treadmill he sucks in the humid air around him and imagines than he's running through an old Earthen jungle, dodging trees and leaping over crags in the forest floor. But there's no wind, and Earth refuses to come alive.

Alfred is eighteen. A message came through from Earth, old true Earth, that a new colony there is doing well and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since, thinking and dreaming about what he'd do if he ever went there, if he ever set up his life there instead of here. He could...no. There is no safety in history, he knows. There is no definite chance that anyone would want him to do that. Besides, there's no potential for definite growth, no stable career plan because you can't guarantee a career on digging up the scanty past of a long dead planet. But no matter how big of a safety net he could make for himself in engineering he feels no passion about any of it and the idea of spending his days encapsulated in this metal world of domes and tunnels makes him feel cold.

There's something that calls him in his dreams and whispers over the wind in his mind and this builds and builds in his feet until he can't keep them still any longer. One more look out of the window and up at the stars and he's gonna blow, he needs to get out and go go go because if he doesn't then he's gonna sink in this place.

Before he can stop himself he's bought a ticket and finds himself packing hurriedly late at night when his parents are asleep, stuffing clothes into the only bag he only which is far too small for this sort of thing but who the fuck travels anywhere these days? He hasn't got time to be better at this so he crouches under his bed and reaches in, all the way back until his hand scrapes the wall and he finds his old fan that he built when he was eight. He puts it on his bed, places his e-tab next to it with a message of what he's done and that's that.

He slips out without waking his parents, because saying goodbye would only be too hard and he knows that he'd end up changing his mind if they spoke even one word to him, so he says his farewells in silence and disappears.

................................................................................................................................

Peter is five and he sits upon his mother's knee, playing with the buttons on her shirt. She's with other adults and they're all talking about something that he doesn't really understand but they all sound sad and the air feels heavy so he keeps quiet like a good boy should and thinks about other things to keep himself busy. He thinks about the e-book his nanny got him last Christmas, the one with the pretty pictures, and thinks that it would be nice to live inside that book, with the greens of grass that he's never touched before. He wonders if grass is hard or soft and he spends so long thinking of this that that night, when he is sleeping, he dreams that he is running on grass and it is prickly, tickling his feet.

There is a voice in the dream, singing him the story but it is not Nanny's voice, nor Mummy's or Daddy's, but another man's and the lilt of his voice sings a language Peter doesn't know but it is a good voice for story telling and so the dream is vivid and touchable. He flies through the grass, feet pounding at earth instead of metal and the voice chuckles, deep and throaty. It makes him feel safe.

He wakes up because his Mummy is stroking his hair and forgets; school teaches him about how the air system in his dome works. Grass isn't as important as breathing.

He is eight and they are learning about the old Earthen languages. There used to be many, his teachers says, and each language held a culture, a history and a soul of a people and there used to be hundreds of them on Earth before it Fell. The teacher is old; his words are flat and there is no passion in his tone, but a thrill runs up Peter's arms as he imagines so much more. From the nothing he is given his brain decides to give those dead languages life and all of a sudden there are bursts of sound echoing inside his head. The teacher moves on, the class sits bored, but Peter can hear consonants clash against teeth and tongue and fricatives slip between breathy vowels. There are phonemes which glide between dipthongs and tripthongs to bound and fall out of the hundreds of mouths of hundreds of people; whispers of a past no one can hear tell stories long forgotten.

There is a clap very close to his head which scares all of the sounds away. His teacher looms over him, frowning in exasperation.

'Again, Peter?' he says, 'Stop daydreaming, boy. I asked you a question.'

'Er...' his classmates snicker and he feels his ears go red. 'I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't listening.'

'That much was obvious.'

Peter's cheeks burn hotter and he stares at his e-tab, focusing on the light of the screen to stop him from crying.

Before too long the lesson changes, then the day ends and he's allowed to go home. He walks alone through the corridors and exits the school dome, coming into the shuttle bus bay. He's a big boy now, he can take the shuttle bus all by himself and he has a special card to prove it. Weaving in and out of the other children, he hurries to where his bus is docked and scrambles inside to rush to his favourite seat, hopping up and placing his bag on the seat beside him. He likes to sit alone, because then he can stare out of the window and dream for as long as the journey will let him without worrying about talking to someone. Not that anyone wants to anyway, the other children say he's not got a brain because he would rather focus on the story in his head than on their silly games.

Nanny doesn't mind, she says it's good for people to dream and says that he goes off to somewhere called 'Neverland' whilst she pinches his cheeks and calls him her little Peter Pan. But when he gets home Nanny isn't there, Mummy and Daddy are and they're huddled in front of the large e-screen in the sitting room, faces pinched in worry.

He drops his bag by the kitchen table and goes to join them. There is a man on the screen speaking about their air ventilation system and a 'catastrophic degradation' and about some big numbers with a scientist nodding seriously to his left.

'What do we do now?' His mother's voice is hushed, fragile.

His father raises his eyes to her and shakes his head slowly. 'Debbie... you heard what he said. The planet's no longer viable.' His eyes flick towards Peter, suddenly aware that he's there too, and he smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Hey Pete. Do you mind doing your homework in your room today?'

Peter could ask why, but he sees that his Daddy doesn't want him to and Mummy looks like she's going to cry, so he glances once more at the screen and nods. He leaves them with the scary looking numbers and tips his books onto his bed. That night he dreams of waves crashing against his legs and he tastes the salt on his lip when he wakes.

At nine, there's some breaking news. Earth, of all things Earth, is habitable once more and it can't come at a better time. Peter sits on his favourite sofa at Nan's house, with his father having lunch, when the planet-wide intercom coughs its way to life and briefly deafens them all before the sound adjusts ever so slightly.

'ATTENTION ALL. PRIMARY SUPPORT SYSTEMS FOR THE SOUTH SIDE HAVE SUFFERED AN IRREPERABLE MALFUNCTION. BACKUP SYSTEMS WILL HOLD FOR APPROXIMATLY 3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL; MAKE YOUR WAY TO YOUR EVACUATION POINTS.'

Then, it falls silent once more.

South side, that's them. Peter immediately feels as though he's going to be sick and by the look on his dad's face he's not alone. Once one half of the planet goes the other will surely follow. It's something they've all been expecting and planning for for years, but it's far, far too soon, they should have more time than this; they're not ready to go and the government's not even started the evacuation programme yet. His Nan shoots a look at his father from where she's sat in her armchair. It's a look Peter can't really read because there's something there that he subconsciously doesn't want to acknowledge.

'Earth?' Her voice is a thin whisper.

His father nods gravely. 'We got them Mum, the tickets came yesterday.' Peter's heart briefly lifts at the prospect, a longing that's deep and euphoric but then it crashes quickly. 'But...'

His Nan smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'I know.'

Slowly, with growing horror, Peter understands. 'Wait,' he whips his head back and forth between the two of them, 'Nanny, where-'

'Don't worry, Peter,' she gets up and goes to kneel in front of where he's frozen in his chair, hands digging nails into the old material, 'I'll get on one of the other evacuation ships.'

'But you're not-,' his eyes burn and his voice is breaking but he doesn't look away, 'but you're not with us, why aren't you coming with us.'

'Oh Peter, my little Peter Pan,' she hugs him tight, pulling him in to her chest and he grips his hands in her shirt and tries to take in as much of her as he can.

'Mum we- we have to go.' Dad doesn't sound much better and before Peter can register much his Dad is hugging his Nan with a funny tight look on his face, then he's being pulled by the arm and out of the door, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up.

A terse shuttle bus later they get home to his mother already throwing their things into cases and boxes, haphazardly grabbing at e-frames and e-tabs to squash them and their memories safe under piles of their clothes. Peter could help, should help, but all he can do it sit numbly on the floor and cry whilst his life is collected and contained into a few measly bags. The rest will be left.

It doesn't take too long, thankfully, as Peter doesn't know what's worse, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible or wanting to stay and cling to the remnants of the only life he's ever known. As they make their way to the loading bays for the Earth-bound travellers he blearily finds himself thinking about what classes he'll miss in school tomorrow, but then he remembers Nanny and the ordeal starts anew as reality sets back in.

His parents are focused on more practical things.

They stand in line, their few pieces on luggage already being loaded on, and wait to board the ship they were assigned to only yesterday. His mother speaks under her breath, as if she is afraid to talk too loudly for fear of jinxing something. 'The Earth ships aren't even ready. They won't have enough food let alone rooms.'

His father shakes his head and slips his hand down to intertwine with hers. 'They must have known something like this could happen at any time, they've been predicting it for years. If anything, the rooms may not be ready but the agricultural sections will be.' He looks determinedly at the back of the head of the man in front of them and swallows. 'They only give out tickets if there's room. We'll be fine.'

Peter's mother glances his way meaningfully, and then back to his father.

'Jo, there're not enough ships; no one was ready in time. They can't have planned for everyone.' She bites the inside of her cheek, one hand on Peter's shoulder. Her fingers dig in, hard, but he doesn't try to shrug her off. He can barely feel it.

His father understands. 'She'll call us when she can.' Then, the line moves and they lurch forward together, huddled close.

Just before the door, where the tickets are being checked and where the din of the engines roaring into life starts to become uncomfortable, his father takes one last desperate look at out of the window at the distant domes of their colony, nestled in the dust. He taps an impatient rhythm against the tiled floor. 'She'll call.'

She never does.

................................................................................................................................

Francis is three and his daddy has just left Mummy.

'He went to fight,' she says as she strokes his hair. This confuses him because fighting is bad and you're only allowed to fight if someone tries to fight you first and no one has been nasty to Daddy that he's seen.

Mummy doesn't answer but continues to stroke his hair, humming softly a tune she sings to him every night before bed that sounds old and sad and sleepy, so he just nods and rests his head heavily against her chest.

He doesn't see his Daddy again.

He is ten when he realises that there never was any war. The notion strikes him dumb one day in the kitchen as he distantly listens to the news playing through the announcer when he helps wash up after dinner. The announcer is speaking about something banal, a fashion show maybe, but Francis is staring out of the window and up at the sky, up at the stars that push through the daytime's thin atmosphere. He doesn't know what caused him to start this train of thought, but once it's started his brain quickly pieces together the puzzle that it has ignored all of this time.

At school they were taught about wars, about age old battles with guns and swords and metal where blood was spilt over land and the wealth it contained. But, there hasn't been any fighting here. He scrubs a glass, sponge squeaking against the side. And even if there was fighting somewhere far away, his dad would surely still be able to write or visit, or come back after all this time. And more importantly, if there was a war going on now then surely he would have learnt about it at school, rather than learning about age old political struggles on the human-ruined home world.

His mother takes the glass from his slack grip. 'Daydreaming?'

He shakes himself to and looks at her. Turned away and out of the window her face is suddenly older and oddly clearer than he remembers it being, she looks like a person rather than just his mother and that's a scary thought. It's as though the wash of childhood has momentarily slipped away and he's now aware of both it and the harsh brushstrokes of reality. She's a person and feels things, just like he does. So it hurts, that she lied, and it will hurt him for a long time because he doesn't know why but cannot for the life of him bring himself to ask her. Francis is good at reading people and he knows that this isn't something he should ask about, so turns back to the dirty dishes and doesn't.

When Francis is fifteen there is a war, of sorts. The planet nearest to them, the one they rely on the most for trade, switches governmental policies and refuses to continue their current agreements. This results in a breakdown of communication and heightened tension between the two colonies, each bristling angrily at the offence yet unwilling to be the first to initiate anything rash. There is minor rationing imposed upon Francis' planet until trade is re-established as well as a draft of specialisation training implemented, just in case. He's unaffected by the rationing; the draft is a different story. Just in case this trade block becomes permanent, his planet needs to be prepared to become fully self sufficient in everything from science, to food, to art, to the army.

The block stays in place and tensions rise. Against his wishes, Francis is assigned a scientific draft. He is now seventeen and knows he needs to be given something but he'd prefer agriculture or education to research, if he could have the choice, or the arts if he's allowed to dream. He isn't. He brain is good, his grades are high and thus he is far more useful to the cause working on the advancement of his planet than working to help feed it.

A few days after his birthday and a month after his posting letter arrives, his mother rides with him on a shuttle to his boarding station. He will try out four different areas: mechanics, medicine, biology, and physics, then he will be assigned to what he works with best, where he can produce the best work possible. But Francis can't think of anything worse than being stuck in a lab all day, shutters drawn and devoid of all personality. Even worse, he's heard the rumours that have managed to float back from those who have graduated and knows that once he boards this ship there's no escaping the life he'll be moulded into. The programme is four years long and then he will be placed into a job where he will stay until he dies. At twenty one he will have no other skills for work other than what he will acquire at the science facility, there is no swapping careers afterwards. He wants to do so much, there is so much that he loves to do, and with each passing shuttle stop his heart grows more frantic, fighting his brain which has accepted the inevitable.

He gets physics. He calls his mother to howl down the phone once, just once, before he realises the futility of doing so; nothing can or will change. Accept it.

At twenty, a year before his training would end, there is finally a truce. Trade resumes and Francis finally tastes sugar after five years but now, after so long, the taste is too much. Not fully qualified yet too old to be automatically accepted into another programme, Francis is in limbo. There isn't much point in him continuing his training, there are more than enough specialists now and not enough jobs to give them, so there isn't anything for him to do. It's odd, now that there is nothing to work towards he feels empty but at the same time everything is just too much. He returns home and his mother fusses and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to come out of his room and sit with her and he did, at first, but the longer he's home the shorter his resistance is and the longer the 'breaks' are in his room.

Emotions seem to be harder to process without a goal, that or he never had many to begin with and without something to distract him from that notion he's finally noticing how few he has. Either way, other people are small insignificant creatures who worry about such useless, banal things. Who did what, with who and where. Did you know, her son the doctor? Well, he's a you know what now and- ugh. Francis can no longer take it.

He doesn't really see this as a problem. He feels as though he's risen above other people and finally understands that such things are not worth his time; why worry, after all, about what job to get. Why worry about whether or not someone likes you. Every day, regardless of what they do, the planet will spin and the domes will reflect the same bleak, churning sky and Francis realises that he's trapped here, by this life and that his life means nothing. None of their lives do, it's all the same; nowhere new to go, nothing new to do. Pick a job, do the job. Come home, go back. Retire. Die.

So he sits in his room, because if he talks to his mother or to anyone else he is reminded that somehow he's supposed to care about it, that life here is supposed to matter to him just as it matters to everyone else. His mother will mention this or that and he'll have to either fake the responses she wants, or not and upset her and neither option sounds pleasing to him.

After years of monotony and training suddenly he is permitted to express again and it's like he's forgotten how, the parts rusty after all the disuse. There are too many emotions and he finds himself forgetting to use them or using the wrong ones because he can't do them automatically any more, for some reason, and reactions that call for an understanding of nuance are just lost to him. Very quickly everything is too much. Food, heat, depth, people, concepts, everything.

He hides away but then they stop becoming too much and they shrink and shrivel up and become nothing at all he can feel how empty he is. Nothing can fill the void he's got because he doesn't even know why it's there and he can scarcely tell that there's a problem in the first place. He does knows he's got a problem though, really, knows how serious it is by the way his mother watches him with fearful eyes and baleful glances. She tiptoes tentatively around the house, carefully softening her words and her gentleness feels like a pressure cooker slowly but surely building something that's going to get bigger and hotter and harder to make go away. She avoids talking about it, about how Francis feels or doesn't, and by doing so the problem is allowed to grow, unchecked. Francis doesn't have to act any more, doesn't have to pretend, and so the feelings of apathy grow and grow until they swallow him whole and all he can bring himself to do is sit and stare and the sky, a dark choking yellow.

It feels heavy to look at, like a lid covering everything in his life, all potential, all future, all growth. It just festers and sinks lower and lower still and he sits and watches it for days before he's realised he's done so.

When Francis is twenty-two, his mother breaks. Not that she herself breaks, but her patience does.

'I can't do this any more.' she says. There are tears on her face and Francis watches one slide off and fall onto her collar. 'You need to go.'

Francis appraises her properly, meeting her eyes. She flinches at his gaze but remains resolute in her decision, though her bottom lip quivers. 'There's nothing for you here, we both know that. You don't want to be here, so you need to go.'

'I don't want to be anywhere.' he replies.

She gives him a watery smile. 'I know. That's why, you might as well see if you can want to be somewhere else.' She lifts up her arm and shows him her e-tab, the translucent screen showing a brightly coloured ticket. 'I've bought you a flight. It's Earth, it was declared habitable a few weeks ago.'

Francis knows he should feel something, this is one of those instances when he knows that he should be feeling something but he can't quite imagine what emotion he should give her.

She doesn't seem to expect one. 'It's one way. And this, this is all of my savings, Francis.' Her eyes are wide and her face is suddenly so very very old. 'If you don't want to be any more, at least make that decision once you've seen this. You can't go without seeing this, after all. See this, see it for me and then you can decide, okay?'

Suddenly she looks shocked and runs forward to embrace him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and knocking her e-tab into his face. The garish purple of the ticket burns his eyes. 'Oh Francis.' She sobs into his shoulder and clutches tightly into his shirt. 'Oh Francis it's okay, you can cry if you want to.'

Oh.

He's crying.

................................................................................................................................

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

[holyevents]

One becomes easily accustomed to the sense of peace. It spills through one’s being, like a slow-acting poison - numbing its host to all else but its sweet lull. Eventually, one forgets to live without it, sinking into a state of content lethargy, gorging themself on the belief that such serenity might extend into the horizon of forever. That is, perhaps, an apt way to describe the state into which many of the subjects of the Holy Land had fallen, the thought of discord a far-off notion in the mind. Until shock held them by the throat, discord grinned its wicked smile from the shadows, and death stole away the one figure that kept the horrors of the world at bay. 

May the fallen Star, Cador (who had, in one life, been known as Abraham), find harmony in all that he encounters. 

The moon was near-rising, and still the final third of the Tridium had yet to make his appearance. They were meant to gather, to deliberate and commiserate in equal measure, to further plough the path of grandeur and success for the kingdom that they so loved, and the city that they held so dear. AZAZEL and GABRIEL, the Moon and the Sun respectively, sat at opposite ends of the table - making the absence of their Star all the more noticeable. It was the first time that they had entered the room without being greeted by the older man; the first time that they have found themselves waiting on him, and the first time that they have felt an unease settle so pervasively between them. Yet neither of them cared to acknowledge it, not quite yet. One messenger had already been sent to his quarters, then another - and both of them had returned with no Cador in sight, only eerily distinct expressions of anxiety and discomfort. 

GABRIEL was the first to break the silence that had fallen over the two divine beings. “Perhaps we should send another messenger.”

“Perhaps we should admit to ourselves the truth,” AZAZEL countered, eyes meeting his. 

The archangel arched his brow. “And perhaps we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

A third messenger was never sent, for the Sun and the Moon went forth themselves, seeking the missing piece that made them the formidable Tridium. The sun was nowhere to be found and the moon was slowly waking, stars bespeckling the sky as though they, too, were curious as to where Cador hid himself. He was one of them, was he not? How could he ever be led astray? There was none that could snuff out the light of a burning star; their existence only ceased by means of implosion, and Cador was never one that would dare relinquish any notion of greatness and glory by being his own undoing. A highly revered man, he was regarded as such by both the wealthy and the impoverished, widely-beloved by many of the mortals within the Holy Land. He had their hearts. Cador had suffered - for what is the loss of a son but the definition of it? Cador had risen to greatness: for is not greatness created in the ruthless elevation of oneself, rising from destitution and growingstrong for it? 

And, with such greatness and glory, the perception of one’s limits becomes rather skewed. If he was loathed, which he certainly was by those who privately preferred more Heretical ideals, then he was meant to rise above it. If he was loved, then he knew that he held the people’s faith. He was untouchable. Death is nothing more than a far-off, tangential notion that is not a consequence of existence, but rather, an anomaly - to celestials and infernals… and, in truth, to Cador. 

That is what AZAZEL and GABRIEL garnered from the rigid raise of his brows and his widened, glassy eyes, at least. They stood over his body, looking down at a corpse frozen in shock the splintered door crumbling behind them -as dead as the cadaver it had so diligently locked away. GABRIEL brushed the splinters from his sleeve as AZAZEL leaned closer, investigating the marks that hinted at Cador’s demise. Blotchy skin, red eyes. The remnants of foam around his mouth. His face had grown blue and, even now, as she pressed against the cold skin, she could feel the food that had lodged in his throat as he took his final mouthful:a fruit that his son had been known to favor. She wiped her fingers against Cador’s shirt before pulling away. The two divine beings looked at one another before AZAZEL shook her head. Stars did not die this way. They faded slowly, beautifully before implosion; they did not rot away. 

The stench of artificial rot was in the air. Cador’s body was bloated with it. The stain of murder bespeckled his skin, was strewn about the room, and it felt heavy. The Star of the Tridium had been murdered, just as they were sinking into the honeyed lull of harmony. Should word get out, there could be war. The mortal faction would want reparations, if they ever knew the truth. 

It was a good thing, then, that the Sun and the Moon knew how to keep their secrets. 

They wore veils as they walked among the streets of the Holy Land, as they went from village to village harkening the passing of the great Star, Cador. It had been known that he was growing older, that his health was not that of a young man’s any longer. Though it came as a shock, Death was Death, a natural occurrence in a mortal’s life. The town criers wiped their tears beneath their veils, watching as the grief swept through the people’s faces as they listened to the great life that Cador had led; the good that he had done for his people, and the dying wish that he had made. A young boy with dirt smeared across his face took a heaving breath, rubbing his nose with a tattered, torn sleeve. An aged seamstress clutched at her chest, shaking her head as she rocked back and forth upon her chair, Cador’s name a wail upon her lips. A squire, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, let their sword clatter to the ground as they fell to their knees. 

Our Star, they lamented, whether it be upon their lips or in their weeping hearts. Our hope, our leader, and our salvation.

It was as though a silence swept, not only over the people, but over the entirety of the Holy Land. It seemed as though the very earth itself shuddered in trepidation at the onslaught of blood it would have to drink…

It was as though peace had been a curse cast over them, causing them to cease all machinations and to content themselves with idleness and petty games. The great Star of the Tridium had been the sacrifice that was needed to lift the curse from their shoulders, and renew them once more.  The Kingdom of Caelum began preparations for their travels to the Holy Land, the prestigious and glorified of the kingdom readying themselves and their companions for the journey. In the revelry of the Infernal Realm there was pause as news of the fallen Star made its way across the land - the infamous and dastardly figures in the kingdom began to ready themselves for the journey that would undoubtedly follow. 

Though no one said it aloud, they all knew. Every creature knew what possibilities loomed over them; what the Hundred-Eyed God likely saw with their never-ending sight. Some fates, they knew, were going to be bloodier than others. The seat of the Star was ripe for the taking. The only question was - who would be the figure standing behind its throne? 

THE FIRST WEEK OF THE NEW MOON: The movements of the wealthy are not kept secret for long. It is well known that only those who sit comfortably upon a mound of money are the only ones that are able to traverse between the kingdoms, and are the only ones expected to participate within the funeral rituals of the great Star, Cador. Where the fat of the calf is, vultures follow, and are not robbers all too content with being compared to such predatory animals? The robbers know it is fair easier to strike angels and demons when their defenses are thinned, spread out like a caravan, making them ripe for the plucking. 

The Tridium knows of this, though, and is aware of the dangers of such travel. They are determined to extend the courtesy of safety and protection to those who seek to remember the life of Cador, and so they have requested that volunteers within the Holy Land take up arms to defend their visitors. Among those who have volunteered to do so are:

GROUP I:

LUCA RICHE

CAPHRIEL

ORIAS

GROUP II:

ROMILDA ALTIER

SAMAEL

DMITRI

GROUP III:

ARIANNE ALTIER

RAUM

ZADKIEL

THE SECOND WEEK OF THE NEW MOON:  The preparations for Cador’s funeral have finally come to an end, and the celebrations and rituals begin. The rites span over six days, each day with a specific means for paying Cador’s legacy homage. 

The first day is known as the MEMORIAM OF DAWN, in which the community gathers together to build a pyre for the departed, rising at dawn to collect the necessary instruments and resources - wood, flowers, oils, and the like. While they gather and prepare, they sing of the departed’s childhood, and if none can be recounted then they sing of the first time the departed smiled at them, their first laugh, and so on. The second day is known as the MEMORIAM OF THE FIRST TWILIGHT and it is upon this day that the treasures of the departed are gathered together so that they might be redistributed to their loved ones and the community, depending on the wishes of the dead. This typically takes place at the Temple of the Saints and is often accompanied by acts of charity, such as alms-giving and distribution of goods in the name of the departed. The third day is known as the MEMORIAM OF SUNRISE and it is on this day that there is quiet and respite to be taken by the loved ones of the departed. Traditionally, they sequester themselves and allow themselves time to bask in the life that they had shared with the dead - oftentimes gathering together if only to drink, eat, and exchange memories.

The fourth day is known as the MEMORIAM OF SUNSET, during which what can only be described as festivities take place - the last three days of funeral rituals meant to be a joyous celebration of the life that had been lived. A bonfire takes place and those who wish to render the memory of the departed upon their skin, either in letter or through symbols. Laughter, singing, dancing often marks this and typically bleeds into the next. The fifth day is known as the MEMORIAM OF THE LAST TWILIGHT and it is on this day that the last vestiges of the departed are burned. Treasures that no one wishes to keep for themselves, letters that they had written, renderings and sketches - all are burned upon the pyre, along with the body that remains. The lighting of the pyre is rather ceremonious, with a loved one removing the shroud as frankincense curls in the air, placing one final kiss upon the departed’s brow before extending the torch and setting the pyre aflame. Libations, song, and dancing ensue once more and consequently bleed into the sixth and final day, known as the MEMORIAM OF DUSK. When dusk settles on this final day, the ashes from the pyre are collected and are taken care of at the discretion of the departed’s loved ones. Candles are lit throughout the community - placed upon windowsills, balconies, fountains, the old haunts and known places of refuge for the dead. With this closing ceremony, it is recognized that, though the ache still lingers - and perhaps it always will - there is hope that such love will be renewed again

The people of the land - and the visitors from the neighboring kingdoms - gather together to remember the great life that Cador had. Minstrels ready their instruments, children and adults alike gather the wood for the bonfire, and so the celebrations begin and the libations are shared among all. In their drunkenness, there are some who can’t help but notice how odd Cador seems to look on the pyre - it is as though there is a glamour that is placed on his visage. The hues of his skin seem skewed. The way the light shines in his hair gleams rather oddly.

But no matter, no matter… leave the dead to their peace… 

THIRD WEEK OF THE NEW MOON: It seems that the entirety of the world has been renewed, that fresh vigor runs deep within the soil. For this reason, it is said that the Daemonium are becoming agitated - for the only renewal they know is that of their insatiable hunger. It is on the outskirts of Sanctus Terra that many hear of it. The Tridium is aware, but they make the decision to stay their hand - they feel themselves becoming overwhelmed while being spread so thin. Those of the Round Table need to reserve their forces and maintain their focus on electing a new Star to represent them and their interests. But there are the restless few who cannot help but take a quick trip to relieve their own hunger - their hunger for glory.

THE FOURTH WEEK OF THE NEW MOON:  Due to the unprecedented events that occurred at the beginning of the New Moon, the celebration known as The Coming of Spring was delayed, and many instead chose to celebrate it during the fourth week of the New Moon. The allocated sites have been announced and the people of the Holy Land are able to let the last vestiges of grief go as the renewal of the spirit takes place. Perhaps some will wish that the new Star be as righteous and glorious as the one that had passed. Perhaps those who hunger for it will get the schism that they want so dearly to occur between the factions. 

FINAL NOTES: And with that, we have released our first event! Not to get sappy, but you all have no idea how grateful we are to have your interest and excitement. This has been a long time coming and we absolutely cannot wait to see all the interactions that will take place! 

The OPEN POSITIONS will always be on a first-come, first-serve basis, so drop an ask to the MAIN to let us know if you want your character to participate in this. It is meant to be a joint collaboration between those within the Holy Land and the neighboring kingdoms, so angels, demons, and mortals alike are welcome to volunteer themselves! If there is no space available, we will let you know as soon as we can. 

If you have any questions, please drop them in the discord channel and if you find yourself coming up empty for plots, don’t hesitate to contact us. We absolutely love collaborating and helping our members. You are free to thread out any of the events that have been outlined in the event or to have your characters go on their own adventures. Otherwise, we hope you all have fun and enjoy!

[lachalaine]

einjerhar lore // history and info

*canon to this blog only

condensed history

the einjerhar are warriors of old chosen by the gods to fight at ragnarok. they were mere mortals made divine, yet were not made demigods. thus, their mortality remains intact though their abilities were enhanced. 

jazzele ( jackie’s einjerhar counterpart ) was part of an adventurers guild before her initial death. this guild was one of the rising stars of midgard, and was very particular about accepting new members into its ranks. they were perhaps one of the smallest in terms of size, but their strengths far outweighed the need for numbers, and the kingdom soon came to regard them as one of the best. 

there were eighteen members in total, and each one had their own weapon specialty. even as mere mortals, they were each regarded as masters of their craft, and assisted many of their old instructors with teaching the younger students who’d wished to follow in their footsteps.

they were meant to be The Best.  

yet on a mission gone wrong, each of those eighteen members were all subsequently slaughtered by a demon knight named thanatos 

the norse gods, having kept careful watch on their achievements on the mortal plane, had sent the valkyries down to assist in bringing them to Asgard

they were each given a choice: to fight for the gods at ragnarok ( though they knew they would fail ) or to sweep peacefully off to helheim. they each made the decision to fight. 

however, to achieve their place as true einjerhar, they were made to relive their lives over once more. a second life on midgard, at age fifteen -- where no one would remember them. once they were ready and had reacquired their strength ( and once they’d even gone beyond it ), they would be welcomed back into the halls of valhalla. 

yet even among their einjerhar brethren, these particular adventurers seemed to stand out amongst the others. they were still specialists in their crafts, and yet beyond that, had also achieved a certain strength that had further intrigued the gods themselves. just as they had when they were alive, these particular members were utilized to be the gods personal envoys, to slip between realms and do their bidding, to safeguard the mortals from the worse threats that were to come. 

in a twist of fate, the gods grew attached. 

somewhere along their journeys, the norns of fate had received a warning. that beyond their current timeline, that beyond their dimension - there would be the second coming of ragnarok, and should things progress as they had, there would be virtually no one they could guarantee that would defend it. 

the gods, knowing the futility of the oncoming war - made a choice. that though they would perish, and all would sense of life would be devastated upon their nine realms, they could at least - potentially - have a chance to save the future. 

all eighteen einjerhar would become their contingency plan. 

unaware that ragnarok was due to erupt, they were sent away on one last final mission - to an outer dimension to lay waste to a demon overlord, only for the gods to seal away their exit with no way back. 

ragnarok occurred, everyone died, the eighteen einjerhar - duly protected by the gods combined magic - were sent to sleep, spirited away until they could be reborn anew

einjerhar info

in modern times, all eighteen souls have found their way to earth. but very few have come into contact with each other. they are upon different continents, born of different countries, and yet their paths would lead them to each other eventually. 

they are each gifted with above average strength and speed ( with some more prominent then others ), as well as a natural talent in their chosen field, in addition to abilities obtained from the gods. more or less however, they are each operating at a mere 25% of their actual capabilities unless they achieve complete harmony with their counterparts.

some have become assassins and some have become thieves, some are scientists and researchers while others are martial artist instructors. yet despite their differences, the souls of their einjerhar still resonate against their own and can consciously recognize each other upon contact. 

unless otherwise activated, the einjerhar beings remain silent, mere guardian angels in a manner of speaking - yet they are capable of conscious thought if actively prompted. 

some have grown into their abilities, while others ( read: jackie ) have attempted to somewhat reject them. as such, those who might reject them can come to feel their einjerhars presence stifled to a most unhealthy degree, that unless they have any sense of proper release, they tend to take over - much without their host bodies consent. due to it being a severely different timeline from their own, they have trouble controlling the blood lust that came so easy to them in their past lives. in essence ---- they get vicious and attempt to find mortals they can utilize to ease off their accumulation of rage ( sometimes it can result in massacres ). 

the downside is their host bodies acquiring a terrible fever that can last for days and leave them absolutely delirious ( since they aren’t necessarily equipped to deal with the influx of magic ) , and also potentially them waking up on the outskirts of town and not knowing how they got there. 

sometimes their mortal sides can see reflections of their einjerhars physical attributes in mirrors, which is a clear sign the warriors are awake and watching. they tend to imagine these as mostly delusions however, and should they check again, the reflections have gone missing.

the reincarnations have their counterparts memories, which account for a great many nightmares centered around monsters and demons and people they don’t remember, which can lead them to think they’re crazy. 

there is a theory that the gods themselves did not necessarily perish in ragnarok, as perhaps they made their way to the mortal realm just the same as their envoys did, though they tend to remain lowkey. regardless, they appear intent to keep themselves away from their envoys unless required, but as trained into the einjerjar - should a norse god give them an order, they are due to follow through with it, no matter what it might be ( even if it might be something they are very much against ). 

also jaz in particular is very angry at the gods for sending them away when they were due to fight. she takes it as an insult against their abilities and holds a grudge. she still respects them however, but it does nothing to relieve her of her rage. 

in addition to it all, each warrior had their own god they were assigned to for whom they would personally do missions for. they each also had their own particular animal that they were blessed with, much like odin and his ravens. jazzele’s for example was a white siberian tiger named magnhild ( nickname magn ) who would accompany her on her travels. she’s sorta been reborn in spirit as jackie’s white ragamuffin cat lemon drop.

also this is the most accurate depiction of what jazzele and jackie would look like once they’re in harmony with each other. i need to get that face claim as their combined countenance, but essentially the eyes turn a very bright and luminous aquamarine blue and jackie gains a hint of looking a bit older while still retaining her overall youthfulness. however, god knows when that’ll happen because jaz is reluctant to reveal herself to jackie for fear she isn’t ready. really, she’s just an overprotective guardian in the long run. they’ll make it though - eventually.

canon events 

separate from all other verses unless specified. 

rekenber corporation ( the group that initially sent them on their doomed mission to thanatos and was illegally experimenting on humans to create artificial life forms ) has also been reestablished in the modern world. they are at the forefront of scientific achievements,in biochemical engineering yet there appears to be a hidden department run in search of evidence on the norse warriors, where a mad scientist named wolfchev will stop at nothing to acquire the einjerhars wandering souls. old tomes state after all that if the souls were to be absorbed, they would ultimately form the heart of ymir, of which is a source of absolute magic. it can be used to fuel anything and everything, at the cost of the warriors life force. wolfchev is still searching for them.

the warriors are due to meet up by the coming of the second ragnarok, lured together by the efforts of one of their own who has done much research into the einjerhars existence. the only problem for them this time is -- not one of them was trained to stop the end of the world again. :// 

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

Family Sticks Togehter

@phoena12 submitted: a quick fic i wrote for Angst War 2k18, hope you enjoy!

It had been a peaceful day or as peaceful as the studio could get, the occasional pipe bursting and sending tidal waves of ink in every direction, the sounds of pen scratching onto paper as the widening grin of Bendy takes shape. Sammy had taken to shouting as of late, much to Wally’s and some better un named interns glee, as Bendy plays prank after prank on the poor music director. Their footfalls soon heard as bendy comes screeching out of an ink stained office with a peeved (and soaked) Sammy Lawrence, insults spitting from his mouth. It takes Wally a few minutes to stop his cackling.

Sweet melodies combined with a twirl of angelic singing comb through the halls of the studio, a few employees stopping briefly by the recording studio to catch the sunny tune. Susie making the bass vocals as Alice leads with the main part, the two lost in the joy of it. Jack leans to one side of the recording booth, scanning over the lyrics and hums along to the instrumental parts.

Down below, where memories breathe a little more life than ought to be, sits Shawn, tinkering away with his bendy plushies. A careful eye analysing each and every aspect of the doll he has in hand. Satisfied, he smiles and places the doll down amongst others. A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder as Lacie asks a genial question. Shawn shrugs, stands and gestures at an oil smudged Lacie to lunch. She scoffs but heads for the elevator nonetheless, making a joke that Shawn’s eyes were looking a little green today. He laughs. He usually forgets to take his goggles off.

Several floors above, Joey sketches out various ideas to put forth for the next cartoon strip, various doodles of Bendy pulling pranks or just getting into mischief. Alice being the voice of reason and Boris the lovable antagonist. Notes are hastily scribbled at the sides, some a little indecipherable in his haste to have the picture make sense. He was sure Henry and the others would love them. At least, he think they would if not for the shouting that interrupted Joey’s thoughts. It sounded like Sammy and Bendy were at it again. He heaves a sigh, pushes up from his chair and begins a casual walk out towards the racket. Oh sure, he was gonna give them hell when he caught them but why waste that energy now. Joey waves a hello at passing co-workers.

“I’m gonna ring yer damn neck ya imp!!” Sammy all but screeches.

“Ya gotta catch me first!” Bendy snickers back as he quickly rounds a corner, only to bump into his father figure, Joey.

“I got ya now twerp!” Sammy hollers as he catches up with Bendy and grabs him by the scruff, “oh yer in for it now” Sammy spits. Failing to notice Drew but we’ll just blame it on the fact his face is covered in ink and not the overriding frenzy that has him worked up instead.

“I don’t think that is in your best interests Sammy” Joey speaks up. An audible gulp can be heard as Sammy snaps his neck to meet the cold blue eyed gaze of his boss, dropping Bendy in the process and eliciting an “oww” from him.

There’s a slight pause from both demon and music director before Bendy wraps his arms about Joey’s legs and whimpers a “he started it!” How very convincing and certainly Joey would be had he not had to deal with this same situation time and time again.

“You know damn well you started it ya pest!” Sammy glowers down at Bendy, “he flooded my office again” this he says to Joey, firmly holding his gaze. Joey could have guessed that by the state of his appearance alone.

“That fact is very evident, Sammy, what im most concerned about is the level of noise and destruction (at this he looks pointedly down the hall the two had come cavorting through) that you two have caused”. If looks could kill, Sammy would have dropped dead right there on the floor. “And Bendy” Joey begins with that parental tone that brooks no space for argument, “how many times have I told you not to flood Sammy’s office?”

Bendy idly rubs his forefingers together, a petulant frown showing, “26 times?” he tries but it doesn’t yield any form of a smile from the older man. Bendy gives up his childish act and goes to stand by Sammy, the both of them looking like disgraced children.

“47 actually” Joey sighs out. He wishes Henry were here instead. “Bendy, you’re not allowed in the animation department for the rest of the week”

“What!? But Joey-“Bendy squawks before being cut off.

“No.” it’s harsh but Bendy needs to learn. “As for you, Sammy, your coffee intake will be reduced” that might be pushing it but it’s the only way Joey can really reprimand Sammy.

“Fine…” Sammy grouches, unwilling to fight further on the subject with his boss. He supposed, as well, that he had caused a bit of havoc for the rest of the studio, especially for Wally.

“Good, I shall leave you two to-“

“But what am I meant to do for the rest of the week!” Bendy suddenly pipes up, his hands fisted slightly and looking none too happy about the arrangement made.

“You can draw or you can go play in the other departments” Joey tries.

Bendy grumbles under his breathe, looking about as mad as a dozing kitten, as he stalks off, stomping his little feet every now and then. Sammy nods a curt farewell as he goes to clean himself off. The both of them, Joey concludes then and there, are like spoilt children. Ah well, they would get over it sooner or later and besides, a week wasn’t a long time and Sammy could live without coffee. It might even do his health some benefit.

~~0~~

He was mad.

No!

He was fuming!

He was…he was….what was that word Sammy always used?

Pissed! Yeah that was it, Bendy was pissed as all hell. He’d show Joey, he could find plenty to do without sitting with Henry and watch him draw out each careful line of his beloved cartoon. Nope, Bendy wouldn’t miss the soft scratch of pen to pristine paper, or the gentle mutters of the other animators or the lulling hums of Henry as he zoned out.

Nope!

Nu-uh!

Bendy wasn’t gonna miss any of it. In fact it would do him wonderfully to get away from such a dull place. Think of all the pranks he could pull on everyone else! Oh, Joey would regret this decision. Not that Bendy ‘cared’.

Except his plans hadn’t, well, gone according to plan at all.

Wally had caught on to all of Bendy’s pranks and even alerted the rest of the studio to any other of his shenanigans (the gall!), so pranks were swiftly thrown out the window.

Even Alice and Susie wouldn’t put up with him. They had welcomed him into their conversation but the little demon soon lost track or sense of the conversation and after asking the 40th or so question pertaining to “why a guy’s butt looks good in dress pants, compared to overalls”, both women had kicked Bendy out of the conversation. If you asked Bendy, guy’s butts looked better in skirts!

And Lacie and Shawn were no help either. Lacie pretty much kept Bendy at an arm’s length whilst she worked on some mechanical thing and when Bendy had inquired as to what it was she was working on (and god did he ever regret that question) she had shown him a metallic doll that looked like him.

Except it was missing its eyes.

And some of its teeth had fallen out.

Oh and there was oil coming out of its eyes which was not ok?

Bendy had promptly fled the room screaming and hid beneath a stack of dolls.

Another dire mistake because today was filled with those apparently.

Shawn just had to pick him up out of the stack and Shawn just had to stick a needle dangerously close to his eyes. To Bendy’s amusement, Shawn did scream when finding it to be the real him but, you know, having a needle that close to your eye?

That’s not such an amusing thing.

So, Bendy had booked it outside the studio and yes, he was always told never to go outside the studio but the place was beginning to get too stifling and the fresh air and cooling wind felt good. The sky was blue with thick fluffy clouds, like out of a picture book. It was serene. Nice. Bendy inwardly thanked Joey for giving him a reason to go outside. What Bendy failed to know was that for a toon, stepping outside was a death wish.

He didn’t hear their footsteps or their murmured voices, only the flash of a camera and the shocked cries of humans. He didn’t recognise the voices. He didn’t recognise their faces either. Oh but they recognised him for sure.

Bendy had darted back into the studio, the people shouting and causing an uproar now. They banged against the door. His heart fluttered once and then began an uneven beat. Fast and unrelenting. Oh god, what did he do?

With tears welling in his eyes he runs to the one person who could sort out this mess.

Henry.

He knows, he shouldn’t go anywhere near the animation department, the building anxiety of Joeys disappointed features tearing at the young toons heart. Bendy felt as if he would burst.

As he reaches Henry, he’s a crying mess, ink and tears dripping heavily to the floor. No doubt a puddle would form. Henry is instantly on his knees.

“Hey,hey, what’s wrong buddy?” with a soothing tone that has Bendy bawling even more, the other animators coming to see the ruckus.

It hurts. It hurts so much because bendy is crying and sobbing and begging. “Im sorry, im sorry” and “please forgive me Henry” over and over again. His voice goes hoarse and cracks and god, does he feel like he’s gonna burst. There’s too many people and as Henry picks up his shaking form, Bendy burrows his face into his shirt, staining it in tears and ink.

~~0~~

The next day is even worse when the newspapers arrive. A picture of Bendy standing just outside the studio door, a soft and surprised look on his face, on the front page. He cries as Joey stares blankly at the page, eyes widening as he reads each word.

“Drew studios conducting experiments?” one reads.

“Famous star, Bendy, seen outside Drew Studios in freak photo!” another states.

And on and on such titles go, the wonder and mostly horror, at the favoured cartoon being alive.

It was a scandal to be sure.

The studio is silent that day, nobody works.

Henry holds Boris close, as Susie links hands with Alice. The silence a sharp and stabbing pain.

Bendy resigns himself from the chatter but Joey picks him up and holds him close.

“We’ll figure this out” he promises. Bendy cries and hopes that he does.

~~0~~

He’s not sure how many days have passed now.

The newspapers have grown less restive and in response to the heated media, the public takes a stand and protest outside of Drew studios.

It’s horrible and noisy and it’s all his fault.

Bendy doesn’t cry anymore. Just weak shudders and the occasional whimper.

Alice had yelled at him. Screaming. Throwing her hands about in wild gesticulation. Then she had stormed off and Bendy hadn’t seen her since. Susie assured him that she had calmed down but knew that wasn’t the case. Alice would never forgive him. She would hate him forever.

The thought was a punch to the gut.

Intern after intern had been laid off too, seeing as the mobs were getting rowdy and demanding entrance to the studio. Someone had been hurt, a long and nasty gash down their head. Bendy could still smell the blood.

Joey had even taken an interview stating that there were no living toons and such an idea was foolish. Clearly, the public hadn’t believed it.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault

It was all his fault!

Hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthi-

Well-toned arms had picked him as impossibly more tears slipped down his broken features, swaying him back and forth and murmuring soft words.

Henry.

Henry was here and standing at his side was Boris and Joey, both looking worried and aged beyond their years. Alice appeared from nowhere and placed a reassuring hand upon Bendy’s quivering self, a small smile telling she had forgiven him.

“Oh, Bendy…” Henry begins, softly, “no more tears, we’ll figure this out, ok?”

“b-but I… I hurt everyone…” Bendy hoarsely whispers, his eyebrows drawn tight and lip quivering.

“Ya certainly caused a mess, imp, but were used ta cleaning up yer messes” Sammy chips in, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I think ya mean I’m more used ta it, I’m the janitor ‘ere” Wally quips as he shrugs past Sammy. Sammy rolls his eyes in response.

“Oh would you two stop! The boy is clearly upset!” Lacie scolds from the end of the hall, her boots thudding as she makes her way to the growing group, Shawn trailing behind.

“We’re in this together” Alice murmurs as she rests her head on Henry’s shoulder.

“A family that works together, sticks together, is what I always say” Joey supplies, hands on his hips in a triumphant manner.

“Since when have you ever said that?” Susie drawls, earning a few snickers.

“W-well, just now!” Joey replies indignantly. Everyone giggles.

A family that sticks together, huh?

Yeah, Bendy had a whole family at his back that loved and cherished him.

Everything would work out in the end.

((OHH IT STARTED OUT REALLY CUTE BUT THEN GOT REALLY SCARY IN THE MIDDLE AND GOT CUTE AGAIN,,,, i love that... thats some Good Stuff. and they’re a family. they’re calling each other family. ohhhhhh my weakness, my biggest weakness-- thank you for the fic!! ; o ;))

[galoismyhimbo]

1-97 for Emily! Do them all.

akdjsasdas I wont back down from this, anon.

SO BUCKLE UP KIDDOS THIS GONNA BE A LONG ASS REPLY

1. What is their favourite food?

Probably, pancakes. Just plain ol’ pancakes with syrup, its simple and thats why she loves it.

2. Do they have a fear of an animal? If so, what animal?

Emily has a HUGE phobia of spiders. She see’s one across the room, she’s already setting the place on fire to kill it.

3. What do they wear to bed?

In the summer, just some shorts and a baggy shirt. In the winter, a star wars onsie.

4. Do they like cuddling?

yES! She is a slut for cuddling

5. Do they have a secret handshake with anyone?

Nope. At least not yet.

6. What do they look like?

Long, dark brown hair. Light brown eyes, pale skin, scarred face and body. Buff af, shoulders are bit wider than her hips. Wish i had a full body reference lmao.

7. Do they like chocolate?

Yep!

8. What are their good and bad traits?

Good: Loyal, lowkey softy, brave, perseverance, and has a strong will to protect the innocent.

Bad: impulsive, big ego, holds in her anger till she explodes, and reckless

9. Do they have any artistic talent?

Yeah, shes drawn in her free time and has gotten pretty good.

10. What is their favourite room to be in, in the house they live in?

Her bedroom. Just laying in bed, watching tv or something. She likes the quiet and seclusion. 

11. Do they believe in luck?

Ye

12. Can they do magic?

Nope

13. Do they believe in dragons?

No, but there’s always the child in her that does.

14. What is a pet peeve of theirs?

When people chew loudly or talk with their mouth full.

15. What was the last thing they cried about?

umm… depends on where she is in her life. If I stick to the events of FC5, then after she woke up in the bunker with Joseph.

16. What is their sexuality?

Birom Ace 

17. Do they have a best friend? If so, who, and what makes them their best friend?

Sharky is her best friend. She loved his dumbassery, cause shes a dumbass too at heart. So they would just run around causing havoc for the cult.

Her other best friend is @deputydonewithyall​‘s Hope. They are really gay for each other and are REALLY close. Emily really is dating her best friend. :^)

18. Have they ever been in a romantic relationship?

Yep, with Hope Pillar. And they still are. Cause you know what brings people together? Shared trauma.

19. What does their relationship with their family look like? Are they close? Distant? Ect.

She used to be close to her family and relatives. But over time she drifted away, especially after her father died. When he did, she left to Montana after her brother was able to live on his own. She’s only seen them on some holidays.

20. Do they have a pet?

Fangs for hire basically.

21. Do they have a familiar?

No. But if she picked one it would be a leopard lmao

22. Are they a supernatural being?

Nope.

23. How do they usually wear their hair?

Usually down, but she also wears it in a ponytail. She looks great in one.

24. Can they play an instrument? If so, what instrument and what can they play?

Nope.

25. What type a high schooler are/were they?

Average. She did well in school, but she wasn’t in any clubs. She just wanted out.

26. Have they ever been in a physical fight before? If so, with who? Who won?

Yep. With many during the fight with the cult lmao.

27. What is their favourite holiday?

Christmas, she LOVES it

28. If they could have one wish, what would they wish for?

For everything to be normal again, no more cult, no more pain. Just her old life back. :^)

29. Do they wants kids? If they already have kids, do they want more?

She’s not opposed to having kids. And she gets one eventually. But she doesn’t want it :^) my bunker story explains that LMAO

30. Do they have a job?

Deputy

31. Do they know how to drive?

Ye, she’s a great driver

32. Do they get stressed out easily?

Nope, not really

33. Did they ever dye their hair before? If so, to what colour? Did they like it?

Nope.

34.Have they ever broken the law?

Before the cult? No. Well she’s gone over the speed limit but thats it lmao

35. Do they own a plant?

Who got time for that

36. Have they ever rode a horse before?

No but she wants to so badly.

37. What is their favorite gif?

38. Do they get along with others easily?

Not really, but she tries her hardest

39. Do they have any tattoos?

Nah, but she’s not opposed to it

40. If I wanted to draw them, what would be distinct physical features that I would have to know to draw them correctly?

She has a pretty strong jawline, her gaze is sharp. She just has strong facial features in general i think; plus the scar on her left eyebrow and the one going across the right side of her face makes her badass.

41. What is their favourite breed of dog?

Bernese Mountain dog

42. Do they live with anyone? If so, who?

Not currently, but in the future she lives with Hope

43. Where is their dream vacation?

Going to anywhere in Europe in the winter honestly

44. Do they know more than one language?

Nope.

45. Are they a quick learner?

Yeah, she can adapt quickly.

46. Have they ever won a contest before? If so, what for? What did they win?

Emily won a drawing contest in like 3rd grade. She got a badge and everything, she was so proud of herself.

47. If the world were to end in 24 hours, where would they be and who would they be with?

They would go up onto a mountain with Hope, Sharky, and Boomer. And they’d just hang out till the last moment. Those three are the most important to her, and she would spend her last moments with them over anything else. 

48. What does their room look like?

Her floor is clean, but any desk in her room is covered in things. She lowkey a mess

49. If they could have an extinct animal for a pet, what would they have?

A Tasmanian Tiger

50. If they got called out by someone, what would they do?

Throw hands. Only if it was really bad lmao

51. Have they ever shot a gun before?

Ye, many times before

52. Have they ever been axe throwing?

No. But take her on a date to one and she’ll be all yours 

53. What is something that they want but can’t have?

Her sanity back :^) shit goes down in my story

54. Do they know how to fish?

Yeah, she’s actually pretty good. And she finds it relaxing

55. What is something they always wanted to do but too scared?

Go on roller coasters. She fears them but man, they look like fun to her and she feels like she’s missing out.

56. Do they own their own baby pictures?

Actually yeah, she keeps photos back at her apartment. She also has a photo of her, her siblings, and her dad years before he died in her pocket.

57. What makes them standout among others?

In all honesty, her brute force. She is a buff gal, and could handle herself in a fight, even playing dirty. If given the chance, she could fight Jacob. It would be a tough one but she’d have a chance.

58. Do they like to show off?

YEP. She has an ego.

59. What is their favourite song?

If I go, I’m going - Gregory Alan Isakov

60. What would be their dream vehicle?

A motorcycle

61. What is their favourite book?

She doesn’t have one.

62. Who, in their opinion, makes the best food?

Pratt. Only because one year he made something for a Christmas party for their department and it was hella good. Though someone else probably could’ve made it.

63. Are they approachable?

Not really? She a tall, very buff looking woman with a scarred resting bitch face. But if you do approach her she’ll open up.

64. Did they ever change their appearance?

Nah.

65. What makes them smile?

Memes. lmao jk, just little moments of peace with friends and loved ones.

66. Do they like glowsticks?

Hells yeah

67. What is something that is simple, but always makes them smile?

Someone giving her a little gift and saying it reminded them of her. OR someone leaving little love notes around for her.

68. Are they a day or night person?

Night.

69. Are they allergic to anything?

Nope.

70. What do you, the creator of this OC, like most about them?

Her bravery. Which is also connected to her recklessness; she will risk her life to save an innocent or someone she cares about.   

71. Who is their ride or die?

Sharky and Hope. These three are an iconic trio

72. Do they currently have a significant other? If not, are they going to get one later one?

YEP. Hope.

73. What attracts them to another person?

Honesty, loyalty, and gentleness

74. Who is one person that can always make them laugh?

Sharky or Hope. 

75. Have they ever partied too hard and their friends had to take them home?

Emily doesn’t like alcohol so no, she hasn’t.

76. Who would be their cuddle buddy?

H O P E. And Boomer lmao

77. Who would cheer them up after a long day?

Sharky, Boomer, and Hope. And actually Joey before the cult stuff.

78. If they had a nightmare, who would they run to?

Hope. But that can change sometimes.

79. What object to the care for the most?

Her necklace.

80. Do they like other people’s children?

Depends. With baby Rye, she adores her. But other kids she may not be the biggest fan of.

81. How would they react if someone broke into their home?

”…You got to be kidding me.”

82. Does anyone make them have butterflies in their stomach?

HOPE MAKES EMILY A HUGE SOFTY, YALL DONT UNDERSTAND. Sorry i got excited

83. What is something that they are good at?

Archery.

84. What is their neutral expression?

Resting Bitch Face.

85. Do they like to cook?

No, she wishes things just appeared in front of her to eat

86. What is something they can’t leave home without?

The necklace her father got her years ago

87. Who is someone that they rely on?

👀👀 Hope.

88. Do they liked to be tickled?

No, and she’ll punch you if you try

89. Have they ever been a sword fight before?

No. But she’d be down to at any moment

90. What is a joke that they would find funny?

Basically memes and stuff lmao

91. Do they have a place that can go and turn off their brain?

In Hope county, Emily liked to go to the church in Fall’s End to just relax. She was close to Jerome as well so they would just talk when things were calm.

92. What was their childhood like?

It was actually pretty normal for the most part. After her mother died on duty, her father raised her and her two siblings for a long time before he eventually died. She knew her relatives and stuff, had big family dinners, get togethers. She remembers her mom getting up really early every Christmas to make a large breakfast for the family and relatives. She loved waking to the smell of bacon.

93. What are they like as an adult?

She has her life together, but she’s also a wreck. Like, eating ramen for 4 days straight cause she doesn’t want to go grocery shopping.

94. Do they take criticism well?

Yeah, she knows its to improve on something. But she’s annoyed on the inside.

95. Have they ever jumped out of a plane?

Only ones that have been crashing LOL

96. Who do they like to make jokes with?

Anyone of her friends. She loved pulling pranks on the other deputies before the cult issue.

97. Have you ever drawn them before? If you are comfortable with it, would you post a picture?

Hell yeah. Though none are actually finished so here’s a WIP

[tenpetunia]

My Anime List Refresher 2013-2016

With so much anime series being produced and all easily available to watch, I have so much on my bookmark list, all queued up! Some I have started to watch then lost interest or got distracted by another thing to watch (could be live action thanks to Netflix, but that’s like a totally different list - another tricky one lol) Even if it’s not a fave of mine, I usually finish what I started - unless it really doesn’t interest me. 

So this list will be my favorites? or unfinished but still want to watch. Hmm...just a refresher for me as i want to update my brain haha like if I think of my officil fave anime series: Welcome to NHK, School Rumble, Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Azumanga Daioh, Lucky Star, Skip Beat...all the things I watched before 2013 (February to be specific, when I moved to SG). And with so much anime series on my list now, just want to clean it up and say hey! i love this one! ^_^ haha, no specific order and keeping it short. Especially with the Japanese names...hard to remember for me. 

1. Chihayafuru 

I actually already included this in my official fave list, hence mentioning it first. Just going with the flow of all things watched from 2013 onwards. Didn’t know a show about playing cards can be so thrilling and this one is freaking emotional too. Always love cute underdog stories and likable weirdo villains. 

2. Shirobako

What could be better than watching anime? Watching anime about making an anime series! Probably the most realistic as there’s no fantasy or exaggerated drama or comedy. Just day to day stress of adults working and yes, that many characters. To actually see how animation studio works, the collaboration of everyone from different departments - and to actually having a finished product. Definitely a must see for anime lovers, to get better appreciation and respect to those working the industry just so we can enjoy watching them. Plus the ending when the girl got the voice acting job, great great job!

3. Durarara

Took a while for me to finish this (GOT, TWD etc) and I was determined cos it is weird, bizarre like what the hell and lots of funny characters and awesome scenery of Tokyo city. One of things I love in anime is seeing real places drawn. I just love the details in the background and Tokyu Hands always making a cameo lol. I’m not really into action but this is just cool, all thanks to Celty! Headless biker chick who’s badass but emo. And the chatrooms, cray cray!

 4. K-Project

Already mentioned that not into much into action but this is visually - the most beautiful art I have seen in anime series (yeah, anime films are separate haha) I got intrigued when I saw a poster for their film Missing K at some bus stop and decided to jump into the series so I can watch the film after. The fight scenes - stunning modern art complete with cool soundtrack. Art aside, I knew I was getting into it when I was really rooting for Mikoto to win.

5. Wake Up, Girls!

I watched 3 animes of ‘idol’ genre (Love Live & Shounen Hollywood) and this is the one that I finished and looked forward to watching the next episode. Catchy tunes (in my ipod), fan service (panties for pervs lol) and just the underdogs with the advantage of having one member as an ex-idol and going after the big corporate idol groups. Plus the head of their agency is wtf hilarious.

6. Kids on the Slope

Music-wise, this wins easily! Coming of age, 60′s setting, Jazz music. Plus I watched this around same time i watched Whiplash so yeah I was kinda adding Jazz music to my playlist. Just saw trailer on Animax, they were performing Favorite Things (Sound of Music) and I was like I have to watch this! Don’t care much for the girl or the romance, I found the friendship story of bad boy drummer and nerdy pianist more interesting and just the excitement & bond forming between them when they jam. Easy to watch, relaxing countryside ambiance.   

 7. Denkigai no Honya-san 

Title is kinda hard for me to remember but I enjoyed watching this. This is like otaku heaven! Perfect setting for otaku characters: a manga store. This is so my type with all the quirky randomness happening and the staff having their own brand of weirdness. Watched this alongside Shirobako so it was a perfect balance, both workplace, with that more serious and this just silly fun. Plus the otaku culture references and cosplay, very amusing.  

8. Stein’s Gate 

For my sci-fi, time-travel kinda fix, it’s this one! Sometimes not sure if quirky or serious, works well with the flow of the story and its characters. Paranoid protagonists are always interesting to watch with their mumblings and witty lines. I have been wanting to see this cos it was always recommended by MAL when I’m looking for something like Welcome to NHK. Plus the geeky hacking working hard and the different timelines, got me hyped! 

9. Polar Bear Cafe

I haven’t finished this one (too many episodes!) but this is the most kawaii thing ever! My go-to anime if I want to feel relaxed it just soothes my brain. A polar bear who owns a café and is besties with a penguin and a panda. Plus the other animal customers, mixed with humans like it’s the most normal thing ever. And my fave character: Panda, who loves everything Panda (panda accessories) and works at the zoo as a…panda! Cuteness overload and the art, not very cartoony which makes it wackier to watch.

10. Food Wars

Currently watching this and I love it! Food in anime always looks so gorgeous and tasty, including everything in this list. But since this is set in a culinary school, this has the most scrumptious food and educational as well – how they explain the recipes and cooking process. This is the only school focused in my list, but it’s not your normal high school as it’s like food network combined with Japanese perviness - they nailed in spoofing hentai through tasting awesome food…it’s just an explosion of flavour and feels.

Honourable Mention (random order):

1. Tokyo Magnitude (the one that made me cry the most, not included in top 10 cos I totally forgot about it)

2. The Devil is a Part-Timer!

3. Eden of the East

4. Space Brothers

5. No Matter How I Look at It, It's You Guys' Fault I'm Not Popular!

6. I Can’t Understand What My Husband Is Saying (short)

7. Re-Life

[preciousmetals0]

A Tariffic Trade Deal; Boeing Clears the Air

A Tariffic Trade Deal; Boeing Clears the Air:

The Trade Deal Price Is Right

Last week, President Donald Trump chose curtain No. 1 and got himself a brand-new, shiny “phase 1” trade deal with China!

He seems pretty happy with it. He even took it for a spin a few times around Twitter to show it off for the press.

Wall Street, too, seems pretty happy with the phase 1 trade deal. The markets are poised to rally further into all-time high territory this week on the prospect of lower Chinese-U.S. tariffs.

Details on the deal are thin, to say the least. China promised to address intellectual property issues and currency manipulation, agree on technology transfer and buy more agricultural products from the U.S. These promises are all we have, though.

The only hard facts on the deal come from the U.S. side, where the December 15 tariffs of 15% on $160 billion in Chinese imports were scrapped. Duties on $120 billion in imports were cut to 7.5%.

The deal also has yet to be signed. That event will take place in early January, after the deal jumps through some legal hurdles and gets officially translated.

But the White House isn’t waiting until the signing to start on “phase 2,” according to U.S. Treasury Secretary (and extra from Revenge of the Nerds) Steven Mnuchin.

“We are going to go into a very short period of time of having the translation scrubbed, the deal will be signed in early January and then we will start on phase two,” Mnuchin told CNBC.

However, he also noted that “Phase two may be 2a, 2b, 2c, we’ll see…” Umm … wouldn’t it be easier just to call them phase 2, phase 3, et cetera, instead of resorting to letters?

The Takeaway: 

There are two ways to look at this phase 1 agreement:

What did the U.S. accomplish?

What’s the impact to investors?

For No. 1, you can find opinions across all of the major financial and mainstream media outlets. They range from praise for the administration on a job well done to derision for basically doing nothing. I’m not getting into this debate … it’s political and unproductive.

As for No. 2, the most important win for investors and Wall Street was tariff relief.

The canceling of the December 15 tariffs means all those electronics, laptops, tablets, iPhones, et cetera, won’t see price bumps during the remainder of the holiday shopping season. The rollback on other tariffs also helps semiconductor-makers and a slew of other industries with supply chains and manufacturing in China.

This is the real reason Wall Street is rallying. It also remains a fear for businesses going forward into phase 2. The trade deal keeps both sides from escalating the trade war for the time being, but it also lessens Trump’s leverage going forward.

I hope that additional tariffs won’t be used as a bargaining chip for any phase 2 (or phase 2a, 2b, 2c) deal. Resuming tariff threats could sour additional negotiations and call into question the existing phase 1 deal.

As it stands, lowering tariffs remains the key to keeping Wall Street’s bull rally going.

Good: Max No More?

The last of Boeing Co.’s (NYSE: BA) 737 Max airliners may have already rolled off the assembly line.

That’s because Boeing is reportedly considering halting or cutting the infamous aircraft’s production. According to “people familiar with the matter,” Boeing’s management supports pausing production on the 737 Max — a move that could lead to inflated costs for the plane, along with prompt job cuts and furloughs at production facilities making the Max.

So, why is this “good” for Boeing? Because the company needs to do something on the 737 Max front. The continued delays in federal approval are becoming increasingly expensive and dragging on BA investor sentiment.

Boeing needs to find a resolution or just rip the Band-Aid off all in one go. Then both the company and investors can move on. If Boeing decides to drop the Max altogether and BA shares drop, this could be an excellent buying opportunity for investors.

Better: A Whole New World

I’m calling it: The Walt Disney Co. (NYSE: DIS) is the hottest movie studio of 2019. With the release of Frozen 2, Disney melted moviegoers’ hearts … and set fire to their wallets for the sixth time this year.

Its latest animated blockbuster hit gave Disney its sixth billion-dollar film this year. Worldwide, Frozen 2 has raked in $1.03 billion so far, putting it in league with Avengers: Endgame ($2.79 billion), The Lion King ($1.65 billion), Captain Marvel ($1.13 billion), Toy Story 4 ($1.07 billion) and Aladdin ($1.05 billion).

What’s more, Disney is sure to have yet another billion-dollar hit on its hands later this week. Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker debuts in theaters this Friday.

And just think … all of the billion-dollar hits are coming to Disney+ eventually. Disney has you coming and going right now, and it’s making billions doing so.

On a side note, a Home Alone remake doesn’t need to happen … and in the age of smartphones, ride-hailing and the internet, it just doesn’t make sense. That said, if they remade the movie with 39-year-old Macaulay Culkin reprising his role as Kevin, with everyone ignoring the fact that Kevin is practically 40, it would be much funnier. I’d watch that.

I’d also recommend picking up DIS when you get a chance. Buy the dips on this movie leader and soon-to-be streaming giant.

Best: Axsome Results

I’ve been writing about the biotech sector for the past two weeks … and for good reason. Between mergers, buyouts and clinical trial data, the sector has been on fire.

Axsome Therapeutics Inc. (Nasdaq: AXSM) continued that trend today, surging more than 70% on key phase 3 trial data for its new antidepressant medication. Experimental treatment AXS-05 met the primary endpoint of its phase 3 trial for the treatment of severe major depressive disorder.

The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 17.3 million U.S. adults suffered at least one major depressive episode in 2017. Current treatments don’t work for everyone, and SunTrust Robinson Humphrey believes that AXS-05 will be the “go-to drug for those who don’t respond to first-line antidepressants.”

The market is keenly interested in AXS-05, with AXSM surging more than 1,559% in 2019. There could be more gains ahead, as Axsome plans on submitting a new drug application for AXS-05 with the Food and Drug Administration in 2020.

Editor’s Note: This is the perfect time to invest in biotech stocks. If you’re not in the biotech game, you are missing out on triple-digit gains all over the market! So, why are you still holding out?

Banyan Hill expert Jeff Yastine has the details on a $450 million biotech company that’s set to soar. And if you act quickly, you can get in on the ground floor … before the Big Pharma firms take notice and snap up this biotech darling.

Click here now for all the details!

I often hear Spotify Technology SA (NYSE: SPOT) compared with Netflix Inc. (Nasdaq: NFLX). They both dominate their respective streaming markets, so the comparison seems appropriate, right?

Today’s chart of the week helps put that market dominance in perspective:

As you can see, Spotify’s subscriber base (108.1 million) nearly doubles its nearest competitor, Apple Inc.’s (Nasdaq: AAPL) Apple Music (54.7 million), with Amazon.com Inc. (Nasdaq: AMZN) coming in a distant third.

By comparison, Netflix has about 137 million subscribers, with Amazon not that far behind with 100 million subscribers to its Prime service (which includes video streaming).

In short, on a subscriber basis, Spotify is far more dominant in music streaming than Netflix is in video streaming. That said, until Spotify creates its own record label, it’s going to lag far behind Netflix in the revenue department. Although, if Spotify were to move that route, the exiting record labels would probably sink the service in a heartbeat.

Great Stuff: In the Year 2020…

Market predictions!

Market predictions everywhere!

The end of the year is fast approaching. But it’s not only the end of a year — it’s the end of a decade.

Are you prepared for the New Roaring ’20s?

Banyan Hill’s biggest and brightest stars have begun to roll out their outlooks and predictions for 2020, and you don’t want to miss a single second of the action. So, in true Great Stuff fashion, I have compiled links to the latest and greatest 2020 predictions from our experts:

“Stocks to Buy in 2020: Invest in Health Care and Avoid Oil” — Charles Mizrahi, Editor, Alpha Investor Report.

“3 Shocking Predictions for 2020” — Jeff Yastine, Editor, Total Wealth Insider.

“2020 Market Predictions: Tesla, Bitcoin, Cannabis, America 2.0” — Ian Dyer, Editor, Rebound Profit Trader.

“2020 Forecast: Grab Double Digits Now to Start the Year Right” — Matt Badiali, Editor, Real Wealth Strategist.

“Tesla Goes to $1,000 and 9 Other 2020 Predictions” — Ian King, Editor, Automatic Fortunes.

“Your Complete 2020 Trading Strategy — in 1 Chart” — Michael Carr, Editor, Peak Velocity Trader.

“How to Survive 2020’s Stock Market Panic” — Ted Bauman, Editor, The Bauman Letter.

“97% Win Rate in 2019: 1 Winning Put Options Strategy to Dominate 2020” — Chad Shoop, Editor, Pure Income.

“Our 2020 Stock Market Predictions” — Paul Mampilly, Editor, Profits Unlimited.

When you’re done digesting all of that excellent material, don’t forget to like and follow Great Stuff on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram for even more memes and stock market research … but mostly memes.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

[goldira01]

The Trade Deal Price Is Right

Last week, President Donald Trump chose curtain No. 1 and got himself a brand-new, shiny “phase 1” trade deal with China!

He seems pretty happy with it. He even took it for a spin a few times around Twitter to show it off for the press.

Wall Street, too, seems pretty happy with the phase 1 trade deal. The markets are poised to rally further into all-time high territory this week on the prospect of lower Chinese-U.S. tariffs.

Details on the deal are thin, to say the least. China promised to address intellectual property issues and currency manipulation, agree on technology transfer and buy more agricultural products from the U.S. These promises are all we have, though.

The only hard facts on the deal come from the U.S. side, where the December 15 tariffs of 15% on $160 billion in Chinese imports were scrapped. Duties on $120 billion in imports were cut to 7.5%.

The deal also has yet to be signed. That event will take place in early January, after the deal jumps through some legal hurdles and gets officially translated.

But the White House isn’t waiting until the signing to start on “phase 2,” according to U.S. Treasury Secretary (and extra from Revenge of the Nerds) Steven Mnuchin.

“We are going to go into a very short period of time of having the translation scrubbed, the deal will be signed in early January and then we will start on phase two,” Mnuchin told CNBC.

However, he also noted that “Phase two may be 2a, 2b, 2c, we’ll see…” Umm … wouldn’t it be easier just to call them phase 2, phase 3, et cetera, instead of resorting to letters?

The Takeaway: 

There are two ways to look at this phase 1 agreement:

What did the U.S. accomplish?

What’s the impact to investors?

For No. 1, you can find opinions across all of the major financial and mainstream media outlets. They range from praise for the administration on a job well done to derision for basically doing nothing. I’m not getting into this debate … it’s political and unproductive.

As for No. 2, the most important win for investors and Wall Street was tariff relief.

The canceling of the December 15 tariffs means all those electronics, laptops, tablets, iPhones, et cetera, won’t see price bumps during the remainder of the holiday shopping season. The rollback on other tariffs also helps semiconductor-makers and a slew of other industries with supply chains and manufacturing in China.

This is the real reason Wall Street is rallying. It also remains a fear for businesses going forward into phase 2. The trade deal keeps both sides from escalating the trade war for the time being, but it also lessens Trump’s leverage going forward.

I hope that additional tariffs won’t be used as a bargaining chip for any phase 2 (or phase 2a, 2b, 2c) deal. Resuming tariff threats could sour additional negotiations and call into question the existing phase 1 deal.

As it stands, lowering tariffs remains the key to keeping Wall Street’s bull rally going.

Good: Max No More?

The last of Boeing Co.’s (NYSE: BA) 737 Max airliners may have already rolled off the assembly line.

That’s because Boeing is reportedly considering halting or cutting the infamous aircraft’s production. According to “people familiar with the matter,” Boeing’s management supports pausing production on the 737 Max — a move that could lead to inflated costs for the plane, along with prompt job cuts and furloughs at production facilities making the Max.

So, why is this “good” for Boeing? Because the company needs to do something on the 737 Max front. The continued delays in federal approval are becoming increasingly expensive and dragging on BA investor sentiment.

Boeing needs to find a resolution or just rip the Band-Aid off all in one go. Then both the company and investors can move on. If Boeing decides to drop the Max altogether and BA shares drop, this could be an excellent buying opportunity for investors.

Better: A Whole New World

I’m calling it: The Walt Disney Co. (NYSE: DIS) is the hottest movie studio of 2019. With the release of Frozen 2, Disney melted moviegoers’ hearts … and set fire to their wallets for the sixth time this year.

Its latest animated blockbuster hit gave Disney its sixth billion-dollar film this year. Worldwide, Frozen 2 has raked in $1.03 billion so far, putting it in league with Avengers: Endgame ($2.79 billion), The Lion King ($1.65 billion), Captain Marvel ($1.13 billion), Toy Story 4 ($1.07 billion) and Aladdin ($1.05 billion).

What’s more, Disney is sure to have yet another billion-dollar hit on its hands later this week. Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker debuts in theaters this Friday.

And just think … all of the billion-dollar hits are coming to Disney+ eventually. Disney has you coming and going right now, and it’s making billions doing so.

On a side note, a Home Alone remake doesn’t need to happen … and in the age of smartphones, ride-hailing and the internet, it just doesn’t make sense. That said, if they remade the movie with 39-year-old Macaulay Culkin reprising his role as Kevin, with everyone ignoring the fact that Kevin is practically 40, it would be much funnier. I’d watch that.

I’d also recommend picking up DIS when you get a chance. Buy the dips on this movie leader and soon-to-be streaming giant.

Best: Axsome Results

I’ve been writing about the biotech sector for the past two weeks … and for good reason. Between mergers, buyouts and clinical trial data, the sector has been on fire.

Axsome Therapeutics Inc. (Nasdaq: AXSM) continued that trend today, surging more than 70% on key phase 3 trial data for its new antidepressant medication. Experimental treatment AXS-05 met the primary endpoint of its phase 3 trial for the treatment of severe major depressive disorder.

The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 17.3 million U.S. adults suffered at least one major depressive episode in 2017. Current treatments don’t work for everyone, and SunTrust Robinson Humphrey believes that AXS-05 will be the “go-to drug for those who don’t respond to first-line antidepressants.”

The market is keenly interested in AXS-05, with AXSM surging more than 1,559% in 2019. There could be more gains ahead, as Axsome plans on submitting a new drug application for AXS-05 with the Food and Drug Administration in 2020.

Editor’s Note: This is the perfect time to invest in biotech stocks. If you’re not in the biotech game, you are missing out on triple-digit gains all over the market! So, why are you still holding out?

Banyan Hill expert Jeff Yastine has the details on a $450 million biotech company that’s set to soar. And if you act quickly, you can get in on the ground floor … before the Big Pharma firms take notice and snap up this biotech darling.

Click here now for all the details!

I often hear Spotify Technology SA (NYSE: SPOT) compared with Netflix Inc. (Nasdaq: NFLX). They both dominate their respective streaming markets, so the comparison seems appropriate, right?

Today’s chart of the week helps put that market dominance in perspective:

As you can see, Spotify’s subscriber base (108.1 million) nearly doubles its nearest competitor, Apple Inc.’s (Nasdaq: AAPL) Apple Music (54.7 million), with Amazon.com Inc. (Nasdaq: AMZN) coming in a distant third.

By comparison, Netflix has about 137 million subscribers, with Amazon not that far behind with 100 million subscribers to its Prime service (which includes video streaming).

In short, on a subscriber basis, Spotify is far more dominant in music streaming than Netflix is in video streaming. That said, until Spotify creates its own record label, it’s going to lag far behind Netflix in the revenue department. Although, if Spotify were to move that route, the exiting record labels would probably sink the service in a heartbeat.

Great Stuff: In the Year 2020…

Market predictions!

Market predictions everywhere!

The end of the year is fast approaching. But it’s not only the end of a year — it’s the end of a decade.

Are you prepared for the New Roaring ’20s?

Banyan Hill’s biggest and brightest stars have begun to roll out their outlooks and predictions for 2020, and you don’t want to miss a single second of the action. So, in true Great Stuff fashion, I have compiled links to the latest and greatest 2020 predictions from our experts:

“Stocks to Buy in 2020: Invest in Health Care and Avoid Oil” — Charles Mizrahi, Editor, Alpha Investor Report.

“3 Shocking Predictions for 2020” — Jeff Yastine, Editor, Total Wealth Insider.

“2020 Market Predictions: Tesla, Bitcoin, Cannabis, America 2.0” — Ian Dyer, Editor, Rebound Profit Trader.

“2020 Forecast: Grab Double Digits Now to Start the Year Right” — Matt Badiali, Editor, Real Wealth Strategist.

“Tesla Goes to $1,000 and 9 Other 2020 Predictions” — Ian King, Editor, Automatic Fortunes.

“Your Complete 2020 Trading Strategy — in 1 Chart” — Michael Carr, Editor, Peak Velocity Trader.

“How to Survive 2020’s Stock Market Panic” — Ted Bauman, Editor, The Bauman Letter.

“97% Win Rate in 2019: 1 Winning Put Options Strategy to Dominate 2020” — Chad Shoop, Editor, Pure Income.

“Our 2020 Stock Market Predictions” — Paul Mampilly, Editor, Profits Unlimited.

When you’re done digesting all of that excellent material, don’t forget to like and follow Great Stuff on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram for even more memes and stock market research … but mostly memes.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

[marilynngmesalo]

‘Children of a Lesser God’ playwright Mark Medoff dead at 79

‘Children of a Lesser God’ playwright Mark Medoff dead at 79 ‘Children of a Lesser God’ playwright Mark Medoff dead at 79 https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Mark Medoff, a provocative playwright whose Children of a Lesser God won Tony and Olivier awards and whose screen adaptation of his play earned an Oscar nomination, has died in Las Cruces, N.M. He was 79.

Medoff died Tuesday in a hospice surrounded by family, according to his daughter, Jessica Bunchman. He had been battling both multiple myeloma, a cancer, and renal failure, she said Wednesday in a family statement.

Medoff wrote 30 plays and wrote, produced or directed 19 movies. He found his greatest success with Children of a Lesser God, the tale of a troubled love affair between a speech teacher and a deaf woman who struggle to overcome the communications gap between their two cultures.

Phyllis Frelich won a Tony in 1980 for her Broadway portrayal of Sarah Norman, the deaf woman at the heart of the play, which ran for almost 900 performances. It was later made into a movie, which won an Academy Award for actress Marlee Matlin, who co-starred opposite William Hurt.

Medoff was a caring adviser to many in the business, according to the statement.

“He had a way of making every creative heart with whom he worked feel as if their work, or their part in his work, was the single most important thing to him in the moment. In turn, hundreds of writers, actors, directors and creatives all over the world consider Mark Medoff a mentor,” the statement said.

Matlin tweeted on Wednesday: “Mark Medoff, the brilliant mind behind the Tony Award winning play, ‘Children Of A Lesser God,’ has passed at 79. He insisted and fought the studio that the role be played by a deaf actor; I would not be here as an Oscar winner if it weren’t for him. RIP Dear Mark.”

Mark Medoff, the brilliant mind behind the Tony Award winning play, “Children Of A Lesser God,” has passed at 79. He insisted and fought the studio that the role be played by a deaf actor; I would not be here as an Oscar winner if it weren’t for him. RIP Dear Mark. pic.twitter.com/wpIJJqW00x

— Marlee Matlin (@MarleeMatlin) April 24, 2019

A Broadway revival last year of Children of a Lesser God starred Joshua Jackson and Lauren Ridloff, a former Miss Deaf America who earned a Tony nomination.

Medoff’s work often tackled social issues, from animal testing and AIDS in the play Prymate, to American myths and disorders in the Obie-winning stage work When You Comin’ Back, Red Ryder to poverty in India in his screenplay for the 1992 film City of Joy. His 2015 play, Marilee and Baby Lamb: The Assassination of an American Goddess, is about the last days of Marilyn Monroe.

“Everything I do probably starts more from a social-issue impulse than anything else,” the playwright told The Associated Press in 2004. “I went to a psychologist when I was 18 or 19 and he said I was the first kid he’d ever met who was rebelling against a happy childhood. So when I started writing, I began to expropriate social issues and quickly roped myself out of my angst.”

Medoff was inspired to write Children of a Lesser God after meeting Frelich and her husband, Robert Steinberg, a lighting designer. “I told him there were no roles for deaf actresses,” Frelich recalled. “He said, ‘OK, I’ll write a play for you.’ He did. He went home and wrote Children of a Lesser God. He wanted to write a good play.”

Medoff was co-founder of the American Southwest Theatre Company and head of the Department of Theatre Arts for nine years at New Mexico State University, where he taught for years. He helped form the Creative Media Institute for Film & Digital Arts in 2005.

“When the Creative Media Institute was just getting going, Mark told the faculty, ‘Look, we can sit around and talk about how to teach people to make movies, or we can just go make movies,’ which reflected his philosophy across life,” said Amy Lanasa, a friend who now heads the institute, in the family statement. “Why sit around talking about it when you can get up and take action or create something?”

Medoff’s other works include the plays The Wager, The Hand of Its Enemy, The Heart Outright, The Majestic Kid and the screenplay for the HBO movie thriller Apology. He also penned the 1978 Chuck Norris action film, Good Guys Wear Black and the black comedy Refuge starring Linda Hamilton in 2010.

His second original Broadway play was in 2004 with Prymate, which closed quickly after 23 previews and five performances, having in one week only grossed 8 % of the theatre’s capacity.

Prymate tells the story of two middle-age scientists and former lovers — an animal behaviourist and a biologist — in a tug-of-war over the fate of an aging gorilla rescued from an AIDS lab. The Associated Press review said “Medoff’s dialogue is unsubtle, often crude and, what’s worse, unbelievable.” Variety called it “ludicrous.”

Medoff was born in Mount Carmel, Ill., grew up in Miami Beach, Fla., and received his bachelor’s in English from the University of Miami in 1962. He completed graduate studies in English in 1966 at Stanford University.

Medoff is survived by his second wife, Stephanie Thorne, whom he wed in 1972, three daughters and eight grandchildren. In 1981, he also received an honorary degree from Gallaudet University for exemplary service to the deaf community.

Medoff and his family have created The Hope E. Harrison Foundation to raise awareness and finance research to end the chromosomal anomaly Trisomy 18, which afflicts his five-year old granddaughter, Hope.

Click for update news Bangla news http://bit.ly/2XEV5Xt world news

[jackdoakstx]

“The Woman Who Smashed Codes” should be the next “Hidden Figures”

By Sonny Bunch, Special to The Washington Post

Every once in a while as I’m reading a book it becomes clear that, for some reason or confluence of reasons, the text in question would make the perfect movie. This perhaps implies a poverty of my own imagination — a disturbing willingness to reduce codices to raw materials for celluloid — but I make do. One such book is Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes,” a fascinating combination of love story, spy novel and war tale, all of it true, most of it perfect for the big screen.

Elizebeth Smith, the awkwardness of her first name making up for the plainness of her last, is Fagone’s subject. Her work as a code breaker alongside husband William before and during World War II would serve as the foundation of the National Security Agency. She betrays in her writings the brash, plainspoken certitude of a fiery heroine fit for the screen, as Fagone found in his years spent poring over her papers:

“She didn’t like it when she heard a friend say that a person who had died had ‘passed away’ or that a staggering drunk at a party was ‘a bit indisposed.’ It was more important to be honest. ‘We glide over offensiveness of names and calm down our consciences by eulogistic mellifluous terms, until our very moral senses are dulled.'”

HarperCollins

Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” would make a great movie.

You can just picture Kiera Knightley or Gemma Arterton or Shailene Woodley sliding right into the role. Any fine actress would relish the chance to set the record straight about the efforts of Elizebeth. Her role in history has been somewhat sidelined as praise has been poured upon her husband, and the attention hogs at J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI stole the credit that was rightfully hers.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First Elizebeth and William must meet, and their meeting takes place at what amounts to an absurdity: an encampment dedicated to the odder sciences known as Riverbank founded by fabulously wealthy tycoon George Fabyan. Fabyan — a towering figure, a head taller than Elizebeth — spent his money collecting people when other men of his stature collected art. The oddities of Riverbank (a menagerie filled with vibrant animals; dinner parties at which movie stars would visit) would make for fantastic visuals with a period flair, while Elizebeth’s reason for being there would likely work even better on the screen than it does on the page.

She had been hired by Fabyan (perhaps played by a bushily bearded J.K. Simmons, or maybe Stellan Skarsgard?) to help Elizabeth Wells Gallup decode Shakespearean texts to find proof that the true author of his works was Francis Bacon. In order to “prove” this, Gallup suggested Bacon had used a “biliteral alphabet” – that is, a system that used slightly differently shaped letters in a text to create a kind of binary code – to hide his pronouncements that he not only wrote the plays in question but was also the queen’s son.

The theory was nonsense, a wild goose chase that depended upon inventing patterns where none existed. But it got Elizebeth interested in code-breaking and gave her the chance to meet William, whose work on ciphers at Riverbank would form the spine of code work for decades to come.

William and Elizebeth’s efforts to flee Riverbank would slide neatly into the second act, during which Elizebeth leads a team at the Treasury Department whose job it is to help the government break the encryptions of bootleggers during Prohibition. Elizebeth became a bit of a media darling during this period — and a bit of a trailblazer. “It was the first unit of its kind in Treasury history, and the only codebreaking unit in America ever to be run by a woman,” Fagone writes, highlighting one of the appeals of this movie for any studio looking for an awards season prestige picture: “It’s ‘Wonder Woman’ meets ‘The Imitation Game’ ” or “It’s ‘Hidden Figures’ but with Nazis” is a can’t-miss pitch for the Academy.

Related Articles

September 29, 2017 Tell a story in six words. Mystery writers dare you to try.

September 27, 2017 Book review: What scientists learn from footsteps of ants and elephants  

September 27, 2017 Book review: Egan’s heroine dives into a love as dark as it is deep

September 27, 2017 Regional books: “Out Where the West Begins, Vol. 2”

September 26, 2017 Sloan’s “Sourdough” combines love of high-tech and old ways

After chasing down rum-runners, Elizebeth set her sights on the ultimate big-screen baddies: Nazis. While the United States did not have much to fear from a cross-Atlantic invasion, the threat of Nazi infiltration south of the border was all too real. And the code traffic Elizebeth sees suggests dominoes were about to start falling: “Argentina alone was not enough for the Nazis: They were conspiring to overthrow the governments of Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil.” This section of the book practically screams out for the cinematic experience — there are shootouts and kidnappings and spies and a colorful cast of characters that briefly includes Roald Dahl, who was working as a spy at the time for the British government.

And while all that is going on, Elizebeth must maintain her home life: caring for husband William (perhaps a Jack Huston type, slight and twitchy with a sadness behind his eyes), whose mental state is precarious; getting the kids ready for school; planning parties for the glitterati of Washington’s undercover world.

Fagone tells Elizebeth’s tale briskly over 340-or-so pages, seamlessly mixing her efforts with little side stories showing the fruit her labor bore. One such story is the capture and interrogation of Osmar Hellmuth, a Nazi agent attempting to complete an arms deal between Germany and the supposedly neutral Argentinians. “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” is short but rarely simple, as the subject matter may require: There’s nothing easy about breaking Enigmas, the legendary German device. But it’s a story that anyone with interest in the time period has to read, a key piece of the puzzle about America’s war effort.

And I bet it would make a heckuva movie.

from News And Updates http://www.denverpost.com/2017/10/06/woman-who-smashed-codes-next-hidden-figures/

[laurendzim]

“The Woman Who Smashed Codes” should be the next “Hidden Figures”

By Sonny Bunch, Special to The Washington Post

Every once in a while as I’m reading a book it becomes clear that, for some reason or confluence of reasons, the text in question would make the perfect movie. This perhaps implies a poverty of my own imagination — a disturbing willingness to reduce codices to raw materials for celluloid — but I make do. One such book is Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes,” a fascinating combination of love story, spy novel and war tale, all of it true, most of it perfect for the big screen.

Elizebeth Smith, the awkwardness of her first name making up for the plainness of her last, is Fagone’s subject. Her work as a code breaker alongside husband William before and during World War II would serve as the foundation of the National Security Agency. She betrays in her writings the brash, plainspoken certitude of a fiery heroine fit for the screen, as Fagone found in his years spent poring over her papers:

“She didn’t like it when she heard a friend say that a person who had died had ‘passed away’ or that a staggering drunk at a party was ‘a bit indisposed.’ It was more important to be honest. ‘We glide over offensiveness of names and calm down our consciences by eulogistic mellifluous terms, until our very moral senses are dulled.'”

HarperCollins

Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” would make a great movie.

You can just picture Kiera Knightley or Gemma Arterton or Shailene Woodley sliding right into the role. Any fine actress would relish the chance to set the record straight about the efforts of Elizebeth. Her role in history has been somewhat sidelined as praise has been poured upon her husband, and the attention hogs at J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI stole the credit that was rightfully hers.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First Elizebeth and William must meet, and their meeting takes place at what amounts to an absurdity: an encampment dedicated to the odder sciences known as Riverbank founded by fabulously wealthy tycoon George Fabyan. Fabyan — a towering figure, a head taller than Elizebeth — spent his money collecting people when other men of his stature collected art. The oddities of Riverbank (a menagerie filled with vibrant animals; dinner parties at which movie stars would visit) would make for fantastic visuals with a period flair, while Elizebeth’s reason for being there would likely work even better on the screen than it does on the page.

She had been hired by Fabyan (perhaps played by a bushily bearded J.K. Simmons, or maybe Stellan Skarsgard?) to help Elizabeth Wells Gallup decode Shakespearean texts to find proof that the true author of his works was Francis Bacon. In order to “prove” this, Gallup suggested Bacon had used a “biliteral alphabet” – that is, a system that used slightly differently shaped letters in a text to create a kind of binary code – to hide his pronouncements that he not only wrote the plays in question but was also the queen’s son.

The theory was nonsense, a wild goose chase that depended upon inventing patterns where none existed. But it got Elizebeth interested in code-breaking and gave her the chance to meet William, whose work on ciphers at Riverbank would form the spine of code work for decades to come.

William and Elizebeth’s efforts to flee Riverbank would slide neatly into the second act, during which Elizebeth leads a team at the Treasury Department whose job it is to help the government break the encryptions of bootleggers during Prohibition. Elizebeth became a bit of a media darling during this period — and a bit of a trailblazer. “It was the first unit of its kind in Treasury history, and the only codebreaking unit in America ever to be run by a woman,” Fagone writes, highlighting one of the appeals of this movie for any studio looking for an awards season prestige picture: “It’s ‘Wonder Woman’ meets ‘The Imitation Game’ ” or “It’s ‘Hidden Figures’ but with Nazis” is a can’t-miss pitch for the Academy.

Related Articles

September 29, 2017 Tell a story in six words. Mystery writers dare you to try.

September 27, 2017 Book review: What scientists learn from footsteps of ants and elephants  

September 27, 2017 Book review: Egan’s heroine dives into a love as dark as it is deep

September 27, 2017 Regional books: “Out Where the West Begins, Vol. 2”

September 26, 2017 Sloan’s “Sourdough” combines love of high-tech and old ways

After chasing down rum-runners, Elizebeth set her sights on the ultimate big-screen baddies: Nazis. While the United States did not have much to fear from a cross-Atlantic invasion, the threat of Nazi infiltration south of the border was all too real. And the code traffic Elizebeth sees suggests dominoes were about to start falling: “Argentina alone was not enough for the Nazis: They were conspiring to overthrow the governments of Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil.” This section of the book practically screams out for the cinematic experience — there are shootouts and kidnappings and spies and a colorful cast of characters that briefly includes Roald Dahl, who was working as a spy at the time for the British government.

And while all that is going on, Elizebeth must maintain her home life: caring for husband William (perhaps a Jack Huston type, slight and twitchy with a sadness behind his eyes), whose mental state is precarious; getting the kids ready for school; planning parties for the glitterati of Washington’s undercover world.

Fagone tells Elizebeth’s tale briskly over 340-or-so pages, seamlessly mixing her efforts with little side stories showing the fruit her labor bore. One such story is the capture and interrogation of Osmar Hellmuth, a Nazi agent attempting to complete an arms deal between Germany and the supposedly neutral Argentinians. “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” is short but rarely simple, as the subject matter may require: There’s nothing easy about breaking Enigmas, the legendary German device. But it’s a story that anyone with interest in the time period has to read, a key piece of the puzzle about America’s war effort.

And I bet it would make a heckuva movie.

from News And Updates http://www.denverpost.com/2017/10/06/woman-who-smashed-codes-next-hidden-figures/

[janetoconnerfl]

“The Woman Who Smashed Codes” should be the next “Hidden Figures”

By Sonny Bunch, Special to The Washington Post

Every once in a while as I’m reading a book it becomes clear that, for some reason or confluence of reasons, the text in question would make the perfect movie. This perhaps implies a poverty of my own imagination — a disturbing willingness to reduce codices to raw materials for celluloid — but I make do. One such book is Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes,” a fascinating combination of love story, spy novel and war tale, all of it true, most of it perfect for the big screen.

Elizebeth Smith, the awkwardness of her first name making up for the plainness of her last, is Fagone’s subject. Her work as a code breaker alongside husband William before and during World War II would serve as the foundation of the National Security Agency. She betrays in her writings the brash, plainspoken certitude of a fiery heroine fit for the screen, as Fagone found in his years spent poring over her papers:

“She didn’t like it when she heard a friend say that a person who had died had ‘passed away’ or that a staggering drunk at a party was ‘a bit indisposed.’ It was more important to be honest. ‘We glide over offensiveness of names and calm down our consciences by eulogistic mellifluous terms, until our very moral senses are dulled.'”

HarperCollins

Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” would make a great movie.

You can just picture Kiera Knightley or Gemma Arterton or Shailene Woodley sliding right into the role. Any fine actress would relish the chance to set the record straight about the efforts of Elizebeth. Her role in history has been somewhat sidelined as praise has been poured upon her husband, and the attention hogs at J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI stole the credit that was rightfully hers.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First Elizebeth and William must meet, and their meeting takes place at what amounts to an absurdity: an encampment dedicated to the odder sciences known as Riverbank founded by fabulously wealthy tycoon George Fabyan. Fabyan — a towering figure, a head taller than Elizebeth — spent his money collecting people when other men of his stature collected art. The oddities of Riverbank (a menagerie filled with vibrant animals; dinner parties at which movie stars would visit) would make for fantastic visuals with a period flair, while Elizebeth’s reason for being there would likely work even better on the screen than it does on the page.

She had been hired by Fabyan (perhaps played by a bushily bearded J.K. Simmons, or maybe Stellan Skarsgard?) to help Elizabeth Wells Gallup decode Shakespearean texts to find proof that the true author of his works was Francis Bacon. In order to “prove” this, Gallup suggested Bacon had used a “biliteral alphabet” – that is, a system that used slightly differently shaped letters in a text to create a kind of binary code – to hide his pronouncements that he not only wrote the plays in question but was also the queen’s son.

The theory was nonsense, a wild goose chase that depended upon inventing patterns where none existed. But it got Elizebeth interested in code-breaking and gave her the chance to meet William, whose work on ciphers at Riverbank would form the spine of code work for decades to come.

William and Elizebeth’s efforts to flee Riverbank would slide neatly into the second act, during which Elizebeth leads a team at the Treasury Department whose job it is to help the government break the encryptions of bootleggers during Prohibition. Elizebeth became a bit of a media darling during this period — and a bit of a trailblazer. “It was the first unit of its kind in Treasury history, and the only codebreaking unit in America ever to be run by a woman,” Fagone writes, highlighting one of the appeals of this movie for any studio looking for an awards season prestige picture: “It’s ‘Wonder Woman’ meets ‘The Imitation Game’ ” or “It’s ‘Hidden Figures’ but with Nazis” is a can’t-miss pitch for the Academy.

Related Articles

September 29, 2017 Tell a story in six words. Mystery writers dare you to try.

September 27, 2017 Book review: What scientists learn from footsteps of ants and elephants  

September 27, 2017 Book review: Egan’s heroine dives into a love as dark as it is deep

September 27, 2017 Regional books: “Out Where the West Begins, Vol. 2”

September 26, 2017 Sloan’s “Sourdough” combines love of high-tech and old ways

After chasing down rum-runners, Elizebeth set her sights on the ultimate big-screen baddies: Nazis. While the United States did not have much to fear from a cross-Atlantic invasion, the threat of Nazi infiltration south of the border was all too real. And the code traffic Elizebeth sees suggests dominoes were about to start falling: “Argentina alone was not enough for the Nazis: They were conspiring to overthrow the governments of Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil.” This section of the book practically screams out for the cinematic experience — there are shootouts and kidnappings and spies and a colorful cast of characters that briefly includes Roald Dahl, who was working as a spy at the time for the British government.

And while all that is going on, Elizebeth must maintain her home life: caring for husband William (perhaps a Jack Huston type, slight and twitchy with a sadness behind his eyes), whose mental state is precarious; getting the kids ready for school; planning parties for the glitterati of Washington’s undercover world.

Fagone tells Elizebeth’s tale briskly over 340-or-so pages, seamlessly mixing her efforts with little side stories showing the fruit her labor bore. One such story is the capture and interrogation of Osmar Hellmuth, a Nazi agent attempting to complete an arms deal between Germany and the supposedly neutral Argentinians. “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” is short but rarely simple, as the subject matter may require: There’s nothing easy about breaking Enigmas, the legendary German device. But it’s a story that anyone with interest in the time period has to read, a key piece of the puzzle about America’s war effort.

And I bet it would make a heckuva movie.

from Latest Information http://www.denverpost.com/2017/10/06/woman-who-smashed-codes-next-hidden-figures/

[jimblanceusa]

“The Woman Who Smashed Codes” should be the next “Hidden Figures”

By Sonny Bunch, Special to The Washington Post

Every once in a while as I’m reading a book it becomes clear that, for some reason or confluence of reasons, the text in question would make the perfect movie. This perhaps implies a poverty of my own imagination — a disturbing willingness to reduce codices to raw materials for celluloid — but I make do. One such book is Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes,” a fascinating combination of love story, spy novel and war tale, all of it true, most of it perfect for the big screen.

Elizebeth Smith, the awkwardness of her first name making up for the plainness of her last, is Fagone’s subject. Her work as a code breaker alongside husband William before and during World War II would serve as the foundation of the National Security Agency. She betrays in her writings the brash, plainspoken certitude of a fiery heroine fit for the screen, as Fagone found in his years spent poring over her papers:

“She didn’t like it when she heard a friend say that a person who had died had ‘passed away’ or that a staggering drunk at a party was ‘a bit indisposed.’ It was more important to be honest. ‘We glide over offensiveness of names and calm down our consciences by eulogistic mellifluous terms, until our very moral senses are dulled.'”

HarperCollins

Jason Fagone’s “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” would make a great movie.

You can just picture Kiera Knightley or Gemma Arterton or Shailene Woodley sliding right into the role. Any fine actress would relish the chance to set the record straight about the efforts of Elizebeth. Her role in history has been somewhat sidelined as praise has been poured upon her husband, and the attention hogs at J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI stole the credit that was rightfully hers.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First Elizebeth and William must meet, and their meeting takes place at what amounts to an absurdity: an encampment dedicated to the odder sciences known as Riverbank founded by fabulously wealthy tycoon George Fabyan. Fabyan — a towering figure, a head taller than Elizebeth — spent his money collecting people when other men of his stature collected art. The oddities of Riverbank (a menagerie filled with vibrant animals; dinner parties at which movie stars would visit) would make for fantastic visuals with a period flair, while Elizebeth’s reason for being there would likely work even better on the screen than it does on the page.

She had been hired by Fabyan (perhaps played by a bushily bearded J.K. Simmons, or maybe Stellan Skarsgard?) to help Elizabeth Wells Gallup decode Shakespearean texts to find proof that the true author of his works was Francis Bacon. In order to “prove” this, Gallup suggested Bacon had used a “biliteral alphabet” – that is, a system that used slightly differently shaped letters in a text to create a kind of binary code – to hide his pronouncements that he not only wrote the plays in question but was also the queen’s son.

The theory was nonsense, a wild goose chase that depended upon inventing patterns where none existed. But it got Elizebeth interested in code-breaking and gave her the chance to meet William, whose work on ciphers at Riverbank would form the spine of code work for decades to come.

William and Elizebeth’s efforts to flee Riverbank would slide neatly into the second act, during which Elizebeth leads a team at the Treasury Department whose job it is to help the government break the encryptions of bootleggers during Prohibition. Elizebeth became a bit of a media darling during this period — and a bit of a trailblazer. “It was the first unit of its kind in Treasury history, and the only codebreaking unit in America ever to be run by a woman,” Fagone writes, highlighting one of the appeals of this movie for any studio looking for an awards season prestige picture: “It’s ‘Wonder Woman’ meets ‘The Imitation Game’ ” or “It’s ‘Hidden Figures’ but with Nazis” is a can’t-miss pitch for the Academy.

Related Articles

September 29, 2017 Tell a story in six words. Mystery writers dare you to try.

September 27, 2017 Book review: What scientists learn from footsteps of ants and elephants  

September 27, 2017 Book review: Egan’s heroine dives into a love as dark as it is deep

September 27, 2017 Regional books: “Out Where the West Begins, Vol. 2”

September 26, 2017 Sloan’s “Sourdough” combines love of high-tech and old ways

After chasing down rum-runners, Elizebeth set her sights on the ultimate big-screen baddies: Nazis. While the United States did not have much to fear from a cross-Atlantic invasion, the threat of Nazi infiltration south of the border was all too real. And the code traffic Elizebeth sees suggests dominoes were about to start falling: “Argentina alone was not enough for the Nazis: They were conspiring to overthrow the governments of Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil.” This section of the book practically screams out for the cinematic experience — there are shootouts and kidnappings and spies and a colorful cast of characters that briefly includes Roald Dahl, who was working as a spy at the time for the British government.

And while all that is going on, Elizebeth must maintain her home life: caring for husband William (perhaps a Jack Huston type, slight and twitchy with a sadness behind his eyes), whose mental state is precarious; getting the kids ready for school; planning parties for the glitterati of Washington’s undercover world.

Fagone tells Elizebeth’s tale briskly over 340-or-so pages, seamlessly mixing her efforts with little side stories showing the fruit her labor bore. One such story is the capture and interrogation of Osmar Hellmuth, a Nazi agent attempting to complete an arms deal between Germany and the supposedly neutral Argentinians. “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” is short but rarely simple, as the subject matter may require: There’s nothing easy about breaking Enigmas, the legendary German device. But it’s a story that anyone with interest in the time period has to read, a key piece of the puzzle about America’s war effort.

And I bet it would make a heckuva movie.

from Latest Information http://www.denverpost.com/2017/10/06/woman-who-smashed-codes-next-hidden-figures/

[qaftsiel]

The Night Watch

(Trying a new thing-- posting the fic itself here. It’s also on AO3 and FF dot net!) 

It's 3984 CE and Dean is the Night Watch engineer aboard an RK-NGL high-γ cruiser. It's a run-of-the-mill transit until it isn't. (Hard science fiction AU. Slow burn Destiel, a lot of space travel feelings, some plot, and a sprinkling of posthumanism. Currently rated T, but might go up.)

“Went out on the mass drivers today, Sammy,” Dean says as he shucks the skintight underlayer of the exosuit. The magnetized gauntlets, kneepads, and boots of the external components are already neatly tucked away in their cubby by the airlock. “Another eighteen months, another three point five tee. She’s holdin’ up like a champ, though-- these new-fangled cruisers are somethin’ else.”

Sammy, his clunky second-generation berth not so much ‘nestled’ as ‘crammed’ in between the RK-NGL’s cutting-edge, almost miniature creches, doesn’t reply. The berth’s LS unit emits the same, soft, green blink it has every minute of every year that’s passed.

“Knew you’d agree, bud,” Dean hums. Always the nerdy one of the two of them, his Sammy-- if it isn’t planetary law, it’s starliners or Pre-Diaspora history or biology or whatever other topic that’s caught his attention and imagination. Dean’s always hard-pressed to keep up so Sammy won’t ever be bored or without someone to talk to. “You’re gonna flip when you hear about these new ablation shields. Slicker than fuckin’ BAM, man, and just as hard-- you’ll say she looks like crap, but she’s a damn tank, Sammy. Shit’s unbelievable.”

Blink.

“Naw, you just wait,” Dean says, finally extricating himself from the last of the underlayer. “I’ll tell you all about it, dude. Give you the grand tour and everything, I promise.” He lays a gentle hand over the thick, chilly window in the berth’s insulated metal shell. “You sleep good, okay? I gotta go check up on the forward arrays, and then it’s my turn for a break; I’ll get back to you when I start my next shift.”

Blink, goes the LS unit.

Dean takes a moment to gaze down at his brother’s quiet face through the berth’s porthole, and then makes his way inward through the payload ring.

The RK-NGL, like all high-γ cruisers, doesn’t look a damn thing like the ships in Pre-Diaspora movies. As stardrives had been built and then improved upon, humanity had discovered that the not-quite-vacuum of space became very hostile very quickly as one’s velocity increased-- even the sparsest regions of the interstellar medium would blast away a poorly-designed craft’s hull in very little time at an appreciable percentage of the speed of light . Changing course mid-transit, yet another pre-Diaspora science fiction favourite, had led to several well-known explosive disasters due to catastrophic structural failures. Excess mass and pretty-but-useless bulk had rendered the earliest starliners so fuel-hungry and slow that humanity had very nearly abandoned space travel on the basis of cost-- when even a team of multinational corporate CEOs couldn’t foot the bill for something, it was far, far too expensive.

Eventually, though, humanity had shed its dreams of gleaming, frog-legged saucers, beringed pyramids, and ominous wedges. Leaving the system permanently had become less and less of an option with the way the War Between Worlds had continued to spark bigger and bigger satellite conflicts, and wishful, nostalgic frivolity had quickly been discarded in favour of relentless survivalism.

Within decades, intrasystem cruisers and starliners had dumped mass, shed cubic meterage, and stripped out all unnecessary components. Elegantly curved routes weaving from star to star had been abandoned and redrawn for straight, unwavering lines: Point A to Point B, no frills, no stops. Fins, wings, and rings had been scuttled, thrown to the blast furnaces, and re-forged with only brutal efficiency in mind.

Now, almost fifteen hundred years after the first ship had departed Earth for Proxima A, starliners are starkly different animals when compared to their imagined forbears, and the RK-NGL is no exception. She’s a child’s stacking toy stretched to almost twenty-five times the diameter of her base-- a rigid carbyne-tungsten spine capped at one end by a bouquet of cutting-edge Chevy-AkoSi mass drivers, tipped at the other by the nosecone and ablative shielding, and ringed throughout the rest by reactor, fuel, and payload toroids. From the outside she looks like nothing so much as a half-polished missile from pre-Colonial history, and except for the fact that she’s meant to stop and not explode, she might as well be one.

She’d be considered ugly by pre-Diaspora standards, sure, but that’s nothing new for starliners, and she’s one hell of a lot cooler than some of the other bags of bolts Dean’s worked on. Built around tech mecca Orla B, she’s hot off the anvil and bristling with technology so advanced that he’d had to study pre-release schematics for years on top of the data dump in order to win his position as the Night Watch crew. He even gets his own space within the Watch toroid-- not that it’s much, given that the toroid’s sandwiched between the payload ring and the nosecone, but it’s more than anyone had ever afforded him in the past.

He shares the squished little Watch toroid with two maintenance mechs, GG4-BE and B3N-N1. Dean hates unit numbers for mechs as a matter of principle, so he calls the two Gabe and Benny, respectively; in the year of prepwork before their AIs had gone into hibernation for the transit, they’d been pretty happy about it. They’re quiet now, of course, but they still respond to the nicknames as well as their actual designations, and Gabe still plays games with Dean during its downtime to help keep him from getting too bored.

Gabe still kicks his ass at Go every time.

Dean kinda misses the way the mech used to lord it over him.

“Fifteen and a half down, nine and change to go,” he assures no one in particular as he lets himself onto the spine goway.

The quickest way to get from point A to point B on the ship, the goway is the cylindrical, two-meter-wide space between the inner surfaces of the toroids and the heavy-duty strutwork of the RK-NGL’s spine. Once upon a time, he would have found it scary as fuck-- it is a kilometer-long, pitch black tunnel shot through by support braces and anchor points, after all-- but after dozens of Watch gigs on similar (if smaller) craft, it’s just a larger variation on a familiar theme.

At least, it’s familiar on most trips. Something’s a little off as Dean makes his way noseward-- there’s a glow coming from behind the hatch into the nosecone and the forward array banks. It’s pretty blue, but the area around it doesn’t register as temperature-hot, thank fuck. Still, Dean’s whole frame prickles with high alert. There shouldn’t be light from that part of the ship. End of.

By the time he’s a meter or so from the hatch and its little window, the light is so bright that he can see his own hands and arms as he gently redirects his careful drift up the goway. Their unnatural gleam is even weirder in the eerie, blue glow.

Slowly, cautiously, Dean throws the analog lock on the hatch and swings it open.

Nothing happens.

Floating in front of the open hatch, Dean’s skin prickles and buzzes anyway-- no matter the number of modifications or years, the old lizard brain’s reflexes still resurface from time to time. Scoffing at his animal ridiculousness, he shakes it off and gently propels himself into the array bank.

The glow, he realizes, is nothing more than his handlight-- the one he’d been looking for since the last full check-in he’d done of the ship. “God dammit,” he grumps aloud, and snatches up the device. He glares at the feathery afterimages of the array bank after switching the handlight off. “Gotta get some fuckin’ rest.”

Once he’s given himself just enough time for a satisfactory sulk, he plugs into the output jack, switches video inputs, and looks over the last month of data from the array. Except for a cluster of blips in the 450 nm range a few days ago, the readouts all look pretty normal-- just the usual bunch of Doppler-shifted noise from stars and regular pings from navigation posts along the RK-NGL’s route. Even the blips aren’t anything huge, really. Dean’s seen others like them, especially on that one supremely fucked-up trip from Landung to Dàodá that, among other things, had involved passing through a (distant) pulsar’s jet range. Those peaks had been literally off the fuckin chart; these were just… well, blips. Kinda dinky, actually, like they ran over a messy smudge of blue somewhere along the way.

Or maybe crossed the path of some dumb kid’s toy laser. Dean’s seen that before, too. Either way, it’s nothing worth freaking out over. He archives the readouts along with the rest, closes up shop in the fore array, and grabs the Watch toroid’s hatch with an easy swing.

Gabe’s docked and in full dormancy when Dean drifts in; Benny, on the other hand, is just coming out of standby. <Greetings, Dean,> they send as they run their startup routines. Dean watches, and wonders if it’ll ever not be jarring to see all that servo motion and not hear a bit of it.

<Hey, Benny. Good rest?>

<Charge is at 100% and all systems are running within optimal parameters,> Benny reports out, which is about as close to a “yeah, man, like a baby” as Dean is going to get in transit. He waits while Benny pulls the archived array readouts and the walkover reports from Dean’s shift. Shortly thereafter, an update appears in the RK-NGL’s log-- Benny’s agreed with Dean’s reports, and has signed off on handing over the shift without further action needed. <The Takaoka-REST has completed startup and is prepared for use.>

<Thanks, dude,> Dean replies, and opens the hatch to his pod. <See you in eighteen.>

Like every other mech Dean’s been in transit with, Benny doesn’t respond to the small talk. Dean’ll get a ‘thank you’ for it at the end, though, and that’s enough to keep him doing it throughout the trip.

Pressing his legs together with a soundless click, Dean levers himself feet-first into the open Takaoka-REST pod that’s been his home sweet home since leaving Orla. Except for the missing atmo panel, the high-gauge standby lines, and the heavy-duty power line, it’s exactly like every other hotel pod Dean’s ever been in-- a bit over a meter wide, a little under a meter and a half tall, two and a half meters deep, and plushly cushioned on every wall but that of the hatch. It’s probably the most unnecessary thing on the whole damn ship, given that Dean could do just as well with a run-of-the-mill standby dock like Benny and Gabe use, but he’s not about to argue if his employers want him to have a few creature comforts.

After a few minutes of fiddling with the standby jacks and wrestling with the power line (someday he’s gonna get around to reprogramming so he’ll have that piece of shit power port somewhere logical, not the middle of his fucking back), Dean queues his sleep routines and closes his eyes.

When he wakes, they’ll be another year and two point three trillion kilometers closer.

It’s good progress.

***

Dean stands and watches as the stasis technicians swarm around Sam’s berth; next to him, there is a man with scruffy hair and blue eyes. Dean doesn’t remember the man, but he remembers this moment like it happened mere minutes ago, and not… then. He remembers all too well the unresponsive LS unit, with no indications of where the error might be. He remembers the engineers announcing that there was no way to crack the unit open to run diagnostics without a catastrophic stasis failure.

He remembers realizing that his baby brother wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

That terrible moment in time, pivotal and agonizing, replays in front of him like a Netflix show.

The man tilts his head and watches as the swarming technicians slow, shake their heads, and then steadily disperse. As he had before, Dean falls to his knees.

The scene shifts. It’s Dean’s first Watch gig, aboard an intrasystem shuttle. Sam’s berth matches the ones around it pretty closely.

The flight engineer’s mouth is moving behind his faceplate, but the words come to Dean as if through water. ‘You’re joking, right? Until you’re sucking oxygen like the rest of us, Tin Man, you’re just another mech to babysit. Go play with your robot buddies and leave us real people the fuck alone.’

The man is there again. He and Dean watch the flight engineer throw the lock on the mech hangar as he leaves.

The scene blips. A vidscreen in a hospital room that resembles a nanofactory more than a medical ward streams ProximaNewsNow on mute; closed captioning flickers across the bottom of the screen. A 2967 Chevy Impala is barely recognizable onscreen, its sturdy carbon fiber frame turned to flinders beneath the shattered bulk of a freight canister. Two nearby lumps are covered with white sheets. The thing the emergency crews extricate from the wreckage doesn’t look like a body, and doesn’t get much better even after they’ve dunked it into an emergency stasis creche and sent an ambulance racing away with it.

Dean stares up at the screen from the hospital bed. Near the door of the room, a bald man and a bearded, dark-haired man face each other down, red-faced and shouting and pointing fingers. A younger, floppy-haired man-- Sammy-- sits in a chair beside the bed, hands clapped over his ears and tears filling his eyes. Lying in the bed, Dean closes his eyes and listens to the soft whine of servos as he flexes his new hands-- open, closed. Open, closed.

Sticking out from the hospital gown, Dean’s new legs gleam steely blue under translucent sensory-polymer skin. He watches the fibers twitch as he raises one knee, then the other.

More blips, faster this time. Dean re-learning to walk, Dean picking up egg after egg after egg until he’s finally able to do it reliably without cracking the shells. Dean re-learning to write. To speak. To sleep.

Dean staring down at the rejection from the MIT-Proxima Bouchet School of Physics, where he had been only been months away from his doctorate-- ‘intellect’ is a term valid only for those with organic brains, it seems.

Dean going to live with Sammy, who’s always there, alway his ally, until the day Dean learns he won’t wake up.

They’re in front of Sammy’s creche again.

The man’s eyes are very, very blue.

Continued here.

[shepgeek]

Film Review of 2016

Disappointments

Since everyone seems so keen to dispatch 2016 asap, let’s start on the downers!

2016 has definitely had its occasional moments but we seem to be fast converging on a generic blockbuster soup. The year was littered with blockbusters which had both impressive visuals and charismatic performances but also had nothing new to say, beyond sticking a franchise marker in the ground (Doctor Strange, Fantastic Beasts, Ghostbusters, Kung Fu Panda 3, Warcraft, Jason Bourne, The Magnificent Seven & even the largely over-praised Civil War). Whilst all of these films passed the time well & were basically enjoyable, there is the ever-increasing whiff of missed opportunity around the primary Hollywood fare. Less successful were Independence Day: Resurgence (distracting but pointless) and X-Men Apocalypse - an uneven, florid and unexpected misfire, although nowhere near as far behind Civil War as was generally made out.

Meanwhile, over in the DC Universe, Warner Brothers kept fumbling what should be their easiest win. From a low start, Batman vs Superman fades badly on repeat viewings (even the ballyhooed Special edition). There are definitely no problems in their casting department and I remain a fan of Cavill; his mournful look in the courtroom is played magnificently. Ben Affleck’s Batman was expertly portrayed but bore almost no resemblance to the essence of the character that I for one love, delivering in his place a psychopathic fascistic jackass who was a far cry from the world’s greatest detective. How we’re supposed to root for him then or in the future is a mystery - I would honestly take Clooney’s portrayal over this. Poor Affleck - he delivers what he is given magnificently; blame the architects and not the builder. Gal Godot’s cameo keeps me hopeful that Patty Jenkins may just save the whole damned thing with Wonder Woman next year, but Warners are certainly running out of strikes. The idiotic shambles of Suicide Squad was only barely saved from one-star dreck by the huge charisma of Will Smith & Margot Robbie, and whatever spark the concept started with seemed produced and edited into manufactured oblivion. To make it worse, DC’s TV shows remain such charming and silly fun: I wonder how much appetite standard audiences still have for the upcoming JLA films.

Arrival came trumpeted with massive critical heraldry but I was greatly disappointed.  I found it derivative (Torchwood: Children of Men with the pilot & finale of DS9) and, as with The Martian and Interstellar, flirted with scientific ideas (which film reviewers mistake for “intelligence”) only to discard them for woolly sentimentalism. Only Zemeckis’ Contact reigns supreme in this expanding genre of science storytelling and, even though the performances in Arrival were compelling, the film (albeit decent) left me greatly frustrated.

Another smash hit that I did not care for was the Secret Life of Pets, a tedious and rambling Toy Story knock-off (though my daughter loved it so what do I know?) but nothing compares to the real disappointment of the year- Swiss Army Man.  My take was this: a smug, cold, flimsy and empty experience, it became the first film I’ve walked out of.  Ever.  In fact I did so about 5 minutes before the end, since I knew exactly where it was going and was so disengaged that it was only going to annoy me. I should add that I do like very much that the film exists and I could imagine friends and reviewers whom I respect loving it (as many did) but it bounced off me completely and ultimately left me irritated and even a little angry.

  Moments

In the midst of an uninspiring year for cinema, there were still a few moments which blazed through the repetitive fug & reminded me how joyous cinematic storytelling can be. Spielberg’s BFG had many such notes, from the visual poetry of the Giant silently twirling through the shadows of London to the childish joy of the whizzpopping Queen. Other moments of delight included the moment of “Hang on - are they doing this? - oh Yes They Are!” when the Beastie Boys’ bassline kicks in during the final act of Star Trek Beyond and, whilst The Revenant may have been a tad indulgent, the bear attack had me yelling at the screen.  Any scene featuring Flash the Sloth in Zootropolis was laced with comedic genius whilst our arrival in the city, combining Shakira’s perfect pop with gorgeous animated depth and colour, was magical. Ryan Gosling’s masterclass of toilet gunplay clowning in The Nice Guys was only topped comedically by the rampant and prolonged genius of the game of “Would that it were so simple” tennis in Hail Caesar! But narrowly pipping that for my cinematic moment of the year though, was Lord Vader himself.

I feel conflicted over Rogue One as ultimately it is yet another film which exists because it can, not because it needed to. To note the lack of comment about the unsettling fake Peter Cushing (squarely in the uncanny valley) after the shrieking which greeted the prequel trilogy’s “Dodgy CGI!” headlines perpetuates the accepted myth that those films are disasters to discard  but I see little difference.  Rogue One is another three star entry to the saga; I’d put it on a level with Attack of the Clones in terms of quality, ahead of Phantom Menace. Disney have a whole Galaxy to explore but choose to sustain the increasingly weird trend of aping preceding classics with an echo instead of trying out a new voice. Quite what Joss Whedon made of the final act is anyone’s guess: “the feisty rebels fight their way past a space armada (losing comedy relief Alan Tudyk along the way) to climb a radio antenna so they can send out the message to topple the evil empire” rang a few bells with me anyway. Rogue One also felt choppily re-edited (what was with the psychic space octopus?) whilst the new characters didn’t really land at all.  Indeed directly after leaving the cinema I (and all of my party) struggled to name any of the characters (Erm…. Jinn, the moustache guy, the blind guy, his mate, the pilot, Forest Whitaker, the funny droid, the small thing that looked like a testicle…).  Despite this problematic emotional deficit we were treated to some glorious set pieces and nicely pitched beats, but when Darth Vader’s lightsaber illuminates his terrifying visage we are treated to a moment of cinema as resplendent in its awesomeness as it was shamelessly gratuitous.  After my considerable mithering about not being able to share Star Wars with my children last year it was almost a relief to see such a grim conclusion (No Way is it suitable for under 10s) but it makes me return to my wondering of who Disney are making these films for.  Episode VII is rumoured to be “darker” still; where is the cheerful space-fairy-tale where we all started?  Eventually they’ll stray too far from Lucas’ indelible first film (still the finest of the lot, for me) and step back cinematically but they run the risk of increasingly diluting the specialness of the whole thing. The fun “Star Wars Rebels” TV show fills a bit of this gap but even that has clouds of doom in the background (although seeing Chopper & The Ghost in Rogue 1 was a nice touch). Maybe after the sad loss of Carrie Fisher last week now isn’t the time to whinge about gloom in the Star Wars Universe, but I feel that my love for the franchise is certainly starting to be tested.

The year in numbers

Number of films seen: 93

Way down on other years- I blame box sets).

Number of ***** films released in 2016 : 0

This happened in 2011 too, but I’d normally expect at least 3.

Number of 2016 releases seen: 32

 About par for the course.

Number of cinema trips:29

Again about my average: I’ve been to the cinema 188 times in the past 6 years.

Number of new films seen:51

I’m improving here, which pleases me.

 Most anticipated for 2017

Baby Driver

Edgar Wright’s films are ace (except that one which I don’t mention since people shout at me).

 La La Land

This looks gorgeous and I thought Whiplash was sensational.

 Logan

I like everything about how this looks.

 A Monster Calls

Original storytelling! Yes!

 Paddington 2

Obvs.

 Star Wars Episode VIII

A New Hope?

 T2: Trainspotting

Hugely exciting- these film makers have only grown more talented in the past 20 years.

20 years.

Gods I’m old.

 Thor: Ragnarok

My favourite Marvel franchise goes comedy-space loopy. Has the potential to be my favourite of them all.

 Wonder Woman

I love this character and I want my daughter to as well. Get this right DC. Please.

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 Missed during 2016 but would like to have seen:

Allied, the Big Short, Finding Dory, Midnight Special, Money Monster & Passengers. I also did not see either Room or Spotlight, because I was never in the mood for the grimness of either.  Look, I’m busy and I’ve turned 40. Can you tell?!

  Top 10 films of 2016

Bubbling Under: The charming and colourful Moana and also Kubo and the Two Strings were superior family fare whilst The Jungle Book was an immersive treat.

 10        The Revenant

Technically stupendous but also oddly emotionally detatched and often needlessly arty- truly great cinema puts storytelling before craft and allegory with the latter drawn from the former (if it can) and I felt that, despite the stupendous cinematography and artistry on display, that beauty was sacrificed for emotional or narrative strength- certainly for plausibility. I’ve had these issues with Iñárritu before, but there is no denying the fact that this remains a remarkable piece of cinema.

9          Deadpool

Actually a bit more sharp than I’d first realised and a clever piece of programming, but still not what it could be if it halved the budget and really cut loose.

#driveby

8          10 Cloverfield Lane

The main problem is the name (It has nothing to do with the 2008 film and I was always waiting for them to tie together), but the claustrophobia and paranoia are immersive, shocking and unpleasantly tense.

7          The Hateful 8

A trifle indulgent at times, but a terrific theatrical experience.

6          The BFG

Not as comedic as you’d think, with a pervasive melancholy vibe of loneliness, guilt and regret emitting from the screenplay, lead actor and the director. It takes a while to get going and doesn’t aim for huge emotional sweeps, but the patient craft of Spielberg is clear to see. The BFG is lovely filmmaking with a real gentleness at its core and it will only grow in reputation over time. Also features explosively farting Corgis.

5          Star Trek Beyond

The best Blockbuster of the year I was surprised and delighted to see how much it grew on repeat viewings. This warm and witty love letter was assembled at huge pace but it made for a thrilling piece of cinematic escapism. A considerable improvement on its predecessor, the highlights were the pairings of the characters, especially Spock & McCoy. They did fudge the character of Kirk a little in order to both complement the story’s main theme & provide a suitable reflection in the villain and as a result Kirk is, paradoxically, the least convincing part of the piece but, after a terrific and assured finale and beautiful grace note for the 50thAnniversary, the films ends perfectly with the whole crew, as it should.

4          Hail Caesar!

Another film that gets better the more you think about it, Hail Caesar! loves movies almost as much as its protagonist and this feels like one of the Coens’ more personal films. Their goofy wit is littered throughout it and it nods to cinematic tradition constantly, including some wildly unnecessary set pieces which spectacular and as fun as there are knowingly indulgent.

3          The Nice Guys

Quintessential Shane Black it may be, but his voice is so distinct and entertaining that a film with this level of charisma is hard to take against, no matter how familiar the ingredients might be.

2          The Man who Knew Infinity

A truly delightful surprise, I was expected this to be a guilty pleasure (given my love of Maths and knowledge of the subject matter) but instead I was treated to a terrific piece of film making: quiet, earnest, substantial, well acted and gracefully told.  Seek it out! It may appear like a generic biopic but the subtle exploration of Ramaujan’s talent and his faith and the search for absolute truth in both Mathematics and Religion that connects him to Hardy (along with circumstance) is well rendered. It is certainly considerably superior to the Imitation Game.

1          Zootropolis

So Disney has eclipsed Pixar- that Lassiter dude certainly knows what he’s doing.

I’m pretty amazed to see this as my film of the year, as it is a kids’ film, a cartoon. And yet, when I look back on everything I’ve seen over the past 12 months, it is the one film which made me smile the most and it continues to grow on repeat viewings (which my children beg for).  It is kind of expected that incredible colour, imagination, design and wit are de rigueur in these films but not only does Zootropolis get all of these ingredients exactly right, it sneaks in small hints of profundity. After a year in which unsavoury debates have been poisoned by irrationality, this film, without every threatening to be preachy, gently illustrated to my children exactly the message I needed them to see. The core of the film concerns how we can get judged by what we are, not who we are or what we do and even both protagonists, who are wildly different, fall into this trap during the course of the story.  Judging a book by its cover is in our DNA but reflecting on how we process this instinct is something that struck a chord with me, long after my first viewing. Concepts of “Them and Us” are challenged directly but without ever lecturing or straying from the narrative or the wit.  The film is subtly layered both narratively (themes of exclusion and lack of purpose are examined through deft comedy) and visually (a quick rewatch of the final 10 minutes allowed me to spot nods to Speed and The Empire Strikes Back) and the music and humour are hugely pervasive.  It is no masterpiece but is certainly the film I needed in 2016.

This may be a cheesy way to finish the year but the lyrics to the (frighteningly) catchy main song from Zootropolis contains a message for Film Producers (despite being sung by an alarmingly sexy gazelle):

“I want to try everything, I want to try even though I could fail;  I’ll keep on making those new mistakes.”

I’ll take more Swiss Army Men every now and then if it leads to more Whiplashes.  Let’s hope to see cinema trying everything in 2017.

Happy New Year!