#despot bear

[spidernickelss]

oh tbh is your autism creature? well this is MY autism creature so get on my level

[thesquidismaria]

I don't listen to radiohead but these bears man

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.  

theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging

[artbyblastweave]

“On the one hand, my quest for revenge on the despot who destroyed my idyllic hometown bottomed out when I finally got him at my mercy and realized that his own horrific life circumstances had left him a bitter, unsatisfied shell of a person and that killing him could bring no plausible catharsis, only pointlessly adding another body to a growing stack. On the other hand, my initial impulse to seek revenge directly resulted in my piecemeal accruement of a found family with whom I found a positive feedback loop of character growth and moral maturation, which was in large part what made it possible for me to envision a life outside the narrow dictates of my shortsighted revenge quest. Also, we toppled a tyrannical government and ran every errand on this half of the continent. Honestly there are a lot of second-and-third-order positive effects of how badly I used to want to kill that guy. And obviously I’m a consequentialist now, since I didn’t kill that guy, so obviously I’d like to preserve those effects if at all possible. So I guess if I was to generalize from this whole experience, I’d say that we need to institutionally cultivate the impulse to seek violent revenge on wrongdoers, I mean it really gets you off your ass, but we also have to cultivating and elide the secret, load-bearing expectation that you should call it off at the very last second. We might need to train a whole secret corps of sleeper found family members, to inject themselves into organically forming epic revenge quest parties, prime the soil, so to speak, subtly draw the revenge party’s attention to, like, the material causes at the root of human of evil, or stuff like that, put the brakes on the pain train juuuuust enough to get us back in that sweet sp- fuck. Someone already had this idea, didn’t they. That’s what this whole thing was. This thing we just did. Fuck. I was going to make a fucking fortune franchising this. Fuck”

[us-cj]

𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖞𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖘

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. — U.S. Constitution Second Amendment

The militia of the United States consists of all able-bodied males at least 17 years of age... — 10 U.S. Code § 246

Patrick Henry

* “Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force. Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined.”

George Mason

* “To disarm the people…[i]s the most effectual way to enslave them.”

James Madison

* “The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. A well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the best and most natural defense of a free country.”

* “The ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone.”

Noah Webster

* “Before a standing army can rule, the people must be disarmed; as they are in almost every kingdom of Europe. The supreme power in America cannot enforce unjust laws by the sword; because the whole body of the people are armed, and constitute a force superior to any bands of regular troops that can be, on any pretense, raised in the United States.”

Samuel Adams

* “The Constitution shall never be construed to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms.”

Richard Henry Lee

* “A militia when properly formed are in fact the people themselves…and include, according to the past and general usuage of the states, all men capable of bearing arms… “To preserve liberty, it is essential that the whole body of the people always possess arms, and be taught alike, especially when young, how to use them.”

Thomas Jefferson

* “I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery.”

* “What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.”

* “The laws that forbid the carrying of arms are laws of such a nature. They disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes…. Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than to prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.”

* “The Constitution of most of our states (and of the United States) assert that all power is inherent in the people; that they may exercise it by themselves; that it is their right and duty to be at all times armed.”

**********************************

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution.

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Ex parte Milligan, 71 U.S. 2 (1866) which yet stands to this day: "The Constitution of the United States is a law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances. No doctrine, involving more pernicious consequences, was ever invented by the wit of man than that any of its provisions can be suspended during any of the great exigencies of government. Such a doctrine leads directly to anarchy or despotism..."

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Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 52: “It is sometimes argued that the existence of an emergency allows the existence and operation of powers, national or state, which violate the inhibitions of the Federal Constitution. The rule is quite otherwise.

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution. An emergency, however, while it cannot create power, increase granted power, or remove or diminish the restrictions imposed upon power granted or reserved, may furnish the occasion for the exercise of power already in existence, but not exercised except during an emergency... The Constitution of the United States is the law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances”

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Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 177: "The general misconception is that any statute passed by legislators bearing the appearance of law constitutes the law of the land. The U.S. Constitution is the supreme law of the land, and any statue, to be valid, must be in agreement.

It is impossible for both the Constitution and a law violating it to be valid; one must prevail. This is succinctly stated as follows: The general rule is that an unconstitutional statute, though having the form and name of law, is in reality no law, but is wholly void, and ineffective for any purpose; since unconstitutionality dates from the time of its enactment, and not merely from the date of the decision so branding it.

An unconstitutional law, in legal contemplation, is as inoperative as if it had never been passed. Such a statute leaves the question that it purports to settle just as it would be had the statute not been enacted.

Since an unconstitutional law is void, the general principals follow that it imposes no duties, confers no rights, creates no office, bestows no power or authority on anyone, affords no protection, and justifies no acts performed under it... A void act cannot be legally consistent with a valid one. An unconstitutional law cannot operate to supersede any existing valid law. Indeed, insofar as a statute runs counter to the fundamental law of the land, it superseded thereby. No one is bound to obey an unconstitutional law and no courts are bound to enforce it."

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“All laws, rules and practices which are repugnant to the Constitution are null and void ...if any statement within any law which is passed is unconstitutional, the whole law is unconstitutional.” Marbury v. Madison, 5th U.S. 2 Cranch 137, 180.

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"Even a state of war and the declaration of secession by the people cannot suspend the Constitution or remove its protection." Houston County v Martin, 232 Ala 511, 169 So. 13.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Thinking once again about the anniversary dinner, and about how the unusual isolation of Canaan House gives us the wrong impression about the lives of the scions, who would normally be surrounded by those retainers, attendants, and domestics forbidden in the Emperor's letter.

The Fifth clearly not only can and do cook, but enjoy doing so. If they're casually throwing together a dinner party for 20 people, you have to assume they've done something in that ballpark before.

But for all that we get Magnus' self-effacing comments about being better at making dessert than duelling and non-threatening, apron-wearing Abigail, this is something that will be very much a hobby for them. Abigail is the feudal despot of perhaps the most powerful House in the Dominicus System, and Magnus is a chief civil servant at the heart of the imperial bureaucracy. They may have the facilities to and enjoy cooking for each other and their friends. But they are almost certainly not doing that regularly.

Nor are they hosting a dinner party in quite the way us plebs would think about it.

Most of us probably don't casually invite 20 friends, acquaintances, and rivals round on whim, but then again, most of us don't have the domestic assistance they're clearly used to and still have access to in Canaan House:

"The appearance of two skeletons bearing an enormous tureen of food...under Abigail's direction, they filled everyone's bowl..." "...the various Houses stood around with warm cups in their hands to watch the skeletons clear up...listening to...the clatter of skeletons with used up knives and forks."

They may have cooked a fantastic spread, but it seems like the tables have been set (with those "yellowing tablecloth[s]" brought out of "deep storage") by the skeleton servitors. The food has been served and cleared away by them. Perhaps they have also been involved in some of the preparation - after all, it is much more pleasant to cook when you don't have to chop onions for 20.

[dominadespina]

LAZAREVIC SISTERS V

Olivera Lazarevic

Early Life

Olivera Lazarević, also often referred to in Byzantine and Greek sources as Maria, was the fifth child and youngest daughter of Knez Lazar and his wife Milica.

She was likely born around 1372/1373 and raised in her father’s capital, Kruševac, receiving the same education as her elder sisters, under the guidance of their mother and maternal aunt, Nun Jefimija.

Like most in her family, she was a fanatic of the arts and literature. Though she was never an artist in her own right, she acted as a patron of it.

There is a folk legend that in her youth, Olivera caught the attention of the Serbian knight, Miloš Obilić, who happened to be a frequent visitor at her father’s court and was considered one of the family.

This attraction led to a marriage proposal by Obilić, yet he was refused by her father, using her young age as an excuse.

Marriage to Sultan Bayezid I

Following the Battle of Kosovo in the summer of 1389, and the death of Sultan Murad I and execution of Knez Lazar, the Serbs abided themselves in a vassalage to the Ottomans due to the Hungarian attacks, who wanted to take charge of Serbia and the advancement of the Ottomans.

To officialize this "ending" vendetta, a proposal was made to the then regent, Milica, of a union of peace with the newly crowned Sultan Bayezid, son of Sultan Murad. Although the mother tried to fight and prolong her final decision, by the end of that same year, her youngest daughter was betrothed to the new Sultan.

The Serbian lords, who were quite unhappy about this betrothal, involved themselves in some sort of intrigues to make Bayezid suspicious in order to prevent this union. However, it obviously did not prevail.

It is unclear if the wedding reception took place in late 1389 or in the spring of 1390. As stated by Konstantin Kostenecki in his biography of Stefan Lazarević written in 1431, he reports that after the Ottoman ambassadors and Milica agreed on the marriage, Stefan appeared before Bayezid with his sister Olivera and the marriage took place. As far as we know, the proposal was accepted in late 1389.

Nonetheless, one thing is for sure, and that is the fact that the reception took place no later than the spring of 1390. This is because the joint action of the Serbs and Turks against the Hungarians in northern Serbia, southern Hungary, and eastern Bosnia took place already in the spring or at the latest in the summer of that year, meaning by the spring of 1390, Olivera was married to the same man who gave orders for her father’s execution.

The wedding seems to have been kept quiet as it appears to have taken place in a mosque, following a Muslim ceremony. Many Serbian lords and people were unhappy about their Orthodox Christian Princess marrying a Muslim, even if it brought some temporary peace to Serbia.

According to Ducas, a 15th-century historian, on top of many talents of silver from Serbia's mines, Bayezid received "a tender virgin."

It is possible that after this marriage Olivera took the epithet of "Despina" (meaning female despot, or mistress), or more plausible it is a title she had already acquired as a royal princess during her father's reign, and thus she became known as "Despina Hatun", Hatun being the Turco-Mongol title meaning "Lady."

It appears that for the rest of her life, she was referred to by this epithet instead of her actual name.

A Woman of Great Influence

Despite the unfavorable circumstances in which this political marriage began, it is noted by historical and contemporary historians that Bayezid loved and valued the counsel of his wife, Despina. It is accepted that the couple welcomed three daughters together; the eldest bears an unknown name, the second in line is Pasa Melek, and the youngest is Oruz.

Her legendary beauty, noble background, and education played a key role in Bayezid’s favoritism of her over all his other consorts and in his trust in her counsel.

From the moment she arrived until his last breath, she remained his main and favorite wife, and had influence on her husband's politics, which played in favor of her people.

Despina was, of course, blamed for having introduced European customs, wine, and mass partying into the once "pious" Ottoman court, and for "whispering in her brother’s favor." However, these criticisms were mostly due to the fact that she was a Christian wife and remained one even though she had influence over her husband. This of course, played a role in the Muslim Ottomans distain of her.

Though it is unknown if Despina reciprocated the same sentiment towards her husband, it is noted that wherever Bayezid went, he could not separate from the Serbian Princess, and thus he took her everywhere with him, suggesting that throughout their marriage she was willing to be a loyal companion to him.

According to Serbian sources, her biggest accomplishments were to partake in Bayezid’s decision to transfer a vast portion of Vuk Branković’s lands (her brother-in-law through Mara) in 1397, following the man’s death and place them under the governance of her younger brother, Stefan.

The other was to save her brother from Bayezid’s wrath in 1398 when he was accused of conspiring with the King of Hungary. Stefan came to the Sultan after the failed attempt of his mother to defend him. It is believed that Olivera was the one who stepped up, and her brother was forgiven upon admitting his fault.

Captivity

Following the aftermath of the Battle of Ankara in 1402, a battle which Bayezid and his sons, Mustafa and Musa, lost and were taken as captives, Timur sent his generals to plunder Bursa, taking many treasures from the palace with them, including Bayezid's concubines. Eventually, they made their way to Yenisehir, where Despina was hiding with two of her daughters.

Despina and her household were brought to Timur and later to Bayezid, who was being kept captive in a tent. Although they were treated with respect at first, events occurred that led to Bayezid being humiliated and kept in an iron cage, while his wife was forced to perform menial tasks at festivities.

Unable to bear the insult made towards his wife, Bayezid committed suicide in his iron cage and was temporarily buried in Akşehir, where he had passed.

Timur is believed to have felt great guilt because of this and released Bayezid’s entourage. He married Despina’s daughters to the son of one of his generals and the other to his grandson, Ebu Bakr Mirza. Both daughters moved to Samarkand where they lived with their families.

Later in 1403, Despina was released along with her stepson, Musa, during the transfer of Bayezid’s body to his personal mosque in Bursa. It is assumed she attended his second funeral.

As the Advisor of the Despots

Following her release, nothing is known or recorded about Despina's whereabouts until the 1420s. It is believed by some that she might have stayed in Bursa or somewhere nearby with her youngest daughter until she grew tired of the battle for the throne going on between Bayezid’s sons and later moved to Serbia.

Or, she might have stayed until the time her youngest daughter was married off.

After her return to Serbia, she took her place at her already widowed brother's side as his comforter and trusted advisor. However, she never lived at court but instead had her own residence in the courtyard of Belgrade.

She was extremely popular, respected, and valued in her homeland. Even during her lifetime, the Serbs referred to her as “Esther” due to her sacrificial marriage to a persecutor of the Christians.

During her stay in Dubrovnik, it is plausible she met with her sister and brother-in-law, Sandalj Hranic, though some historians believe she was there for diplomatic reasons, possibly to acquire information on her brother-in-law to inform her younger brother; the now Despot Stefan Lazarevic.

In 1427, her younger brother passed away, but this did not end her influence. Soon after, she acted as an advisor to her nephew, Durad Brankovic, and from 1430 onwards, moved with his family to Smederevo, the new capital.

Murad II, the Ottoman Sultan at the time, must have believed that since Stefan Lazarevic had died without any children to proclaim as heir, then the state should pass from Stefan to his step-grandmother, Olivera, and thus to himself.

As a result of this situation and threat to their state, historians believe it was Despina who planned Mara Brankovic's marriage to Murad in order to prevent the Ottomans from advancing. And thus, the marriage was concluded in 1435 in the Ottoman capital.

Though this marriage, unlike Olivera's own marriage, did not prevent Ottoman expansion in Serbia.

In 1441, while her nephew Durad was in exile, she traveled from Dubrovnik to Bar, where it is believed she was able to convey secret diplomatic letters to her nephew.

Later Life

Nothing is known about the later life of Despina from 1443 onwards; they lost track of her.

The last time she is mentioned alive is in a 1443 document, in which her sister, Jelena, names her as her executor in her will. She left money to Despina in order to build a burial place for her and to distribute some of the money to the poor.

After this, nothing more is recorded; it is unknown when, where, and how she died.

Issue

Unkown Hatun

Pasa Melek Hatun

Oruz/Uruz Hatun

( Sources: Osmanlı Sarayı’nda Bir Sırp Prenses/ Mileva Olivera Lazarevic by Mustafa Çağhan Keskin, КЋЕРИ КНЕЗА ЛАЗАРА ИСТОРИЈСКА СТУДИЈА ПОГОВОР by Jelka Redep, Dve srpske sultanije : Olivera Lazarevic (1373-1444) : Mara Brankovic (1418-1487) by Nikola Giljen, “КЋЕРИ КНЕЗА ЛАЗАРА ИСТОРИЈСКА СТУДИЈА ПОГОВОР” by Jelka Redep, Dve srpske sultanije : Olivera Lazarevic (1373-1444) : Mara Brankovic (1418-1487) by Nikola Giljen, The European Sultanas of the Ottoman Empire by Anna Ivanova Buxton )

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Michael Rubin

Secretary of State Antony Blinken smells like desperation. After meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for more than two hours, Blinken said the current proposal to achieve a ceasefire in Gaza and win the release of Hamas-held hostages is "maybe the last" opportunity.

Blinken is wrong. The last opportunity to win a ceasefire and release Hamas captives came when he agreed to negotiate with a terrorist group whose covenant embraces genocide and whose ideology envisions Islamic rule with religious and sexual minorities condemned to second-class status if not slavery or death.

When diplomats fall back on process, too often they lose sight of the forest through the trees. The fact remains: Hamas invaded Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, during a ceasefire to which the terrorist group had agreed. Its members raped, slaughtered, and took civilians hostage. The return of those hostages should always have been the precondition to negotiations rather than the conclusion. If Palestinians in Gaza did not want to see their territories' collateral destruction, they could return hostages under their control or inform about their whereabouts. This is not farfetched considering that Hamas has kept hostages in supposedly civilian hospitals, in private homes, and even with U.N. employees.

To negotiate with Hamas over its blatant violation of humanitarian law not only empowers Hamas, but it permanently degrades international law.

Blinken's second mistake was his choice of mediator. A good rule of thumb: Never place strategic interests in a mediator ideologically committed to your destruction. Egyptians may be aloof and, as the tunnels under the Philadelphi Corridor show, double-dealing, but Qatar too often uses its vast wealth to promote the Muslim Brotherhood's ideology that at its core rejects all aspects of Western liberalism and democracy.

Blinken has also tried to include Turkey in any post-conflict order. This, too, is bizarre. Years of pandering to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan combined with the Turkish despot's similar Muslim Brotherhood-infused ideology makes Turkey far less a partner for peace than an undesignated sponsor of terrorism. To offer Erdogan influence over post-Hamas Gaza would be akin to putting white supremacist David Duke in charge of post-apartheid South Africa.

Blinken's third mistake is treating the Palestinian Authority as a moderate alternative to Hamas. Palestinian Chairman Mahmoud Abbas is now in the third decade of his four-year presidential term. As Blinken has restored funding to Abbas, Abbas has shown his true colors. Speaking in Turkey just the other day, Abbas declared, "America is the plague and the plague is America."

There is no substitute for moral clarity. Moral compromise, meanwhile, substitutes groveling for justice.

After Iran released its 52 American hostages on President Ronald Reagan's first day in office, former Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher published a collection of essays by Carter administration alumni crowing triumphant for their success. Their thesis? The persistence of diplomacy led Ayatollah Khomeini to release his prisoners. Peter Rodman, a former Kissinger aide, responded in an article that Christopher and crew got it backward: The Islamic Republic let its hostages go when the cost of their captivity grew too high to bear.

Rather than pressure Netanyahu and have aides, underlings, and surrogates slime a duly elected leader, Blinken should be introspective. Had Blinken at every opportunity not indulged Hamas's conceits or played into the agenda of the group's enablers such as Qatar and Turkey, the hostages today might be free and the Hamas-imposed war over. President Joe Biden's base might hand wring and indulge in an orgy of antisemitism, but the road to peace rests on bringing so much pain to bear on Hamas that it has no choice but to release its captives and end its reign of terrorism over Gaza's 2.5 million Palestinians.

[animentality]

oh oh sure I can fuck emperor calamari and the horned up bear and the petplay devil woman and the bdsm incubus but I CANT fuck the tyrannical despot who's one of the main villains of the game????

yeah ok. fine game. you think you're so great, don't you, well, some of us have taste.

[eorzeashan]

Companion Quest: Lost Lives and Lost Stars MESSAGE: Commander -- when you have a moment, Eight wants to speak with you, privately.

Takes place at any given time during KOTXX, outside the Commander's chambers.

Eight does not answer when you approach, but offers a serene smile in place of a greeting. He respectfully folds his hands behind his back and stands at attention.

>What's so important to call me out here?

'Nothing in particular, but as a spy, I pride myself on knowing the going-ons of those around me. We haven't had a moment to ourselves since...well, every night thus far.'

>It's been hectic.

Eight's brows crease slightly. 'Indeed. I would ask how you have fared, but nothing prepares one for a war they were thrown into headfirst. Look after yourself, Commander. Most of us don't get many chances to say that.'

>(Alternate) I feel like I haven't had a good night's sleep since carbonite.

Eight tilts his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up subtly as if he wants to laugh, but refrains. 'You share the sentiment of our troops.' He takes on a more serious tone once more, and a sympathetic look in his deep eyes. 'I've only heard the basic details of what you've undergone, but...'

>It's nothing. I don't want your pity.

'It was not my intent to offend.' Eight bows apologetically with one hand touched to his chest, yet appears unfazed by your cold remark. 'I only wish to make sense of the person we follow. It takes a certain soul to survive this, after all.'

>I...don't exactly know what I'm doing. Or what is happening. It's all too much to take in.

>I've lost five years of my life. Five, long years, to a tyrant and a despot. The galaxy's moved on without me.

Eight pats the floor next to him, offering it as a seat to you. He listens intently as you tell your sordid tale, and offers no remarks until you have finished.

'There is still a place for you yet, Commander. You only have to find it. The passage of time is harsh, but you are not a relic of a bygone era, nor a tool to be discarded. Whatever challenge lays across your path...I know you will overcome. The question remains: is this your wish?'

>I wasn't exactly given much of a choice.

'Let's see to it that this time you do,' Eight intonates solemnly. A mirthful light enters his eyes. 'I'll even ready a shuttle for you, should you wish to shed your burdens and flee.'

>(Saboteur) Are you trying to sabotage me?

'Perish the thought,' He smiles fondly at you. 'No. I've simply come to know many who wore masks and titles of all sorts to bear the heavy roles they were given. I want to know who lies behind yours. If they'll continue to wear the mantle. Their strength, and their desire.'

>My wish?

'Do you desire this war, Commander?' Eight asks, without a hint of accusation or malice in the question. 'What is it that you fight for?'

>If it's for the good of the galaxy, I'll do what I have to.

'Noble,' Eight says, 'but what about yourself? What star did you come from, to appear out of thin air to fight for us? Forgive me if I overstep, but I would not believe the greater good is your only reason, regardless of what Lana and Koth say.'

>Vengeance. I want revenge against Zakuul, against Arcann for ruining my life.

'Then you'll have it.' Eight meets your fiery gaze coolly, and does not look away. 'But do not let it consume you. I am ever at your disposal, should you require my blade to fall on your enemies. You are not alone.'

>I'm still looking for that answer.

At this, Eight looks curiously satisfied. 'Yes. I would not expect you to. All of us here--are lost, bereft of our homes and purpose. We're still searching for reason in this war of ours. We'll find it with you, Commander, if you'll let us. If you'll let me.'

>What about you?

Eight looks a little surprised that you changed the subject to him, but quickly recovers. 'I am whoever is needed. After Imperial Intelligence's dissolution, that has been many things. By your leave, I hope to be more.'

>(Agent) We share that in common, at least.

He laughs. 'Should I call you Keeper, then?' You quickly wave him off.

>Sit and Contemplate

Eight breaks the silence. 'To be honest, Commander, I know little about you, or what drives you. Why you've been chosen, and why you continue to fight.' He turns to look at you. His hands stray close to yours, not quite touching. 'But I once gazed on a bright star...' He closes his eyes. 'One who shone bright only once, and never again. I see the same spark in you.

Whoever you are...whoever you choose to be, Commander or no, I am at your side.'

>Thank you, Eight.

[You get up to leave. The screen fades to black.]

[END]

[thesquidismaria]

Them

[that-mad-indian-woman]

When they say I have my mother's smile, I smile too.

I don't. I don't have my mother's grace. I don't have my mother's strength to bear through pain with poise. I don't have my mother's elegance to hold broken pieces of my own heart with benevolent despotism in my own hands.

I was carved from my father's flesh. I feel rage, untamed and unleashed. I feel grief, writhing and twisting my insides till I am all but consumed in its clutches. I feel hurt and pain; not like a knife that has been stabbed-quick and twisted;but like walking on nails-a continuous sting, eternal pain, far more malicious and damning. My tears aren't shed with elegance either-no, they aren't drops that escape the corners of my eyes. I sob. I sob with my mouth stuffed and ears blocked.

Grief looks ugly on me. As does fury. I am not my mother's daughter, I am my father's.

[shannonselin]

Elisa Bonaparte Baciocchi by Joseph Franque, 1812

Elisa Bonaparte was born on January 3, 1777. She was not as well-known as her sisters, beautiful Pauline and treasonous Caroline, but she was more capable than either of them. In fact, she was the Bonaparte sibling most like Napoleon, although she had the least influence over him. Napoleon himself said, “Elisa has the courage of an Amazon; and like me, she cannot bear to be ruled.” In 1805, he made her the Princess of Piombino and Lucca, where she formed an elaborate court, in imitation of the one in Paris. She took her duties seriously, ruling as a benevolent despot. 

Elisa did such a good job that, in 1809, Napoleon made her Grand Duchess of Tuscany, a place she had long had her eye on. She moved her court to the Pitti Palace in Florence, which she refurbished in competition with Caroline’s court in Naples. Elisa's husband, Félix Baciocchi, commanded the local military division under his wife’s supervision. The two lived apart and took lovers.

When Napoleon’s empire began to crumble in 1814, Elisa broke away from her brother, hoping to save her own position. It was no use, as the Tuscans showed no sign of attachment to her and Elisa and Baciocchi had to flee. They tried, unsuccessfully, to make off with the silver and furniture from several of the palaces. 

When Napoleon escaped from Elba and returned to France in March of 1815, the Austrians arrested Elisa and imprisoned her. She was released once Napoleon was safely on his way to exile on St. Helena. Elisa was given permission to live in Trieste, where she assumed the title of Countess of Compignano. She died of infection on August 7, 1820, at the age of 43.

When news of Elisa’s death reached Napoleon, he shut himself up alone for several hours. When he emerged, he said, “There is the first member of my family who has set out on the great journey; in a few months I shall go to join her.” He died nine months later, on May 5, 1821.

For more about Elisa, see "Elisa Bonaparte Baciocchi, Napoleon's Capable Sister."

[sabraeal]

to all the ghosts, Chapter 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for @kirayaykimura, who gets to receive all of my post-manga chapter soowon/lili ramblings. I am MANY DAYS late on this birthday fic, but thankfully I managed to squeeze it out before the crush of obiyukiweek!

As king, Soowon had been the conqueror. His armies served as Kouka’s sword and shield both, bringing kingdoms and despots to their knees, and yet—

Yet in the end it had been him prostrate on cold stone, his weakened body aching, nauseated from the effort of existing under the oppressive weight of the consort’s killing intent. He had been too proud to tremble, too stubborn to retch, but with every passing second his skin prickled with anticipation, certain that he could feel the sting of the guandao’s keen edge on the bared flesh of his neck. That even as he crouched there, ragged breaths painting the pavilion, the blade slipped between the segments of his spine, severing the tangled thread that kept him tied to this failing body.

It felt like mercy.

There was no room for warmongers in the world Yona meant to build, least of all broken men. Or so it had seemed, until the blade failed to fall. Until Soowon stood, facing the stiflingly silent crowd, and began to understand just what shape his punishment was meant to take.

Still, it comes as cold comfort that this is not the most desperate reunion he has attended on his knees.

Ice snakes down Soowon’s spine; an insidious chill, settling deep in his bones and seeping into every pale corner of his too-human flesh. His breath could mist in the air if enough of it could escape to make a difference.  The queen might stand eye to eye with most men of Kouka, but she falls short of Hak’s looming inches, the strong set of her even armored shoulders lacking the imposing breadth of his. They aren’t armored now— at least, not that Soowon can see, swallowed up beneath the generous swath of her cloak— but she doesn’t need bronze or bone to protect her when her bearing is as implacable as any army he has ever met on the field.

Her reputation may be as bloody as his, her ruthless pragmatism memorialized in just as many poems, but there is no sword in her hand, no arrow’s point grazing the vulnerable column of his throat. The men in her shadow may be considered armed even without steel, but like him, the queen’s hands are harmless bare. Clean.

The same cannot be said for their conscience. He sees it in the tremble at the corner of her mouth, in the way her fingers stiffen instead of clench. She will not kill him, not today, but— only just.

“Your Majesty,” he manages, so even, more stall than statecraft. Manufactured space to think, to decide just how he would navigate this meeting on his knees and still maintain a modicum of Kouka’s authority. “To what do we—?”

“Princess Kouren!” Every trained hand races to touch its blade, but not a one of them manages to lap Lili. “Oh wait, no— Your Majesty! You’re a queen now, aren’t you? Or is that only after all this coronation stuff is over?”

The room is strung tight, blades quivering like struck strings in their sheathes, ready to fly at the barest strum— and all because of a slip of a girl, a mere streak of black and blue painting herself across the three steps it takes to throw her arms around Xing’s queen. It would be amusing, if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.

“Are you all right?” A ridiculous question when she’s the one with a half dozen blades pointed at her back— but Lili’s never once bothered to notice the danger she’s in, and Soowon can hardly expect her to start now. “You’ve been doing well, haven’t you? It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, and you never write…”

Those too-clean hands splay in the air, hovering mere inches from Lili’s shoulders; eyes that had seemed so cool mere breaths ago now sat wide and uncertain. Soowon may have first come to Xing as its conqueror, but still, he has never seen its queen so thoroughly routed. She might have anticipated steel and subtlety or iron and treachery, but Xing’s queen had not accounted for the unerring accuracy of Lili’s regard, as ruinous as any loosed arrow.

Were he a more feeling man, Soowon might pity her. Instead, he is only bemused by the Water Tribe’s wayward daughter and her penchant for taking ruthless royals beneath her wing. How fortunate that the war had not lingered on long enough for her to get it in her head to ride out towards Kai. There were few indignities Soowon had not learned to shoulder since he’d been cast down from this throne, but suffering through a simpering Chagol would have taxed even his tolerance.

“Lady Lili.” Fingers tremble as they press against Lili’s back, cutting perilous crests into the blue wave of her robe. Cautious, at first, then clenched, and with no more than a ragged sigh, Xing’s queen does not so much clasp as collapse around Kouka’s most stymieing noblewoman. “Forgive me. There has been so much to say— too much for mere letters. But I have been remiss in not making the attempt.”

“You have,” Lili agrees with her usual petulance, stepping back with a pout far more playful than any she’s ever swung in his direction. “I’ve had a lot going on too, you know! Yona made me her advisor, for one. And now my father’s talking about me taking over the headship, even though I’m definitely not general material.”

Xing’s queen slants her gaze over the thin slip of Lili’s shoulders, lingering significantly upon every gripped hilt. For a moment, Soowon is nearly certain that her mouth curls, but if it does, it is so subtle as to disappear between one blink and the next, more apparition than amusement. “I do recall a letter in which you imparted a similar sentiment.”

“Because it’s true.” Lili does not quite disentangle herself from the queen’s grip, but she does lean back, fixing the unerring arrow of her attention onto the masked man at the royal heels. “You’ve brought Vold with you? Is Tao here too, or—?”

“Princess Tao is in residence at the palace for Her Majesty’s coronation,” the man— this…Vold explains, cloth tugging across his mouth in a way that nearly implies a smile. “She will be glad to know you are in fine health, Lady Lili.”

“But shouldn’t you be with her?” A single glance at the guard to the queen’s other side is enough to convey she doesn’t recognize— or think much of— him. Just like every other man under thirty. “You’re one of her stars, aren’t you? If anyone’s going to follow Kouren around, I would have thought it’d be Yotaka.”

“I did not intend to make this an official, public visit.” The queen’s hands flutter back beneath the dark swath of her cloak, mouth tilting wryly. “And though there is no question of his loyalty, Yotaka is hardly the most…discreet of all my stars.”

To put it mildly. The war may seem like a lifetime ago, a calamity that happened in a different age, to a different man, but a wild storm of gray slumped between his soldiers stays vivid in his mind, a man wounded enough to still be bleeding through the bandages hidden beneath his robe— but still, his chin never dipped, never even trembled as he raised it to meet the gaze of the man certain to be his death. I always thought the son of a demon would have a more grotesque face.

“I had meant to only take Baram to meet you, but when my sister caught wind of my plans...” Another twitch at the corner of her lips, a ripple in the still lake that is Xing’s queen.

“I’m afraid Princess Tao was quite insistent I come along.” The masked man bows his head, humor hidden in every angle. “Part of her eagerness to renew your acquaintance, Lady Lili.”

“I’m excited to see her too! It’s been forever. But, wait” —Lili whips around with absolutely none of the accusation she would have leveled were he the recipient rather than Xing’s queen— “how did you know we were in Kyuu? We weren’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow.”

“I received reports about a commotion in the market between a known swindler and some foreign woman.” One royal brow lifts, an invitation to fill in the rest of the details herself. “When I sent my men to investigate the issue, I was told that a young woman matching your description had left in the company a tall, soft-spoken man fair of both face and hair. Though we hadn’t known which of the Empress’s advisors would be sent with Lord Soowon, it seemed likely that you had both come ahead of your procession…”

“I…” Soowon would hesitate to call anything about Xing’s queen warm, but there is something like it in her eyes when Lili gapes, mouth opening and closing like the koi Joon-gi kept in his gardens. “But…”

“It seems, Lady Lili,” he says, deceptively bright. “Your confidence in our disguises was quite unfounded.”

If glares could kill, the one Lili whips at him would render his flesh to little more than a royal pile of ash. However it cannot, and he survives, offering her his most mild smile.

There is little that delights him, but Lili’s huff comes close, arms clamping shut over her chest with all the finality of the gates of paradise. “I wasn’t with him. He just showed up!”

The queen’s eyebrow lifts. “As you say.”

Her stare skips over Lili’s shoulder like a stone over still water, but it’s his stomach that sinks when it settles on him. It’s different than the last time they came face to face—  him the benevolent conqueror and her a supplicant brought to her knees by little more than circumstance. Loathing and contempt had radiated from her as she knelt in her borrowed robe, both bust and bandages exposed as it hung from the bare bones of her shoulders. But now her eyes meet his, and they are not curious or caustic or conspiring but assessing. Less a sovereign surveying a threat, and more a monger at market, weighting the profit of a purchase against its loss.

It’s a relief when she finally turns it on Judoh instead.

“Forgive me my poor manners. I came here as a guest.” Xing’s queen draws to her full height, and even unhorsed, unarmored, she is every inch the fearful form that had cut across the plains of Kai. “Vold.”

The masked man straightens, eyes drawn to his queen like ore to a lodestone. “Your Majesty.”

“Talk to the proprietor. Have him bring a pot of his best blend. And whatever he considers the best of the inn’s offerings.” One large hand unfurls, benevolent smile never quite reaching her eyes. “There is much to discuss.”

*

Lili’s barely got her chopsticks around a slice of pork belly when Soowon just slides right out and asks, “To what do we owe the honor of Your Majesty’s attention?”

If she could have reached— which she can’t, not unless there’s some way to pass right through General Judoh and his impenetrable abs without another lecture— she would have put an elbow right into his side. Let the spur of it sink right into his squishy little tofu belly. Maybe then he’d finally learn a set of manners that didn’t end with him smiling over a steel edge.

Thankfully, Kouren is a reasonable person. Instead of telling him to mind his own business— like Lili would, if he tried to take that arch little tone with her— she simply smiles, folding her hands neatly over her lap. “I’m afraid that after her time in Xing, I found myself quite inspired by Yona’s example. When I heard that Lady Lili— and yourself, of course, Lord Soowon— were in Kyuu, I imagined that I might be able to surprise you in town so long as I could pass myself off as one of the townsfolk.”

“How charming.” Soowon’s eyes do that stupid squinch at the corners, the one meant to make him look harmless when all Lili gets is constipated. “My cousin will be honored to hear that you remember her so fondly.”

Kouren’s not silly enough for all this squinting and posturing— she’s a real queen, the kind that cleaves through injustice, that dons armor and commands the respect of her generals, that speaks and is listened to despite being born a daughter instead of a son. So when she answers Soowon, it’s head-on, straightforward and unerring as a spear. “That is her gift, I think. Being remembered fondly.”

Her father may have wanted her to be a wife rather than a general, but even Lili can’t miss the unspoken, unlike you. And Soowon certainly doesn’t, the silk of his spider’s smile stiffening where it’s spun across his face.

“Congratulations are in order, it seems, even if they are much overdue.” There is no twist when Kouren’s attention turns upon her— not even the slightest hint of torsion— but simply an incline of her chin. A nod almost, eliding into a hint of a smile. “I will have to compliment Her Majesty in the wisdom she has shown in the selection of her advisors the next time we speak.”

Lili squirms on her knees, hoping Kouren can’t make out the pleased flush spreading over her cheeks. “It’s really not that big a deal. I think I’m just the only Water Tribe member she knew besides my father.”

It’s the sort of humility that would get Kouka ladies fanning themselves, long sleeves fluttering as they rushed to titter and fawn. They’d be all-too eager to assure her that the empress would surely need a woman’s voice to keep her council comfortable, that somehow Yona might quail beneath the weight of a man’s opinion without another female to shore her up.

Kouren only frowns. “It is no easy matter to weed out tradition by the root, not even with the love and support of your people. To disband the council of generals and replace every voice on it…Her Majesty would not have chosen any one of them lightly. Least of all yours, Lady Lili.”

“Well sure, right, I know that. I was only…” Her teeth snap tight over, being polite. All those months in the palace might have gotten her brushed up on her bowing and blushing and composing poetry-perfect scraps of practiced humility, but no one in this audience will be impressed by it, least of all the woman who would have bled out to save her kingdom.

But it’s too late to protest now, too late to insist she does know her worth— how can she not when there’s a fool like Kan Tae-Jun seated beside her, barely knowing his left from his right let alone the price of rice? Oh, sure, he might have her beat when it comes to logistics, especially when it comes to supplying the remote villages in their most far-flung territories, but common sense—

“It was a necessary change,” Soowon says smoothly, that stupid squint still looming over his smile. “Keeping a council of generals would hardly lend much credence to my cousin’s new era of peace, after all.”

Kouren’s expression shutters with a speed meant to catch fingers on the sill. “You hardly need to tell me. For too long Kouka’s kings have allowed their warhawks to pick the carcass of this peninsula, playing at conquest when all they care for is plunder. Yona has done well to rid her ears of their whispering. If only the rulers before her had been as wise, they would have done it long ago.”

The barb’s so pointed Lili’s surprised it doesn’t actually draw blood. And yet Soowon doesn’t even flinch; no, he just sits there, that too-wide smile of his softening until his eyes lose their squint. Something real haunts the corners of it when he says, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Lili’s never been much for spirits— oh, she might let herself get a chill from a good story, or have her own imagination run wild when she’s strode halfway down a too-dark hall, but that’s for fun, not because she actually believes in that sort of stuff. But as Soowon settles back on his heels, less diplomat and more decoration, she could swear she sees through the edges of him, like a spirit caught in sunlight. That she’s watching him fade the longer she sits here, keeping her mouth shut.

He’d been Yona’s enemy once— and Kouren’s and Tao’s and maybe hers too, if she sat down and thought about it real hard, like she tries not to— but he’s also never expected her to perform for him, to play sweet Lady Lili and pour out tea and flattery while he does her the honor of tolerating her attention. And, well, that might be a weird way to make a friend, but that’s what he is whether she likes it or not, and a friend wouldn’t just let him shit all over himself without saying something.

She just wishes she could come up with something better than, “Ayura will be sad she missed you.”

Both queen and conqueror look up as one, blinking in tandem. It would be eerie, if she wasn’t so busy trying to sound normal, to notice. “I left her back at the castle with Yona. I mean, since we were already taking Judoh, it seemed a little...”

Redundant, that’s what Judoh called it, while Yona’s mouth pursed tight. But Hak had nodded, agreeing with whatever math generals did to decide these sorts of things, and she’d done the same. But it felt strange to say it now, like maybe she thought of her guards as completely interchangeable, not people but pawns she could swap out when it pleased her, no emotion whatsoever.

“Much,” she settles on, lamely.

“A pity,” Kouren says, and to Lili’s surprise, she’s sincere. “I had hoped to give my gratitude to all of you, when we next met. But I promise you, you will be safe here, even without both your retainers.”

Lili blinks. “O-oh, I didn’t mean to say that I…I mean, that you…” Ugh, Yona picked her to come here because she was supposed to be able to word better than her limp sheet of a cousin, and here she is, unable to string a sentence together that won’t cause a diplomatic incident. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s an honor for you to take such interest in us.”

She can’t bow over her hands like she should— at least, not without an awkward shimmy or knocking over her whole dinner— so she settles for a sedate bend at her shoulders, palms pressed tight to her thighs. It’s a pretty good compromise, in her opinion, but when she looks back up Soowon’s got his eyebrows all lifted— practically a guffaw when it comes to him— and Kouren’s got one corner of her mouth hitched up, like she’s considering a smile.

“It is the least I can do.” Kouren glances toward where Soowon sits pushing rice around in his bowl, trying to make it look touched, if not eaten. “Xing must have left you with a sour impression during your last visit. I do hope that you will for once get to see it as it is meant to be seen.”

Soowon shakes his head. “I could say the same for Kouka. If Xing had not helped with our efforts to rebuild, my cousin’s reign would not have started with such a stable foundation.”

Kouren waves a hand. “Think nothing of it. It was Xing’s great honor to help Her Majesty in her time of need. I would not have a country if Yona had not reached out her hand to me during mine.”

“You are too kind.” Lili nearly rolls her eyes at how practiced the words are, a reflex rather than any actual feeling on Soowon’s part. “Though I am sure that my cousin and her consort would be happy to receive you again, so you may see Kouka at its best.”

“I would like that. Very much.” Her mouth tilts, wry. “Perhaps we shall see after this coronation.”

“Yes.” Soowon’s fingers tighten on his chopsticks, smile stretched up to a squint. “I suppose we shall.”

[eretzyisrael]

by Lionel Shriver

Much has been written about the unholy, and in some ways, hilarious alliance developing between the progressive left and Islam (Lesbians for Palestine, etc.). But for Western writers to embrace a restrictive, prescriptive, and stifling culture isn’t merely ironic or comical; it’s self-defeating. One needn’t consult a professor of Middle Eastern studies to conclude that these fair-weather friends in Gaza may welcome useful idiocy, but the permissive ethos of the Anglo left is diametrically at odds with despotic Islamic theology. Moreover, for American writers to express increasingly shrill and little-disguised hostility to Jews is to disavow a substantial chunk of the country’s distinguished literary canon: Philip Roth, Saul Bellow, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Bernard Malamud, and Elie Wiesel just for starters.

But then, the past 15 years have demonstrated with depressing clarity that writers, along with artists of every stripe, aren’t special. Although our occupation is more at risk from censorship than most, we’re all too capable of perversely embracing suppressive viewpoints that violate our own interest. We’re paid not only to write but to think, yet we don’t think; we listen keenly for whatever tune is playing in our fellow travelers’ AirPods and whistle along. Apparently, we’re no more creative than the average bear, and as soon as the memo goes out, we’ll chant along with the kiddies camped at Columbia University, “from the river to the sea!” whatever that means. We’ll obediently switch out one cause for another whenever we’re told, as nimbly as using “find and replace” in Microsoft Word.

We’re cowards, conformists, and copycats. Real freedom of expression is too scary; we’d rather hide in a crowd whose keffiyeh-masked members all shout the same thing. PEN has a laudable history of advocating for writers who’ve been persecuted for their opinions in repressive polities—polities much like the contemporary United States. But too many of its members would have the nonprofit corrupt its global mission to protect free speech across the board so long as they can bully its leadership into pointless partisan posturing for progressives’ acrid flavor of the month.

[corythosauruswithascarf]

Saw furiosa and I’m putting some thoughts under the spoiler-

- the child actress was great, loved her

-overall just loved our short peek at the green place, very cool and solar punk. Not quite what I expected but totally love it

-wish I was able to identify the vulvalini war leader to who she was in mmfr

-really liked the kind of vignette structure that was used

-but yeah the first vignette or two was really really good, I loved Mary Jo bassa, I loved the tension of her and furi protecting the secret location

-I didnt like dementus in the trailers, but he was a lot smarter/more canny than expected. He approached furi in the right way and I think the audience really did love/hate him

-dementus at the citadel was great, loved how we established Joe’s power, but also dementus’s charisma and ability to lead a group as a ‘caring’ despot

-plus motorcycle chariot, iconic no notes

-gastown trojan horse was fine, def overshadowed by other stuff

- the parley scene, his nipples came off

- overall the handoff of furi and organic mechanic felt a little weird but I mean plot holes gonna plot hole

-teddy bear is iconic tho

-also lol at organic mechanic never aging

-aging in general was all over the place

- okay so furi is with the wives for not that long at all, and just nobody notices when she escapes???

-tho i guess rictus probably would have killed her anyway

-BLACKTHUMB BLACKTHUMB BLACKTHUMB

-idk just seeing furi build the war rig made me happy, and managing to get through the environment on her own

-basically all the of the stowaway was the high point of the move

- the war rig getting built

-the war with octoboss

-like that was cool as shit, all those kites

-love the miller just consistently raises the bar and makes this world crazier

- I think there was more CGI in this one, but overall combat still looked very very good

- coming down to the final two felt very tense, overall just great fight

-I think this is also when we saw the best acting out of Anya Taylor joy, the silent stare works when there’s crazy combat everywhere

-hey pissboy

-praetor Jack felt fine here, keeping her around was justified

-the time skip here was the worst tho

-like she just went from stowaway to driving the rig???

-idk i feel like that was the part of the story i was most interested in and they skipped it all

-also I hate her hair, like why???

-it also like never came up the she is literally the only woman with like any kind of power in the citadel???

-apparently the answer to how was some big strong awesome man protected her just because???

-like I just didn’t understand their chemistry

-also like nobody realized this was a wife that escaped a few years ago???

- so like I think the bulletown scene suffered just because like I didn’t care so much about this guy and don’t see why she did

-the dark dementus scene was alright I guess

-hi max! Is it implied he got her back to citadel?

- solo vengeance quest next, liked zooming out of there without rictus and scrotus

-but honestly Taylor joy just got way out acted by Hemsworth in that last vignette

-he was really really good

-and like she just stared

-like maybe it would have worked better if she had more dialogue

- but also I’m just not sure I found her as compelling out of a fight scene in general

-the peach tree was cool tho

-I was hoping to see my boy ace, but if he was there I missed it :(

In conclusion I have a lot of opinions please talk to me about them