#Plan 8 from Outer Space

[a-d-nox]

tarot cards and their key phrases: major arcana

this is just a beginners guide to the major arcana - i won't go into imagery, color use, etc. these are key phrases that come to mind when i think of the cards - NOT how they should be directly applied. they needs to be thought about situationally and the cards / when they are in combos they can change or alter their meanings of any reading.

the fool (0/22)

astrological equivalent: uranus

upright: adventure, adventurous, curious, risk taking, hopeful, leap of faith, trust, trust fall, spiritual guided, intuitive, and guided

reversed: hesitation, safety, taking precautions, needing to challenge fears and comfort zone, naivety, and needing a plan

the magician (1)

astrological equivalent: mercury

upright: creativity, creative, having everything you need, clear intentions, passion, passion projects, power, manifester, take action on dreams, and following your desires

reversed: misuse of power, manipulation, forcing a situation, doubting your abilities, feeling disconnected from your true self, needing to reconnect with your inner power, and needing to redirect your energy

the high priestess (2)

astrological equivalent: moon

upright: connecting to the divine, divinely guided, intuitive, higher self, looking within / shadow work, and having the answers you need

reversed: disconnection from intuition, looking for answers outside of yourself, relying too heavily on others, and allowing yourself to be influenced by others

the empress (3)

astrological equivalent: venus

upright: divine femininity, being receptive, receiving rather than taking, laid back, relaxed, taking your time, passion, creativity, magnetism, and attracting what you want

reversed: feeling blocked from love (from others/yourself), feeling disconnected from your creativity, not being able to receive praise/affection, pessimism, romantic complications, feminine health issues, needing patience, waiting for masculine energies to take initiative to fix things in your life. and needing to reconnection the outer realm

the emperor (4)

astrological equivalent: aries

upright: divine masculinity, taking action from a place of power, bravery, thinking of the world around you and not just yourself, feeling comfortable about taking up space, connecting with your inner authority, and knowing what your ambitions/drives are

reversed: being disconnected from your personal power, inability to take action / create forward momentum, not standing up for yourself, inability to take back control of your situation, toxic masculinity, abusing your power, defensiveness, and immaturity that originates in fear/anger

the hierophant (5)

astrological equivalent: taurus

upright: being open to learning new things, following tradition, forming beliefs/rituals, looking out for people who can teach you new things, and sharing your wisdom with others

reversed: detour in spiritual path / study, rigidity, close-mindedness, disinterest in learning new things, and needing to be respectful of others and their beliefs

the lovers (6)

astrological equivalent: gemini

upright: divine love, balance, yin and yang, mutual respect for others, healthy communication, and leading with love

reversed: codependency in your relationships, relying too heavily on others to make you happy, having unrealistic expectations of others, and needing to remember happiness is an inside job

the chariot (7)

astrological equivalent: cancer

upright: journey, next level of your goal, clear intentions, needing to focus, needing a plan, determined, being careful before doing anything big, intuitive, and needing action steps

reversed: lack of confidence, lacking direction/focus, needing a plan, impulse control, moving too quickly, and hesitating

strength (8)

astrological equivalent: leo

upright: inner and outer strength, being able to overcome anything, bravery, and courage

reversed: lacking self-confidence, not trusting yourself, inability to have faith in the world around you, apprehension, inability to take action, and being uncomfortable with vulnerability

the hermit (9)

astrological equivalent: virgo

upright: solitude, knowing your inner truth, wisdom, introversion, introspection / shadow work, and charging your social battery

reversed: fear of being alone, isolating from others, and not reaching out to others

the wheel of fortune (10)

astrological equivalent: jupiter

upright: strong spirituality, focusing on the good even when all seems bad, navigating uncertainty using faith, building up your own strength and resilience, focusing only on what you can control, letting go of things out of your control, and leaning in to fate

reversed: needing to focus only on what can be controlled, feeling like the world is chaotic around you, not wanting to let go of something that needs to end, instability, and needing to declutter

justice (11)

astrological equivalent: libra

upright: use logic, remain objective, uncovering the truth, stay true to yourself, acting with integrity, and have faith

reversed: struggling to maintain/achieve balance, your ethics being questioned/questionable, and needing to learn resilience

the hanged man (12)

astrological equivalent: neptune

upright: stagnation, gaining a new perspective, curiosity, waiting period, spiritual insight, surrender, peace, and impending transformation

reversed: fighting your circumstances, being forced to do things you do not wish to, delays, being shown what you are missing, eagerness to move on, and needing to be still

death (13)

astrological equivalent: scorpio

upright: death and rebirth cycle, change, seasonal shift, evolution, surrendering to the process, and decluttering

reversed: clinging to things that no longer belong in your life, living in the past, amplified pain, and needing to trust the universe and yourself

temperance (14)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius

upright: teamwork, divine guidance, divine timing, ask for help, needing to look for signs, find inspiration, needing to be flexible, and needing to have patience

reversed: trying to hard, forcing the situation unnecessarily, needing to relax, needing to trust divine timing, needing moderation, needing to reestablish your connection with your higher self and it's path, find balance, and avoid extremes

the devil (15)

astrological equivalent: capricorn

upright: confrontation, self-destructive thoughts/behavior, brutal honesty, unhealthy habits / coping mechanisms, self-sabotage, and facing the facts

reversed: new hope, abandonment, detoxing, building new habits, freedom from the past, making hard decisions, and unpopular opinions

the tower (16)

astrological equivalent: mars

upright: sudden change, control issues, devastation, destabilizing events, needing to persevere, what do longer serves you, new schools of thoughts, and newness in general

reversed: subtlety, disappointment, avoidance, clinging to the past, being uncomfortable, and needing have some trust in the world around you

the star (17)

astrological equivalent: aquarius

upright: lifting your spirits, preserving pain/violence, renewed faith/hope, creativity, giftedness, and healing

reversed: disconnection from the divine, needing to reconnect, losing faith, and needing patience

the moon (18)

astrological equivalent: pisces

upright: shadow self, negative traits, duality, primitive tendencies, evolution, expanding your consciousness, seeing what you previously missed, dreams, and intuition

reversed: refusing to acknowledge the truth, surface level knowledge, overcoming self-deception, and trust your intuition

the sun (19)

astrological equivalent: sun

upright: youth, vitality, inner child, reward, productivity, clarity, healthiness, and enthusiasm

reversed: difficulty seeing that the situation is changing, change doesn't happen overnight, take a second look at the situation, "it's not that bad", celebrate the small wins, and attempt optimism

judgment (20)

astrological equivalent: pluto

upright: be kind to yourself, spiritual awakening, accept and release the past, new phase of life, forgiveness, and work on moving on / healing from the past

reversed: repetition, needing to learn important lessons, being too hard on yourself, clinging to the past, and embracing growth/change

the world (21)

astrological equivalent: saturn

upright: end of a cycle, completing a project, reward, celebration, acknowledgement of how far you've come, maturity, empowerment, and a new beginning

reversed: time to finish up, needing to accept something, lack of closure, delayed gratification, finding closure on your own, move on, and new adventures

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© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[alienpossession]

Body a Day 10: Table

"The fuck? Hyunsoo, is that you?" Fan said while looking at his phone and the device tracker in his phone guided him to this massive guy lounging by the beach

"How the fuck do you know it's me?"

"No fucker, the only question that should be answered is how the fuck you gained 100 pounds in a month? Where have you been? And how could you just ditch me working on the assignment on my own? You know I cannot rely on Josh and Brandon,"

Hyunsoo just chuckled for a while before eventually answered

"I asked you to go with me last month for dinner at that Korean BBQ. You said no,"

"Okay, and?? What's the correlation? You know I cannot eat too much meat,"

"That place is the one that get me this,"

"What do you mean?"

----

They head to Koreatown and when inside the taxi, Hyunsoo explained through text how the Korean BBQ place is actually using outer space material for its grilling table. Everything cooked over that specific grill not only tasted more delicious, it's highly nutritious and can boost its user metabolism and even impacted to one's body development. Fan is not necessarily trusting Hyunsoo's explanation, but it's not like he got any other alternative way to explain the anomaly.

When they stepped inside the place, it's so unassuming and empty from any other customer. The place is quite small as it can only hold like 8 person diner max. It's quite odd for a place in a bustling Koreatown to be so quiet, especially if it got some extraterrestrial table that can bless you with muscle gain beyond your wildest imagination. But once again, Fan tried to believe Hyunsoo and just sat down on the table while Hyunsoo ordered the meat.

"How on Earth you know about this place?"

"Luck, literally. The spot I aimed for was packed like crazy so I decided to wander around before hitting this spot. The quietness called me I guess,"

"So you don't even know about the grill until you eat here?"

"Until I woke up the next day and realized that my pecs blocked my view. That's when I freaked out and called the place frantically, and that's when the ahjussi explained everything,"

Fan tried to not look bewildered and just nodded along the way. The built ahjussi then delivered the orders and simply leave

"So.....just putting the meat here and let it sizzle?"

"Precisely,"

Fan put the seasoned meat and flipped it around a couple times while adding more to the grill, Hyunsoo explained in great details about the growth that hit him

"And afraid of being scrutinized or even subjected to weird tests, I simply dipped. Sorry for not texting you or anything though,"

"Hmmmm.....where's your chopstick? Aren't you hungry? You are not just going to drink, right?"

"No no, please eat. The ahjussi said I can only eat here once, actually. He's afraid I'll swell up more,"

"Wait, all that is only from the first visit?"

"Yes, I haven't told you, huh? Well, hurry up, eat and see for yourself,"

----

Hyunsoo never planned to explain to Fan that it's been the plan all along to drag him down to the spot. It's not like the real Hyunsoo existed any longer, his body has simply been overtaken by the extraterrestrial being that latched itself to the grill after 24 hours post-consumption. The ahjussi himself is actually an exiled extraterrestial former general trying to build his own little empire in a faraway planet, in this case, Earth. After making 8 operatives that will protect him at all cost, equipped with super-human built and strength, the former general believed that it's time for them to expand more aggressively through "bait". Fan is the first out of this "bait", built to become not packed with dense, powerful muscle to protect the general, but those muscle were packed in him to lure human as a promiscuous, 24/7 irresistibly horny man where he will store those human DNA that spurted in him, which will be used as a base to create brand new superhuman that is even stronger than the eight operatives which still currently have certain humane limitation due to their base body being a real human that is converted. For trial, Hyunsoo fucked the shit out of the sleeping-yet-growing Fan, who will wake up in the morning as a brand new man

[yaut-jaknowit]

False Freedom

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3659

Summary: You're let to roam around the ship at your free will. Not like you could escape easily. Only to run into trouble.

Author Note: Any errors, let me know!

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving! As a gift to you guys, I'm gonna post two things today. Stay tuned!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |

The plain metal door slid behind you and clicked with a lock. Most of the tightness in your chest that made it hard to breath washed away. It freed you to relax and slump against the forementioned door. You still couldn’t believe that We’ar-ow had allowed you to leave her quarters… by yourself. She had said it would be good for you or something like that. Go explore, be curious.

Yeah, you’ll surely be curious as you map out an escape route from her room and towards the ships. That was your plan A for escape. It might take time to figure out how to operate one of them. Thankfully, the tablet should help you that. Give you the basics on learning on how to fly an alien spaceship. You sighed heavily through your nose and pushed off of the door.

Without We’ar-ow marching in front of you, leading you to wherever she wanted, this new found freedom was nice. The unfortunate new mark carved into the top of your back would further ensure a single Yautja wouldn’t dare hurt you. Nervously, you glanced down at the tablet and silently reminded yourself. If trouble was to rise, We’ar-ow could be called with a single button. Nothing bad should happen though… right?

You rapidly shook your held before standing tall, shoulder squared and chin level. Who cares? If you didn’t start now, you’ll be stuck here for longer. An extra day, an extra hour, minute, it did not matter. Extra time you didn’t want to be for. Then, you finally started a path towards the elevator door.

One of the things We’ar-ow has given you is a code. A code to enter most places on the ship. Most, but not all. You hadn’t encouraged yourself to ask if that meant the bay for the ships.

In all honesty, We’ar-ow expects you to try and escape, as close to impossible that is. Nothing is impossible though. Aliens were thought to not exist at all but look where you were currently, in space, so far from home, from earth.

The number pad clicked at every touch before chiming a high-pitch beep. The elevator doors finally opened at your command. You entered it swiftly and pressed the needed button to go the floor destined. Afterwards, you mess about on the table to pull up the map system that showed the entire layout of the ship.

Once it came to stop and opened to reveal a mostly empty hall, you stepped out and gaze both ways. Only a few bodies filled the area, none that paid attention to you. Thankfully. From there you used the map to start an unsteady path to your right.

The mothership was exactly the same on either side. What differentiated between them was the placements of the sparring rooms and the cafeterias by the looks of it. There were probably smaller, less noticeable changes that didn’t matter. You did your best to remember where the emergency escape pods were for one of the halls that connected with this one. The pods were on the outer edge of the ship.

As for one of the hangars, those were closer to the belly of the ship. There seemed to be a huge cargo bay down there as well for supplies and whatnot. Just the extra stuff needed to survive in case of an emergency or such. These aliens surely know what they’re doing when it comes to this kind of thing. Space, beautiful but extremely dangerous.

Through the lowly trickle of people, you stayed off to the side, out of their way, and head bowed to follow the map. Thankfully, no one gave you trouble, either warded off by We’ar-ow’s scent on you or the sight at of her mark scaring your skin. Whatever it was, worked. They stayed away as you went on your marry way down this hall and onto the next.

The hairs at the base of your neck rose sharply. Every instinct that controlled your body reverted to a prey mindset as you paused mid-step. Only a few feet into this new hallway. The sounds of your heartbeat thundered in your ears as the only thing you could do was freeze. Freeze like a deer in headlights, watching their doom approach them.

Unlike that, you didn’t know what was following you. Who or what was watching you so closely, so deadly. It caused your skin to crawl and prickle.

Every instinct screamed at you to move or even press the button. To know that there was hope that someone on this alien ship was willing to protect you. Even if it was someone you would happily slash her throat and promptly run for your life.

Your bottom lip found its way to be worried on between dull teeth. Then, your hovering foot came down to complete a hesitant step. Despite your ancient instincts trying to drive you away from this place, you ignored it and kept going. If you turned tail to run away from whoever this was, you could only be seen more of the coward the Yautjas saw your kind as. You pushed through and continued this pathing down the infinite hallway.

All you wanted to do was map out the area for an escape.

From the weight of the unknown stare, you knew it wasn’t We’ar-ow. There couldn’t be a possible way for her to reach this level moments after you and get to that hall before you. Plus, that heat… Your skin crawled, knowing whoever it was wanted you dead.

Dwainet came to mind but it’s not only him that felt threatened by your presence. Other Yautjas have shown and expressed their dislike for you since you’ve arrived so long ago. You don’t think Dwainet would show himself near you after the beat down with We’ar-ow either. Not when she played with him like a skilled warrior and a child sparring. It was all a game to her.

.

Off to the side, you stopped to study the map a little more closely. A few shoot offs of other halls connected to this main hallway. A few shops lined this side, vendors selling various things from weapons to jewelry of sorts.

As the human you were, curiosity gripped your heart and tugged on it. Timidly in the near empty hall, you approached the lonely vendor that had a few weapons and armor in his section. Despite wishing he wouldn’t take notice of your form, his eyes darted as you grew closer. You cursed mentally and turned to leave. Death wasn’t on your list of plans today.

The male Yautja chirped, the translator staying silent behind your ear. With his head, he motioned for you to come back towards him. Instead, you stayed put, unsure if fleeing was an option, if he would give chase to hunt you down.

“Come hereth. I see the interest in your alien eyes, ooman,” he commanded, voice high, airy. Well shit. You held the tablet to your chest while your eyes scanned the objects set up on the tables. “You’re the Monarch’s pet, aren’t you?” Your knuckles turned a shade of white but you nodded.

This new Yautja placed a hand on the table and leaned over the weapons. The inside of your cheek started to bleed from how hard you were biting it to distract yourself, some. His warm breath fanned over your face, spilt tongue darting out to taste the air. “Pick something,” he stated and stood straight once more.

It took some willpower not to let shock morph over your features. Was this a trick of sorts to lie and say you stole something? No one would believe you, a pet, would have currency to buy things. You turned your head to look at him from the corner of your eye with suspicion.

He chuckled and put his hands on his hips, thumbs slipping into the waistband of his pants. “Ah, you are smarter than the average ooman. I give credit where it is due.” His alien smirk fell though as he peered straight at you. “Seriously though, pick something. Anything of the sort.”

His words are what caught your attention and the way he spoke carefully. This Yautja was offering for you to pick something but hadn’t said you could have it. Play this smart, don’t cause trouble.

On the table between the two of you, your eyes swiftly darted from item to item before landing on a small dagger. The smallest of them all and closest to fit more comfortably in your own hand.

Carefully, you pointed out the dagger. “That one.” You didn’t touch it or anything on the table, not playing into his hands. You hoped.

A grin spread across his face, upper mandibles both flaring. An action you could almost was a challenge or threat of sorts. Yet, you stayed where you stood without moving, a white-knuckle grip still held onto the tablet in your hands.

He once more rested a palm against the table and leaned in closer then before. “Ahhh, you are harder to trick than the average ooman. Glad to see it.” Then, strangely enough, he held out his hand towards you, a human gesture. “I am called Wourk. You may take the weapon as a prize. I give you the blade, free of charge.”

Once more, you looked at the newly named Wourk closely. His hand still hovered in the air, you decided to play it safe and not take it. “Why?” you questioned in all honesty. It would a loss to him. Why give up product for nothing in return? You did not trust this Yautja, not one bit.

Wourk snorted and leaned away from you. “Some secrets are meant to stay hidden. Take the blade. It is yours to weld,” he answered. You narrowed your eyes on him once more before finally forcefully uncurling one of your hands. Your knuckles painfully ached at how hard you had been squeezing the tablet, creaking from the movement.

Your eyes darted between your limb and himself, to ensure he wasn’t going to double cross you. The lukewarm metal touched against your fingertips. Wourk hadn’t moved and just watched with amusement.

Swiftly, you snatched back your hand with the dagger. Now further from him, you respectfully bowed your head. “Thank you,” you said politely before inspecting the craftmanship of it. With the limited knowledge, the metal reflected light off of it. “It’s beautiful.” The Yautja hummed, an upper mandible jerking upwards.

This entire time, he was just entertaining himself during the slow periods. You gazed back up at him with just a hint of a smile. Oh, you poor ooman.

“Run along, ooman.” Wourk leaned back on another tablet behind him and used a hand in a shooing motion. Your face turned sour but you did stalk away without giving him another word. Despite rarely being around other Yautjas besides Dwainet and now We’ar-ow, there was no kindness in their biology. Just straight to the point.

When you reentered the barely filled hallway, a shiver ran its course through your body. Goosebumps raised the hairs along your arms. Watchful, observant eyes pinned you down where you stood. You did your best to shake it off and slip the blade into your pocket, hoping it wouldn’t cut the fabric or yourself somehow.

With the tablet once more leading you through the halls, you meander your way. Just a helpless ooman, figuring their way on a ship alien to you.

A ooman that’s so weak, pathetic, just one flex of his muscles could snap their fragile neck. A ooman he stalked, watched, carefully in the halls of the mothership. The ooman could not sense him in any way, that he knew of. He was safe, using his cloak to keep from their sight. One day, he’ll extinguish the damned creature’s heart. Like the way it deserved to be as the weak link.

His prowess aided him as he stalked after it. Every step calculated to ensure there wasn’t a chance he could be seen. He watched as a vendor gave you a small, useless blade and sent you on your way. If he were to attack, like that could do anything damaging to him. No, he’ll have your head pulled from your body before the thought to use it could cross your mind.

There was nothing and no one that could stop him. A Yautja on the hunt with his prey before him… only he had to play this smart. He couldn’t have the murder coming back to him. The Monarch would deprive him of life he guessed from the way she defended it. A game this Yautja was willing to play. The hunt, always, always fun.

Taking turns to more populated areas of the ship, you fast-walked without drawing attention to yourself away from here. Anywhere safer than those eyes. The eyes that had yet to leave no matter what you did. No matter what turn, where you headed, they stalked your every move.

In all honestly, you had hit every section on this level just to escape. But it followed. Your heart pounded violently in your ears at each twist and turn. Without realizing it, you had begun running and now heading towards the elevator. The area wasn’t heavily populated, probably desolate at this point but you needed to get to the safety of We’ar-ow’s room. At least, hopefully, no one could reach you there. That you knew off, possibly.

Your hand slammed against the number pad to open the door in frantic feeling. Whatever was chasing kept pace, easily and calmly. The device screeched at the incorrect code, snapping you for a moment out of your thoughts. The code was shakily inputted. After the three time, it finally took it and opened up.

All it took was three seconds to react, get in, and smash a fist against the button to close. Your back was to the furthest wall as you waited for the doors to seal shut. The only thing you could do was watch and pray it doesn’t get in here before they shut.

Either it was toying with you or wasn’t as quick as you believed it to be, the doors were able to close fully. The tightness in your chest fell away as you  took a shaky step forward and pressed the needed button to We’ar-ow’s room.

With the eyes off of you, relief briefly flooded your system and allowed a moment to think and truly breathe. Air filled your lung completely for the first time within the hour. You settled against the wall next to the buttons for a moment. Long enough for the elevator to stop on the desired floor and open up to reveal the short, blank walkway to her door.

Hesitancy kept you stuck in the elevator as you just stared at the door. From one monster to another…

Something small, minute, in the belly of your stomach didn’t sit well with that thought. We’ar-ow hasn’t been outright cruel or abusive… besides the branding marring your skin. Everything else, it was all gifts or kind gestures. The tablet, the cushion, the clothing. Yeah, everything someone would do for their pet, but she hasn’t been cruel to you.

The doors in front of you started to close. In a panic, you rushed forward and slipped through before they shut. So close to the entrance of the lion’s den. You swallowed thickly, unsure how much more stress in one day you could handle.

Behind you, the elevator made a thud noise, terrifying you out of your mind. In an instant, you sprinted forward, abandoning the tablet on the ground. Your shoulder roughly met the door as you tried to run it over but it held steady. Frantic and terrified, you banged on the door, voice caught in your throat.

You fell forward but caught yourself barely for a massive hand to push you further into the room. Everything was a blur until your mind could finally catch up to see the scene before you.

We’ar-ow, in all of her mighty, snarling glory, stood defensively before you. Her long, lethal claws glinting in her quarter’s light as her fingers flexed, ready to tear into flesh and bone. A threatening, dangerous snarl ripped through her throat, daring, challenging anyone to take step forward. Nothing, no one did.

Her door closed, sealing the two of you safely in her place. From the overwhelming, mind breaking terror running through your veins, you fell to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself. That didn’t help an ounce to calm yourself down.

Your breaths were ragged, tearing at your throat. Hot tears poured down your face as you stayed kneeled on the ground and stared blankly. In your mind, you were far too caught in the whirlwind to notice anything in the real world. Had you just escaped death from whatever stalked you? A broken whine came from your dry throat.

Something warm, rough engulfed your jaw and forced your head to tilt up. A few second passed. Your eyes finally focused on We’ar-ow kneeling down, completely on her knees and checking over you. Clicks sounded from her mandibles and throat but the buzzing in your head drowned out the translator. You had no clue what was being spoken, nor did you care. The droning noise consumed everything. Nothing made sense right now.

One second you were on the floor. The next, you were being carried swiftly somewhere. We’ar-ow set you down on a cool ledge in what looked to be the bathroom. All you did was make the smallest noise of confusion while staring blankly at the light floors of the bathroom.

Freezing water splashed against your face, tearing you from your thoughts. You gasped harshly and squirmed to get off of the counter, but strong, sturdy arms held you in place. They were pinned on either side of you and kept you trapped.

“Look at me.”

Harsh words were snapped with trickles of what could believed as worry. Your head jerked up, eyes darting to find orange blazing orbs staring into your soul. There was something about that just almost soothed your soul instantly. Instead, you just stopped moving.

“Good, good pet,” she cooed and raised a hand to pet the top your head only to grab the strands. Her hand pulled slightly back to expose the column of your throat to her. “What happened?” Her voice was still softer, even gentler than before as she questioned you.

At the moment, all you could do was give a pathetic, broken cry that barely passed the lump in your throat. We’ar-ow leaned in closer to rest her close mandibles against where your neck and shoulder meet. At first, you tensed up and relaxed, her hand the only thing keeping you sitting up. “Who hurt you?” she tried again, staying soft and inviting. “Tell me who hurt you, my pet.”

A purr began to rumble deep in her chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard before from the pink Yautja. Dwainet… he’s done it before, so many times before for you. This was different, somehow, someway.

You cleared your throat the best to get rid of the majority of the lump to speak. “I-I-“ your voice cracked, dry from all the running. “Don’t kn-ow.” We’ar-ow continued her purring as she pulled back enough to fill a hand with water. She brought it up to your lips. Too desperate to wash away the scratches in your throat, you gulped it down. The Yautja did this two more times for you.

“What happened?” Now, We’ar-ow was look straight into your eyes, no longer purring. Nervous from the eye contact, your gaze darts around the bathroom. She wasn’t going to let that go. Instead, she grasped your chin once more and forced you to look at me. In her eyes, she wanted to know the truth of how you ended up as a terrified, trembling mess at her door.

Both of your hands played mindlessly with the helm of the shirt she gave you. Then, you explained from the moment you stepped out into the hall and all the way back to her room. The entire time, she didn’t let her or your eyes leave as much as that made you anxious.

Once the last word left your lips, We’ar-ow stood in silence. The cog wheels in her head spun.

Out of nowhere, We’ar-ow scooped you from the counter and held you bridal style. The strength of her body easily taking you from the bathroom to… her bed? The low, half above ground mattress of sorts was neatly put together with furs and blankets. Four pillows lined the head of the bed. The Yautja knelt down to pull at the covers before slipping you underneath them.

The terror and complete puzzlement that controlled your body at that moment held you in place. What was she doing?! We’ar-ow pulled the covers over you, up to your chest and stood back up. “Stay. I will investigate,” she said before turning to take her leave.

Deep down, from the pits of your mind, you wanted nothing more to reach out and stop her. The words ‘wait’ on your tongue. But she was out the door before you could gather the courage to do so.

Her bedroom door closed and made a clicking noise. A lock? But… why? Why did she not take you to your room? Why her room? You gulped and ran a hand through the strands of your messed up hair. All of that running and freaking out did nothing for your hair.

A shaky breath filled the air as you look over the room. Back on her wall of trophies, those human skulls stared at you with their empty eye sockets. One day, will she turn you into that?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |

[copperbadge]

Hello! I recently moved to Chicago for a job. As a local, do you have any recommendations for which museums and/or attractions to check out, and which to skip or leave for later? I’ve only been to the art institute so far, but I had a really nice time! Also, your resume tips helped me out a lot, so thanks for that!

Sorry for the delay in reply to this! I definitely wanted to respond sooner but some answers take longer than others :D

I did a bit of a writeup here recently so that's some starter reading, but let me just do a quick rundown of the big museums...

Art Institute -- you've already been so you know it's world-class! Make sure that when you're in the modern wing (as you enter) you look left, there's a whole bunch of galleries to the left that often go unexplored. Also in the original wing, at the main staircase, make sure you go downstairs to explore, the Thorne rooms are down there and so is the paperweight collection if they ever open it again.

Museum of Science and Industry -- always a great time, still has lots of weird old exhibits, but it's also easy to get lost in, so don't plan to see everything your first time out. This is especially fun to take visiting guests to. Don't miss the daily chick-hatching!

Field Museum -- even older and weirder than the MSI, but you can get a little trapped in exhibits (sometimes the only way in or out is to walk a long ways) so conserve your energy. The new Sue exhibit is kind of tucked back on an upper floor but DO NOT miss it, the light show is super fun.

Chicago History Museum -- you know I still haven't been? They have a great cafeteria, I've eaten there :) I'm given to understand it's a really fun museum.

Shedd Aquarium -- I like the Shedd but eh, it's an aquarium. The tickets on the website are pricey but if you buy in person there's a "just the fishes" option for like $8, problem is you usually have to stand in line for a while to get it.

Adler Planetarium -- it's fun, but unless you're a nut for outer space, the highlight is the planetarium show; I'd save this one for a rainy weekend when you just want to wander somewhere.

I truly love the dumb little Money Museum at the Fed, but I think it's still closed. If it isn't, it's a great way to spend an afternoon, lots of fun money to look at, but you will need legal ID and you have to go through a metal detector on your way in, so be prepared for that.

The Garfield Park Conservatory is a fantastic botanical garden; go in summer so you can enjoy the large outdoors space. If you go in the morning, they sometimes let you help feed the koi fish in the indoor ponds.

Lincoln Park Zoo is a lovely mainly-outdoor zoo, and has a lot of events, even in the colder months (zoolights, for example, and they have a summer 5K where I personally almost died from running but refused to let the camels witness that).

As you settle into the city you'll become more aware of what there is to see and do; you pick up a kind of rhythm of the place, so I do think just getting out and looking around the city is a good way to find fun activities. Chinatown (red line Chinatown stop) is fun to shop and eat in, and a great way to learn about the parks is to attend some movies in the parks this summer.

Welcome to the city and I hope you love it here!

[emeraldspiral]

Thinking about the progression of Zim and Dib's relationship and who would/did fall for the other first. Like, I know I already said Dib would be the first to recognize and come to terms with their feelings because he doesn't rely on denial nearly as hard to avoid dealing with uncomfortable truths as Zim does. But I'm talking about like, the subconscious development of feelings and how they progressed throughout the show and the comics.

With Dib, it was obsession at first sight. Which makes sense. To Zim, Dib was just some random earth native he knew nothing about and needed time to evaluate. But to Dib, Zim was everything. Zim was proof that he wasn't crazy, a way to win his father's respect, a ticket to the career he always wanted, and the key to unlocking fathomless knowledge about outer space, other worlds, and advanced technology. Zim was everything Dib had ever dreamed of.

So Dib was down bad straight from the Nightmare Begins, but on Zim's end it took awhile for him to really reciprocate. Dib proves to be a problem for him as early as the second episode when he breaks into his house and snaps a photo of him in NanoZim. But Zim has multiple chances to do away with him for good starting with that episode, but never tries to actually off Dib until episode 8. Bad, Bad Rubber Piggy is the first time that Zim makes an actual attempt on Dib's life, and when he thinks he succeeded he doesn't seem to regard it with any gravitas. So I think up until that point Zim didn't really regard Dib as an equal, just a pest he thought he could get rid of as easily as Keef. But by the end of that episode, Zim realized that he'd underestimated Dib. Dib was so determined death only made him stronger, and left Zim with no choice but to completely abort his plan. This is notably also the first time Dib actually beat Zim, unless you count driving him out of his house in Planetjackers. Gaz was the one who defeated him in NanoZim and Zim trounced Dib in Dark Harvest, The Wettening, and Rise of Zitboy. So it makes sense that Zim didn't really take Dib seriously until BBRP.

Then, what happens in the very next episode? He tries again to get rid of Dib in A Room With a Moose, and it's in that episode where he explicitly acknowledges Dib as a Worthy Opponent by declaring him the only one who can appreciate his plan and implying that he enjoys being challenged by Dib.

So Dib's been obsessed from the first episode but it wasn't until BBRP that he won Zim's respect and Zim began relying on Dib's validation to boost his ego. This is further reinforced in the next episode, Hamstergeddon, where their dialog with each other is more relaxed and respectful, like they've really begun to see each other as equals.

The thing is though, at this point Zim and Dib are both fixated on each other, but they don't feel the same way about each other. Zim can see qualities in Dib that he likes, which is why Dib's opinion matters to him. He thinks Dib is cunning and intelligent so he crafts plans that he hopes Dib will admire. He starts hallucinating about the "Gangsta Specter of Defeat" and then gains the resolve to redouble his efforts in Door to Door only after Dib taunted him, because he didn't want to lose face in front of his rival. He's unable to resist Dib's obvious manipulation when he claims to admire the cleverness of his revenge in Bolognius Maximus. By the time of Mopiness of Doom, Zim is completely dependent on Dib's validation to motivate him to continue his mission, and in the comics more the once he outright says his plans are "for" Dib. Then of course, there's the more overt indications that Zim likes Dib and wants Dib to like him back. Most obviously, that time he was baffled that having him for a brother wasn't a dream come true for Dib, or programming Clembrane to think Dib loves him, or posing dramatically just especially for Dib when he finally decided to come out of the toilet.

Dib on the other hand, doesn't seem to have the same sort of open-secret admiration for Zim. He stands up for him to Tak's ship and claims that his Zim is the best since he beat Zib and all the other Zims in the Zimvoid, but it's framed as just him coping because if he admits that his Zim sucks then what does it say about him if he hasn't been able to defeat him? Dib's only ever really expressed any kind of admiration of Zim a handful of times. Aside from the aforementioned instances in the Zimvoid arc, he was impressed the first time he saw Zim's base in Bloaty's, admitted that he liked his boots when pressed to say SOMETHING nice about him, and complimented his work in ETF. Notably, ETF is the only time he really had anything nice to say about Zim. His boots and his base are just things he has, and insisting that he's a genuine threat isn't really a compliment. It's indicated at the end of the Virooz comic arc that Zim takes the fact that Dib considers him a threat as enough of an admission that he must have some respect for him, but ETF was the only time Dib ever verbally confirmed that he thought any of Zim's plans or inventions were any good and therefore that Zim himself has a respectable intellect.

Where Zim's fixation on Dib seems to be based on Dib having actual qualities Zim likes, Dib's obsession seems to be based on pure objectification. Dib does not view Zim as a person, but a means to an end. A way to get his dad's respect, a way to jumpstart his career, a way to get validation, and a punching bag to vent his frustrations. He sees Zim as pure, uncomplicated evil. No redeeming qualities, no feelings worthy of consideration, and no "humanity", for lack of a better term, worthy of any dignity or decency. Which conveniently means he doesn't have to worry about the ethics of wanting to dissect him or experiment on him, let alone bullying him at skool. But to be fair, Zim is entirely complicit in this. He wants to be seen as pure evil. He calls himself and his plans evil all the time. He nods along when Dib outlines to Chammy how they can never be friends because Zim is an irredeemable monster incapable of any emotions except gluttony and warlike ambition. Zim wants to be objectified because he's been socially conditioned to think of himself as an object. A machine with some organic hardware bred and programmed to be a cog whose only purpose is to serve the Empire and those in charge of it.

ETF is the first time Zim is ever vulnerable in front of Dib and it's very uncomfortable for him because it goes completely against how he's always viewed Zim. It's the first time he's seeing Zim as a person with feelings, and feelings he can relate to no less, and that's hard for him to process. That's why he's so quick to accuse Zim of faking it after he betrays him. Because it's easier to go back to that simple, comforting, uncomplicated idea of Zim as pure evil rather than try to integrate the idea that Zim can do the things he does while also being person with feelings and pain that Dib can sympathize with. But this isn't the only time in ETF Dib's perspectives of the people around him are challenged. He thinks his sister just hates his guts but it turns out she doesn't, and she won't kick him when he's really down and will support him when he needs it. He thinks his dad doesn't respect him or have his back and he needs to work for it to get him to be proud of him, but he finds out he was wrong about that too.

Overall, ETF was a big coming of age movie for Dib where his perceptions were challenged and his black and white views became more nuanced. The comic Dib's Dilemma would continue to show Dib's evolving perspective of himself and his father and his quest to prove himself.

So it seems like Dib is on track to shed his more childish views and understand the world with more nuance like anyone else does as they grow up. I know some people like the idea of Maladjusted Adult Dib, and that's a perfectly valid concept to explore. But I feel like the evidence is pointing us in a more positive direction. Like, as of Dib's Dilemma he's already begun to realize that his dad is imperfect and that he can make the conscious choice to be better than him, and specifically better about treating others with more empathy.

So to summarize the evolution of ZADR:

Dib was obsessed at first sight, but the person he's obsessed with doesn't exist. He's only barely begun to see the real Zim through the cracks in his facade as of ETF. But there's reason to believe that he is capable of eventually seeing the "humanity" in Zim and recognizing that he is a victim.

Zim meanwhile, initially didn't peg Dib as a significant threat until BBRP, at which point he began to respect and admire him, which grew into something of an infatuation to the point that the need for Dib's validation is about of equal importance to the Tallest. He even has the exact same reaction to Dib abandoning him as the Tallest.

But Zim is still wrapped up in delusions and denial 24/7 and convinced that he is incapable of love like all good Irkens should be, while Dib is growing and maturing and changing his beliefs according to new information. So I stand by my earlier assessment that even if Zim is the one who started to catch feelings first and Dib's barely even beginning to start thinking of him as a person, let alone a person he has any kind of affection for, Dib's the one who's going to be able to recognize and come to terms with whatever feelings he develops way before Zim will.

[other-peoples-coats]

still thinking about palaptine's phone tree of doom/The Chip Lag Issue, and have come up with a third, even fucking funnier option for how order 66 rolls out:

Ol' mate sheev manually corrected for lag. Like sure, you have to squash the lag time down from like, millions of years to like. a reasonable but still funny time frame, but consider it.

Skeevy sheevy, the great wrinkled raisin of evil himself, sitting at his desk, looking at the Great Big Space Spreadsheet listing where every goddamn clone commander in the GAR is, along with the current lag time in communication, and sitting down to schedule out Enacting His Evil Plot.

Target roll out time is 5 pm CSC (coruscant standard time), because that's when it's Most Dramatic and also maybe most jedi are in temple to avoid peak hour coruscant traffic (but mostly the drama). The furthest flung CC+Jedi pair is on the ass end of the outer rim (lag time 13 hrs 54 min). Therefore, he has to send that message at........ass o'clock in the fucking morning, in order for it to reach where it's gotta go at the same time as everyone else gets theirs.

fine. no pain without gain, it's one day of getting up at 2 fucking AM and dialing a clone to tell them to murder a jedi. loathing feeds sith powers, getting up at 2 am to make a fifteen second holocall is peak fucking loathing, all is evil in the world.

Sitting down with his evil!space-appointment-calendar* (different from his personal calendar, his work calendar [delegated], his work calendar [not meant to be delegated but delegated to fox anyway], his work calendar [actually not delegated], his CIS war calendar, and his not evil-space-appointment-calendar), along with space!world-time-buddy.com and his spreadsheets of 'where the fuck are the murder targets and their murder weapons now'.

Planning out every fucking phone call - ok, kenobi is on utapau, 8hr 13min delay, that means the call to cody has to be at ....space world time buddy says 8:47 sharp! in goes the appointment to the evil space appointment calendar, "8:47 AM, Kenobi🔫🔫🔫🎉🎉🎉".

"9:13 am, Koon 🔫🎉"

"10:02 am, MULTI CALL COMMANDER ONLY, hy'rt, kleei, janso...[click to expand]"

"10:30 am, Tapal+ brat"

etc etc.

And then. Having to reschedule meetings around these totally fucking arbitary points in time. He's gotta keep it normal until go live! (or, well, go dead.) nothing to see here, pay no attention to the chancellor ducking out to make 15 second holocalls every eight minutes, it's fine.

Like yes awful terrible etc but also: the idea of lord evil himself blearily opening his holocom after a day of making fifteen second phonecalls at random points to compensate for lag is hilarious to me. by the 400th call he's doing the call centre mangled script like 'commander order execute clone 66. How may I order you today. Thank you for calling I am clone how may I execute you?'

*at least sleazy sheevy's evil appointment calendar opened up some once dooku became a head shorter. Can you fucking imagine the mutual monologing. this nine hour meeting could have been an email.

[episodeoftv]

Round 3 of 8, Group 1 of 2

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

The X-Files: 3.20 Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space'

Well known author Jose Chung is writing a book about the claimed alien abduction of a young couple that was subsequently investigated by agents Mulder and Scully. With Mulder unavailable, Scully provides most of the information on the case. Chrissy and Harold were out on a date when their car suddenly lost all power in the middle of nowhere. From that point on however, their stories and that of the others involved in the investigation begin to vary considerably. It all equally leads to several possible conclusions.

this is the fucking funniest episode i absolutely love it. iconic.

Xena: Warrior Princess: 2.15 A Day in the Life

How do they use the bathroom? How do they make decisions? How do they cook an eel when their frying pan is broken? and is there a romantic relationship between Xena and Gabrielle? All is revealed in a day in the life of Xena and Gabrielle, as Xena and Gabrielle battles a warlord and his army who plan to loot a village and save another village from being destroyed by a giant.

As in the title the episode follows Xena and Gabrielle on a 'typical day', it's full of great little character moments and a characteristically silly plot. It is fun to watch without the stakes of the world ending and showcases the character relationship central to the show.

[frankendykes-monster]

Countdown to Halloween 2023, Ranked

43. Swamp Thing (1982)

42. Curse of Bigfoot (1975)

41. The Haunting (1999)

40. Orca (1977)

39. Teenagers Battle The Thing (1958)

38. The Beast (1975)

37. Don't Go in The House (1979)

36. Countess Dracula (1971)

35. Hillbillys in a Haunted House (1967)

34. Beware! The Blob (1972)

33. Alien Space Avenger (1989)

32. Baby Blood (1990)

31. Shriek of The Mutilated (1974)

30. The Mutations (1974)

29. Phase IV (1974)

28. Curse of The Faceless Man (1958)

27. The Sadist (1963)

26. Jennifer (1978)

25. The Wasp Woman (1959)

24. Noroi: The Curse (2005)

23. Girls Nite Out (1982)

22. The Monster of Piedras Blancas (1959)

21. The Cat and The Canary (1927)

20. Tell Your Children (Reefer Madness, 1936)

19. The Company of Wolves (1984)

18. It's Alive (1974)

17. The Wolf House (2018)

16. Michael Jackson's Halloween (2017)

15. The Girl Who Knew Too Much (1963)

14. The Omega Man (1971)

13. Gamera: Rebirth (2023)

12. Student Bodies (1981)

11. Night Caller From Outer Space (1965)

10. Inhumanoids (episodes 1 - 5, 1986)

9. Blind Woman's Curse (1970)

8. Maniac (1980)

7. The Child (1977)

6. Zombie 3 (1988)

5. Return of The Living Dead (1985)

4. Spider Baby (1967)

3. Basket Case (1982)

2. Messiah of Evil (1973)

Godzilla (1954)

Woof. Okay. This has been a mostly disappointing viewing experience.

Critical difference between this year's countdown and the past two is that now that I have stable employment, there is far less time to be watching horror films. I normally begin the countdown in September but we started in July of this year and still barely managed to crack 40, with my original goal being a full 100 this year. Timing. As such a lot of my plans and possible viewings were cut short and compared to last year specifically we fell back on a lot of "seen it already" at least for the top of the list.

This year's batch of viewings were largely blah, but a step up from the shitshow I put myself through last year (watching nearly every Texas Chainsaw sequel does things to a person). As such it'll be difficult to conjure up words for a decent chunk of these mostly because yes, these movies exist, I watched them, I would not recommend that you yourself watch them. That is all. If I write briefly on a given film that's not necessarily an indictment of its quality as there a decent number of these that I saw and enjoyed it's just their impact might be a bit fleeting. You will know which ones I actively disliked. I mostly just want to write about the top five or so but I will play fair.

Our grand loser this year is Swamp Thing, the DC Comics adaptation by Wes Craven. I watched this pretty much entirely because I finally got the Alan Moore Swamp Thing run in paperback this year after quite some time of having it on my to-buy list. Longtime Rachael/Ray/Ratchet fans may recall me reading it in early 2019 alongside [REDACTED]. Still one of the best Moore comics, and a second volume of Swamp Thing wouldn't have been possible without the success of this film. For context I did read the early Swampies by Len Wein and Bernie Wrightson and my general reaction to those was a'ight but there was definitely material for a serviceable film adaptation there. This is not that serviceable film adaptation. I'm not hung up on details like how Abigail has no connection to Arcane now despite being his niece in the comics, but this film is just kind of painful in how relatively unambitious it is which is saying something for Swamp Thing sword fighting another human mutation at the end of this. It's just silly and stupid and not scary or awe inspiring or anything, the Swamp Thing suit sucks, the action sucks, any sense of pathos is not there or gone, it stretches for 30 minutes too long like it's a padded TV pilot, the only highlight is being able to see Adrienne Barbeau's breasts. Fuck this it's a miserable experience to sit through. My mistake for watching a Wes Craven film that doesn't have "Scream" in the title.

Our next shitter is the two-for-one abomination that is Teenagers Battle The Thing (1958) and Curse of Bigfoot (1975); these are the same movie except Curse of Bigfoot has a 25 minute opening scene framing device that is bizarre given that "The Thing" of the original film is a Native American mummy of some sort unearthed by a group of white high school students. It's the rare personal pet project movie made for fun by some locals but the only highlights are the occasional kill scene, Curse of Bigfoot ranks lower just for making me sit through it longer. Blah.

Speedrunning through a bunch of these because theyre all varying degrees of bad and I don't want to spend any longer writing about these than you probably do reading about them: The Haunting is awful and I don't even super care for the original film so adding shitty CGI monsters and a moral lesson of "it's about family!" doesn't help. Orca is a shitty Jaws cash-in that's like a reverse Moby Dick where the sea animal hunts down the human, nice finale where the orca and shitty poacher guy are fighting it out in the Arctic but otherwise avoid. Don't Go in The House is a mysoginistic torture porn movie that really doesn't sell the "seemingly normal guy is a closet nutcase" thing even though movies made before and after have done it well (see Maniac several paragraphs below). The Beast is advertised as this really scandalous porno film but most of it is French aristocrats sitting around in stuffy rooms arguing about real estate. I think I only watched Countess Dracula for its inclusion in the "if this is her vibe I would fucking cum" meme and it's barely worth bringing up at all. Hillbillys in a Haunted House has an absolutely lovely Tennessee country soundtrack that I wish I could listen to without having to watch the actual movie which is devoid of both scares and laughs. Beware! The Blob gives off the feeling of sitting at a funeral for a family member that was just distant enough for you to be aware of them but not actually be upset but it's still a funeral so it's not like you're smiling, stick with the 1988 Blob film. Alien Space Avenger has some decent gore effects but that's all I can recall from it. Shriek of The Mutilated has one of the best titles for an otherwise uninspired yeti movie that has a needless third act twist about it being a cover for a cult and blah blah blah fuck you. Baby Blood has an alien mutant whatever crawl up a woman's vagina into her womb and she has to eat people to feed it and yeah I'm actually struggling to remember what happens here. The Mutations has a scene where a guy cuts into a tree and it bleeds, I think he's played by Donald Pleasance. Yeah, it's like Freaks except it plays to the freak show straight so you get to laugh at all the outcasts of society, no thank you.

Some odds and ends that I'd say are decent-to-pretty-good: Phase IV has some footage of ants and synth music. All you need is some footage of ants and synth music. Curse of The Faceless Man employs a rarely seen archetype of the living statue monster, it's cute. The Sadist is another starring vehicle for Arch Hall Jr., who was also the star of last Halloween's Eegah! (1962), though this film is a bold trendsetter for the 1960's with Hall being a unhinged killer holding people for ransom until they can fix his car and he can make a getaway. The film lives and dies by Hall's performance and it's mostly the latter until we get to an absolutely superb final act with him hunting down his remaining victims, it makes the whole film worth seeing. Jennifer is an oddball that plays out mostly like a character drama ("It wasn't my fault Daddy it was that stupid hillbilly bitch Jennifer") that suddenly remembers that it's supposed to be a cash-in of Carrie (1976) in the last 20 minutes and cue our titular character being able to summon and control snakes to send after her tormentors. Girls Nite Out is a plodding meandering slasher that's oddly hypnotizing considering so much of it takes place in pitch-black night and the killer is wearing a bear mascot costume with serrated knives hidden under the glove, not sure what fully to make of it. The Monster of Piedras Blancas is made up of leftover parts from the Gillman, Mole People, and Metaluna Mutant, but still manages to star in a decent enough film that gives a sense of what a series of monster attacks would do to a small seaside community. The Cat and The Canary is "cute" for lack of a better term being a horror comedy before the former genre had fully crystalized. Reefer Madness is horror adjacent more than anything but a hilariously good time about how the use of "marihuana" will drive today's youth into becoming crazed fiends and get involved in organized crime.

We can do this.

The Company of Wolves has an excellent story book like setting an atmosphere that you can't get in films nowadays and it's a shame that it's mostly remembered for its transformation sequences. it's Alive is the best Larry Cohen film by default of not sucking but it's still not "great", genius however for playing the concept of mutant newborn killer baby completely seriously without any sense of humor to the proceedings. The Girl Who Knew Too Much is almost a parody of giallo films which is interesting given those hadn't fully sprang up in 1963; absolute highlight is the main character being interviewed in bed by doctors and reporters and the like that yes she did see a murder and no she doesn't drink. I've always been fascinated and haunted by I Am Legend and while The Omega Man doesn't really capture the novel to a superb degree it's so beautifully shot that it lands high in the rankings for that alone. Night Caller From Outer Space is hilarious to me because of how it shifts halfway through from a Hammer-esque mystery about a meteorite with radioactive properties to a film about an alien that lures women in through a modeling advertisement. Blind Woman's Curse I've mentally confused with Irezumi for a while now (haha all 1960's Japanese genre films where woman have large animal tattoos on their backs are the saaame), and it's one I mostly watched for being directed by Teruo Ishii, but there's enough bloody yakuza fights and cats licking up blood for me to stick around; not the strongest Meiko Kaiji vehicle compared to Female Prisoner Scorpion or Lady Snowblood. Maniac I find mostly interesting as a precursor to American Psycho (2000) but also it's probably the only serious film to successfully pull off it's ending trope (which I will not spoil here). The Child is an absolutely lovely 1970's only-a-dozen-people-made-this-and-not-much-more-watched-it horror that oozes atmosphere, I could watch stuff like this all day. Aaand Zombie 3 is far and away the best film that Lucio Fulci has been involved with that I've ever seen. I love random scenes and set pieces of ghouls just massacring people that are shit out out of luck.

Okay, now for the ones I actually want to write about.

The Wasp Woman is one that sticks in my head way more than any other random monster movie that Roger Corman directed in the latw 1950's. I've said on here and Letterboxd that it could have served as a standard pop-feminist piece about how the cosmetology industry is built on misogyny and invariably a monster is accidentally created because of that, but this most recent viewing has made me sort of "get it" because that might be what the film is going for considering Susan Cabot's performance leads me to believe that she is aware that she is becoming a homicidal wasp monster but views it as a tragic means to an end where she still has the ability to have a new advertising campaign with her as the star. Tragic. This is why you don't wear make up.

Both Noroi: The Curse and The Wolf House are ones I didn't care for whatsoever but I put them in places on the ranking that I thought were fair given that people should probably watch them regardless of my personal thoughts. Noroi's format didn't really lend itself to the escalation of tension and reveal of information that the plot demanded and I found myself thinking it meanders quite a bit. The Wolf House was an odd one where everything that was happening onscreen bounced off of me mostly because I felt intimately aware that I was watching a movie, that someone had made something and that I was now being shown it. Blah. People like these so don't let me stop you.

Our animated offerings this year...

Michael Jackson's Halloween more than anything feels like an unlicensed creation that later had an English fan dub commissioned, not something that actually aired on CBS twice. Any laughs that I found in this thing were the unintentional type as we open up with Bubbles talking and being Jackson's chauffeur; you know exactly what you're getting into. Very little of the plot is explained but I'm assuming Jackson (who has no lines given this was made posthumously) orchestrates a dark fantasy adventure to hook two...teenagers? People in their late 20's? And convince them to follow their dreams of performing instead of working a deadend dayjob. I'm not sure who the actual audience for this was given it feels like so much of it was made for children but I will say anything that has this much of Michael Jackson's music in it can't be all bad, though I'm not sure why they didn't largely stick with tracks from the album Thriller (in the contention for best album ever, I don't care).

Gamera: Rebirth is one I feel like I'm on the outside on compared to most other tokusatsu fans because I didn't really *love* to a serious degree even though, yes, Gamera is finally back. The first three episodes are mostly just kind of a slog for me with the backhalf not doing enough to retroactively make me think highly of it, though giving off End of Evangelion vibes may make me consider that a second viewing must be in order down the line. Rebirth's strongest attribute is that it feels like it takes into consideration and influence from every prior era of Gamera, no stone is left unturned, and it's a marked contrast from how every recent Godzilla property only captures a single facet of their respective character. But that also creates unique issues like how a lot of criticism of ongoing US military presence in Japan is undercut so there can be a white kid in the main cast (because white children were always present in half of the Showa series) or having the ancient civilization that genetically engineered the kaiju now being malicious and actively sacrificing children as a means of reshaping the world gives me vaguely anti-semitic tones, I don't know, Gamera is still here, I guess.

"I was just a little twerp who liked Scooby-Doo and Smurfs, now I was viewing Cthulhu mutants ruin the Earth."

Everyday that we have Inhumanoids is a gift. Inhumanoids is another Hasbro/Sunbow production like G. I. Joe, Transformers, or Jem and The Holograms, and it is truly tragic that it never got anywhere near that level of attention compared to its siblings. The fact that a 1980's action figure tie-in cartoon is named for its antagonists is only the start; the series follows a small paramilitary outfit of scientists named Earth Core that are tasked with more or less saving the world alongside the Mutores, elemental beings, when the Inhumanoids, eldritch abominations, are unleashed. The degree of world-building beyond your typical "good guys vs. bad guys" affair is astounding with villainous humans and virtuous monsters abounding, but Inhumanoids is mostly magical and remembered for saying fuck all to any type of broadcast standards. Seeing giant monsters destroy cities, undead armies, and spelunking deep into the Earth (where nightmares begin...) are just standard fair here, as are witnessing the actual Inhumanoids such as Metlar (basically the devil) or D'Compose (giant undead entity that can zombify people by touching them and uses his ribcage like a jail cell) in action. The first five episodes here are the pilot movie of sorts for the series which only lasted thirteen overall, and they get more grissly from here on out, but maybe it's best that Inhumanoids is the short lived cartoon and no the cartoon that went soft as early as its second season. I will never not love this show, to this day it's one of my favorite animated series from any decade, much less the 1980's.

Back to our regularly scheduled live-action programming...

Student Bodies is a fascinating film for a myriad of reasons the first of which is that there were somehow enough slasher films by 1981 for there to be a comedy poking fun at all the already established genre-cliches. It's essentially Scary Movie (2000) a full 20 years ahead of the curve only actually funny in spite of the subject matter frequently being as juvenile and prejudiced; but it also reminds me quite a bit of Scream (1996) with stuff like two killers working together. All I know is I was in for a decent time when the film opens with three identical shots of a house just with different framing text: "HALLOWEEN," "FRIDAY THE 13TH," "JAMIE LEE CURTIS' BIRTHDAY" and then the killer, The Breather, calls the opening kill girl doing nothing but breathing heavily, she hangs up, he calls back with "I SAID [heavy breathing]."

Return of The Living Dead is one of those films that should have destroyed the any artifically-imposed boundaries between "high" and "low" art. Every aspect of this film is brilliantly made, it just so happens to be made for stuff like Scooby-Doo music overlaid on top of thunderstorms over graveyards where one female character is stripping to the concept of dying. Media involving ghouls is incredibly oversaturated, and this was still the case in the 1980's where a film like this had to redefine the rules to make it so killing ghouls was basically a non-option. It only recently struck me on this viewing that that's the whole purpose of removing virtually all weaknesses they have, to keep the characters as the nail instead of the hammer. Compared to the Romero films, there's never a point where anyone is in control of the situation, it just escalates further and further until there is literally no way out. Taking that into consideration, there's no way this film couldn't have been a comedy that frames people getting swarmed and eaten by ghouls as hilarious.

The soundtrack and the faux-punk sensibilities lend this a daft feeling of "you shouldn't be watching this" in spite of it not being one of the MOST gory horror films of the 1980's. I still don't get how this never broke into the mainstream. I mean somehow people know that ghouls (in this film) speak and only eat brains but I can't go down to Target and get a Tarman action figure like I can one of Michael Myers. As such Return of The Living Dead remains a criminally overlooked film regardless of its subject matter. It's made me laugh and cringe and feel disgusted and revolt at the concept at dying but mostly it's made me feel a delicious sense of joy at seeing corpses rise out of the ground to the tune of "Do you wanna party? IT'S PARTY TIIIME!" Some of you need to sit in the corner and think about your life choices for making stupid shit like Re-Animator (1985) or fucking Shaun of The Dead (2004) more popular than this, fuck you.

The act of watching Spider Baby is like discovering the missing link. For as much as 1960 gave us an explosion of horror (Eyes Without a Face, The Ship of Monsters, Psycho, Jigoku, Black Sunday, etc.) and Night of The Living Dead (1968) reins as the perennial transition point of the genre, Spider Baby is the road by which we go from The Cat and The Canary and The Old Dark House to the likes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Eraserhead, it's magical finding an essential piece of a genre you love so much. Both the former and latter points of comparison are apt as a family of now only children [and their butler] suffering from Poe-esque hereditary illness have their condemned house set upon by distant relatives and everything slowly unravels.

Lon Chaney Jr. is an actor who for the longest time I felt never got a proper chance to shine wherein the last 25 years or so of his career was spent playing as side character actor in independent films. Spider Baby is his crowning achievement. Seeing him smile through almost tears on several occasions as he has to play bridge between worlds of sanity and madness and lie to everyone that he has some sense of control over the situation is brilliant in ways I always knew he was capable of but had never seen before this point. Bravo.

I will never not love Basket Case with everything I've got. This is the epitome of 1980's horror and my clear pick for best of the decade. It has everything from being a grungy putrid grindhouse spectacle to being an intimate character drama to everything presented through a wry ironic lense where you can't tell if any "bad" performances are all done on purpose. Between this, Brain Damage (1988), and Frankenhooker (1990), there is literally absolutely no reason why Frank Henenlotter shouldn't be more popular than Stuart Gordon, Brian Yuzna, and Lloyd Kaufman *combined*. It's tragic that the world of cinema being enclosed and captured by studios again in the late 1980's prevented us from getting more from him, but realistically could we ask anymore than what we already got from Basket Case? I could watch this every day and never grow tired of it. I will never stop making more and more people watch this.

If Basket Case is the apex of 1980's horror, then Messiah of Evil is the same for 1970's horror. This is one of the most efficient horror films ever made in how not a single frame is wasted, the opening scene is literally a guy running from unseen force, seeking refuge, getting his throat slit, cue title card with synth music that then leads us to a sunburnt hallway as our narrator descends into acceptance of complete lack of control of the situation. Every night shot in this film must be 50 - 75% completely black with whatever headlight or store front there is just making the scenery look like a dollhouse that our characters are trapped inside. There's so many shots of people running away or walking down streets that make them look tiny as the camera is so far.

Every scene is an exercise in building up dread. There's no point where the film relents, something awful is not only coming, it's already here and there's nothing anyone can do. What I love particularly is that the mystery being laid out doesn't offer any answers because there's another mystery on top of what our characters find out only too late. Layers upon layers of dread that even the titular Messiah of Evil isn't the center of. The world is a cruel fucking place where this film languishes in obscurity whilst shit like The Exorcist enjoys mainstream attention. A lot of my taste amounts to "why isn't this thing I like more popular" and cases like Messiah of Evil vindicate me.

"Godzilla is the son of the atomic bomb. He is a nightmare created out of the darkness of the human soul. He is the sacred beast of the apocalypse." - Tomoyuki Tanaka

Generally a yearly trend is that a #1 pick for Halloween is self-evident to me and this year it was Basket Case for all of 30 seconds until I picked Godzilla back up.

There's something to be said how Godzilla isn't quite a horror monster? Terrifying but not necessarily creepy, but what power do things that go bump in the night have against the destruction of everything you know? Everytime I watch Godzilla is like the very first time, when flashing lights out at sea destroy fishing ships I have no idea what happened, or at least any much of a clue as anyone in film does when we're told that the entire ocean exploded.

Godzilla is a reptile, but lacks scales and its entire body is coated in keloid scars. In 1954 Godzilla must have been the largest monster every committed to film, trains are derailed from running against its ankle and bell and radio towers are throttled for being a sensory inconvenience. Godzilla's first on-screen appearance on Odo Island is obscured by a hurricane but the impression is clear; you can't fight Godzilla in the same way you can't fight a natural disaster. When Tokyo is reduced to complete ruin amidst a sea of flames, it's an onslaught of destruction never before seen in a film of this genre. Survivors being afflicted with radiation poisoning shows that Godzilla will claim victims long after being driven back to sea.

There's a sheer apocalyptic dread to all of this sensed by all the characters. Love tries to exist on the edge of annihilation. There's nothing that can be done but persevere and maybe hope tomorrow will be better. A scene that always strikes me is when Serizawa is adamant about not using the Oxygen Destroyer until forcibly confronted with the results of one night of Godzilla making landfall in Japan. The absolute pain felt by everyone in the finale starts here, things couldn't play out any differently as the "scientist of the century" can't join in and celebrate his victory.

Godzilla is a rare perfect film. I will never tire of it.

[goblininawig]

New Chapter Update | Galaxy of Hope | Mando Fic

A Galaxy of Hope

Din Djarin takes a simple job, escorting you to your future husband's home. But nothing goes as planned, and your journey together leads in a different direction entirely.

The Stranger (Chapter 1)

Din Djarin is attacked by pirates and forced to land on a planet for repairs. It just so happens to be the planet that you're living on. His appearance sets things into motion that will change your life forever.

The Forest (Chapter 2)

The Mandalorian is your escort as you journey through an ancient forest, heading to your future husband.

The Dishonor (Chapter 3)

You and the Mandalorian arrive at Lord Karoun's city, where nothing goes as you expected.

The Decision (Chapter 4)

The Mandalorian makes an offer you choose to accept.

The Gauntlet (Chapter 5)

You and the Mandalorian stop on Cantonica for supplies.

The Rodian (Chapter 6)

You travel with Din Djarin from Cantonica to Eriadu.

The Retreat (Chapter 7)

You help Din recover from his injury.

The Bond (Chapter 8)

You and Din grow closer during your stay on Eriadu.

The Blaster (Chapter 9)

You learn a new skill, and Din resumes his search through the Outer Rim.

The Dalliance (Chapter 10)

You and Din spend the night on Lothal.

The Marketplace (Chapter 11)

You and Din travel from Lothal to Felucia.

The Death (Chapter 12)

You travel with Din from Felucia to Mon Cala.

The Space Center (Chapter 13)

Din recovers quickly from his attack and continues to search the Outer Rim. You visit your first orbital city.

The Braxant Run (Chapter 14)

Din takes you to a few planets along the Braxant Run. You deal with your first unwanted admirer.

The Shadowport (Chapter 15)

Din tries to leave you behind on the ship while he explores Borgo Prime, but you refuse.

The Sign (Chapter 16)

Din Djarin finally finds the sign he's been looking for.

[raccoonfallsharder]

I just fuckin CRANKED out the first chapter of Domestic Scenes In Space Travel after confessing my writer’s block to the gods of tumblr & fandom

(stayed up too late to do it but prolly couldn’t’ve slept anyway)

so here is my tentative posting line-up:

Thursday 8/17 - Chapter VIII of Window Across the Galaxy (drafted, reviewed & revised, final edits needed)

Monday 8/21 - The Tenth Visit (Chapter 1) of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel (drafted, needs review, revision, final edits) - find more behind the cut if you wanna read a loose summary/ me rambling while drunk on a lack of sleep

Wednesday 8/23 - Chapter IX of Window Across the Galaxy (drafted, reviewed, needs revision & final edits)

Monday 8/28 - Chapter 2 of Blackmail Material (drafted, reviewed, revised, needs final edits)

After that my day job picks up a lot of steam for the rest of the calendar year so I may not be able to write/post/share as much BUT I will still be here my friends. Please continue to be your wonderful, sweet, patient selves with me.

So, The Tenth Visit, man. Kicked my ass. I was sitting on scraps of ideas since…before The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl was even completed. And I just got too locked into trying to honor all of them and keep a consistent tone. Once I was able to say, “I actually don’t need to stick with this format,” it freed me up to just write and see where the story went. And once I started just writing, the rest of the chapter just sprawled out quite nicely.

So, The Tenth Visit is chronologically sound (I just really wanted to start with a piece that made sense as a bridge from Sweatshirt Girl but future installments may be anachronistic). It’s got a little fluff, a little domesticity, and a bunch of smut (I had been planning on skipping the smut for the opening chapter but the smut said NO. i WILL be included. so here we are).

Knowing this is a rough draft (and subject to a lot of change), I’ll share a random excerpt and hope it gets you at least a little bit as excited as I am. (I am sure when I am not sleep-deprived and reread this installment I will be less excited but that’s a tomorrow-problem)

Chapter I. The Tenth Visit. Tenative subtitle: Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training.

You glide your fingers in a circle on the disk, the way Rocket showed you, and then tap it. The pale projection collapses in on itself in a little blink of light. Setting the disk aside, you let your whole body soften, then turn your head to the left to drop a kiss on the outside of Rocket’s knee.

You don’t look up - not yet. Instead, you curl your body slowly toward him, shifting off your ass and onto your hip as you press your lips, light and quick, on his kneecap. His hand slides from your hair as you continue rolling onto your knees, sliding your arms up onto the loveseat cushions, and dipping your head to tuck another kiss to the inside of his thigh. Then you’re bracketing his legs with your forearms as you sit back on your heels, feeling his knees press into either side of your ribs.

You let your eyes linger pointedly on the front of his jumpsuit before slowly dragging them up to his face. That’s when you realize he’s gone utterly still: mug poised halfway to his lips, mouth slightly ajar, dark red-amber eyes wide on you.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Peering into Pluto’s ocean

An ocean of liquid water deep beneath the icy surface of Pluto is coming into focus thanks to new calculations by Alex Nguyen, a graduate student in earth, environmental and planetary sciences in Arts & Sciences at Washington University in St. Louis.

In a paper published in the journal Icarus, Nguyen used mathematical models and images from the New Horizons spacecraft that passed by Pluto in 2015 to take a closer look at the ocean that likely covers the planet beneath a thick shell of nitrogen, methane and water ice.

Patrick McGovern of the Lunar and Planetary Institute in Houston was a co-author of the paper.

For many decades, planetary scientists assumed that Pluto could not support an ocean. The surface temperature is about -220 C, a temperature so cold even gases like nitrogen and methane freeze solid. Water shouldn’t have a chance.

“Pluto is a small body,” said Nguyen, who is conducting his PhD research at Washington University as an Olin Chancellor’s Fellow and a National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellow. “It should have lost almost all of its heat shortly after it was formed, so basic calculations would suggest that it’s frozen solid to its core.”

But in recent years, prominent scientists including William B. McKinnon, a professor of earth, environmental and planetary science in Arts & Sciences, have gathered evidence suggesting Pluto likely contains an ocean of liquid water beneath the ice. That inference came from several lines of evidence, including Pluto’s cryovolcanoes that spew ice and water vapor. Although there is still some debate, “it’s now generally accepted that Pluto has an ocean,” Nguyen said.

The new study probes the ocean in greater detail, even if it’s far too deep below the ice for scientists to ever see. Nguyen and McGovern created mathematical models to explain the cracks and bulges in the ice covering Pluto’s Sputnik Platina Basin, the site of a meteor collision billions of years ago. Their calculations suggest the ocean in this area exists beneath a shell of water ice 40 to 80 km thick, a blanket of protection that likely keeps the inner ocean from freezing solid.

They also calculated the likely density or salinity of the ocean based on the fractures in the ice above. They estimate Pluto’s ocean is, at most, about 8% denser than seawater on Earth, or roughly the same as Utah’s Great Salt Lake. If you could somehow get to Pluto’s ocean, you could effortlessly float.

As Nguyen explained, that level of density would explain the abundance of fractures seen on the surface. If the ocean was significantly less dense, the ice shell would collapse, creating many more fractures than actually observed. If the ocean was much denser, there would be fewer fractures. “We estimated a sort of Goldilocks zone where the density and shell thickness is just right,” he said.

Space agencies have no plans to return to Pluto any time soon, so many of its mysteries will remain for future generations of researchers. Whether it’s called a planet, a planetoid, or merely one of many objects in the outer reaches of the solar system, it’s worth studying, Nguyen said. “From my perspective, it’s a planet.”

IMAGE....In a paper published in the journal Icarus, WashU graduate student Alex Nguyen used mathematical models and images from the New Horizons spacecraft to take a closer look at the ocean that likely covers Pluto beneath a thick shell of nitrogen, methane and water ice. (Image: NASA)

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 8

“They don’t have the numbers to continue defending the outer towns and villages from the Venin.”

Garrick says, his voice bleak as we walk back to the third-year dormitory.

I don’t have any words of encouragement, any speech prepared to combat the harsh reality that the Braevi fliers are facing right now. We’re making as many weapons drops as possible, but they’re losing numbers quickly, and no amount of weaponry can replace able bodied fighters.

But I won’t sacrifice my people. Not now.

Everytime I make a run I put every single person with me in danger. Everytime we sneak out of the citadel with our dragons, I put my people at risk.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi says, his features cast in stark relief from the glow of the mage lights.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick says angrily.

As we enter the courtyard I take stock of our surroundings, darkness unspooling from my fingers. It’s empty, save for two second-years, too engrossed in each other to pay attention to much else.

The shadows continue their sweep of the courtyard, swirling around every dark corner and hidden alcove.

As we get close to the barracks I can feel the moment my shadows find the figure pressed against the dark wall.

Violet Sorrengail.

My steps stutter to a halt.

It’s as if she’s haunting my every waking moment these days. Sometimes my dreams too.

As much as I try to deny the physical attraction I feel towards her, my self awareness is still intact enough to see the lie for what it is.

A poor defense.

It takes Garrick and Bodhi a breadth to realize I’m no longer in step with them.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick says, his eyes dart to the couple who are now engaged in what seems to be far more than kissing.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside.” I say, waving my hand at him.

“You sure?” Bodhi asks, concern overtaking his features as he surveys the courtyard.

I’m exhausted, and my patience is nearing non-existent. “Go.” I order, and Garrick and Bodhi start towards the barracks without a backwards glance.

Once I know they’re out of ear shot I turn to face the wall but keep quiet, waiting.

“I know you know I’m here” Violet’s voice pierces through the darkness in front of me. Her body comes into view a second later as she walks forward to meet me. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“No questions about where I’ve been?” Whatever she’s been doing tonight has drained her. Every bit of her usual defiance is gone, and in its place is something numb and broken.

“I honestly don’t care.” She shrugs, and pain flashes across her face at the movement.

My eyes rove over her, looking for any sign of the fierce, angry, woman I’ve come to know. “You really don’t, do you?”

“Nope. It’s not like I’m not out after curfew myself.” She says, heaving a sigh.

Why am I disappointed?

“What are you doing out after curfew first-year?” I tease, but there’s a hint of worry making its way to the space between my brows.

“Debating running away. How about you?” She asks and nods her head towards me, “Feel like sharing?”

“The same.” I blurt before clamping my mouth shut.

It’s the truth. Right now, I’d love to lock myself away in the keep at Athebyne and spend the rest of my days looking out over the mountain peaks.

Her eyes crackle with electricity, “Look, are you going to kill me or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.”

There’s my Violence.

She lifts her arm to rub her shoulder, and I track the movement, her finger tips pressing into the fabric of her dark undershirt. “I haven't decided yet.” I say lightly. My eyes flick back to her face and narrow as I try to get a good look at the scabs dotting her cheek. Gauntlet training started today, and of course Violet wouldn’t go unscathed.

“Well, could you?” She grumbles. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

My lips tip up into a smile, “Am I affecting your schedule, Violence?”

She curls her fists, anger heating her expression. I’m pushing my luck, but it’s better than the darkness that she was cloaked in a moment ago. “I just need to know what my chances are here.” She says, her voice wavering.

Come on, Violet, play with me.

I grin at her, “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on–”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” She screeches before darting past me.

Without thinking I wrap my fingers around her wrist, my grip gentle, like she’ll turn into smoke if I grasp too tightly. “Chances at what?” I ask, tugging her to my side, close enough that she has to look up past my shoulder to meet my eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Chances at what?” I repeat.

I don’t have the patience for whatever bullshit answer she’s about to give. Whatever conversation we’re about to have, I want to have it now, and I want the real thing. “Do not make me ask three times.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes, but her voice goes up a half octave. “At living through all of this! I can’t make it up the damned Gauntlet.”

Words from months ago echo in my ears. Kiernan’s words that night at the Iakobos River,

“I can’t do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it. A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!”

She gives her arm a tug, but not enough to break the hold I have on her. If she’s trying to leave, she’s going to have to want to leave, I’m not going to let her give up so easily.

“I see.” I say succinctly.

“No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because I’ll fall to my death and you won’t have to go to the trouble of killing me.”

Guilt tears its way through my chest, and shadow’s swirl around me in time to hide the anguish on my face.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence.” I know I’m about to say too much, but it bubbles up past my lips anyway. “It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.” Lots of trouble. The kind of trouble that has my eyes trained to search for her in every room. Trouble that puts my shadows on edge, begging to brush against her skin. The kind that has me lying in bed at night, fisting my cock, imagining it’s her hand, her lips, her body under mine.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” She snaps, and I blink once, my eyes refocusing on the Violet in front of me, very clothed, and very irritated. “You know the problem with this place?” She asks, giving her arm another halfhearted tug, “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” I say softly, letting her wrist fall from my grasp.

“Hope.”

“Hope?” I ask, tilting my head towards her. I can hear her just fine, but there’s an innate part of me that yearns to comfort her, to be close to her.

“Hope. Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Scribe Quadrant; when General Sorrengail gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.”

I clench my jaw. Her assumption’s gotten under my skin. As if General Sorrengail’s daughter really understood the death sentence before me.

“Sure you can.” I shrug, my tone settling back to indifference. “You just might not like the consequences.”

She rolls her eyes, and I think she’s about to go, but instead she leans into the space between us, surprising me.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that I would live. And then I make it almost two months and I get–” She stops mid sentence and shakes her head, mouth twisting into a disgusted grimace, “Hopeful.”

Everything starts slipping into place as her mouth closes around that last word.. She’s going to leave. She’s going to give up and let Dain Aetos smuggle her to the Scribe Quadrant like she’s no more than stolen property.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you can’t quite get up the chimney, and you give up. I’m starting to see. It’s not a flattering picture, but if you want to run off to the Scribe Quadrant–”

She interrupts me with a gasp, “How do you know about that?” Her eyes are wide, bordering on panicked.

I smile ruefully at her. She should know better by now. Why doesn’t she know better? “I know everything that goes on here.” I let the darkness swirl around us, the shadowy black becoming dense. “Shadows, remember? They hear everything, see everything, conceal everything.”

And then it’s just she and I in the darkness, the rest of the world pushed behind a curtain of night black.

Her voice goes soft, not in fear or comfort, but the calm that comes with embracing something out of your control. Someone who’s giving up.

“My mother would definitely reward you if you told her about Dain’s plan.”

“She’d definitely reward you for telling her about my little…what did you call it? Club.” I remind her.

“I’m not going to tell her.” She snips.

“I know, It’s why you’re still alive.”

Her gaze has gone fiery again and I can’t look anywhere else.

“Here’s the thing, Sorrengail. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs–on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to what? Not hope that I live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” I shake my head. It feels as though she’s being purposefully obtuse. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your mother or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” As the words leave my mouth all pretense of irritation is gone, and I’m left with the same state of admiration she always leaves me in. Darkness swirls and I give into them for a moment, letting them trail across her shoulders, soothing the scratches on her cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

Her gaze turns hard, “Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” She spits before turning on her heel.

I’ve pushed too far. She stomps to the barracks and flings the door open so quickly I have to throw my hand up to keep it from slamming in my face.

She doesn’t bother to look back at me as she continues down the hall, and some of that earlier frustration comes roaring back to the surface.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need to scale the Gauntlet.”

She spins towards me, her face radiating pure fury, “My self-what?”

“People die,” I clench my jaw, trying to master the pressure that wants to settle over me at the thought. I suck in the cold night air still swirling through the door, “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die.” My words echo down the hallway. My father’s words. “You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person.” Almost a lie, I stopped wanting to kill her after that night by the river, but her hate for me has always outweighed everything else. And if that’s what it takes to get her to stay… “So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something. Then do it.”

“I’m too short to span the distance!” She almost yells it at me.

I don’t know how else to tell her that she’s enough. How else to convince her she’s capable of surviving, and more than that, conquering whoever and whatever comes her way. This narrative that she has of a weak, cowardly girl is failing her.

“The right way isn’t the only way. Figure it out.” I order, before turning and walking away.

[bismuthburnsblue]

ok so!!! i revisited my work from yesterday, going in and properly blocking out the style lines and strap (still up for change as i get into better fabrics but this is a lot more representative of what they would actually look like now!) (though i am noticing ive set my hemline lower- even extending it on nora, when anne's is quite high, so ill have to see how comfortable i feel with that)

i also took a bit out of the hips on the ally pattern which definitely helped with the shape (i was really just being lazy not doing this, ive used this pattern before and had to do that, i knew it was gonna be an issue)

Theres more notes on my personal thoughts on both patterns below the cut :)

same cw's as before for body image stuff :) (maybe this is silly but i just feel far more comfortable putting warnings + a readmore for corsetry)

(also! i will be doing a post properly introducing this project soon :) ive got a lot i want to say!!)

First up! both of these patterns are by Aranea Black, pdfs of these patterns are still available online but her website is gone now)

Ally is a 6 panel corset with extreme hip spring- heres what the pattern looks like:

i do think the hip spring gives a really dramatic shape, but i do worry that with my upholstery weight faux leather, it just wont sit nicely. on this mock up i had to slit my entire seam allowance at the waist to make it not tuck too badly, and that means cutting my boning channel in half (i think, still deciding details like that) i cant really afford to waste fabric recutting panels if i sew it and it does tuck, either.

(Technically i do have the option available to me to do a twin stitch like Anne's original corset actually has, but this wouldnt be traditional, and wasnt in my plan (even if i wasnt gonna have the bones in the leather layer, i like the /look/ of felled channels on the outside.) a twin stitch however would probably negate most the tucking on the waist point, as it opens it up rather than folding to one side.)

Secondly, the one gripe i have about this pattern is that big line of wrinkles below the waist- now some of this will be from the fabric and it not being worn in, but the "daily wear" version of this corset ive made before still has some of these wrinkles even now, especially over the first hip spring panel. i know theres ways to adjust the fitting to counter the ones over the hip, but those i think are largely from the way the fabrics pulling around the curve- its covers such a large area its bound to pull a little weird in places. I really want a smooth look, a clean finish is the most important thing to me, and i worry no matter what i do they will still be there.

I will say, Ally has a lacing gap designed into the pattern, which is something i want, as Anne's corset has one, and it automatically gives you more leeway in the fit that patterns without it just dont have.

Nora on the other hand is 8 panels, with the hip spring spread across a much further space. On paper it looks much less dramatic, but theoretically should still hold a significant amount of shape, just distributed over more panels.

I guess that would be my first area of concern, that the shape just isnt quite as dramatic as the shape on Ally. i really want something quite striking for this project and though pattern modifications can be made, i was hoping to not have to do too much past simples changes.

The 8 panels also means this pattern will likely eat up more fabric. if nothing else, theres 4 extra sides of seam allowance that the other does not have (though, these pieces will nest together better, so it could end up being negligible) it is a concern however, as im working on a very tight yardage.

One of the immediate positives of this pattern however is the lack of that wrinkle band like Ally has. Since this is worn as an outer layer thats a huge point in its favour, a nice clean finish is basically the top of my requirements list.

Nora also has no lacing gap, which is an issue for the reasons mentioned above (annes costume has a lacing gap, but also lacing gaps give more leeway in the fit, allowing you to be a little tighter on some days than others.) Its possible to draft in a lacing gap relatively easily, but it is something i have to consider.

Its completely arbitrary, but i also feel like the way the strap joined onto this pattern was nicer- it lined up better with the pre existing panels and i think it'd join on as a continuous piece better. again, its extremely minor, i just think its cleaner with less fiddling on my end.

I think im still thinking the same way i was yesterday, that Nora is probably the pattern thats working better for me for this, but its still very up in the air for me. i feel like theres more pattern modifications to do there, but that its probably going to be worth doing the work? but i am definitely interested in what anyone else might think!

[iamaweretoad]

Did you maybe get a chance to develop an idea for your Rogue Trader? What are they like? And, perhaps most importantly, how do they get along with the members of their retinue? 😊

I am so glad you enjoy the game, hope you have a great day!! 💜

Thank you for enabling me! 💜

god this game is giving me hella brainworms, so apologies in advance for how long this got!

His name is Mago Vanth, though he goes exclusively by his surname and has for a while now. It's a bit awkward with his fancy new surname tacked onto it (all those v's), but so is he, so.... XD

Crime lord background. Lawful neutral. Loyal to his people (crew/gang/etc) and nothing else. Ruthless when necessary. Fast talking. Pragmatic (until he's not). He has a talent for people and synthesizing information/perspectives. Good at tactics, bad at combat (he's gonna give Abelard a heart attack one of these fights). Be gay do crimes.

He was born in a hive world slum. Orphaned at 9 after his mother got sucked into a chaos cult and tried to sacrifice him and his sibling. Started his life of crime young and by his late 20s he was running a successful gang. Unfortunately the leaders of the larger syndicate that his gang was part of ALSO got involved in some Chaos shit, and Vanth was arrested as part of the investigation/crackdown.

I went with Shadow of Torment from the 'Darkest Hour' section of character creation ("You were arrested and thoroughly interrogated using creative and violent methods."), so.... yeah. He claims he lost his eye in a fight, but in reality it was a result of the interrogation.

He (barely) survives and manages to escape, but by that point he is a complete wreck and everyone he knows/cares about is dead, arrested or wants *him* dead for betraying them. So he runs, as far towards the outer rim (or whatever the in-universe equivalent is) as the money in his bailout stash will get him and begins the process of trying to piece himself and his life back together.

8? 10? years later, he's clawed his way up to being the leader of a successful smuggling syndicate (not huge, but a respectable size) when he gets press-ganged into the Von Valencias dynasty.

He's spent his whole life living/working outside of (and often in conflict with) the establishment. And now he IS the establishment and it's killing him. More than that, though, it's the title that he's really struggling with. Heinrix has that line at the beginning of Act 2, something about if you land on Footfall incognito it will be your last chance to be treated like a person -- and like, he means it in a subterfuge/reconnaissance way, not a existential way, but it's still very much true in an existential way. Vanth isn't a person anymore, he's a title, and it's terrifyingly isolating and lonely and he has no idea how to navigate it.

The only thing that is keeping him from drowning completely is a) he is very good at people, and b) he has never known stability in his entire life and is a firm believer in "no plan survives contact with the enemy" so he is very adept at improvising/adapting on the spot. But the amount of focus and energy this requires isn't really sustainable, and it's only a matter of time before he burns himself out.

***

Re: companions -- I just got to Footfall, so I've only got their Act 1 introductions so far (and haven't met the later companions yet). But in terms of very early impressions:

Abelard: Space Dad. They butt heads a fair bit, but his experience and advice is invaluable, and he's the one person Vanth can sorta lean on for support (professionally if not emotionally -- yet). He also seems unafraid to tell Vanth bluntly to his face when he thinks he's being an idiot, which is an indispensable quality even if Vanth doesn't always agree with his position.

Idira: Sibling energy. Someone else who found a way to exist outside of the system. The only person he can have a normal (to him) conversation with. Basically his reaction to Idira was "oh thank fuck someone sane".

Argenta: nails-on-a-blackboard levels of uncomfortable. She swings wildly between compassion, contempt and fanaticism and he cannot get a bead on her. He respects her skill in combat, but he does not trust her at all, AND she picks on Idira, so she's on thin fucking ice.

Cassia: He is trying to remember that she's still a kid (technically an adult, I assume, but he's in his mid to late thirties, so to him she's a kid). And she's a kid who has been intensely isolated, indoctrinated and infantilized her entire life and who has not, until like a week ago EVER come in contact with any information that challenges her perception of reality/worldview. He is also trying to remember that when someone is actually willing to talk to her about that conflicting information, she seems willing to sit with the discomfort and objectively consider it, and in some cases change her view/behavior in response (which is more than can be said for some of the other party members). He is trying to remember that and not have a kneejerk reaction every time she opens her mouth about commoners, but goddamn it's a struggle. Not helped by the fact that even if he succeeds, she can still tell he's angry because she's an empath. He's working on it. He likes her, he's just so fucking tired.

Pasqal: TBD. He doesn't quite know what to make of him yet. (i feel like Pasqual had a much higher ratio of exposition to personal dialogue than the other companions in Act 1 -- which entirely fits the character, but doesn't give me a lot to work with XD)

Heinrix: IT'S COMPLICATED. They got off on the wrong foot for starters, walking in on him interrogating an enemy. Instant trauma flashbacks for Vanth, and then Heinrix immediately escalated the tension by threatening Idira. As first impressions go, could not have been worse. Luckily there was still a station full of cultists trying to kill them and combat is a hell of an icebreaker. He's still a walking trigger and the way he asks questions sets Vanth's teeth on edge, but things are more or less civil between them for now. Vanth values his pragmatism, and he's been kind to Cassia and he helped Evayne (and even Idira in that last combat). And every so often there is a hint of a person underneath all the dogma and red-tape officiousness, which makes Vanth curious despite himself.

[the-strength-of-the-wolffe]

Wolffe’s Story

Intro  Pt1  Pt2  Pt3  Pt4  Pt5  Pt6  Pt7

Part 8: To Look Beyond (the Citadel)

The bridge hummed with activity as Wolffe entered. The commander on duty, Neb, acknowledged him with a glance but did not pause his round of the stations. The crew were attending their controls in a state of concentration associated with a heightened workload—a change in the flight was imminent. At the forward viewport, General Plo stood silhouetted against the brilliant whorls of light. He had called Wolffe there.

“Final approach,” Neb announced.

With a faint shudder through the floor panels, hyperspace dissolved into the magnificent hazy sphere of Coruscant.

Blinking away the afterimages that lingered so vividly in his augmented vision, Wolffe crossed the deck and joined General Plo at the windows. Last he checked, the capital world was not on their itinerary—in fact, they had been there quite recently.

“New orders?” he asked.

The General’s arms were folded over his chest, as they often were when he was preoccupied with a problem. He stirred, leaning toward Wolffe with an air of secrecy. “Remember the briefing about the Nexus Route?”

Wolffe did, after quick reflection: it had been delivered to commanders and higher some days ago; the two of them had reviewed it together. He lowered his voice to match the General’s. “Those hyperspace lanes…that would give us access to enemy space.”

General Plo nodded. “A Jedi in the Outer Rim has secured the coordinates, but Separatist forces intercepted him and are holding him prisoner. A rescue mission is being planned.”

Wolffe straightened a little. It had been a good while since their last rescue. “Where is he now?”

“Lola Sayu.”

The General’s voice was heavy with significance, and a name, unfamiliar but ominous, surfaced in Wolffe’s memory. “The Citadel…”

“Indeed.”

Wolffe had heard rumors of this place: a prison unlike any other, said to be inescapable, sitting deep in Separatist territory. The gears started turning in his mind. “What’s the timeframe?”

“That has not been decided. I am meeting General Kenobi and others to devise the strategy.”

That brought Wolffe up short. When it came to rescues, the 104th seldom collaborated with anyone outside their immediate circle, for doing so caused delays that they usually could not afford. Success or failure, life or death, hinged on the swiftness of their response in most situations, so setting off without backup and prepping on the fly were the norm for them.

General Plo seemed to appreciate how extraordinary his statement had been, or at least he had caught Wolffe’s questioning look. “What we are about to attempt has never been done,” he explained. “The more help we have, the better. I’ll be in contact.”

Wolffe squared his shoulders. “We’ll be ready and waiting.”

The General inclined his head in a wordless goodbye. As Wolffe watched him stride from the bridge, a peculiar feeling crept over him. He was not accustomed to being excluded from the planning, typically a team effort between the two of them and their officers. It felt wrong. He let out a controlled breath, refocusing his thoughts.

By then, Commander Neb had brought the cruiser into orbit, and soon afterward he reported that General Plo had departed for the surface.

Moored kilometers above the Jedi Temple, there was little for Wolffe to do except ensure that he and his officers were as familiar with the Citadel as possible when the call to action came. He wasted no time summoning all four of his captains to the command center. The prospect of infiltrating the notorious detention facility—what would likely be the greatest feat of the careers of those who would be going—energized them. Jockeying for space around the holotable, they pored over schematics and discussed tactics that the generals might employ.

Wolffe could appreciate now why the Jedi Council had held off on a strike. The Citadel truly warranted some serious considerations. However, when several hours passed with no word from General Plo, he knew his captains were growing restless, for he felt that way himself.

“Alright, men, that’s enough for now,” he decided, tapping the control panel to close a diagram of the Citadel’s lower levels. “Pick your squads and get them up to speed. I’ll inform you of the final headcount when I hear from General Plo. Be ready to mobilize.”

Torc, taking it for the dismissal it was, nodded and donned his helmet. Midnight followed him less briskly, but the other two did not move. Roan remained at the holotable, his palms braced on the rim, while Dire kept his seat on a nearby console, turning his helmet in his hands.

“What is it, Roan?” Wolffe asked. There was something foreboding in the captain’s expression, which, coming from the best strategist among them, gave him pause.

Roan roused himself. “It’s not about the Citadel,” he signed.

“Then what?”

The captain hesitated, reaching up to run his fingers through his red-streaked hair, over the knotted part that hid his scar. He met Wolffe’s gaze with a look that was both apologetic and grim. “Something’s off.”

Everyone stared at him and then exchanged glances, shifting. No one had brought up the subject during their meeting because Wolffe had kept them on task. Now that he was forced to acknowledge it, he knew Roan was right. They had been out of the loop for too long—long enough for plans to change, or move ahead.

“What do you mean?” ventured Midnight, although from his tone he seemed to have an inkling.

“I’ll tell you what’s off,” volunteered Dire, before either Roan or Wolffe could answer. He thudded to his feet. There was nothing vague or reluctant about him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re awaiting orders,” interjected Torc. “That’s all you have to worry about.”

Dire spared a second to scowl at him. “I mean, why haven’t we left yet? This is taking too long. The Jedi could’ve spilled his guts already for all we know. We should be—”

“You better pray that hasn’t happened,” Wolffe interrupted, harsher than he usually would have if he had not been rubbed the wrong way.

A flash of surprise, then Dire’s eyes hardened in his scarred face. He folded his arms slowly and said no more.

Wolffe clenched his jaw and then sighed. He had not meant to exacerbate the tension, nor offend his friend (however unhelpful). “Look,” he said, firmly but with no heat. “I know this isn’t how we usually operate. But this mission—you know the strategy has to be perfect. That’s what they’re working on.” He gestured toward the planet to indicate the Jedi. “And don’t worry about them, they’ll get it done. They know the stakes as well as we do.”

Dire turned his head away, broodily eyeing the direction Wolffe had pointed. “You’d think they’d want all the help they can get,” he muttered.

Wolffe experienced bizarre twin feelings of amusement and unease. It took a special kind of nerve to consider oneself on the same level as a roomful of high-ranking Jedi tacticians, as Dire apparently did. But his comment also reminded Wolffe of what General Plo had said earlier. He felt a twist of his earlier misgivings, and wondered again if they had all misjudged the situation.

Torc was making a wry remark about the sort of help Dire could offer the Jedi Council. Losing patience, Wolffe stepped forward to intervene, but a ringing beep sounded from the holotable, stopping him dead.

Every head snapped up as the ghostly projection of General Plo appeared in their midst. Marveling at the perfect timing, Wolffe almost missed the transmission for its brevity.

“Commander Wolffe, the 104th will be in reserve for this operation. Stand by.”

For an instant, his brain seemed to lag. He heard himself answer with unnatural crispness. “Copy that. Standing by.”

The holoimage vanished, and a pregnant silence followed. The atmosphere shifted palpably, almost as if the lights had dimmed.

So, they were out. Some other battalion would be going to the Citadel. It felt like a shock—and at the same time it felt like he had known all along. Too many factors had not added up, too many irregularities. He sought Roan’s gaze and registered the same resignation in the captain’s face that he felt himself.

“Reserve?” groaned Dire. He seemed to deflate.

“Who’re they sending?” Midnight’s voice had pitched up in indignation. “Is the General still going?”

Hidden under his helmet, Torc showed no sign of disappointment, but he tarried a moment to trade glances with Roan. “Permission to leave, Commander?” he asked tonelessly.

Wolffe held up a hand to deny him. Professionals though they were, he could not dismiss them in this state. “Listen up, all of you,” he rapped. The four captains stiffened to attention. “Obviously, this isn’t what we wanted to hear. It doesn’t make sense, and we all have questions.”

He glanced at Midnight. “If I had to bet, I’d say the General isn’t going either. In fact, I don’t think he knew until just now.” It was a hunch, but he felt intuitively that he was right.

He addressed all of them again in a bracing tone. “This is what I do know: there’s a reason this happened. We’ll have the answers later, but right now we have to sit tight and follow procedure. Return to your posts.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow and nothing could alter that, but it helped that he believed every word. His perplexity matched theirs, yet it did not supersede his trust. He knew General Plo would have a logical explanation for them when it was all over.

That confidence seemed to carry to the others; the mood was subdued but not dispirited as the captains trooped from the room. Wolffe slapped Dire on the shoulder as he passed, earning a half-chagrined eyeroll.

General Plo did not communicate face-to-face again, but he forwarded brief messages. He was indeed remaining behind, to Wolffe’s relief. The strike team had left, and the cruiser was to stand ready in case an extraction became necessary. From the 104th’s perspective, extractions were less exciting than rescues because infantry units played such an insignificant role in them—the navy ran the show from start to finish. Nevertheless, as the word spread and the wait stretched into another rotation, the tension Wolffe and his captains had felt earlier seemed to build like a thundercloud throughout the ship. He could see it in his own troopers, and in the crewmen as well.

Finally, the order came. They were to make all haste to Lola Sayu for a surprise attack on its defenses, during which an extraction of the strike team would take place. In an instant, the tension burst and melted away, replaced by cool anticipation of the mission at hand.

With his battalion sulkily stowed in their quarters, Wolffe made his way to the bridge to observe. The number of personnel had increased, as had the noise levels. Commander Neb had been relieved by Commander Valor, an officer Wolffe liked well. He and his crew were flat-out in their preflight checklists while Admiral Coburn, freshly arrived, fired off instructions to the fleet from a comm station.

Within minutes General Plo entered, accompanied by another Jedi whom Wolffe recognized but did not know by name. They were deep in conversation and advanced no farther than the holotable, where a conference was getting underway. The command center blast doors were soon closed, effectively corralling Wolffe on the bridge, but he did not mind. As the cruiser jumped to lightspeed, he settled himself among Valor’s crew, who gladly accepted his offer of help.

The work was familiar and absorbing. Only the sharpening ache behind his cybernetic eye betrayed how long he had been standing under the strobic glare of hyperspace. They were late into the flight.

Angling his body away from the viewports to give both eyes a rest, he noticed that the blast doors had been reopened. The holotable was shut off, and the two Jedi had moved to opposite sides of the room. General Gallia—someone had mentioned her name earlier—was conversing with Admiral Coburn, but General Plo worked alone at the starboard display screen where the fleet formations had been pulled up.

Wolffe had not expected to speak to the General during the mission, keenly aware of the tremendous workload he and the others bore. However, on this last leg of the journey, a lull had fallen over the whole deck, a sort of “calm before the storm” where everyone had done their best to prepare and now awaited the moment to act. He checked their ETA. There was still some time.

Curiosity overtook him, and he picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm decisively. With a sweeping glance to confirm his presence would not be missed on the bridge, he treaded a discreet path into the command center. As he approached, he watched General Plo’s movements carefully, reassured that he seemed to be reviewing, not making adjustments.

“General, do you have a minute?”

The General must have sensed him coming, for he did not turn or react with surprise. “I can spare exactly one,” he said with the faintest hint of teasing, before the characteristic gravitas returned. “What’s on your mind, Commander?”

He was not going to turn him away. Heartened, Wolffe drew a quiet breath. “Why didn’t they pick us for the strike team?”

The General continued to tap and swipe through the data in an unhurried way, but he answered without hesitation. “General Kenobi volunteered to lead it—with General Skywalker, of course. Naturally, they wanted to bring along their own men. I could not go,” he added meaningfully.

Just like that, the pieces started falling into place. None of it was surprising. Having benefited personally from a daring rescue of Skywalker’s, Wolffe expected nothing less of him, and General Plo’s disqualification he had already figured.

Still, something niggled. Not everything about the mystery was cleared up. “I understand,” he said, wondering if he was being impertinent but plunging on anyway. “It’s just—the 104th—we’re good at what we do. Even if we didn’t run point, we could’ve assisted them.”

As the words left his mouth, his body tensed. An inexplicable clutch of doubt informed him that he had said something erroneous even though he had simply voiced an opinion. He had no time to work it out.

General Plo lowered his arm, resting it on the one that curled around his torso. He did not look away from the screen, but the slightest stilling of his breathing and posture signified that his attention had shifted fully to their conversation.

“A 104th unit was considered to accompany the strike team,” he said quietly. “But, I could not go.”

A fresh wave of confusion broke over Wolffe. Forgetting his airs, he turned his head to search the General’s face. He could not read the expression under the mask from that angle, but he had a sinking feeling. “You mean…you wouldn’t let us go without you?”

General Plo sighed. With a strange heaviness, he swung around to face Wolffe, who almost took a backward step.

“As your commanding officer, I am responsible for you,” the General stated, implying with a gesture that he meant all of them—officers, crewmen, troopers. “Your risks are mine. You understand this, I’m sure.”

Wolffe nodded reluctantly.

“I was given a support role for this mission,” the General continued. “I had a choice: to deploy you, or to keep you in reserve with me. I know which you would’ve preferred. You are lion-hearted, as are your brothers. But you do not know the Citadel. It is deadly. There would have been losses, no matter how much planning was done, or who was sent. I would not have you face that danger alone.”

Turning back to the screen, he resumed his work as if the matter were settled and nothing more needed to be said.

The dismissal registered too distantly to trigger a conditioned response in Wolffe. He stepped back automatically to give the General space, but his head remained a whirl of conflicting thoughts.

“You’re disappointed.”

General Plo had not missed a beat.

His unnerving perception brought Wolffe back to himself. “Not disappointed, sir,” he corrected. “I know you’ve got our backs, and I appreciate it. I do. But…we’re soldiers. Taking risks, making sacrifices, it’s part of the job and we all accept that. It’s what we have to do for victory.”

The General’s silence was concession enough. “Even so,” he said wearily. “If I can keep you alive another day, that is a victory unto itself.”

The sentiment caught Wolffe off-guard, as did a memory that shot forward the next instant: blood-red light, fear thick enough to be smelled, and the General standing over him as calm and indomitable as a fortress. Words echoed back to him as though from underwater, murky and near-forgotten.

I value your life more than finding that weapon.

That was the declaration General Plo had made in the escape pod, all those months ago, on the worst day of Wolffe’s life. How quickly he had brushed it off! As he turned it over in his mind, pieces of another puzzle began to take shape.

“What you told Sinker,” he said slowly. “That you’d put our lives before the mission. You meant it.”

General Plo straightened and leveled a long look at him. It was calculating and uncertain at the same time, an expression Wolffe had seen only once before on that face, not too long ago, during another weighty conversation. He did not blink, or even breathe.

After a moment, the General dipped his head in affirmation.

Of course it was true. Wolffe saw the picture clearly now, what he had somehow missed from the beginning:

Why the General had always gone with them into battle. Why he had combed through the strategies beforehand. Why he had helped them recover the dead afterward. Why he had provisioned the wounded with medical care that exceeded (sometimes far exceeded) accepted Kaminoan standards. Why he had opted to carry out certain missions alone, despite the most forceful pleas to reconsider.

It was not about being strategic or responsible, as Wolffe had assumed all that time. It had never been about Republic assets.

I value your life.

A coldness clenched his stomach. Principles he had been taught since cadethood rose in protest: how warfare worked, the greater good, why he and his brothers existed in the first place...

But just as strong—even stronger—the presence of those brothers drew close. Fox. His crew on the Triumphant. Sinker and Boost. His captains. Comet. Lives he valued, valued beyond his capacity to express, many of them demeaned and discarded by those who did not feel the same.

His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He could not stop it then, or undo it now, but it would not happen again.

Not with two in the fight.

He lifted his gaze to General Plo’s—the fierce aged face, drawn and intent as it observed him, obscured by metal yet deeply knowable and known—and a pang lanced through his heart, warming him to the core.

It might have been his imagination, but the tautness in the General’s shoulders seemed to ease.

His pulse quieted. He became aware of the hum of the screen, its radiant heat on his face. Adjusting his helmet under his arm, he pivoted back to face the display. After a pause, the General mirrored him.

“Fighting will always be in our blood,” Wolffe said at last. It was the truth. They were clone troopers, warriors to the end. They would never shy away from a good cause.

“And the war must be won,” agreed the General, clasping his hands behind his back. “But there is more to life than fighting. Or rather, there are other things worth fighting for.”

Wolffe weighed that and hummed his assent. His brothers’ faces were still clear in his mind.

The General must have misinterpreted the sound. “You’ll see, one day,” he intoned.

It was not a flippant remark; it was a promise. The future was not a subject Wolffe bothered with on most occasions. He did not bother with it now, except for one particular unknown. “And you’ll be there?”

He spoke without thinking, but it felt like a natural assumption and he was not ashamed.

General Plo considered him again, his expression softer. “If the Force wills…I should think so.”

Wolffe could not help himself. He smiled.

A female voice broke in smoothly. “Master Plo. It’s time.”

As soundless as a shadow, General Gallia had closed on their position and stood at General Plo’s elbow, appraising them both with a warm expression.

General Plo nodded to her. She slipped away.

Perhaps she had been eavesdropping, but Wolffe did not particularly care. He folded his arms in a light-hearted imitation of Dire’s earlier disgruntlement. “Well, you Jedi could’ve at least asked for our advice. We had some good ideas.”

“Some of the advice I gave, I learned from the best,” replied General Plo in all graveness. “Care to come along?”

“You’re not flying?”

“Not this time.”

And Wolffe knew why. Another smile threatened to make an appearance, one too many for his liking, so he pulled on his helmet and activated the comm system. “Comet, report to the flight deck.”

The response was instant and energetic. “On my way.”

Wolffe glanced at General Plo, and without a word they fell in step with one another, following General Gallia toward the lifts.

[spaceboitoi]

The Siege of Tremaine, Part 1

By the 4th year of the Unification Wars, the Imperial Third Fleet had been savagely mauled, first by the Disaster at Koroa, and then the subsequent years of hit and run attacks in support of Imperial efforts in its home region. After near continuous combat operations since the outbreak of the conflict, the Fleet would finally be granted permission to return to its home port for full repairs.

The Igorian domask Fayatan seized on this moment to achieve one of his primary goals of the war: the final humiliation of the celebrated Third Fleet. Gathering the 7 Crusades under his command, Fayatan began planning for his assault on Third Fleet’s headquarters world, Tremaine. To do this, he would need complete surprise, extreme precision, and uncompromisingly overwhelming force, otherwise what was left of the Third, some 63 capital ships all told, would escape to haunt the Igorians still.

The last part of Fayatan’s plan was the easiest to attain. The domask had long enjoyed the support of the Igorian Republic’s Central Committee and especially its Strategic Operations Center, who controlled when and where the various Igorian Crusades were deployed. Giving his word that he would involve the rising star of the SOC, domask Cavamath To-Toroan Eldasil, in the operation, the SOC granted him the support of an additional 8 Crusades. Overwhelming force achieved, next for the domask was surprise. With his forces assembled, he contacted the information broker Naratan Nal’no’Toa, and negotiated for Tremaine’s system-wide security codes. With these, he would be able to disable 3rd Fleet’s early warning system. They would still be in orbital drydock when his crusades descended on them.

Lastly, he focused on precision. For this, he baited the allied Aberinian Ferathtz Clan War Chief Efkus into attacking Tremaine. While Efkus’ paltry forces were obliterated, the Igorian scoutship Vorsus El-Ekth recorded Imperial deployment points, system patrol routes, and which Imperial ships were capable of engaging and which remained moored over Tremaine. Fayatan had his plan.

On April 11th, 2675, Fayatan’s 3rd, 11th, 15th, and 26th Crusades jumped in system, provoking an immediate Imperial response. The superdreadnough IHNV For Whom The Bell Tolls and her battlegroup were the first deployed ships to engage the Igorians, successfully holding the advance force at bay. This was when Fayatan crashed Tremaine’s security network. Almost immediately, multiple Imperial systems, including fleetwide communications, IFF, and fire control were disabled. The Bell and her escorts were defeated in detail, and the Igorians shut down Tremaine’s long range broadcast beacons, isolating it from the Imperial communications system. With their beachhead secured, the 18th, 42nd, and 91st Crusades arrived in system, and began the ground invasion of Cyprii, one of the Tremaine system’s outer planets, and an important fuel depot for the 3rd Fleet. Within days, the token 2011th Legion garrison is annihilated.

The remaining 8 crusades assigned to Fayatan now arrived in system. In less than a week, the Imperials had been forced into a fighting retreat from the system’s edge, surrendering the moons Herodor, Thetii, Asculum, and Suebi, and the colony of Cygnus. By April 19th, they will be forced back to Tremaine itself, with every other world and moon in the system under Igorian control.

High Admiral Oppius Galens will attempt multiple sorties from Tremaine’s orbital ring, but each would be repulsed by the hundreds of Igorian ships in system. Finally, on April 23rd, he gathers what remains of 3rd Fleet’s active combat vessels and punches through the Igorian blockade, officially surrendering control of all space in the Tremaine system. A day later, the ground invasion of Tremaine begins. Left behind to hold the world is Legatus Primus Helmand Oratio Nino and the troops of the 19th Army. The 11th Legio Ferrata Dux, 244th Drop Assault, 91st Stellar Siege Legion, 419th Heavy Marine, and 996th Legio Armageddon, together numbering just over a million Imperial legionaries, will face the full might of the Igorian Army and every single soldier they can bring to bear, and they will do it on their own with no known hope of support. Thus, the Siege of Tremaine has begun.