#at least once the crews are fully integrated

[tessalation]

The best trope is enemies to found family. This either works as “we all used to try and kill each other but now we fight for each other” or as “you were sent to assassinate my found family but we simply adopted you, and now you’re on a redemption arc like no one’s ever seen,” and they both mean so much to me

[sebrrari]

need to find a lover that's gonna last

sebastian vettel/mark webber, au, 4.1k, rated r

aka, the drag au that no one asked for and that i wasn't fully able to flesh out, so i'm posting the dash/not!fic to get it off my chest. happy martian monday to the squad!!

_________

it’s august 30th, 2013, and mark has just signed the last page of the legal paperwork to buy himself out of his future engagements with infiniti red bull racing, effective immediately. they’re going to call up daniel from toro rosso, and mark is going to take the first plane going his way so he can be home in time to start licking his damn wounds before the news hits the press. 

christian shakes his hand and tells him to call if he changes his mind. 

he won’t. he can’t. the last few years took just about everything from him, but not his integrity. he’d never come crawling back to the machine that spit him out on track and let his teammate run him over. 

his phone starts buzzing as he’s crossing the parking lot of the factory - call from sebastian v. 

mark scoffs and swallows a burning feeling, then pops the battery out of the back of the phone and shuts the car door. the driver pulls out of the lot smoothly, and mark doesn’t watch in the rear view mirror as the looming building disappears. 

and, somehow, life goes on. 

_________

freeing himself means no more lavish lifestyle - not that he got quite as extravagant as some of the others when he had the chance. he does the shopping at night, just before the grocery closes, and sends out for most everything else so he doesn’t have to stomach any knowing stares. it takes a few months of skulking around his house (paid for, in cash, with a reasonable savings fund for improvements) and drinking a few too many beers alone before he finally gets back to living. 

there are friends he makes, and people he cuts off. hobbies he tries, old habits he tries his best to quit. and, one spring day, one of his gym buddies invites mark to a brunch where he’ll be performing down in canberra, and mark’s therapist talks him into going - he can leave if he wants to, but he should stay for a fry up, just for his troubles, at least. it’s a hell of a trek, but it’s something to do.

his performing friend ends up being phenomenal - after mark stops looking for his crew cut and tank top, and realizes he’s - she’s - the one in a meter-high blonde wig and impeccable makeup. she lights up the room and takes each proffered dollar out of her patrons’ hands with a wink and a smile. 

mark leaves after his friend bows and exits the lit up, glittery stage, but it’s with a bit of something simmering in his chest. the drive home is a breeze instead of an exercise in teeth grinding and measured breathing. 

he’s straightening up the kitchen after dinner and realizes - he didn’t catch a single person glancing his way or snapping a covert picture of him to tell their mates they saw an all-time formula 1 failure during their meal.  

he calls his friend up the next day, and asks him - her? - to lunch, where he’s enlightened on the culture of drag, and drag brunch, and gender identity. he feels… lighter, and like the world has righted its axis after years of wobbly spinning.

he’s also been kindly informed that he’s been a member of a gay gym in a gay part of town for going on six months now. that gets a laugh out of him, a sound so foreign to his ears now, and he can’t stop once he starts. 

once he’s recovered and paid the tab for them both, he tells evan that he’ll see him at their usual time for an extra difficult weight circuit tomorrow night.

“i’ll bring my sport mode heels, then,” evan says, and mark groans, and is pretty sure that isn’t a thing.  

_________

months later, after a lot of soul searching, and therapy sessions guiding him on how to try new things, and many a craft night with evan and some other local girls, tara rocco makes her debut at a bar’s talent show on a dare. 

it’s been a wonderful exercise in determination (drawing eyebrows on yourself is something that doesn’t come easily), endurance (dancing in a corset with stilettos while remembering lyrics should be officially on the iron man course, he thinks) and competition (a talent show, with a $50 prize, to be tipped to the bar staff when he wins).

his muscles awaken after years of being forced ramrod straight. his entire being stretches back into existence. it's delightful. the applause helps, too. he gets a pretty good round for a 9pm wednesday crowd.

“are you sure you’ve never worn heels before? like, ever?” ray asks while they’re stripping the glue off mark’s natural eyebrows with some kind of industrial solvent that stings like hell. 

“not that i can remember,” mark says, his mouth dry from some stiff drinks and from the makeup remover he got on his tongue. 

“well, love, you should think about wearing them more, because you’re a bloody natural. your proportions are to die for, and you’ve got rhythm. you’d be booking more nights than half the queens in the state on those credentials alone.” 

_________

ray is mark’s first call when he decides to do another talent show, no peer pressure needed. then another, and another, until they decide mark needs a signature look if he’s going to start “getting those bookings you’re entitled to with the way your arms look next to a black leather number like that corset you’ve picked up, mark.” 

it’s like unleashing the marvel within himself, the one he used to know - it’s just shaped differently. there’s prep meetings (to go over the set list, tweak any tracks that lagging or to add a specific song for an event or holiday), press (a few pictures for the venue’s posters and social media, all retouched a bit much for his liking, but he’s choosing his battles), practice sessions (blocking the routine in his open-concept kitchen and living room, with ray laying down post-its to serve as the stage dimensions and evan and his partner acting as an audience for mark to play to), then show time. 

and he’s never known anything but a full fucking send.

the rush feeds him like it always did, even with the stakes so low. he can’t really deny that he loves looking like this - beautiful, sculpted, powerful, in charge.

it’s intoxicating without being consuming, fun and adrenaline-inducing without the sour taste of loss when the lights go down.

when he takes the drag off and wipes his face clean, he’s just mark again - mark who ran, once, but who stands tall now, with a little help from some friends.

and god, his ass looks good in fishnets. it truly does. 

_________

aussie drag culture is insular and so no one really gets a whiff, and he lives pretty comfortably off his bar appearances and an occasional tour spot in peak months.

once every couple years, a promoter calls him up and sounds business-minded and not like they've just found his wikipedia page and intend to add a new section titled Downfall and Public Outrage to it with their fucking scheme. those are the people for whom he hops into a dance studio and gets a routine in shape to trot around a few states, and hey. his heels are shorter and his splits aren't what they used to be, but he still manages to put on a show. 

he keeps in touch with barely a handful of people from his old life, but seb's retirement announcement sends shockwaves big enough that he'd have heard about it if he was six feet under. something like hunger pangs through his core, hollow and longing for the gentle fall into glory and grace he was never afforded. 

but he's happy for seb. he's made his peace with it just like he's made his peace with the fact that red lipstick will never really suit his skin tone and he has to cheat towards purples. there are facts of life, after all.

one of the facts is that what goes around will always come around. at barely 8 am, knocking incessantly and ringing the doorbell for good (ungodly) measure.

he checks the front door camera feed, and thinks he's finally cracked.

but no, seb's really on mark's fucking doorstep, with the same smile on the same face but through layers and layers of time and a lot more facial hair. 

mark's not sure what he must look like - loose gym shorts that hit mid-thigh, smoothly waxed legs, a rumpled and mustard stained shirt from MARY'S POPPIN EST. 2016 ADELAIDE'S FINEST DEBAUCHERY. seb doesn't seem to notice - or care - in the least. he just asks to use the toilet. 

it's the first time mark's heard his voice in person since - since. mark's stomach roils and he can only nod and choke out the directions - down the hall, second door. seb thanks him and makes his way. 

mark goes back to making the coffee, dazedly pulls down a second mug from the cabinet and fishes the sugar out from the bottom shelf of the pantry. seb always took his sweet on early mornings at the track.

mark is just finishing up, kitchen towel in hand to dry a spoon for seb to stir with, when the soft squeak of seb's trainers on the tile snaps him to attention. the pot of coffee is full now - mark realizes just how long he's been waiting for seb to come back in.

he did say the right door, didn't he? he said the second door down the hall. he did. he did.

much like a cat, though, curiosity was always seb's weapon of choice.

"this must look absolutely delicious on you, mark," seb says, and it's a purr of victory to mark's ear, a predator’s grin before its jaw snaps shut around naive prey.

he doesn't want to turn around. he doesn't want to see the corset in seb's delicate grasp - the one that needs a little TLC after last weekend, an eyelet hanging loose off the leather from rough treatment during his finale. he doesn't want to see the laces hanging off the constructed garment, lifeless and boxy without something to wrap around. 

the spoon clatters in the sink. he realizes he’s holding his breath. 

how in the fuck is he going to explain to sebastian vettel that he couldn't fucking stand playing second fiddle and begging for scraps anymore, so he blew his bank accounts to smithereens, fucked off back home humbled and rough, and now he does drag twice a week and tours during peak season.

how is he going to explain to a four-time world champion of motorsport, someone who eclipsed his life to the point that he ran, that he even likes it. 

seb’s made himself his coffee like this is a hotel breakfast bar and not mark's life being turned upside down and shaken by the ankles. 

"i always knew," is one of the first things seb says after he's apologized and laid the corset gently over a kitchen chair. 

mark nearly chokes. "knew?"

"that you were, you know. i mean, it takes one to know the other? is that how you say it?"

"knew?"

"i'm - me too, mark. i'm gay. queer, if we're putting a finer point on it. not that crossdressing is-” 

seb sucks on the spoon, then lays it on a napkin and sighs. 

“oh, hell. mick gave me such a good talk about this, and i am putting my foot in my mouth. i really do mean to be better about this. i have so much reading to do, now that i have more time, i must sound so foolish. forgive me."

"you're gay."

"yes. and i thought-"

"you thought.” 

"i thought a lot of things, but then you were gone. i have no idea what you have even been up to. and now that i am here, i feel as though maybe that was on purpose.” seb takes another sip and swallows carefully. “i did not mean to just barge back in and-"

“but you did.” that's exactly what seb did - barge. mark can feel angry heat coil itself around his spine and get his pulse going. 

it gets tense at the breakfast table while they continue their stilted conversation, but mark susses out that seb thinks the corset is some fetish thing - he still doesn't know know.

small, twisted mercies.

seb leaves eventually, around lunch time. the hollow feeling is still floating heavy in mark's gut, but it's not as painful as he thought it'd be to accept the hug seb pulls him in for, to say sure when seb says they should meet up one more time before seb goes back to europe. he says he's in queensland for a month, some eco-vacation-caravan-docu-whatever that he hopes to invest in has him here to pitch him and let him get his hands a little dirty in the bush.

he trusts seb to not like, tell the fucking papers or whatever someone might do with this information (nando comes to mind, since mark is feeling especially bitey). but it’s not like it’s a secret, either. he’s just been lucky until now - lucky that he fell so far, so fast, that the bright lights and nosy pundits of f1 don’t stoop to his level.

it’s been a week and no one comes calling. no one emails him asking for a fishy interview. the publicist he still pays - a joke of a retainer, if he’s honest, bless her - doesn’t text him. 

he does his usual show at his usual regionally-famous bar, and gets his usual amount of not-as-much-as-you-might-think in tips.

he gets the mended corset back from his seamstress and hangs it up carefully in the closet next to the others, buttery black leather all lined up in a row.

there’s one pushed a little farther back than those in regular rotation, still shiny and hardly worn. it had seemed a little on the nose when he tried it on after buying it online one night, a few glasses of chardonnay too deep in his favorite leather website. 

it’s red for the bulls he couldn’t wrangle, for the misdeeds that put him out on his ass. 

he fishes it off the rack and caresses it, sets the laces right, then carefully tightens it around his waist and turns to the mirror.

and he knows, as he poses for himself, checks his silhouette, skims his eyes across the shoes laid in pairs on the floor against the wall, exactly what his opening number will be next week to kick off his summer tour.

what he doesn’t know is who is going to be sitting three rows back and dead center when the lights go down, the curtains part, and mark makes his hips swivel and sway to the opening synth hits of "little red corvette."

_________

seb is waiting at the stage door exit when mark comes through it, and mark tries to guess how long he must’ve been waiting here. he'd spotted seb in the audience during the third number of the evening, and like a true bred professional, he kept going. he didn’t run. he kept going. 

now, though, with the adrenaline worn off and his quads killing him, he just wants answers. 

“you-” mark stutters. “how did you know?” 

seb licks his lips and smiles playfully. it’s only because mark had known him for so long that he doesn’t mistake it for venomous. 

“well,” seb says, dragging the word out, “they do advertise your shows, don’t they? i saw it in the paper.”

“bullshit,” mark scoffs. “you wouldn’t buy a paper, it’s wasteful. why are you here, seb?”

seb kicks himself off the brick wall of the theater and steps towards mark - mark steps back just as nonchalantly, a dance in keeping his distance that he could do with his eyes closed - but seb doesn’t back down. he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“you could’ve called.” 

seb does scoff, then, the first hint of frustration mark’s seen out of him since old team meetings and press conferences. it hits a nerve, but it’s a dull pain that makes itself known then retreats. 

“would you have answered?” 

mark casts his eyes downward, caught in the truth. 

“i really enjoyed tonight, mark. you’re a true performer. i want to hear all about how you come up with these shows. can we go somewhere and talk?” seb asks, still pressing at the opening he sees. 

mark can’t suss out if seb really wants to know all that, if he’s really telling the truth. but he remembers how the world didn’t come crashing down after he let seb in the last time. he breathes - in for three, hold for three, out for three. 

“okay,” mark says, clears his throat. “alright. my feet are fucking killing me, though. let’s just go back to the hotel.” 

_________

they talk, sure. there was definitely talking - seb’s always had a way with words that unravels mark to a point no one else can. seb casts a lifeline with his earnestness and reels mark in with his humility and wit, and it’s like all the anger he thought he still had isn’t where he thought he left it. there are other, smaller jagged edges that need examining, but the big wound has closed up while he was assuming it still festered.

there were other things that led them to the position they’re in now, though- mark on top of seb’s bare body in a chain hotel’s queen bed, the mattress squeaking as they get comfortable.

he’s moving on instinct, all groans and animal desires. it’s been so, so long since someone’s gotten under his skin enough to bring him to this point - or maybe someone never left their spot there, buried just like he thought all his racing past was. 

he doesn’t want to think about that anymore, or to talk, though. he just wants. 

“i-” mark inhales deeply, gets the smell of seb’s lavender and pine soap, then something muskier underneath. he holds his breath, devours the scent like he’s starved for it. 

mark wants him. he wants seb so badly he’s on fire with it after denying himself for so long. 

“say it again,” seb gasps, and mark bites down on seb’s neck just enough to pinch, then kisses the spot wetly and makes his way down seb’s chest. 

“i want you, seb,” mark groans hoarsely, like he’s worked a sore muscle into relaxing. it’s an intoxicating hit of relief. he sags towards seb’s body, ruts his cock against him over and over again until he glides smooth with sweat and precome. 

“mark, you can-“ mark noses back up to seb’s throat and kisses his adam’s apple open-mouthed, rubs his lips against the stubble there until they’re red and tingling.  

“you should,” seb corrects, his voice thin but sure.  “you should fuck me. before this is over too soon, no?”

the haze in mark’s mind retreats a little. he blinks and gives a parting lick to seb’s pulse point, gets one more thrust of his hips against seb’s soft stomach before he lifts himself up, arms on either side of seb’s ribcage. 

he hasn’t fucked anyone in quite some time, and he hadn’t let himself really think- 

he needs to get out of the habit of thinking, it seems, when it comes to seb. because with him, he can just be. he can just trust, if what his gut is telling him remains true. 

he can just want. 

and he can have. 

he doesn’t ask seb if he’s sure - he’s smarter than that, at least. he knows now that seb goes after what he truly wants, only offers what he’s already been ready to give. 

he just cups seb’s face with a shaking hand and kisses him slowly, fire on his tongue and an ache in his chest, let’s the spark of anticipation charge up til it’s consuming him whole. 

“can i go slow?” mark asks against seb’s lips. “it’s been so long since… since.”

“we have all the time we need, mark.” seb bites his lip for a moment, then whines and smiles up at mark with the mischief that makes mark’s good sense go out the door. “but let’s get started, shall we?” 

_________ 

in the time between summer club season closing and next spring, there’s a whole book’s worth of development. there’s a journey of shame to acceptance for mark because he almost got away with seb thinking this was a fetish, and that fetishes are normal and okay and can be locked behind a door - when you actually remember to bloody lock it - but to mark it's so much worse. 

because it’s not a fetish - it’s his livelihood, and how does he even look millionaire activist and beloved hero sebastian vettel in the eye once he knows mark dances in a tight corset and a barely there skirt for money?

he does, though. he does. 

he can hold his own in 4-inch pumps against even the youngest queens because he lost a lot of things, but never his competitive drive or the muscle tone in his calves. and he didn’t think that could matter to a man like seb, who’s off to see the world and save it bit by bit with a dazzling, crinkly smile and a soft touch of kindness for everyone he meets.

but seb is there, telling him it does matter, simply because it’s mark. that it’s mark that seb’s here for, and the rest they’ll figure out. 

and they will, because they’re not ones to quit. not for something that truly, truly matters to their hearts.  

it's also about love and self acceptance and queerness and kinkiness and how mark looks hot and dangerous and masculine and divinely feminine all at once. it’s about how seb can't believe he ever let mark run away without telling him that he is enough to love in every form, and how mark grows to believe him in time, in his own shape. 

_________

and there's another side to the story, one that's waited patiently and knew to bide its time to be heard.

this side thinks that, if things were different, maybe seb wouldn't be treated to the sight of mark bent over the same kitchen table he was ready to lunge over just a few months ago. and how maybe mark wouldn't trust seb to smear his lipstick and untie his laces, to gently pull his tights down and off.

this side is about how, if he hadn’t called in a favor from jenson to get mark’s address after years of restraining himself from searching, seb might not have the absolute privilege of dropping to his knees and worshiping mark until they’re both full to bursting with something seb’s not sure he’s ever felt - even as fireworks erupted over his car in abu dhabi what seems like a century ago, even as he took his final laps in the kind of machine he spent his life trying to tame. 

this is something new, something precious and strong that seb wants to make bloom in vivid color. he could spend the rest of his days learning the taste of whatever this is. 

seb signs on as a producer for the ecological reserve’s new sustainable tourism and documentary project. he cancels his flights and books his rented, sensible bungalow indefinitely. 

he’s hardly there. 

because he’s with mark and he can’t get enough, even when it’s tough. even when mark spooks, even when he tests seb’s patience like he’s always done - seb wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than where he’s meant to be, and that place cannot be anywhere but with mark, and he knows it. 

because when seb watches mark onstage, with his smoky eyes and his long, mesmerizing legs, his mouth waters. he longs in a way he didn’t think he’d ever be able to again.

and when he meets mark backstage after opening night of this newly revamped show - rev tara’s engine on tour! - with a bouquet of red, red roses in hand, mark’s right there with his makeup half off and sweats pulled over his fishnets, and it makes seb’s pulse jolt. 

he’s real. what they have is shaping up to be, too.

he just has to go get what he's after, and something about mark has always made him relish the chase. 

mark catches sight of him in the big mirror he’s seated in front of and his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, but he softens into a grin. seb smiles back, bites his lip.

“these are for you,” he says, and offers the bouquet. mark stands immediately, takes the flowers and sniffs them indulgently before depositing them gently on the vanity among his tubes of lipstick and eyeshadow palettes. seb was ready to feel silly for bringing flowers to a drag show, but mark takes them for the gesture they are and treats them like something precious, something greater than the handful they exist as. 

he rises on his stocking feet and steps up til he’s toe to toe with seb. there’s a shadow of eyeliner still clinging to his waterline, accenting the spark in his eyes as it smolders and crackles something electric. 

“thank you, i love them, sebi,” mark says, his breath skimming seb’s lips, and seb can’t let himself miss.

he steadies himself by the dip in mark’s cinched waist, and kisses him to unleash everything he’s been holding, lets his heart flow right out of his chest and through his lips. 

mark covers seb’s hand with his bigger one, his palm soft and warm and trembling, and receives the love seb has been waiting to give. 

___________________________

thanks @kritischetheologie @mwebber and @vetterrari and the other people who i made read this awhile ago!!!! love u all for being so encouraging and unhinged with me - you make this fandom what it is xxxxxx

this thing's google doc is titled "spreading you open is the only way of knowing you," a fine line reference but also something i'm finding to be a little too astute. count yer days harry if i ever see you in person i have my therapists superbill in my purse with your name on it.

[prime-wars]

howabout -- drift :^3

for those of u who dont know my nickname in our tf server is stage iv drift liker so im afraid uve just turned the key on pandora's box

favorite thing about them: drift is the kind of person who is constantly kicked down and beaten up by life and just refuses to stop living. and im not just talking about his early life in the dead end im talking about how drift joined the decepticons to help make cybertron a better place for people like him only to eventually realize that the decepticons had entirely abandoned that cause halfway through the war and he'd just missed the memo. and instead of giving up and defecting he stays with the decepticons and throws himself fully into the war to try and end it so that they Can start building that better cybertron that he was promised. and then that doesnt work and he ends up abandoned on theophany and he meets wing and ends up forging a better life for himself and learning to heal from all the shit thats happened to him. and then the decepticons show up and the one person he'd grown close to since megatron ends up dying because of them - because of him, because they'd shown up because of him. and instead of giving into the complete and utter despair of that reality, he goes on thru sheer force of will. he joins the autobots and becomes close to rodimus and they make this plan to just say fuck it to cybertron and go out to live their lives without having to deal with the likes of prowl breathing down their necks. and then he watches rodimus trip and fall into prowl's manipulations anyways, and still sticks with him, and works night and day to keep the crew from finding out, to the point that when the overlord thing inevitably blows up in their faces he takes the fall. and so again he finds himself losing the person he's closest to - both of them, since he's now being torn away from ratchet after finally getting to be around him after 4-something-million years. (oh, and also while he was going around on the lost light he ends up finding out that the rest of new crystal city ended up being destroyed and all its inhabitants have disappeared. just one more piece of his life that he's lost.) and still he forces himself to go on. he makes a living out of bounty hunting, even if it isnt much of one, and finds some kind of purpose to fulfill in saving the lives of those who cant save themselves. and then ratchet comes to get him and he agrees to go back to the lost light with him, and they survive through all the shit the universe tries to throw at them, and make it back to cybertron and makes a home together, and they get to live together and be happy for some indeterminate amount of time, and for once nothing is going wrong and he gets to live the life he set out to create all those years ago.

and then ratchet dies.

least favorite thing about them: idk !!! i really like him a lot. even the parts of him that would annoy me in any other character just endear him to me more.

favorite line: all his lines during the sparkeater arc in mtmte + ALL of his lines in eos are very special to me. i probably couldn't pick a favorite. but i will use this space to remind everyone that "be shoosh" is a real actual thing drift has said in canon.

brOTP: obviously we got the drift + rodimus friendship but i also really like the scraps we get to see of drift's friendship with pipes. if overlord never happened i like to imagine that pipes wouldve slowly integrated drift into the minibot friend group and they wouldve gotten along well together :]

OTP: dratchetrod all the way babey !!!!!!!!!! my all time fav

nOTP: hummmm..... i do enjoy wrift but not in the way most people like to portray them so i guess that counts. wrift while drift is still at crystal city and at an incredibly vulnerable point in his life is just kind of ehhh and feels a bit predatory on wing's end to me. but i love wing-lives-au wrift where they meet up after drift has figured his own shit out and is much more firmly on the route to recovery.

random headcanon: i think drift would listen to machine girl unironically. i think he would absolutely love love love machine girl he would go batshit to machine girl. also i think he would really love to garden, both organic plants and crystals. the act of nurturing new life and watching it grow and flourish because of him would help him a lot to work thru the hangups his time as deadlock wouldve given him.

unpopular opinion: oh god so many. a) the sex worker drift shit is weird and fetishistic as fuck, b) the way people talk about drift's past as an addict in a lot of fanwork is INSANE and really shows how many people view addicts as less-than human, c) direct quote from @sparkxii : "Test for transformers fans describe Drift and if you do an overly detailed description of his legs a car comes down from the ceiling and falls on you a la saw trap style"

song i associate with them: drift is one of the three characters i actually have a character playlist for so i have a bunch, but if i had to choose just one... Jig of Life by Kate Bush <3

favorite picture of them: i have so so so so so many but this one panel of him is really cute 2 me. the little "and they dont change into anything" is SO funny

[theseventhoffrostfall]

@dreadnaut Re: religion and military

In both its prominent forms the priesthood is fairly loose. In the new form of the faith, religious leaders tend to be ordinary members of the populace who lead quiet ceremonies more or less as a sideline to their regular occupation, and these ceremonies tend to be adulations of the patron god and the glorious Clan that embodies him.

In the old (and resurgent) faith, the major gods embody the pillars of Clan life, and the leaders of those pillars are the defacto priesthood. If you're a scientist, the head of the research team isn't your direct, irreplaceable link to the Iron Mother, but he does provide spiritual advice and guidance. If you're a soldier, your squad leader will lead small prayers to the Red Father before patrols or excursions while your commander will be leading rituals before a major operation and the bloody celebrations thereafter.

Militarily, I drew inspiration from sci-fi'd-up versions of archaic customs (see, rings as a sign of wealth such that a king could give out rings s spoils and rewards for valor). In this case, the notion that soldiers once had to furnish their own gear is interesting to me.

Essentially, when coming of age and going on your first raid, you're furnished with basic gear (principally consisting of a heavy laser rifle and an armor set based around "scales" of ceramic armor protecting small modular shield generators, for Clan Eissenschtadt). Such basic troops, dubbed "Raiders", bulk out the ranks of campaigns and perform basic roles, and are the most commonly seen types on more basic mercenary contracts and raids (Mercenary work and piracy are longstanding traditions among the Clans, especially Eissenschtadt, whose reputation as remorseless and amoral sellswords is known throughout the galactic arm). Raiders are both the first step for career soldiers and the role of part-time troops like technicians looking to stay sharp and supplment their wealth.

Warriors are the hardened professionals. Crewmen at this stage transition from logistics vehicles and personnel carriers to main battle tanks and warships (while it's not a law or particularly uncommon to see broken, traditional gender roles see males as infantry and armor corpsmen and females as the pilots of fighters and gunships and crew of ships of the line, though sniping is seen as a prestigious role for more adventurous women) Infantry is the spine of Clan militaries, and Warriors tend to be clad in lean, slim suits of bespoke semi-powered armor, not wholly dissimilar in appearance to finely-made plate harness and backed by powerful shield generators. Eissenschtadt's Warriors favor micro-rocket assault rifles with integrated underbarrel plasma projectors.

Full-sized power armor suits are the provenance of the most experienced, battle-hardened, and wealthy fighters. While high-ranking officers and the Prince are expected to master many aspects of combat and periodically step into the role of all aspects of at least infantry, their traditional place is armored up and at the tip of the spear. Designs vary, but the archetypical type favored by most Clans features an array of heavy weapons built into the arms (hence the symbolic nature of arm cannons as a traditional cybernetic weapon; it helps that the skills between them and operating the suit are fully transferable) and shoulders, heavy armor, tremendous shields, and jets for assisted movement and mobility. Bounding and bouncing armored knights aren't an uncommon sight when fighting Clansmen, but when heavy fire or low concealment makes this impractical, many lowborn and alien gunners scanning for an easy target have been fatally surprised by a ton and a half of bristling weaponry bursting onto their positions in a manic, rocket-propelled bear crawl. Flat but sharp-clawed chisel-like fingers are more for securing purchase on walls, steep terrain, or (as above) the ground than digging between and tearing out panels of armor from tanks or the full-sized mechs used by some lowborn militaries, but when pressed, they do the job well enough.

Tank designs vary wildly and alternate between being privately owned or, like almost all artillery assets, Clan assets deployed (or rented out to enterprising commanders) at the discretion of the King and War-Prince

[topreviewin]

Following the death of actor Matthew Perry at age 54, fans are looking out assist on his body of work and remembering his most iconic role, that of Chandler Bing on the cherished sitcom Guests. For 10 seasons, Perry's performance as the snarky-nonetheless-candy member of the neighborhood resulted in about a of the demonstrate's greatest laughs and most quotable moments.All people knows classics delight in "May per chance I be extra sorry?" and "My scone! My scone!" In reminiscence of Matthew Perry and his comedic legacy, right here are five numerous iconic moments from Chandler Muriel Bing. Chandler meets Jill Goodacre"The One With the Blackout" from Season 1 seen Chandler locked in an ATM vestibule (or is it an atrium?) for the length of a energy outage. Happily for him, supermodel Jill Goodacre is additionally caught in there, and Chandler slowly spirals whereas looking out to conquer his nerves and ask her out. The whole say performs out almost fully by capability of his inner monologue, giving the viewers a look into the insecurity and neuroses that could per chance per chance reach to stipulate the personality. Chandler wears pantiesIn Season 2's two-parter "The One After the Gargantuan Bowl," the crew cling out on a movie situation with the demonstrate's greatest megastar guest stars yet. This rogue's gallery of '90s legends included Jean Claude Van Damme, Brooke Shields, Chris Isaak, and most notably, Julia Roberts, who played Susie Moss, an broken-down classmate of Chandler's. Susie resented Chandler so mighty for teasing her for the length of their time at excessive college that she enacted her revenge by seducing him, persuading him to effect on a pair of females's undies, and then absconding alongside with his apparel. The spot culminates on this colossal 2nd where Chandler, stranded in a bathroom stall, calls on Ross and Joey for wait on. Chandler goes to YemenJanice, Janice, Janice. In a speak to finally effect away with his annoying ex-female friend, Chandler did the correct, honorable say. Correct kidding. He lied his ass off and told her he modified into once shifting to Yemen. This prolonged sequence at the airport, by which he realizes he can not merely faux, and has to indisputably battle by alongside with his ruse—looking out to search out a $2,000 stamp and boarding the plane—is a excellent-looking out sigh in balk. Chandler kisses all peopleChandler and Monica maintaining their relationship a secret resulted in about a of the sitcom's greatest farcical moments, including this scene where they each omit for correct a 2nd that they need to not by myself. After kissing Monica goodbye, you presumably could per chance gape the 2nd in Chandler's eyes where he realizes what he's done, and has to vogue it out by kissing a disturbed Rachel and Phoebe with equal gusto.Chandler and Monica glean engaged One amongst Chandler's finest moments within the demonstrate is additionally one of the most principal least droll. This incredibly earnest scene, by which Chandler and Monica imply to each numerous, eschews the whole personality's trademark sarcasm and bite in enlighten to effect bare the beating heart of the demonstrate's most integral romantic relationship (no offense to Ross and Rachel). Philip Ellis is News Editor at Males's Health, overlaying neatly being, popular culture, intercourse and relationships, and LGBTQ+ points. His work has seemed in GQ, Teen Vogue, Man Repeller and MTV, and he's the creator of Luxuriate in & Other Scams.

[writer59january13]

October 7th, 2023 upon third anniversary of mine papa's passing...

Death no longer jars, nixes,

and rattles mine sense and sensibilities

without pride nor prejudice no matter (even with marginal persuasion)

wit and wisdom of Jane Austen ill mixes

with what emotional state my poem fixes.

Father long since journeyed

into afterlife destination alone,

October 7th, 2020 mid afternoon

with Earthlings ministration did attone

where night enveloped

and date stamped his lovely bones

rendered devoid of any groan

courtesy Roxanol (morphine)

and Ativan finding him prone

to experience painlessness, and no

his dying wish, plus last will and testament

won't include burial and/or headstone

cuz, he wants to integrate and did intone

cremation as ecologically friendly option

scattering ashes to parts known

someday... yours truly will too

succumb to the dead zone,

where misery in the ascendent.

Stark reminder to live fully an urgent yen

to live life fullest between now and when...

ever yours truly exits

stage door left, perhaps ten

twenty, thirty... eighty, ninety, one hundred...

additional orbits around sun

a remarkable human phenomenon

(me) courtesy mine burning ken

bequeaths modest minute man

near accursed immortality

longevity totaling even

score of years counting (crows)

and father time among his brethren.

Distress unavoidable which mortality doth bring

nevertheless, tis impossible mission

to eradicate pain and suffering, which doth sting

consolation assuages grief, viz prayer

and buttressing coping with spiritual wing

profound absence augments biting zing.

Biological reproduction begetting offspring

lodging within uterine abode

subsequent in utero development

regarding accretion embryonic node

biological algorithm doth automatically encode,

nevertheless longevity invariably affected

no doubt courtesy lifestyle mode.

Random crapshoot luck of the draw offspring born

genetic blueprints also decree existence transient

parents emphatically teach progeny

got no choice must inform

daughter(s), and son(s) ineluctably forsworn

demise bound with birth certificate presents horn

of dilemma conscious the next generation

granted only so many Earth orbitz around sun.

Once grim reaper deftly

communicates I must bid adieu

eternal hasta la vista to kith and kin

please don't shed a tear for generic

germane admirable bad company crew

member, albeit healthy as an ox

never got the flu,

an atheist doubting thomas

though genealogy records

incorporate many a cynical Jew

at least one legendary antiestablishmentarian

gleaned within mine purview

non-prodigal son edging closer

to the afterlife while livingsocial

within mortality queue shunned, ostracized and banished to Xanadu.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 11 - zuko x fem!reader

Memories, where'd you go?

part 10 | masterlist | part 12

a/n: alternative name for this fic: y/n gets a crush on every pretty girl she meets. yue, katara, and now suki. she can't help it (and she questions why they're all connected to sokka in some way lmaoo)

anyways, this is kind of filler but it establishes some more with relationships and finallyyy gets us into ba sing se at the end. i know it's a lil annoying because there's a lot of episode-to-text writing, but i promise it'll get more freeform as it goes on

also i know that i just posted something yesterday but i have literally zero patience. like i cant hold chapters i have to post them as soon as i write them loll

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): some feels over zuko as per usual, but overall a pretty tame chapter

chapter title comes from memories by panic! at the disco!

Zuko could barely sleep anymore.

He didn’t know when his life became so complicated, but he wasn’t a fan of it.

Back when it was just him, his crew, and the open sea — it was simple. He had a job, a straightforward mission. Find the Avatar, capture him, return home to the Fire Nation and regain his honor.

Now, the waters were more muddied than ever. Now on the run from the Fire Nation just like the boy he was chasing, all he really felt nowadays was anger.

Angry at the world for setting him on this path, angry at the Avatar for refusing to see what was necessary, his sister and her friends for turning against him, angry at the waterbender for making things so damn hard.

He didn’t want to hurt her. A part of him wished that she had never come back into his life, if it meant he wouldn’t have to constantly be fighting against her. He hated himself for the thought, but maybe it would have been easier for her to remain a memory of a lover than his active enemy.

Late at night, when he was reaching fruitlessly for sleep that would never come, he saw her face. The carefree energy from their childhood morphed into the shock and disappointment from both the North and their fight with Azula, and…

It made him wonder what in Agni had happened to them.

He—

He didn’t know. The way he felt about her, it was different than anything he had experienced before. Zuko didn’t know what it was, but he understood that it was special. And now… it felt like he had just thrown it all away.

Zuko couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with her in that town — what he had done to her.

He had burned her to try and get to the Avatar, and he hadn’t even allowed a glance back at the damage he had done. He had heard her cry out in pain, pain he had caused, and he didn’t even look back.

What had happened to them? What had happened to him?

He kept telling himself that the mission was the only thing that mattered. And it was, wasn’t it? Capture the Avatar, regain his honor, get his old life back and finally be enough for his father. He didn’t have time for friends, or for these feelings he had, or— or for anything but capturing the Avatar. Because the Avatar was the key to everything, to his honor, and that was all that mattered.

But now…

Now, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know what was right, or what was wrong, or what path was the one he had to take.

Zuko just wished things could be like they used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

She didn’t really know when everything had become a mess again.

It all started out fine, like it usually did. Toph had become fully integrated into the group, any past squabbles put to rest in the name of a stronger friendship emerging between all five of them. Katara continued to work on Aang’s waterbending (oftentimes Y/N joining them in their sessions) while Toph slowly but steadily beat earthbending into him — literally.

They had all been working hard for so long that, by decree of Aang, it was ‘vacation time’. They would all get to pick out places they wanted to spend as a break, and after it was over they would get back to work.

Aang had chosen some sort of field with musical groundhogs, and Y/N had opted to revisit an Earth Kingdom village that she had passed through on her journey to the North. Sokka had complained the whole time about how they were ‘wasting valuable planning time’, but had finally conceded after the promise of ‘all the planning his heart could desire’ from Katara after their mini-vacations were over.

Y/N was actually feeling somewhat relaxed for once, but she had forgotten the golden rule — never let your guard down. Everytime she let her guard down, something bad happened without fail. So it shouldn’t have been any surprise with what happened in the desert.

Because after one trip to the Misty Palms Oasis and a journey into the desert with a professor to a long lost library, Appa had been taken by desert raiders.

It was… less than favourable. During their escape from the library, Professor Zei had insisted on staying behind, and now the five of them were stuck in the middle of the desert with no way out and zero guidance. Add some brewing tensions between Aang and Toph because of her being there when Appa was taken, and they had a recipe for a huge disaster.

And a disaster they had. Multiple disasters, actually.

There was only so much she and Katara could do to hold the group together, but by some miracle, they made it out of the desert with only one Avatar State mishap.

(And an incident with cactus juice, but… she didn’t really want to talk about that.)

....at least they had the information about the Eclipse. That was about the only thing keeping her together at the moment.

They had to get the information to the Earth King so they could formulate an attack with his warriors, but without Appa, they had to resort to more traditional methods of travel. Add in one passport problem, and that was how Y/N found herself braving the Serpent’s Pass alongside a refugee family with a baby on the way.

It was… intimidating, to say the least. Despite being surrounded by her element, Y/N didn’t feel any safer from the challenge that faced them. She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down on her fear the way her mother had taught her, as she followed the group, but her thoughts were soon interrupted.

“Hey.” She turned to see who the voice belonged to and was greeted by the girl that had teased Sokka early — Suki, if she remembered correctly. “I haven’t seen you around; are you with the Avatar or that family?”

“I’m with Aang,” Y/N explained. “I’m from the North, and they offered me a spot with them after they helped us defend our tribe against the Fire Nation. I’ve been with them ever since.” Suki nodded as they settled into a comfortable stride.

“That’s cool. Are you a waterbender?”

She gestured to her waterskin and smiled. “Yeah. I’ve been training with Aang and Katara ever since I left.” Y/N then turned her gaze back to Suki, raising an inquisitive brow. “Your makeup — what’s it for? I heard you talking about the Kyoshi Warriors back there; is that some kind of thing with Avatar Kyoshi?”

Suki grinned, her every expression heightened by the sharp reds and blacks above her eyes. “We’re a group of all-female warriors that use the teachings of Avatar Kyoshi and her partner Rangi to defend our home and the place she founded, Kyoshi Island. I’m the leader of our village section.”

“Wow,” she murmured, her eyes falling to the ground for a moment before finding their way back up to the warrior. “That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

She laughed and shrugged. “Thanks. I’ve been training as a warrior for almost my whole life, so it just comes naturally. I like being able to protect people, and there’s no better way to pay back my home for all it’s done for me like protecting the whole village.”

“Wow,” she repeated with a small laugh of her own. “That’s really brave. I gotta say, I’m kinda jealous — I would love to see what would happen if Master Pakku met you all. Katara literally had to beat the sexism out of him in order to train to be a master.”

Suki chuckled. “Sounds like what I had to do with Sokka. Guess it’s a thing with Water Tribe guys, huh?”

At the mention of Sokka, she internally laughed. There had to be some kind of connection between the two of them, the way their interests kept aligning. “Sokka… he’s had it hard. I can’t blame him that much for any kind of attitude he had before he met you. Pakku, on the other hand? He had to have had something better to do than fight teenage girls.”

“You would think so, right?” Suki agreed. “And Sokka… I know. He’s got a heart of gold underneath all that, he just needed a little push to get it out.” As Y/N glanced over at the girl, noticing a slight pink tint under the white makeup, she gasped.

“La’s fins, are you two a thing?” she exclaimed with a grin.

Suki flushed even harder as she suddenly became very interested in the ocean around her, but she couldn’t help the smile on her lips. “No! I mean— yes— but… but—” she stopped to gather her thoughts before making eye contact again with a sheepish smile. “We’re not… really a thing, but… I do like him a lot. I didn’t really think I was going to see him again after they left the island, so this is really nice.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Y/N asked. “I can already tell that he cares about you — have you seen how careful he’s being with you?”

“Well—” Whatever kind of excuse Suki would’ve made up was interrupted by a rock falling out just under Than, one of the refugees they were with, saved in the nick of time with Toph’s earthbending.

“I’m okay!” he reassured, but no sooner had the words left his mouth before the Fire Nation ship in the distance started firing.

“They’ve spotted us!” Sokka yelled. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Aang flicked his glider open and deflected the blast, and Katara grabbed Y/N’s hand as they all began to run. Another blast rocked the mountain, causing several boulders to fall just above Suki. Y/N didn’t even have time to shout out a warning before Sokka tackled her out of the way, but it was ultimately more of Toph’s quick earthbending that saved him.

“Suki, are you okay?” Sokka brushed dust and pebbles off of her uniform as he examined her, and once he was satisfied he grabbed her hand and helped her up. “You have to be more careful! Come on!”

As the two of them caught up to Y/N and Katara, she gave Suki a knowing look. The warrior only blushed once again and glanced away.

After hours of navigating the pass, they were only about halfway through. Sokka made the executive decision to set up camp for the night to give everyone time to rest, and then they would get up at the crack of dawn to finish their trip. It only took a few minutes for Y/N to get a fire going, and soon everyone had settled in with their sleeping bags. Sokka got up from his spot as Suki wandered closer to the edge, and Katara nudged Y/N with her shoulder.

“Hey. How are your hands doing?”

“They’re fine,” she answered with a small smile, flipping her hands over as proof. Where there were once red burn scars on her palms only tiny white marks remained — one benefit to healing via waterbending was that most injuries were able to fade away completely after enough sessions. Her burns weren’t very serious and she was able to heal them almost immediately, so both her and Katara were sure that the marks would be completely gone soon.

The mental scars wouldn’t fade as easily.

“That’s good. And you’re taking care of them, right? Like, you’re not beating up people while we’re not looking?”

Y/N grinned. “No. I think I’ll leave that to Toph.”

Katara chuckled and nodded, turning her hands over in a final examination before nodding. “Good,” she repeated. The silence between them, although comfortable, stretched out for a little too long before she spoke again, this time much quieter. “He did this to you.”

“Katara…”

“I know,” she said. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, or really at all, but… I’m worried about you. Zuko isn’t good for you. Every time we’ve run into him, he’s hurt you. And you deserve so much more than that.”

“You don’t understand,” she countered. “You don’t know Zuko like I do. You weren’t there when I was. I know you think I’m insane for still believing in him, but I— I can’t let go of him, Katara. I know the Zuko I love is still in there somewhere, and I have to try and find it. For me and for him.”

Katara’s eyes were full of nothing but sympathy as she sighed — it was obvious she didn’t believe her words, but in true fashion she was still trying her best to be supportive.

“Okay. I don’t understand it, but… I don’t think I can change your mind.” Y/N chuckled sadly and nodded, Katara’s piercing gaze meeting her own once more. “It’s just… Why are you playing with fire when you know you’re going to get burned?”

And for once, Y/N didn’t have an answer for her friend.

~~~~~~~~~

The night went by quickly, which Y/N was thankful for. It meant that the nightmares didn’t last as long.

After a quick headcount to make sure no one had fallen off the pass overnight and an even quicker gathering of their things, they set off to finish their journey.

It went just as well as she had expected — a giant serpent, the namesake of the pass, had attacked them while crossing through an underwater section. Thankfully, she was able to aid Katara and Aang in defeating it with waterbending with no casualties

But in the wake of one disaster there was always another, and before Y/N knew it a baby had been born. She was mostly there for moral support — Katara had it all handled, and Y/N didn’t expect anything less.

But finally, they had made it across the pass, and they were so close to Ba Sing Se that she could almost smell the city air. Sadly, though, that meant it was time for them to part ways — Aang to find Appa, and Suki back to her warriors. After some sad but hopeful goodbyes with Aang, it was time to bid farewell to Suki.

“Are you sure you can’t travel a little longer with us?” Y/N questioned, apparently not above pleading to try and get the girl to stay. “You’re— you’re amazing, and we’d really love to have you with us.”

“I can’t even imagine what travelling with the Avatar would be like,” she smiled, causing Y/N to get her hopes up for just a moment before they fell back down. “But I can’t stay. I have to get back to the Kyoshi Warriors.”

Y/N sighed, her gaze falling slightly downcast. “I get that. I just really wish you could stay. Or that I could meet your warriors. You seriously don’t know how cool you are, Suki.”

“Well, if you’re ever in town on Kyoshi Island, find us. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out and do you one better than just meeting them all,” she said with a grin. “I think it’d be pretty cool to have the first waterbending Kyoshi Warrior.”

Y/N was unable to prevent the heat rushing to her cheeks as she smiled shyly, once again averting eye contact. “That would be amazing. I’ll have to find my way back there after the war.”

Suki bumped shoulders with her, causing a startled laugh to spill from her lips. “We’d love to have you.”

“Wait, why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye to her?” Sokka questioned as he walked up to the two of them. Y/N winked at Suki and gestured at him with her head, walking off before Suki could protest to find Katara.

The conversation the two girls were sharing was an extremely thinly veiled excuse to eavesdrop on the lovebirds, and when they kissed Y/N actually had to hold back a scream.

Sokka deserved this. She knew how much he beat himself up over every little thing that went wrong, and it was about time he got to relax even for a moment. She only hoped that Suki would be in their corner of the world sooner rather than later.

What could she say? She was already fantasizing about life as a Kyoshi Warrior.

~~~~~~~~~

Although they had parted ways, they soon found themselves reunited with Aang to stop yet another Fire Nation threat.

“For the love of Kuruk,” Y/N murmured as she stared into the distance, her eyes wide at the sight of a large mechanical drill. “That was Ty Lee who just took down all those soldiers. And if she’s here, Mai and Azula are with her too. Guys, It’s one thing to stop this drill, it’s another thing to take those three down with it.”

“The question is, how do we do it?” Aang questioned.

“Why can nothing ever be easy?” Sokka lamented. His gaze remained trained on the drill for a moment before he realized theirs were on him. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“You’re the idea guy,” Aang said.

“Wait, so I’m the only one who can ever come up with a plan?” he protested. “That’s a lot of pressure!”

“And also the complaining guy,” Katara muttered, drawing a chuckle out from Y/N.

“Now that part I don’t mind,” Sokka admitted.

“Well, Sokka— you were a huge help in the North, and you figured out a way to defeat the Fire Nation during that eclipse at the library! Plus, there’s all that stuff that Katara told me you did before I joined.” She patted him on the back. “If anyone can figure out how to take that thing down, it’s you.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his ego only slightly bolstered. “...okay. I think I can do it.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said with a smile.

Unfortunately, that smile faded as a young guard came running up to the wall. “Excuse me, Avatar and friends — I’ve heard that you’ve dealt with that… that pink girl down there before.” They nodded and he continued. “It would do us a great deal of help if you could come down and look at our injured soldiers, then.”

Y/N and Katara nodded in unison and started to follow the guard, the remaining three trailing after them. They ended up inside the wall, in what looked like an infirmary of sorts with all the cots and soldiers lying around, and the two waterbenders exchanged looks.

“You know what to do?” Katara asked.

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, and they both knelt down next to separate cots. “This definitely looks like Ty Lee’s work,” she murmured as she bent water up from the pot and molded it over the man’s arm.

“What’s wrong with him?” the general questioned. “He doesn’t look injured.”

“His chi is blocked,” Katara explained. “Who did this to you?”

“Two girls ambushed us,” the soldier said, moving his arm as he regained feeling. “One of them hit me with a bunch of quick jabs and suddenly I couldn't earthbend anymore and I could barely move. Then she cartwheeled away.”

Katara sighed as she bent the water back into the pot. “You were right, Y/N. That was Ty Lee — she doesn’t look dangerous, but she knows the human body and its weak point. It’s like she takes you down from the inside.”

As if struck by lightning, Sokka lit up. “Oh, oh, oh! What you just said — that’s how we’re going to take down the drill; the same way Ty Lee took down all those earthbenders!”

“By hitting its pressure points!” Toph exclaimed with a grin.

The breakthrough brought a steely determination to Aang’s features as he looked out into the distance. “We’ll take it down from the inside.”

~~~~~~~~~

Like everything they did, it seemed so simple on paper. But now that she was actually inside the drill, it felt a lot more nerve wracking. Toph opted to stay outside where she could see and try to slow down the drill with the earth at her disposal, which left the four of them to somehow take it down from the inside.

Sokka led them through a hallway with a myriad of valves and pipes as he thought out loud. “I need a plan of this machine — some schematics that show what the inside looks like. Then we can find its weak points.”

“Where are we gonna get something like that?” Aang asked.

Sokka thought for a moment before he took his machete out and hacked a valve off a pipe. Y/N instinctively took a step back and shielded her face from the hot steam. “What are you doing?” she cried. “Someone’s gonna hear us!”

“That’s the point!” he exclaimed. “A machine this big needs engineers to run it, and when something breaks—”

“Someone will come down to fix it!” Katara finished with a smile at Aang, a sentiment the boy returned happily.

It was surprisingly easy to take down the engineer once he arrived — with a little bit of frozen mist on Katara’s end, they had the plans they needed. Sokka’s expertise combined with the blueprints got them to the beginning of the outer shell.

“Wow,” Sokka muttered. “It looks a lot thicker than it does in the plans. We’re gonna have to work pretty hard to cut through that.”

Katara crossed her arms. “What’s this ‘we’ stuff? The three of us are gonna have to do all the work.”

“Look, I’m the plan guy!” Sokka explained with a gesture to himself. “You three are the ‘cut up stuff with waterbending’ guys. Together, we’re Team Avatar!”

Katara and Aang looked wholly unamused while Y/N chuckled. “Team Avatar. I like it.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “At least someone appreciates my genius.”

“Tui’s gills, why do you have to keep boosting his ego?” Katara complained. “Let’s just get this done before it gets worse.”

The three of them got in position — Katara and Aang on opposite sides so they could pass the stream of water between them, and Y/N making the point of the triangle to work on the other side on her own. They were hoping it would be more efficient being able to cut through both sides at the same time, but it was proving to be much more difficult than they had imagined — halfway through the three of them were already exhausted.

By some feat of strength they were able to completely cut through the brace, but their hard work didn’t pay off in quite the way they had imagined — when the beam only shifted a few inches she groaned.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she breathed as she wiped sweat off of her forehead.

“At this rate,” Katara paused to inhale deeply, “we won’t do enough damage before the drill reaches the wall.”

“I don’t know how many more of those I have in me,” Aang said sadly.

A large creak suddenly rang throughout the large chamber, and they all looked up for the source.

“Did you hear that?” Sokka asked, already backing up to make an exit. “We took it down! We gotta get out of here, fast!”

Just as they reached the door on the other side, a crackle followed by the sound of a man’s voice dashed their hopes. “Congratulations, crew. The drill has made contact with the wall of Ba Sing Se. Start the countdown to victory!”

A collective silence hung in the air between them, the threat now even more imminent as their situation sunk in. Mai and Ty Lee had proven effective in taking down any Earth Kingdom threat posed at them, and despite Toph’s skill they knew she couldn’t take down something like this on their own.

They either had to figure out a way to destroy this drill, or the Fire Nation was going to make it into the city.

Sokka ran back over to the brace and pushed against it, putting all his strength into the feat but to no avail. “Come…. on! Move!”

Katara started pacing around in a small circle, crossing her arms again as she tried to think of something. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

“Sokka, that’s not going to work!” Y/N didn’t mean to snap, but the grinding of metal on metal combined with her nervousness got to her. She sighed and ran her hand over her face. “I— I’m sorry. But it’s still not going to work.”

He groaned as he leaned against the brace. “We’re putting everything we have into busting these things, but it’s taking too long!”

Suddenly, Aang jumped up from the ground with stars in his eyes. “Maybe we don’t need to cut all the way through! Toph — she’s been teaching me that you shouldn’t put a hundred percent of your energy in any one strike. Sokka, get in a fighting stance.”

Sokka complied and as Aang talked through his points, he demonstrated it on Sokka. “You've got to be quick and accurate. Hit a series of points and break your opponent's stance. And when he's reeling back, you deliver the final blow. His own weight becomes his downfall, literally.”

As Sokka fell over from the attack, Katara lit up. “So we just need to weaken the braces instead of cutting all the way through—”

“—then I can go to the top of this thing and deliver the final blow!” Aang finished.

Y/N helped Sokka up from the ground, his spirits not dampened at all. “Then boom! This whole thing goes down!”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Y/N asked, flexing her fingers to refresh them for all the bending she was going to have to do. “Aang, Katara and I can handle the braces. Focus on getting up to the top before anyone sees you.”

He nodded and they all met each other with determined eyes. “Everyone inside that wall, the whole world — they’re all counting on us.”

“Here, take this. You need this more than I do. ” Katara took her waterskin off and handed it to Aang. “Good luck. And be careful.”

Y/N noticed a slight blush on her cheeks and she had to hold back her smile. That was definitely something she was going to tease her friend about later — when they weren’t trying to stop the Fire Nation from breaking into Ba Sing Se.

“I will,” he assured. Aang slung the strap of the waterskin around his shoulder and took off, and Y/N and Katara got to work breaking through the rest of the braces.

With the knowledge that they only had to cut through half of each column and the revitalization that came from having a plan, their work went by much quicker. Just when they finished the final brace, it all went wrong.

“Good work, Team Avatar!” Sokka cheered. “Now we— Y/N, duck!”

She didn’t question Sokka as she immediately dropped to the ground, something she was immensely thankful for as a blast of blue fire seared past her. Her eyes snapped up to the source of the attack and narrowed in recognition.

“Of course they’re here,” she growled as she pulled herself back up. “We gotta go, now!”

Katara and Sokka nodded and they all started running. Bringing up the rear, Y/N was able to hear Azula’s words right before they split off into an intersection:

“Follow them! I’m going to find the Avatar.”

Sure enough, when she allowed a glance back, Mai and Ty Lee were closing in on them. She flicked open the cap of her waterskin and bent some out, managing to freeze it at just the right moment to block the incoming daggers from Mai. Still running, she melted it quickly and let it fall to the ground before freezing it again, creating some ice on the ground that would hopefully give them a few more seconds of leeway.

“That should give us some time!” she yelled as they turned a corner, finally turning her attention back to the path in front of them. “Any idea how we’re gonna get out of this thing?”

“Maybe!” Sokka yelled back, slowing to a stop as they came to a dead end, a large hatch the only thing at their disposal. He started tugging on the wheel in an attempt to open it, and when Y/N joined in they were able to wrench it open.

“Slurry pipeline?” Katara frowned as she read the sign on the wall and looked at Sokka. “What does that mean?”

“It’s rock and water mixed together,” he explained as they looked into the rushing liquid underneath the hatch. “It means it’s our way out!”

Katara nodded and climbed in, Sokka following close after. The sound of metal footsteps got closer and closer, and Y/N ducked inside just as Mai’s knives clanked against the hatch. Never before had she been so happy to be floating in a stream of slurry.

The rest of their mission went by surprisingly easy — at least, on their end. All it took was some waterbending — earthbending, when Toph joined them — and encouragement from Sokka (though unappreciated by Katara). Whatever magic Aang was working at the top of the drill had done its job, because soon enough the drill had collapsed in on itself.

And now, they had reunited on the top of the wall overlooking the sunset. After the chaos that had been their day, it was nice to just relax for even a moment. And there was no better way to do so than with her friends.

“I just want to say, good effort out there, Team Avatar!” Sokka exclaimed as he threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

“Enough with the ‘Team Avatar’ stuff,” Katara said dryly. “No matter how many times you say it, it’s not going to catch on.”

“I like it, Sokka,” Y/N smiled. “I’ve liked it this whole time.”

“You always appreciate my genius, Y/N,” he mused. “That’s why I appreciate you.” She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder as he continued to list off names.

“How about… the Boomeraang squad! Eh? See, it’s good because it’s boomerang, and it has Aang in it—”

“Yeah Sokka,” Toph interrupted. “We got it.”

Aang grinned and scratched his head. “I kinda like that one.”

“The Aang Gang. Ooh, the Fearsome Fivesome!”

“You’re crazy,” Toph muttered as she walked away.

“Wait, Sokka—” Y/N pulled away from him and held up her pointer finger. “Aang Gang — what if we combine it, so it’s just the Gaang? But still with Aang’s name?”

And at that moment, Sokka looked more proud than ever. “Oh, you— you are a genius.”

“Oh, spirits,” Katara groaned. “Why do you insist on encouraging him?”

“You’re just jealous of our name-making abilities,” Sokka said haughtily.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You two are completely ridiculous, you know that? Let’s just get into the city before the trains stop running.”

Y/N and Sokka winked at each other as they all started walking, unable to keep the smile off of her face. She always thought it was amazing — they went through insane things every day, but at the end of it all she was always able to smile because of them. And as her gaze drifted towards the city in the distance, she hoped it would hold true.

She had no idea what Ba Sing Se had in store for her.

-

shit is gonna happen next chapter so i hope you all are READY bc im not

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[fortunatelyfresco]

A Holistic Integration of Type 1 Narcolepsy into the Reading of Moist von Lipwig

Literary Interpretation, Disability, and Finding Yourself Between the Lines

As it goes, "I wrote this for me, but you can read it if you want." It might be a fun ride for anyone who is very interested in Moist von Lipwig, or narcolepsy, or both, and/or anyone who enjoys collecting small details from within a body of work and arranging them into threads that are supportable by the text, without being actually suggested by it.

Personally, I find it very interesting to read the meta behind different headcanons, and see how creators can unintentionally write a character who fits certain criteria. There are only so many traits, after all, and some of them tend to travel in groups! Humans are pattern seekers, etc etc.

The first step of reading Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic is wanting to read Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic. Being narcoleptic myself and relating heavily to Moist, this step was very easy. I invite you to take my hand and come along, at least briefly, if you were interested enough to click the readmore.

Once you have taken that step, things start falling into place. At least they do if you're intimately familiar with narcolepsy, or if you first learn about it in detail through, for instance, a Tumblr post with an agenda :)

I'll break this down symptom by symptom, citing only the ones I both have personal experience with and see textual support for.

I'll be using OverDrive's search function to catalogue "evidence" in (the American editions of) Going Postal, Making Money, and Raising Steam, so I might miss passages that don't use certain keywords.

Please take any statements along the lines of "being narcoleptic means X" with a huge grain of salt. Sometimes it's just more succinct. Narcolepsy can manifest in many different ways, and is still being actively studied. Don't base your entire understanding of it on a fandom essay I wrote to cope with the crushing pressures of capitalism. I have not even fully read the scientific studies linked here as sources.

Here we go! Spoilers abound.

I. Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS) and sleep attacks.

Being narcoleptic means (salt now, please) that your brain does not get adequate rest while you sleep, no matter how much you sleep. This is because of a disturbance in the order and length of REM and NREM sleep phases. This leads to constant exhaustion. Some sources describe narcoleptic EDS as "comparable to [the sleepiness] experienced by a healthy individual who has been sleep-deprived continuously for 48–72 hours."

(Source.)

Sleep attacks can come on gradually or suddenly. In my case, I become irritable and easily overwhelmed, and nothing matters except finding a place to lie down. A more severe attack, under the right circumstances, can put me to sleep while I'm actively trying to stay awake and engaged.

Moist refers to 6:45 am as "still nighttime." He is "allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day" and is "not good at early mornings," and the narration even cites this as "one of the advantages of a life of crime; you didn't have to get up until other people had got the streets aired."

In Going Postal, he repeatedly falls asleep at his desk. I can only find two instances, but the first one describes it as having happened "again," so it happens at least three times over the course of one week. Both of the times I found were after Mr. Pump cleared his apartment, giving him access to a bed, and I can't find any reference to the fire destroying it—just that his office is "missing the whole of one wall." His presumably wooden desk is still intact, even, just "charred."

There's also no build-up either time. No direct narration of the time right before he falls asleep, just retroactive accounting for it.

Which is primarily a function of stories not showing us every boring second, and secondarily one of the smaller ways we're shown Moist being overwhelmed and racing to keep up with himself, but tertiarily it's a great set dressing if you've already decided he's narcoleptic. Sometimes sleep is just a thing that happens, without any deliberate transition. Sometimes you sit down to catch your breath or get some paperwork done, and wake up several hours later.

I've found only one example in GP of Moist waking up in his actual bed at the post office: the morning after being possessed by all the undelivered letters. Presumably either they put him there, or Mr. Pump did.

There are two points in Making Money where Moist, in an effort to be a comforting and/or guiding hand, advises people to get some sleep. First Owlswick Jenkins, and then one of the clerks (Robert) who is worried about Mr. Bent.

I take the optimistic view that this is Moist genuinely caring about these people, not just trying to get them to do what he wants. He has always done some combination of those things (GP opens with him having befriended his jailers, after all), but there's definitely a thread of him learning to treat both himself and those around him more like real people. (See also.)

Looking at this thread through narcolepsy-colored lenses, you get Moist perhaps drawing from his own experiences in an effort to be helpful. In Owlswick or Robert's position, what is something he would want to hear from the man currently in charge of his fate, or at least his job? "Get some sleep."

If we accept this as a pattern, it culminates in Raising Steam, when Moist starts to worry about "Dick Simnel and his band of overworked engineers," fixating particularly on their lack of sleep.

What sleep they got was in sleeping bags, curled up on carriage seats, eating but not eating well, just driven by their watches and their desire to keep the train going.

[...]

"People are going to die if we push them any further," he said to Dick. "You lot would rather work than sleep!"

[...]

The young man swayed in front of him and Moist's tone became gentle. "And I see now that part of my job is to tell you that you need some rest. You've run out of steam, Dick. Look, we're well on the way to Uberwald now, and while it's daylight and we're out of the mountains it's going to be the least risky time to run with minimum crew. We're all going to need our wits about us when we get near the pass. Surely you can take some rest?"

Simnel blinked as if he'd not seen Moist the first time, and said, "Yes, you're right."

And Moist could hear the slurring in the young man's speech, caught him before he fell and dragged him into a sleeping compartment, put him to bed, and noted that the engineer didn't so much fall asleep as somehow flow into it.

Moist then recruits Vimes to help him talk the rest of the engineers into getting some rest. The two of them briefly commiserate about people not realizing how important it is.

"I have to teach that to young coppers. Treasure a night's rest, I always say. Take a nap whenever you can."

"Very good."

II. Insomnia.

This is a lesser-known but very common symptom of narcolepsy. Or a comorbidity, depending on how you look at it. It seems counterintuitive if narcolepsy has been presented to you as "sleeping all the time," but it makes sense once you know it's really a matter of disruption in the brain's ability to regulate sleep cycles.

The case for this symptom is flimsier, and I fully admit I'm just reading my own experience into it. But here are two excerpts from Going Postal that I find quite suitable for my sleepy agenda:

1. "A man of affairs such as he had to learn to sleep in all kinds of situations, often while mobs were looking for him a wall's thickness away."

I latched hard onto this detail the first time I read GP.

At my worst, I could not get more than a couple hours of sleep in my bed. I kept taking naps in the bath because it was one of the few places I could sleep. It seemed to fulfill some of the criteria (isolation, temperature control, etc) that my brain demanded in exchange for playing nice.

We're told over and over again, throughout Moist's books, that he functions best under pressure.

(Brief aside: This is often cited as a reason to interpret Moist as having ADHD, which I'm also fully on board with. Not coincidentally, narcolepsy and ADHD share a few symptoms, have a notable comorbidity rate, and are treated with some of the same medications. Source.)

So again, if you're already inclined to read Moist as narcoleptic, the following is an easy jump:

"Moist thinks he's good at sleeping in strange places under strange circumstances. This is because A) his basis for comparison is a disordered attempt to sleep in normal places under normal circumstances, B) something about danger satisfies his brain into running more smoothly, and C) he's a resourceful person who is 'not given to introspection,' and so is less likely to wonder why his body demands sleep at strange times and more likely to focus on finding a place for that sleep to happen, and chalk this up later as a skill."

And returning briefly to EDS: Why would someone like Moist waste time finding a safe place to sleep while people are actively trying to kill him? At the beginning of GP, he leaves Vetinari's office and immediately goes on the run. In multiple books, when he feels threatened, his brain instinctively launches into complex escape plans. We see him successfully blend into an Ankh-Morpork crowd at least once after becoming a public figure.

So why bother? After all, a safe place to sleep is also a safe place to change clothes, or at least remove whatever distinguishing features he's given himself. Why wouldn't he just become someone else and leave town immediately?

The obvious answer is that sometimes things just happen, and an author doesn't need to know or explain every single detail of a character's past.

I would suggest, though, that one of those things might be Moist reaching a point where sleep is just not optional. A point where he not only doesn't, but can't, care about anything else. Where he is too tired to think straight, too tired to talk his way out of trouble, too tired to even contemplate the long journey from one town to the next.

2. "Moist knew he ought to get some sleep, but he had to be there, too, alive and sparkling."

Sometimes (especially in combination with underlying mental health issues) narcoleptic sleep deprivation can bypass everything I've described so far, and lead straight into a manic state. You won't necessarily find that on Google, but it's been my experience.

That's obviously not what the text is implying. "Alive and sparkling" is just a very relatable description. And we do often see Moist getting away from himself, speaking without thinking, making absurd promises that he justifies immediately afterwards as Just Part Of Being Him, always raising the stakes.

And here are a couple of excerpts from Raising Steam that could be interpreted as Moist being a light sleeper, AKA struggling to get deep sleep:

1. "And slowly Moist shut down, although a part of him was always listening to the rhythm of the rails, listening in his sleep, like a sailor listening to the sounds of the sea."

2. "All Moist's life he'd managed to find a way of sleeping in just about every circumstance and, besides, the guard's van was somehow the hub of the train; and although he didn't know how he did it, he always managed to sleep with half of one ear open."

Moist is exactly the kind of opportunist to see that as a useful tool, isn't he?

III. Hypnagogic and Hypnopompic Hallucinations.

These are hallucinations that come on as you're falling asleep or waking up. They can also happen during REM intrusions while you're awake. My most memorable ones include piano notes, someone calling my name, being trapped in the waves of a large body of water, and a huge truck going over a guard rail and tumbling down a hill. These are often, but not always, accompanied by sleep paralysis (and sleep paralysis is often, but not always, accompanied by hallucinations).

In GP, Moist casually cites his own hallucinations as proof that what is happening at the post office is not one.

"They're all alive! And angry! They talk! It was not a hallucination! I've had hallucinations and they don't hurt!"

Obviously that's not true for everyone, but it's true for Moist, and he has enough experience that he immediately recognizes the difference.

At one point while awake, Moist "[snaps] out of a dream of chandeliers" to realize someone has approached him to talk, while he was busy having visions of what the post office used to look like/could look like again.

Now, that's cheating, because we're probably supposed to assume it's a side effect of being possessed, but... I'm putting it here anyway.

There is also perhaps a case to be made for the tendency of Moist's internal monologue to lapse into extremely specific and prolonged hypotheticals. The lines between hallucinations, waking dreams, and "regular" daydreams have always been very blurry to me. I'm especially curious about the example at the end of Going Postal, which goes like this:

"Look, I know what I'm like," he said. "I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to prove to myself I'm not like Gilt. More than a hammer, you understand? But I'm still a fraud by trade. I thought you knew that. I can fake sincerity so well that even I can't tell. I mess with people's heads—"

"You're fooling no one but yourself," said Miss Dearheart, and reached for his hand.

Moist shook her off, and ran out of the building, out of the city, and back to his old life, or lives, always moving on, selling glass as diamond, but somehow it just didn't seem to work anymore, the flair wasn't there, the fun had dropped out of it, even the cards didn't seem to work for him, the money ran out, and one winter in some inn that was no more than a slum he turned his face to the wall—

And an angel appeared.

"What just happened?" said Miss Dearheart.

Perhaps you do get two...

"Only a passing thought," said Moist.

In-universe... what is Adora reacting to? What did just happen? The fact that these incidents are not isolated to Going Postal is a point against it being some sort of literal timeline divergence caused by The Spirit Of The Post.

So maybe Moist visibly zoned out. Maybe he had some kind of minor but noticeable cataplexy attack (more on those later) as part of a REM intrusion, brought on by the intense emotions he's currently struggling with.

IV. Vivid Dreams.

Again, at least some of this is probably supposed to be part of the possession, but I've been professionally projecting myself onto the surreal dreams of magically afflicted characters for years. Do try this at home.

1. "Moist dreamed of bottled wizards, all shouting his name. In the best tradition of awaking from a nightmare, the voices gradually became one voice, which turned out to be the voice of Mr. Pump, who was shaking him."

2. Moist is uneasy about the Smoking Gnu's plan, and then he has an extremely detailed dream about the Grand Trunk burning down.

This culminates in "Moist awoke, the Grand Trunk burning in his head," followed by a paragraph of him thinking things through and starting to form his own alternative plan, followed immediately by "Moist awoke. He was at his desk, and someone had put a pillow under his head."

So he fell asleep at his desk, woke up from a vivid nightmare, was awake just long enough for a coherent train of thought, and then passed back out. Which once again is not "proof" of anything, but fits the predetermined interpretation like a glove.

V. Cataplexy.

Cataplexy is a sudden loss of muscle control, usually triggered by strong emotions. This is thought to be a facet of REM intrusion—waking instances of the atonia that is meant to stop us from acting out our dreams.

The most well-known manifestation is laughter making your knees buckle, but it's not always that severe. My own attacks range from facial twitching, usually when I'm angry or otherwise extremely upset, to all-over weakness/immobilization and near-collapse when I laugh. My knees have fully buckled once or twice.

This is the biggest stretch. This is the one that is absolutely only there if you've already decided to read entire novels between the lines. It's also not even necessary for the broader headcanon; plenty of people have narcolepsy without cataplexy (or such mild cataplexy that it's never noticeable, or very delayed onset, etc).

However. I am doing this for fun. So I want him to have it. It's also become a major part of how I imagine Moist engaging with emotion, and I'd like to make a case for that.

There are a few scattered references to Moist's legs shaking, or being unsteady, or outright giving way, but there's usually an external physical reason, and/or enough psychological shock to justify it without a medical condition.

The most compelling example I've found so far comes from Moist and Adora's conversation about people expecting Moist to deliver letters to the gods.

"I never promised to—"

"You promised to when you sold them the stamps!"

Moist almost fell off his chair. She'd wielded the sentence like a fist.

"And it'll give them hope," she added, rather more quietly.

"False hope," said Moist, struggling upright.

"Almost fell off his chair" at first sounds like casual hyperbole, but then "struggling upright" implies it was a bit more literal. It's also an accurate description of me recovering from my more severe attacks, supporting myself on a wall or my spouse, or pushing myself up if I've fallen over in bed.

That happens to me multiple times per day, by the way. It doesn't bother me, and I didn't realize there was anything unusual about it for a long time. I barely think about it, except to fondly note that my spouse is good at making me laugh.

Which is to say, even severe cataplexy is not always noticeable or debilitating. Sometimes it absolutely is! It can be downright dangerous, depending on where you are, what you're doing, and whether you have any other conditions it might exacerbate. I don't want to undermine that.

I am just hell-bent on justifying the idea that this fictional character could have repeated attacks throughout the canonical narrative that are so routine they don't merit an explanation, or even a description. Especially for someone who is used to hiding his few distinguishing features behind false ones that are much more memorable. (See also.)

(That link goes to my own fanfic. Sorry.)

On the milder side, between Going Postal and Making Money, there are three instances of Moist's mouth "dropping open" when he's shocked, upset, confused, or some combination of the three. This is the kind of thing that shows up a lot in fiction, but rarely happens so literally in real life.

(There's technically a fourth instance, but I'm not counting it because it seems to be a deliberate choice on his part to convey surprise.)

And then there's laughter. Or rather, there isn't. I could be missing something, but I've searched all three books for instances of laughter and various synonyms (not counting spoken "Ha!"s), and what I've come up with is:

Moist laughs once in Going Postal, when he receives the assignment for the race to Genua.

Two packages were handed over. Moist undid his, and burst out laughing.

There's also an instance earlier in the book where Moist nearly "burst[s] out laughing."

I find the specifics here interesting, and, for our purposes, fortuitous. Cataplexy is complicated and presents differently for everyone. In my case, when laughter triggers an attack, one of the effects (which is sometimes also a cause) is that I laugh very hard, with little or no control. "Burst out laughing" is quite apt.

Let's move on to Making Money, and start with a quick tangent:

Mr. Bent explains that he has no sense of humor due to a medical condition, and that he isn't upset about this and doesn't understand why people feel sorry for him.

Moist immediately starts in with "Have you tried—" before getting cut off by the frustrated Bent.

Out-of-universe, "Have you tried" is such a well-known refrain to anyone with an incurable condition, I'm not at all surprised to find it in a book written by someone who had at least begun the process that would lead to a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's. And Pratchett has certainly never shied away from portraying ignorance in his protagonists.

In-universe, it feels a little odd. Moist's tongue runs away from him all the time, but usually in the form of making ridiculous claims or impossible promises. Moist's entire stock-in-trade is People Skills, and it feels strange for him to make this kind of mistake immediately after being told Mr. Bent is not looking for solutions.

But if one were reading with, for instance, the idea in mind that Moist himself has an incurable condition related to laughter and is enthusiastic about, but still relatively new to, the practice of drawing on his own experiences to help people... it is easy to imagine the gears in his head turning the wrong way, superimposing those experiences over the tail end of Mr. Bent's explanation. Disabled people are not immune to these well-meaning pitfalls.

There is another Mr. Bent moment that I want to discuss, but we'll circle back around to it later.

I found two instances of Moist himself laughing in MM.

1. "He said it with a laugh, to lighten the mood a little."

This is deliberate laughter, employed as a social tactic. A polite chuckle, probably. Not the sort of thing that generally triggers cataplexy.

2. "Moist started to laugh, and stopped at the sight of her grave expression."

The first and only involuntary laugh in MM. It doesn't always trigger attacks...

Which brings us to Raising Steam. Compared to the first two books, Moist laughs a lot here. I count nine instances. Two of them are "burst out laughing"s, a couple include him as part of a group, some of it comes off as deliberate, and some of it doesn't.

I've always seen a lot of... rage in Raising Steam. Combing through it for laughter, I realized Moist's emotions in general are much closer to the surface here, and he's much less concerned about letting people see them. He laughs with friends and acquaintances, he cries in front of strangers, he shouts at Harry King, he has that entire conversation with Dick that boils down to "I'm very worried about you," etc.

Opinions vary wildly and sharply on Raising Steam. I have my own hangups with it, as I do with most books in the series. (Every time I make a new Discworld post, Tumblr passive-aggressively suggests the tag "my kingdom for a discworld character who is normal about women and other species.")

But I like this particular change in Moist, and I choose to see it as character development. He's trading in the professional detachment of a conman for the ability to grow into himself as a person and make meaningful connections.

So, what does that have to do with cataplexy? A lot.

I don't want to get too maudlin, so I'll just say I have plenty of personal experience with emotional repression masking cataplexy symptoms. And so, I believe, does the version of Moist we've put together over the course of this post.

Which brings us back to Making Money, and Mr. Bent. He says something about Moist that I find very interesting: "I do not trust those who laugh too easily."

Unless I've missed something, at that point in the book, Moist has never actually laughed in front of him. And Mr. Bent is a man who pays very close attention to details.

So, what is the in-universe explanation for this? I'd like to propose that Moist is very skilled at seeming to laugh, without actually laughing. He smiles, he's friendly, and he makes other people laugh, which is another thing Bent dislikes about him. He gives the impression of being someone who laughs a lot. (He certainly left that impression on me; I was very surprised by the lack of examples in the first two books.)

Even staying strictly within the bounds of canon, it's easy to imagine why this might have become part of Moist's camouflage in his previous life. He wasn't looking to get attached to anyone, and he didn't want anyone getting inside his head. Engaging with people genuinely enough to laugh at their jokes would run counter to both of those things, but some of his personas still needed to come off as friendly and sociable.

Still working within the canon, it makes sense to assume he's similarly distanced himself from emotion in general. He sits in a cell for several weeks without truly believing he's going to die. He's bewildered when Mr. Pump points out that his schemes have hurt innocent people. He has no idea what to do with his feelings for Adora. Etc.

Interpreting Moist as having cataplexy adds an extra element of danger. Moist thrives on danger, but there's a difference between the thrill of a con and the threat of sudden, uncontrollable displays of vulnerability. And so it becomes even easier to see him stifling his own emotional capacity.*

We meet Moist at a moment of great upheaval. He is forcibly removed from his cocoon of false identities, and pushed out into the world as himself. And we are shown and told throughout Going Postal that he does not know how to be himself. (See also.)

He is repeatedly stymied by his own emotions. He gets tongue-tied and confused around Adora, he snaps at Mr. Pump, he lashes out at Mr. Groat, he gets lost in school flashbacks when he meets Miss Maccalariat. This thread continues in Making Money, where the sudden reappearance of Cribbins immediately rattles him into making an uncharacteristic mistake.

I called him Cribbins! Just then! I called him Cribbins! Did he tell me his name? Did he notice? He must have noticed!

Later in the same book, Moist misses a crucial opportunity to run damage control on the bank's public image... because he's excited to see Adora.

The Moist of GP and MM is not used to feeling things so deeply. It throws him off his game. I'm not at all suggesting cataplexy is the only (or even primary) reason for that, but I do think there's room for it on both sides of the cause and effect equation.

With or without the cataplexy, I find Moist's relative emotional openness in Raising Steam... really nice. (It's a work in progress. He's still getting a handle on anger.)

Cataplexy just adds another dimension. A physical manifestation of emotional vulnerability, which would have been especially untenable for a teenager on the run. Just one more facet of the real, human, fallible Moist von Lipwig who spent years buried beneath Albert Spangler and all the rest.

Another piece of himself that Moist is growing to understand and accept, as he learns to more comfortably be himself.

The Moist of Going Postal runs into a burning building to save lives without fully understanding why he wants to, and justifies it on the fly as an essential part of the role he's trying to play.

The Moist of Raising Steam mindlessly throws himself under a train to save two children, and then blows up at Harry King about the lack of safety regulations. Freshly traumatized by the murder of several railway workers and his own violent, vengeful response to it, he still offers, in the face of Harry's own grief, to be the one to inform their families. On a long and dangerous journey with plenty of moving parts to think about, he worries about Dick Simnel and the other engineers, and pushes them to take better care of themselves.

He also meets a bunch of kids who nearly derailed a train as part of a childish scheme. His admonishment is startlingly vivid.

"Can you imagine a railway accident? The screaming of the rails and the people inside and the explosion that scythes the countryside around when the boiler bursts? And you, little girl, and your little friends, would have done all that. Killed a trainload of people."

[...]

"I'll square this with the engine driver, but if I was you I'd get my pencil and turn any clever ideas you have like this into a book or two. Those penny dreadfuls are all the rage in the railway bookshops."

Maybe what he is also saying, between the lines, is:

I left home at 14 and began a life of smoke and mirrors. I was empty inside, and I thought everyone else was, too. It was all fun and games, and then a man made of clay told me I was killing people. Nip it in the bud, child. Write books.

------------

*There are studies suggesting that in addition to deliberately employed "tricks," people with cataplexy may experience physiological reactions in the brain meant to inhibit laughter. (Source 1, Source 2.)

Most of the information here is way over my head, but that second link also says "one region of the brain called the zona incerta (meaning 'zone of uncertainty') was only activated during laughter in people with narcolepsy, not in controls. Research on the zona incerta in animals suggests that it also helps to control fear-associated behavior."

The linked article about that (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-018-03581-6) is also over my head, but I would certainly describe Moist von Lipwig as having unusual fear responses.**

**Narcolepsy is a fun roller-coaster ride of constant scientific discoveries about exactly which parts of your brain are paying too much attention, not paying enough attention, or trying to eat each other.

[writingsfromstarfleet]

Out of Place - Saru

♫ - To Belong - Daughter

Never were you one for fitting in, or making yourself known to others. You were, with no error, quiet and to yourself. It wasn't a bad thing, you did enjoy it. Being on your own was something that seemed a given to you. But, you did still wish, ever so slightly, that you could socialise a little more. Thus, Starfleet had not seemed like the sort of career you could be interested in. It did, however, give you the opportunity to venture out and do things you otherwise may ignore.

Such things didn't only include missions to new planets or studying new life forms, but also meeting new people. Whether they may have been new species or potential Federation allies, or even more simple, your own fellow crew members, it was all the same. Which is why when your career path had led you to the USS Discovery, you were over the moon.

Discovery was a relatively new ship in the fleet, boasting some nice technology, too. A science vessel made for exploration and studies, you felt it was the perfect home for you. And how right you were. You had slotted in just fine with your role, often times spending hours upon hours in the labs by yourself. Still, you were happy on the job, at least.

Sitting in the mess hall one day, PADD in hand, you sat with a snack and drink trying to focus on your report read-up. The bustle around you that day was particularly strenuous, though you couldn't pinpoint why; rarely did it bother you. Trying to shake it off, the thoughts running through your head weren't leaving. How you wished to be a part of those groups, all sat round tables, laughing and joking with one another. Sure, you talked to your fellow crewmates on shift and shared banter here and there, but you wanted that, too. Someone to sit with on your break and someone to talk with. Sighing, you turned your attention back to the PADD.

"I assume this seat is not taken?" A steady voice spoke from in front of you, and you glanced up to see your Commander, Saru, stood there. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you quickly pulled yourself from your thoughts.

"Um no, it's not, please have a seat, Commander," you managed out with a smile. He sat, tucking his long legs under the default human-sized tables with little ease. You stifled a giggle as he tutted to himself. "How are you today?"

"Quite well, thank you. Ensign Y/N, isn't it?" You answered Saru's question with a nod, and he made haste with his salt, tipping it rather regally into his tea. You quirked a brow.

"Salt, that's a new one," you giggled, and he smiled ever so slightly.

"Perhaps you will try it one day, you may be surprised as to the taste."

You sat with him in silence for a little while, relishing in the feeling of not being alone for once. Still, though you knew he must have a good reason for sitting himself across from you, however unclear he was making it. The silence had continued until Saru had broken it.

"Y/N," he began, pushing his cup back slightly as a signal he had finished his lunch. "If I may, would I be correct in saying that you're feeling... what would the phrasing be.. ah, out of place among the crew?"

His question had thrown you ever so, and you raised a brow, impressed with his deduction. Nodding, you allowed the commander to continue.

"I too felt like that at one point. As though I would never integrate fully with the people on board this ship. I was, in my eyes, too different. I feared they may never accept me among them as a friend. Though now I have seen how wrong I was. This crew are beyond welcoming to everyone, and each and every one of them will open their arms. I know what it is like to feel different, to feel like you do not belong, and I know what it is like to overcome that, too. I know that you have it in you to do so, and I hope you take away from today that courage."

Simply in awe, you sat with your lips parted, taking in each word Saru had said. You weren't aware you could be read so easily, by none other than your commander, to top it off. Another silence surrounded you.

"Thank you, sir," you had said quietly, allowing the moments to pass, and he shook his head.

"Not needed. As long as you take something away from this, and realise your value and worth on this ship, that's enough. I'll see you."

With that, Saru stood and left with a curt nod to you, and you sat pondering his speech. He was right, there was nothing discerning you from the rest of the crew nor was there anything from stopping you hanging around with them. Except yourself.

You stood yourself, carrying your drink in your hand and making your way across the mess hall. You reached a small table, hand on the back of the spare seat, a smile on your face. Looking up at you were the faces of Keyla, Joann, Rhys and Airiam. They looked at you with warmth mirroring your own, and then you knew your Commander was right; you were exactly where you should be.

"I assume this seat isn't taken?"

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 8: 1997 Broadway 10th Anniversary

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. After a few consecutive editions focused on regional choices, we're finally back to official libretto distinctions. Specifically, this edition covers a substantial rewrite that occured in 1997.

To fully understand the circumstances in which this rewrite took place, it is useful to look at some background information. The original Broadway production of Les Miserables was definitely not its most popular production from an audience perspective. The cast tended to be judged as inferior to touring and international productions. Moreover, cast members often stayed in Broadway productions for very long time periods, leading many to question the show's freshness.

Consequently, there was a large-scale firing to the point that, in January 1997, every principal cast member was let go except for Christopher Innvar (Javert). For the next month and a half, the third national tour cast would perform on Broadway.

March 12, 1997 marked exactly ten years since the original Broadway production opened. To mark this occasion (and perhaps to direct attention away from the questionable ethics of essentially firing an entire workforce on short notice), a new cast would officially take over from the third national tour cast on this day. Not only this, but the show which this new cast would perform was freshened significantly (an update that would also be applied to all existing and new replica productions worldwide soon afterwards). The blocking was adjusted to give off more energy, the lighting was digitized and made more complex, the sound effects were made more realistic, the sets and costumes were refurbished and in some cases changed... and the libretto received many edits. Let's get into what actually was changed...

Oh, and as a side note, not all of the changes were made simultaneously. Most were, but a few small edits (mostly musical cuts) were made later in 1997. I suspect that, in acknowledgement of Cameron Mackintosh's reservations prior to the original London productions as well as a warning of what would come in a few years' time, those cuts may have been made in order to reduce overtime costs to crew members. That is only a theory of mine, however; please take it with a grain of salt.

Anyway, let's get our analysis started!

1997 Update #1

The first libretto change (in a sense) occurs during "Lovely Ladies". Granted, this is a change that had already been applied unofficially in the Broadway and West End productions; however, I'm not sure if it was ever used in the US Tour previously. Originally this was the lyrical sequence:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes’ lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn’t there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn’t take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what’s a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors’ lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what’s a lady for?

The sequence was finally officially replaced with the following exchange (that was more or less invented for the 1992 UK tour):

(PROSTITUTE)

God I’m weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding ever stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you, dear

If you can’t keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

Interestingly, this officially version uses "Will the bleeding ever stop" as the West End and Broadway production previously did (as opposed to the 1992 "Will the bleeding never stop"); however, it also uses "you, dear" from the 1992 edit, as opposed to "you here" as had been used in the West End and Broadway productions. However, many individuals continued to sing "you here" for many years to come.

In "Fantine's Arrest", Bamatabois originally declares:

You've got some nerve, you little whore

You've got some gall!

The 1992 UK tour introduced the following variation, which had also been used in the West End production prior to this edit:

You've got some sauce, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

The 1997 libretto combined these two versions into the following line:

You've got some nerve, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

However, the original "Little whore" was maintained in the libretto as an alternate lyric. I do like how "little whore" actually rhymes with the preceding line ("I won't pay more"), though "ugly slut" does carry more threat. The West End production went with "ugly slut" after this libretto change, while other productions stuck to "little whore" for the time being.

Note that the rest of "Fantine's Arrest" plays out the same as it had since 1986, and did not include any of the other 1992 UK tour variations.

Right off the bat, "The Runaway Cart" is different in this version. The scene now begins with a sound effect of a horse's neigh, a nice little touch that brings one far more in the moment than one might otherwise be (particularly since modern audiences likely wouldn't immediately envision a horse when hearing about a crash). Moreover, the original yell of "Look out! It's a runaway cart!" has been eliminated in favor of more improvised remarks.

The townspeople's remarks mostly are consistent with the 1992 UK tour edit, with one exception. This is how the UK tour lyrics (which were also used in the West End production) went:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

It’ll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

The version used on Broadway and in the US tour in the mid-90s was as follows:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

At the risk of your life

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

The 1997 libretto cemented the scene as follows:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

It’s that load, it'll fall

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

I really like how much clearer in meaning the changed line is, although a part of me still has a soft spot for the rhyme scheme of the UK tour.

The crowd's response to Valjean's plea for help has been changed. Since 1987, this is how it went:

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

The old man is a goner for sure

It will kill you as well

The 1997 libretto edited the penultimate line:

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

If you touch it the whole thing will fall

It will kill you as well

I suppose the revised lyric makes it clearer what exactly the danger is. On the flip side, though, the line "It will kill you as well" feels a bit less natural. Originally it meant "it will kill you as well as the other man who will be killed"; a fairly natural progression. Now, though, it essentially means "it will kill you as well as falling". This does make sense, but it doesn't really sound like a phrasing any real person would actually use.

The rest of the cart crash scene plays out as it did in the original version (not the UK tour version).

"Who Am I?" starts out differently right off the bat. These are the original opening lyrics:

He thinks that man is me

He knew him at a glance

The 1997 libretto uses these lyrics instead:

He thought that man was me

Without a second glance

The revised lyrics make ever-so-slightly more sense, since "knew him at a glance" implies a degree of correctness that obviously is false in this context. Having said that, I do slightly prefer the present tense of the original, since the fact that this false belief is continuous is integral to Valjean's dilemma. The revised lyrics give it a sense of the past that isn't really appropriate to the context.

Soon afterwards, a small lyrical edit makes the implications of the dilemma itself quite a bit different. Originally, after reflecting on the future employment of his works, Valjean repeated the same lyrics he sung earlier:

If I speak, I am condemned

If I stay silent, I am damned

The 1997 libretto tweaked the remark a bit:

If I speak, they are condemned

If I stay silent, I am damned

Only two short words are changed, yet the substance of his worry is completely different! Originally, Valjean's reservations are based primarily on how he would be viewed if he failed to provide his workers with the employment they need. Now, however, he is much more selfless, and is actually worried directly by their well-being. Much more appropriate given that Valjean is supposed to be such a redeemed man!

The West End production had once given Valjean the "You know where to find me!" line after "Who Am I?" and the Australian tour had given him the line "You will find me at the hospital St. John!" However, these were not official libretto remarks, and at least since 1987 he officially remained silent after his high note. This changed in the 1997 libretto, in which an optional line based heavily on the Australian tour one follows the number: "You will find me at the hospital!"

For the next five years, American productions generally would generally the line while, ironically given the production history, the West End show would not.

Since 1986 or so, the "Confrontation" number began with a bar of instrumentals, before Javert began his "Valjean, at last..." line. No more; the 1997 libretto has him begin singing acapella. Only during the second syllable of "Valjean" do the instrumentals start.

The next edit can be heard during the preamble to "Master of the House". A few lines are adjusted among the inn customers. Originally this is how the scene went:

Landlord over here

Where's the bloody man?

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more

Or my old man is gonna do me in!

The 1997 libretto made it as follows:

Where's the wretched man?

Landlord over here

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more

Or my old man is gonna do me in!

I suppose the change from "bloody" to "wretched" was probably intended to make the show more accessible to non-British audience, since "bloody" does not seem to be a word frequently used in America or other countries. (Weirdly though, Thenardier keeps his "always pissed as newts" line from earlier; one would expect the word to be replaced with "drunk" or something along those lines!)

The change in order of the first two lines in the excerpt I quoted strikes me as odd. The original sequence of lines allows "man" and "gin" to form of a sort of off-rhyme, something lost with the 1997 order of lines. Did the writers decide that the off-rhyme was so awkward that it would sound better if they just didn't try at all? Who knows...

What is probably this libretto's most significant change in the entire musical happens right before the "Waltz of Treachery". While the original Barbican run had a rather extensive Well Scene, since the West End transfer the "Waltz of Treachery" just began with Valjean and Cosette's humming duet to the tune of "Castle on a Cloud". A short but lovely little scene was added between Valjean and Cosette in the 1997 libretto:

(VALJEAN)

Hush now, do not be afraid of me

Don't cry, show me where you live

Tell me my child, what is your name

(INSTRUMENTALS)

(COSETTE)

I'm called Cosette

(VALJEAN)

(*spoken*) Cosette...

The usual humming duet immediately follows. This scene gives some much-appreciated context to the "Waltz of Treachery", and to Valjean and Cosette's relationship as a whole. Honestly it feels a little incomplete to me nowadays when I listen to the audio of pre-1997 performances of the show. Valjean actually meeting Cosette seems like such an important detail to include! John Caird agreed with me evidently. To quote page 143 of 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables:

"If ever there is an amended English version of the show he would like to reinstate the Cosette-Valjean meeting. 'It was beautifully written - one of the most moving scenes in the show,' he says. 'It was taken out for technical reasons, but the well scene was moving and could have stayed.'"

It's heartwarming to see that Caird got his wish. I do wonder what exactly those technical reasons were, and whether or not the revised staging may explain why it could finally be reinstated.

On the flipside, there is a noticeable cut after the "Waltz of Treachery". After Valjean's "There's a castle just waiting for you", the 1987 libretto has about sixteen seconds of instrumentals to the tune of the number, followed by a reprise of Valjean and Cosette's humming duet. This is in turn followed by about eighteen more seconds of instrumentals, which transition into the "Look Down" number.

The 1997 libretto removes the reprise of the humming duet. Now, after "There's a castle just waiting for you", the eighteen latter seconds of instrumentals immediately play, and "Look Down" begins right afterwards. Although this leads to a more energetic change of scenery, I must say that the Thenardier's inn segment of the show feels a bit unresolved without the closing recollection of "Castle on a Cloud".

After Gavroche's opening lyrics to "Look Down", there was originally a musical sequence which played and then was repeated twice before the argument between the beggar woman and the prostitute. However, the 1997 libretto reduced this part so that it is only repeated once.

The same number soon takes a cue from the original pre-Broadway script. After the exchange between the beggar woman and the prostitute, this was the original exchange (which was still being used in the West End production at the time). Each line is a solo, with the latter one being sung by a male and the other three by females:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen, dearie

Something's gotta give

However, the Broadway production had changed it to an ensemble piece:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now or

Something's gotta give

The 1997 libretto brought it back to solo lines, once again with women singing the first three lines and a man singing the last:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now

Something's gotta give

I've already noted in the past that I like the scene better as an ensemble piece. Oh well... It also slightly bugs me that the amount of syllables so much less naturally given that the third line loses a syllable. As we'll get into in later editions of this blog, a lot of producers apparently agreed with me, because a lot of productions slightly edited the exchange!

A more subtle difference is audible later in "Look Down". Previously, the line "Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name" was sung by the ensemble along with the rest of the "See our children fed..." segment. However, the 1997 libretto changed it into a solo line sung by a single beggar woman (despite the rest of the segment remaining an ensemble piece).

This edit was made to account for a change in staging. Prior to 1997, Marius and Enjolras stood on the ground, and the beggars began surrounding them while singing the ensemble piece. It made since for the entire thing to be a group effort. However, since 1997, Marius and Enjolras instead stand on the second level of the set, where they sing their lines to the beggars down below. The beggar woman with the "Something for a crust of bread" line walks by them on the set's second level, explaining why she along sings the line now.

As a side note, the 1987 Australian tour had previously made this exact same lyrical change. This makes me wonder if that production made a similar staging change earlier.

In "The Robbery", after Thenardier's "No mistakes, my dears!" there is originally a bar of instrumentals before Mme. Thenardier starts singing. Post-1997, she starts singing immediately after Thenardier finishes singing his line.

A change in the music was made to "The Robbery" alongside a staging change later in the number. Prior to 1997, Thenardier's con job was staged with him standing with a cane and hiding his right leg, making him look like he was missing a leg. This strikes me as an odd holdover from the pre-Broadway lyrics, in which the actual substance of his plea reflects his missing leg. However, the 1997 staging made it so that he is sitting down while turning the crank on a music box. The instrumentals to this part of the musical were simplified and made more synthetic in order to sound as though they were coming from the music box. I am not a fan of this change at all; it's far too self-aware for me to take the scene remotely seriously.

A change to "Red and Black" that was already widely used before this point was solidified into the show. Instead of opening with the first chords of the number, it now officially opens now with the sting that was introduced in the 1992 UK tour and which was later adapted into Broadway, the third national tour, and most international productions. For many years post-1997, it can be heard in every replica production.

To quote myself from part five of this blog:

"If I’m not mistaken, this musical addition was placed in to account for a change in staging. Originally the number began with the barricade set sliding off-stage, revealing the ABC cafe set behind it. However, around the time of this tour the blocking was adjusted. Now, the turntable instead revolved at the beginning of this number, revealing the ABC cafe set on the other end of the turntable and allowing the barricade set to double as the walls of the cafe. I believe the opening sting was added to allow time for this slightly more elaborate staging."

An extremely subtle difference occurs later during "Red and Black". Originally, Enjolras sings:

The color of the world

Is changing day by day

However, since 1997 he instead sings:

The colors of the world

Are changing day by day

This is a tiny change, to the point that it took me probably a few dozen listens of both pre-1997 and post-1997 audios to pick up on the distinction. Small as it may be, though, it's a very welcome edit. Given that the song revolves around more than one color (to the point that both colors are literally in the title), I honestly find it baffling that the lyric was ever written in the singular, let alone that it managed to hold onto that version for over a decade!

"Lamarque is Dead" is edited so that its lyrics are now consistent with the 1992 UK tour ones, as well as West End performances after that tour. Originally the lyrics were as follows:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

It’s a rallying cry that will reach every ear

In the death of Lamarque we will kindle the flame

They will see that the day of salvation is near

The time is here…

However, the 1997 libretto made them into what the West End and UK tour productions were already using:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

With the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes

From their candles of grief we will kindle our flame

On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricades rise

The time is here…

I generally prefer the revised lyrics, as I've discussed in earlier editions of this blog.

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" contains a couple of edits. Originally, Thenardier sings to Brujon:

You shut your mouth

Give me your hand

Post-1997, he instead sings:

You shut your mouth

You'll get what's yours

This edit was another that was partially made for the sake of a staging stage. In the original blocking, Thenardier and the gang are trying to climb over Valjean's gate, and Brujon would literally be using his hand to help Thenardier out. However, the 1997 staging changes things so that the gang is trying to pick the lock. This is much less of a group effort for obvious reasons.

Additionally, the new lyric has slightly more threatening undertones, given its implications of either positive or negative outcomes depending on how helpful Brujon actually is.

Later in the number, after Eponine's scream, Thenardier's reaction takes some cues from the original libretto. Pre-Broadway, these were the lyrics (which were still used in the West End at the time):

Make for the sewers, don't wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Post-1987, this was the sequence instead:

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don't wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The 1997 edit essentially combined elements of those two versions:

Make for the sewers, go underground

Leave her to me, don't wait around

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

So the lines remain in the post-1987 form, but they are ordered in their pre-1987 form. I've already mentioned that I prefer the 1987 ordering of things, though the 1997 version isn't bad either.

Compared to the first act, the second one has much fewer changes. The first one comes not until the "First Attack" sequence. Before 1997, this was the students' response to their first victory:

(LESGLES)

See how they run away

(GRANTAIRE)

By God, we've won the day

The 1997 libretto changed it to the following:

(LESGLES)

See how they turn and run

(GRANTAIRE)

And so the war was won

I admit I prefer the original lyrics to this one. Grantaire's revised lyrics lack the incredulous spirit of the earlier ones, and the almost narrator-esque out-of-the-moment quality to his post-1997 lyrics is grating.

Later, prior to "Drink with Me", Enjolras speech is slightly changed. Originally he declares:

We must be ready for the fight

For the final fight

Let no one sleep tonight

The 1997 libretto makes his words as follows:

We must be ready for the fight

For tomorrow's fight

Let no one sleep tonight

Although "the final fight" has a climactic air that "tomorrow's fight" lacks, I suppose it is more realistic that Enjolras would have no way of knowing whether there will be more to come after the next battle.

Grantaire's lyrics in "Drink with Me" are edited a bit. Since 1987, this was what he sung:

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Can it be your death means nothing at all?

Is your life just one more lie?

The 1997 libretto edited it into the following:

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Can it be your life means nothing at all?

Will your death be one more lie?

Not terrible, but in my opinion the previous lyrics were far more effective. It makes much more sense to me for one's life to be described as a lie than one's death. The original lyric implies that the students' deaths are for nothing, and that their lives are meaningless. I suppose that is still the message of the revised lyrics, but they strike me as a bit obtuse for my taste.

That's it for the edits in this part (unless you count the official addition of the "You raised my child in love" and "I'll lead you to salvation" variation in the epilogue, which had already been used worldwide for a few years anyway).

But this did not mark the end of the chapter of the Les Mis saga. As I've mentioned earlier, a few edits were made in later months of 1997. So let's look at:

1997 Update #2

The first variation that can be heard in this version occurs during "Lovely Ladies". The "God, i'm weary..." sequence is originally sung in exactly the same tune as the rest of "Lovely Ladies". However, this edit changed it into a slightly different variation of the tune. In my opinion this is a definite improvement. As I mentioned in a previous edition of this blog, while thematically the sick prostitute scene is more fitting than the scene it replaced, it can potentially feel awkward when it's the sole part of the song in its tune not to feature the phrase "lovely ladies". Putting it in a different tune makes its out-of-place vibe feel intentional. In a way, its slightly different sound cements the idea that the prostitute is sick and is not functioning in the same way she ordinarily would.

The first of a few cuts occurs before "Eponine's Errand". Originally, it begins with a few seconds of instrumentals before Eponine starts singing. However, starting with this edit, Eponine begins singing acapella. Not until her first verse is finished do any instrumentals come in. I slightly prefer the version with instrumentals, but it still works alright.

The next cut happens during the opening barricade scene to the second act. Originally, Lesgles' "They will do what is right" is followed by a few seconds of instrumentals before Marius sings his "Hey little boy..." line. However, this edit removed those instrumentals, meaning Marius starts right after Lesgles stops singing. Truth be told I've always found that scene boring, so I can't say I object to cutting it down by a few seconds!

The last cut occurs after "Dawn of Anguish" and before Gavroche's death scene. The "Drink with Me" reprise after the former number originally is followed by an instrumental reprise of the chorus of "Castle on a Cloud". This is then followed by the closing notes to "Drink with Me". However, this edit makes it so that the reprise ends quickly, going right to the ending notes of "Drink with Me" without any "Castle on a Cloud" chords. I definitely prefer the original; it feels so much more emotional and reflective. I've been told it also holds some context to the original book of Les Miserables, though I don't know much more given that I have not yet read the book.

That just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[meggannn]

shepard/garrus?

oh boy, sorry for the late response! I always end up posting these things and then going to read/take a nap/play a game or something. anyway writing this up took two hours, i hope it is even slightly interesting to read. cut because this is looooooong

What made you ship it?

I think I was interested in this ship before I even played ME. I was just like “I know Shepard is a character and an alien named Garrus is a character, and people draw porn of them together.” because I think it’s reasonable to say it’s one of, if not the most, popular ship in the fandom, or at least in ME’s tumblr fandom? and the way people talked about it, I knew their tropes were #banter, #battle couple, #partnerships, and... and as we’ve learned from royai, I am a bit weak to those tropes (assuming I like both of the characters). the way people talked about them also from a “best friends” angle—which is sort of forced in-game in a way that seems strange to me now—was also a plus in its favor at the time. (if they get together, I do see their friendship/companionship, in whatever form, in some ways integral to their romance—unless you’re playing full far-right renegade who’s like a xenophobe and hate-fucking Garrus, I guess?—but Bioware also kind of shoehorned Garrus into that best-friend role and that’s a topic for another day.)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

(my friend will hit me if I say “partnerships” again) I’m gonna talk about the way I play my Shepard now, because so much is dependent on the unique Shepard. for Lydia’s journey over the series, I see a large part of her journey as basically a study of her (often self-inflicted) loneliness. and she never entirely breaks her habits of self-isolation, but the events of the series force her to be vulnerable in a way she would prefer not to be in front of a crew, or, y’know, ever. Garrus becomes an integral part of that story to help her break her out of these bad habits (all of the crew does, particularly also Ashley for my Shep), but to my eyes, the story of “Shepard and Garrus’s relationship” is also one of mutual respect, burden-sharing, and sanity and morality checks.

I don’t think of their “mentor” relationship in ME1 very often mostly because I don’t think it was done particularly well, but for all its faults, I do like how naturally the jump from “subordinate” in ME1 to “ally” in ME2 felt; once you meet Garrus on Omega you feel more on the same footing as two friends greeting each other because you’ve both recently been through trauma and the sight of a friendly face in a station full of hostiles is so unexpectedly welcome that it lets them both hope things will be okay for a minute. starting from that moment, Garrus becomes one of the few people who can see “under” her mask, I guess: partly because he’s one of the few combatants from the SR-1 who knows Shepard well and sees who she is both on the field and onboard the SR-2, with the ability to compare both to the times of “before you died”; partly because he has trauma response training and recognizes it in others even if he doesn’t in himself; partly because his loyal personality makes him sensitive to wonder how she’s dealing with being resurrected; and also partly because they’ve both gone through similar things. namely, getting your squad killed and blaming yourself for it, and it possibly being your fault (BioWare is inconsistent on what Shepard’s role was on Akuze, but in ME1 she has the chance to reply that she was responsible for getting them out safely, and failed).

necessity forces Shepard to adapt to things like being effectively forced to work for terrorists; being isolated from her support system; being resurrected and feeling like a stranger in her own body; later, getting decommissioned for making an incredibly difficult call to save the galaxy; watching your homeworld burn; being forced into a political role negotiating high stakes you don’t know how to play; being told you’re the spearhead of a galactic war; doing all of this without a full crew complement; the list goes on. those are all, on their own, incredibly isolating, traumatic experiences, and my Shepard’s not emotionally sane at the best of times. (emotionally stable, perhaps, only in the most literal of terms, at least on the surface. she’s like a rock when shit hits the fan. emotionally sane, no, for that reason and more.)

the tables have turned, and Garrus ends up becoming a large part of helping her regain agency in most if not all of those things: in ME2 he was a former crew member she trusted, and he was eager to work for her and be distracted from his failures on Omega. over in the battery, he is himself recovering from a major injury (like Shepard) and going through the aftermath of a bloodbath he feels responsible for (like Shepard), working on a crew that holds him at arm’s length, that he also... arguably... didn’t have much choice in joining (like Shepard—I’m assuming he wasn’t held hostage and joined voluntarily after waking up, but lbr this is unconfirmed). their reasons are different and varied, but they don’t realize until much later that they have found each other at the most opportune time, providing a sense of stability for each other, and also, frankly, sanity and morality checks.

in ME3, he steps into this role more fully because he’s become more disciplined, is doing work firmly in his wheelhouse, and paired up against Shepard struggling with their positions somewhat reversed from ME1: him more confident and her now completely out of her element, floundering with her place on a galactic scale. without Garrus—and Chakwas, and Joker, and Tali, and later the loyalty of the entire SR-2—the story of ME would be a tragedy, and it would end shortly in ME2; it’d be the story of how my Shepard slowly went insane being forced to fight boogeymen under a terrorist banner. Garrus isn’t, like, the keeper of her sanity, but their ability to check each other, and see themselves in the eyes of each other, provides stability and occasionally a bit of a wake-up call to both of them. when they’re both vulnerable, they both feel most seen, and most understood, by an alien that listens.

one angle of this ship that highly interests me at the moment, along with the above, is that while it’s not illegal for them to be together, it’s still... a really bad fucking idea lmao. (I could make the argument that it’s a bad idea for Shepard to be in any relationship with their crew but I think there are a few ships—Garrus, Tali, any Alliance crew at all—that realistically would be huge political clusterfucks.) so overcoming personal insecurity and fear of the unknown to acknowledge interest in each other, and the desire to become an item, getting roadblocked by a reality wake-up call with the fact that 1) she’s his boss, 2) Garrus comes from a society where station matters, like, sort of a lot and it even determines your job and how much legal power you have, 3) the potential political blowback (which would be ENORMOUS because lbr the hierarchy may not care about what turians do in off-hours but they WOULD care about the superior/subordinate thing, the human thing, the fact that they’re doing this while a war is going on. basically one of their best agents is on the Normandy to negotiate their interests and they’re basically at the whims of their relationship the whole time)... it’s a lot! all of that sort of makes it tragic, but I’m curious to see how they’d overcome it.

anyway, all of that is where I’m coming from when I think or write about this ship, but there’s a lot more I’m not mentioning here. there are a lot of juxtapositions that in my head that I’ve either added or extrapolated from canon that also interest me about this pairing. Garrus is a former cop, as is his father; Lydia is a poor kid who used to be in a gang out of necessity. Garrus is a turian with often traditionalist thinking; Shepard is a human who has much less sociopolitical power than him, even if she is his superior on the Normandy. both of them are roughly as old as the First Contact War, when their people were at each other’s throats not thirty years ago. Garrus idolizes Spectrehood while Lydia hates it, feeling it was forced on her. they can’t eat the same food. and yet despite all of that, and the fact that they need translators to communicate, they manage to understand each other when a lot of the world around them doesn’t.

god this is not even the full list of it. anyway I could go on but I’ll stop there lol.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

oh jesus, so much. I’m a grouchy and picky shipper, be warned.

pining can always make my ships more interesting, and imo it’s a consistent part of any ship of Shepard’s, considering it’s wildly inappropriate and unprofessional for her to be fucking any subordinate, so I think more consideration could be given to shakarian in the “we shouldn’t be having a thing and oh also you’re an alien and I’m kind of scared of both your government and your body” angle! I hope to explore that a bit with a fic I’m writing (if I ever finish it, god).

I hate the flavor of fandom!shakarian where Shepard romanced Kaidan in ME1 then felt “betrayed” when he’s confused and hurt on Horizon, so she gets with Garrus as like... revenge? idk. and then Garrus usually develops this bias against Kaidan as a sort of author mouthpiece (which is inconsistent with his characterization cause Garrus is nothing but pleased to have Kaidan back on the SR-2 in ME3!) and takes up the anti-Kaidan crusade cause K ~questioned the commander~ (since when does Garrus fall over himself defending a superior from criticism?) like, idk. I think Garrus can be sensitive to the fact that that reuniting must’ve been painful for Shepard, but also be aware that it was also really painful for Kaidan because all of Kaidan’s complicated feelings about Shepard’s resurrection were, realistically, things Garrus should’ve felt too! this trope is very popular but just feels like manufactured drama for drama’s sake, idk, I’m also not big on love triangles so. I would much rather people just rescue Ashley on Virmire and avoid the whole thing rather than have previously-romanced Kaidan around in ME3 for the sole purpose of forcing him to watch Shepard/Garrus being happy together tbh.

I think full goody-goody paragon Shepard is too preachy to make a good partner for Garrus and full shoot-anyone-in-my-way renegade Shepard encourages and emboldens his worst tendencies (and Castis Vakarian is right to disapprove of them). most people end up playing some combination of both, or if they do settle in one camp or the other, usually there is some sense of realism where Shepard doesn’t play nice/naive or play mean all the time, so it’s rare I see either of those kinds of extreme Shepards depicted, but in general if there is a Shepard that is so far in one direction it seems illogical to me that they ever stay together.

I think wanting a mShep romance for Garrus is a pretty welcome idea in fandom, but adding onto that, I think Garrus should’ve been romanceable in ME3 for players who changed their minds on other romances or want to play slow-burn romances! we had it for Kaidan—and should’ve had it for Ash—so (pounds fist on desk) Garrus too imo!

I hate the canon get-together because Shepard walking into the battery and asking “do you want to fuck” feels very tailored to the players who want to romance Garrus, not to who Commander Shepard is, imo. it lacked all of the subtlety and depth of some other romances—until the scene of Garrus coming to her cabin with a wine bottle, at least, cause I do like that scene, but anyway, I dislike the actual get-together.

just in general, I’m a stick in the mud, so my favorite iteration of this ship is where Shepard is resolutely professional, and the challenge of it becomes him getting her to open up, not the other way around. like, I think on some level every iteration of Shepard is a bit of a lunatic/eccentric, because you have to be to do the things they do, but I like to see their flirting with less of her calling him “big guy” (not sure where that came from, is that in canon? I must’ve missed it, but personally I don’t like it) and more of Garrus making wisecracks in the canteen while he’s talking to Joker, but he’s looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and he really said his joke with the aim of making her laugh, and as she’s reading her datapad she hears him, and even when she wants to chuckle she stops himself and just smirks cause she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a laugh, but he sees her lips twitch and feels his heart flutter. that. I want more of that.

oh lastly, I hate “Shepard takes Vakarian clan markings” in any iteration. there is no canon relation to turians being poc—in fact I’d argue they have sociopolitical privilege real-world bipoc do not—but the concept of social face markings, face tattoos, etc., is rooted in non-white cultures and with the fact that 1) turians had a literal civil war over the territories those markings represent, 2) we don’t even know if marriage is how markings are shared or if non-turians are ever invited to wear them in the first place, 3) most of the art of this trend, lbr, is of mostly white Shepards in wedding dresses and blue face paint... all that combined just makes me frown and scroll faster every time I see it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bipoc Shepard with Vakarian face markings in fic/art, and that to me is very telling (not because they should have them, but because bipoc fans who make bipoc Shepards usually recognize when a racially-coded trope is uhhhhh not so great to appropriate for someone not of that group).

[rosemary-is-in-pesterquest]

are you still takin ship asks? bc all 4 of the Midnight Crew (specifically the crew as seen in the intermission) as a polycule, plus Slick has one feral girlfriend who might someday kill him (but until then he gets off on the attempts), and one soft girlfriend who actually has a lot of work to do because she doesn't want him to die. classic "I can fix him/I can make him worse" split. and the rest of the crew sits around and watches with popcorn. (Droog is actually entertained by the drama, Boxcars is concerned but isn't about to touch that, and Deuce is like "ooh popcorn!")

in terms of quadrants, the main 4 of the crew are mostly red, with some black thrown into a couple of the dynamics for spice... but even Slick/Droog, arguably the most contentious pair in the crew, doesn't achieve the same animosity as Slick/Snowman, which is pure pitch. Slick/Paint is pure red, but Ms Paint also plays ashen hardball with Slick and Snowman. Droog sometimes helps, but mostly by being the advice guy that each of them individually whine to while Ms Paint deals more with both at once. (Droog and Ms Paint also sometimes just go out for coffee to talk about those two, because auspistices need support sometimes.) also, I like to think that Snowman and Ms Paint start having their own dynamics with the rest of the crew in a fully integrated polycule at some point or another, and all are unique and interesting, but I have some very strong pet headcanons:

1. Ms Paint and Boxcars at least start out as moirails. they share enough partners that things could obviously stray less platonic, but they hang out as friends a lot.

2. Snowman fucking despises Deuce but she can't lay a finger on him bc the rest of the crew would kill her. it's also incredibly one sided. he's garden variety friendly to her, because he doesn't really get blackrom, but he knows Snowman and Slick are involved with each other.

3. Droog and Snowman actually are like bitchy besties. it's sorta like Ms Paint/Boxcars in that it could trend less platonic over time, but mostly Droog is the only one who can survive telling Snowman advice she doesn't wanna hear.

4. Snowman and Ms Paint start having understandable friction over their wildly different relationships to Slick. but since Snowman mainly won't kill Slick outright, because she'd face retribution from the entire rest of the Midnight Crew, Ms Piant actually has the upper hand more often than not. their relationship is literally the gray area between an ashen mediator and the one they think of as being the problem, which can understandably lean a little pitch.

Writing this down in my carapacian notebook, thank you nonnie

[mangora]

Why I like Zoey (long post)

I see a lot of Zoey hate in the TD tag and while I agree that her writing could’ve been better, I feel like people overlook a lot of the potential deeper meanings behind her actions, so here’s my ‘Zoey’s actually a strong female character’ post (+ some headcanons).

When we’re first introduced to Zoey, she’s repeatedly described as lonely. In her audition tape, she talks about how she lives in a small town full of rowdy jocks. This is also where we see her widely criticized judgmental behavior begins too, talking about how it’s annoying how people celebrate football so loudly down her street every week and about how being defeated by a jock would be humiliating for her. While this is a major flaw, if you think about it, it’s really no surprise. Zoey’s shown to be clearly into alternative culture (read, a culture largely created and populated by low-income queer and poc figures) in a small town likely in a rural area, and her quote “oh, I’m not a loser! Unless everyone else thinks I am!” shows she tacks her self-worth to her reputation. You can imagine a person like Zoey in the area she’s in would experience ridicule and be outcasted, easily leading to insecurity and causing her to lash out at others who she sees making the same mistakes as her. In part, Zoey actually leans a lot into autistic coding in this respect, critical of things she’s learned are socially inappropriate but not fully able to understand how to blend in with the crowd herself. (I could write a whole essay on how a large chunk of ROTI characters are autistic-coded but you know, Zoey time.)

When Zoey arrives at Wawanakwa, Mike is the first person who pays her any positive attention. I could go into a whole separate post about this, but I could see Mike being in a similar outcasted situation to Zoey considering his DID and trauma and hobbies. Finding solace in another ‘weird kid’ with ‘weird’ interests and ‘weird’ mannerisms, Zoey immediately becomes attached. This later repeats with Cameron, but in a different way, more on that later.

You could understand how Anne Maria, the image of the girls who likely excluded her in her hometown, stealing who she thinks is Mike away from her would make her hostile, and how Mike’s ‘acting’ would make her feel betrayed because the person she trusted most is repeatedly breaking her trust, in her eyes.

Then comes Mike’s elimination. Zoey has lost the one person she could relate to in this game, and is left in a sea of people who judge her and tell her she can’t make it. She tries her best, but is pushed and pushed until finally, the one relic she had of Mike is broken, and she feels alone. Enter commando Zoey. Her bitterness manifests into violence, lashing out, and in an overlooked aspect, sympathy. Think of this as a shift from denial and bargaining to anger. She’s been convinced her whole life she’s lesser than, but realizes she has the same power anyone else does if she puts the work into it; she can hurt Scott just like he hurt her. And then, she sees Cameron, another underling like she was, who only has himself to keep him afloat among a crew of traitors. She helps him become strong like her and protects him the way she wishes someone had helped her.

And then, she’s voted off by a jock, once again taken down by her greatest fear. But this time, she accepts it. She did her best, she grew out of her doubts, and now it’s Cameron’s turn to be what she was. Seeing Cameron win wasn’t just a victory for him, but for her, and when he and Mike don’t betray her, she learns that not everything in this world is rotten.

I don’t really have a lot to say about canon season five, I think it used Zoey as more of a prop than a character and used her to build up Mal instead, but she isn’t totally static. Compared to her ROTI self, Zoey is shown to be less judgmental, and more helpful towards outcasts like Gwen. She’s become stronger and does this by accepting help from her new friends instead of seething in silence. When the truth comes out about Mal, Zoey doesn’t fight for herself but for Mike, and her acceptance of what happened shows a growth from optimism to pessimism to realism. It’s the growth from accusation to denial to acceptance and motivation. She can work for herself but the end result should benefit both her and the people she cares about if possible. In short, Zoey learns to put herself first but benefit others if possible later, instead of putting the thoughts of others over her own needs and wants.

Sorry if this was messy, I find Zoey real fascinating and think people do her dirty. This isn’t to say disliking Zoey is invalid because tbh, I’m not a fan of the way she treated Mike before she knew about his alters even if I understand why she probably did it. I just feel like saying she has no personality is a stretch. Also Zoey was partially integral to Cameron’s success and Mike was more of a player in her story than she was in his, at least in S4 (not bashing Mike bc I love him too and think he also has a more complex personality than people think, just saying I think Zoey’s arc was more substantial in S4 andmaybeitsbecauseshesawomanCOUGH). So yeah I think Zoey’s neat :D

[stardustryewriting]

Original Plans

Law’s original plan - to die on Dressrosa - didn’t work out. Luffy’s original plan - to make Law accept his friendship - did work better than expected. There are just some bumps along the road.

Also on AO3:  here

When Torao first proposed an alliance to him, Luffy was elated. An alliance was basically a friendship and you could never have enough of those. Also Torao was a good guy, no matter what his other crew members said about him. They don’t call him the surgeon of death for nothing, Usopp had argued rather urgently and Luffy had brushed him aside. The Marines had called Luffy chaotic, completely nuts and even dead before, and none of that was true either. (Maybe he was a bit chaotic, but the other things were lies.)

Pirate alliances are marked by betrayal, Nico Robin had said, always the wise one of them, and so Luffy had asked Torao if he planned to betray them. He denied and really, that was enough for Luffy. If Torao had wanted him dead, he just didn’t have to show at Marineford. While Luffy wasn’t sure why he did show up at Marineford - Torao never gave simple answers to his questions, and thinking about what Torao gave as answers for too long made Luffy’s head hurt - he was sure that Torao wouldn’t have been there if he wanted Luffy to die. He did risk his own life and his entire crew on top of it. You don’t just do that out of a simple mood.

So an alliance it was. While Kaido was arguably the Emperor he knew the least of, he was still a better target than Shanks was. Maybe taking on Big Mom first would have been smarter, since he already started an argument with her on Fishmen Island, but Big Mom could wait. He would take her down eventually anyway and if Torao thought it would be smart to go after Kaido first, than Luffy would trust his judgement. Torso was smart after all. Also this seemed oddly personal to Torao. At least the part of the plan that involved Doflamingo did.

*

It turned out, Torao didn’t betray them at Dressrosa. At least not in the way his crew thought he would. He did try to end the alliance and by extent their friendship, which counted as betrayal in Luffy’s book. But he was unsuccessful, because Luffy would have never ended their alliance at this point anyway. There was a time and place, when they would have to part ways again, eventually. But it wasn’t on Dressrosa, not when Torao looked like he was ready to die and not when he tried to protect Luffy. (There was someone, in a somewhat distant past, who lost an arm to protect Luffy and someone, in a not so distant past, who did give his life to protect Luffy. He wouldn’t let it happen again.)

So no, Torao was not allowed to end the alliance. Which annoyed him, of course, but Luffy didn’t care. He could defeat Doflamingo without the elaborate plan Torao had made. He didn’t even remember most of it anyways, and he was somewhat sure, that the plan had failed the moment Luffy entered the coliseum in an effort to get Ace’s devil fruit back. Plans never worked out for him anyway, not in the way they worked out for Torao. He had a general idea of what he had to do and he would get it done. Somehow.

Maybe the Marines weren’t so far off, when they had called him chaotic.

But Luffy wasn’t upset now, because Torao betrayed their friendship. They would have to talk about that eventually, but it wasn’t the main issue. Torao was prepared to die in Dressrosa. He expected it, he probably even had his death integrated in his plan somewhere. (Maybe Luffy should pay more attention the next time a plan was presented to him.) And that was the most upsetting thing that happened to him since they entered the New World. Because Torao didn’t lack trust in Luffy or any of the Strawhats. He pretended he thought their were idiots and he looked like he lost hope in humanity when Luffy, Usopp and Chopper had fun on deck, but he really believed in and trusted them. He was confident they would still follow his plan after his death after all.He just didn’t think Luffy could defeat Doflamingo.

I would have been insulting, if Torao was any less scared about Mingo.

He never told Luffy why he was scared, he never even seemed scared. (Not like Usopp and Nami and most times even Chopper did.) But he was. He was scared and he went up against him anyways, fully prepared to die and Luffy hated everything about this.

„Why are you brooding here?“, a voice snapped him out of his thoughts and surprisingly, it was Torao. He would have thought if anyone came looking for him it would have Usopp. Zoro would have also been a likely candidate, if there were any less alcohol. But the drinks were flowing, so Zoro wouldn’t miss him for a while. Luffy wasn’t exactly a drinking buddy, he rarely drank alcohol as it was and that made him an uninteresting companion for Zoro at parties. Not that he minded, there were plenty of other people he could do plenty of other things with. Just Torao wasn’t really on the list.

„I’m not ‚brooding‘“, Luffy used his fingers to make air quotes, „I’m not you after all. I was just thinking.“

„That’s new“, Torao answered, sounding way more surprised than he had any right to, in Luffy’s opinion.

„I can think“, he protested, crossing his arms in front of his chest, while turning away from the other. And then, for good measure he slightly lifted his chin and added: „And my thinking doesn’t end in me dying either.“Which was probably something he shouldn’t have said out loud. Not like that. But it was also true and something he wanted to discuss with Torao anyways, so Luffy couldn’t find it him to regret saying it. (He did regret the way he said it, later, when he’d calmed down.)

„My survival wasn’t essential for the plan“, Torao informed him professionally. The same way he told Luffy not to exercise too much after he’d woken up on the submarine. The way he told Jinbei to keep an eye on Luffy, if he didn’t want the Strawhats to die. The very same way he told Rayleigh, that Luffy’s training would have to be postponed for a few weeks or else his stitches would tear. It made Luffy sick.

„Your survival was important for me“, he argued and Torao looked like wanted to say something to that too.Except that he didn’t. His mouth opened but no words came out and then Torao closed it again. Luffy waited a few more seconds, in case there was something to say after all. Makino might not have succeeded installing manners within him perfectly, but he knew the basics. He always let people say their piece. (Unless he was distracted by something.) When it didn’t seem like Torao found something he needed to say, Luffy talked instead.

„We’re friends and I like you. Usopp says you’re scary, but you’re really not. You saved my life at Marineford - “

„There’s no need to thank me for that“

„You saved my life at Marineford and I liked you ever since. You have awesome tattoos and a really cool bear in your crew and you’re really nice.“

„I’m really not“, Torao denied, but he sounded like he’s already given up that argument. At least he was learning. Slowly, but he learned. Luffy knew that that argument was just for show anyway. A reputation to uphold, or however Zoro phrased it. Not that Luffy had ever cared about reputations, his or those of other people. But if it was important enough for Torao to put in the effort, Luffy could respect that. So, no need to remind him that he did help all those children in Punk Hazard. Law still remembered it anyway.

„You’re my friend.“, Luffy said instead, because really Torao was very slow on the uptake on that. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to call them ‚friends‘, they were friends anyway. Because Luffy said so and because he really liked Torao and because Torao seemed like he needed a friend. „Even though no one can say your last name“, he added as an afterthought, because a great as Torao was, he had the worst last name.

„Literally everyone but you can. And I’ve told you to just call me Law“, Torao shot back, tho it lacked any real fire. Like he was tired of arguing and was just accepting his fate. Good, he was Luffy’s friend no matter how often Luffy needed to remind him of that.

„I really like you“, Luffy told him, once again for good measure. He didn’t get a real answer from Law on that, but his cheeks got a light color, like Sanji’s cheeks did, when Nami or Robin complimented his food. Sanji was always really happy then, so Torao had to be really happy now. And Luffy just called him his friend. Which apparently Torao needed to hear that they were friends way more, if it made him this happy from just hearing it once.

„I really like you, too, Strawhat-ya“, Torao mumbled and he couldn’t even look him in the eye, but that was alright with Luffy. If Luffy brought it up in front of his crew, Torao would probably deny ever having said that, like Zoro denied being worried about Sanji, too. But that didn’t matter, because Torao had said it and that made Luffy happier than almost anything in recent memory. (Sabo still being alive was a big thing, that made him happier than he ever remembered being, but that was the only other thing. Even Sanji’s cooking didn’t come before this and Sanji’s cooking was perfect.)

„Okay, so no more plans that would have you die. You’re too important for me to just let you die. Okay?“, Luffy insisted and Toraos eyes glazed over like he remembered something very important and very far away. Luffy knew that feeling so he allowed Torao the few seconds he very obviously needed, before he inquired again: „Okay?“

Torso seemed like he was abruptly thrown out of something rather intense, but he didn’t seem mad. One side of his lips quirked upwards, as if he wanted to smile, but it didn’t become a real smile. Which was another problem that Luffy would tackle eventually. (He’s seen Torao smirk plenty of times but he couldn’t remember one genuine smile.) For now, Torao’s insurance that, yes, he wouldn’t bet his life this easily again would have to be enough. He didn’t want Torao to promise to survive. Not like Ace did, not again. But he wanted Torao to do his best, to see him become the pirate king. Torso smirked again, at that, and mocked Luffy for being too sure of himself.

„What if I find the One Piece before you do?“, Torao asked, clearly not as serious as he pretended to be. But he was lighthearted again, the tension in the air completely dissolved, so Luffy could humor him. Torao had asked an important question, after all.

„You won’t. But I will still really like you, even when I’m King of the Pirates.“

And somehow, Law seemed really happy about this. Maybe, liking Torao more than originally planned would work out for Luffy, after all.

[writer59january13]

October 7th, 2022 upon second anniversary of mine papa's passing...

Death no longer jars, nixes,

and rattles mine sense and sensibilities

without pride or prejudice no matter (even with marginal persuasion)

wit and wisdom of Jane Austen ill mixes

with what emotional state my poem fixes.

Father long since journeyed

into afterlife destination alone,

October 7th, 2020 mid afternoon

with Earthlings ministration did attone

where night enveloped and stamped his lovely bones

rendered devoid of any groan

courtesy Roxanol (morphine)

and Ativan finding him prone

to experience painlessness, and no

his dying wish, plus last will and testament

won't include burial and/or headstone

cuz, he wants to integrate and did intone

cremation as ecologically friendly option

scattering ashes to parts known

someday... yours truly will too

succumb to the dead zone.

Stark reminder to live fully an urgent yen

to live life fullest between now and when...

ever yours truly exits

stage door left, perhaps ten

twenty, thirty... eighty, ninety, one hundred...

additional orbits around sun

a remarkable human phenomenon

(me) courtesy mine burning ken

bequeaths modest minute man

near accursed immortality longevity totaling even

score of years counting (crows)

and father time among his brethren.

Distress unavoidable which mortality doth bring

nevertheless, tis impossible mission

to eradicate pain and suffering, which doth sting

consolation assuages grief, viz prayer

and buttressing coping with spiritual wing

profound absence augments biting zing.

Biological reproduction begetting offspring

lodging within uterine abode

subsequent in utero development

regarding accretion embryonic node

biological algorithm doth automatically encode,

nevertheless longevity invariably affected

no doubt courtesy lifestyle mode.

Random crapshoot luck of the draw offspring born

genetic blueprints also decree existence transient

parents emphatically teach progeny

got no choice must inform

daughter(s), and son(s) ineluctably forsworn

demise bound with birth certificate presents horn

of dilemma conscious the next generation

granted only so many Earth orbitz around sun.

Once grim reaper deftly

communicates I must bid adieu

eternal hasta la vista to kith and kin

please don't shed a tear for generic

germane admirable bad company crew

member, albeit healthy as an ox

never got the flu,

an atheist doubting thomas

though genealogy records

incorporate many a cynical Jew

at least one legendary antiestablishmentarian

gleaned within mine purview

non-prodigal son edging closer

to the afterlife while livingsocial

within mortality queue shunned, ostracized and banished to Xanadu.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.