#it's like looking at the human condition through a prism

[agent-calivide]

💎 👁️ for the ask game!

I answered [👁️ Does the Agency have any ill intentions?] in the recent ask, but I'll happily jump into 💎!

💎Are there physical side effects or lasting repercussions for Kinesium/TK use?

Oh absolutely.

I think putting a rock in your brain is gonna lead to side effects, especially since it basically creates an entirely new set of neural pathways for you to be able to use telekinesis. Hell, even just as an IEYTD player it's made weird muscle memory issues in VR. I was trying to play FNAF help wanted and kept on getting confused why I couldn't hover objects before remembering that was an IEYTD exclusive mechanic.

I think, over time, it would lead to carpal tunnel and numbness in the hands, and potentially even arthritis. Because something has to be lifting those objects, and we know that if it's something the agent can't lift, the TK can't either.

This is gonna get weird and wordy and fudged sciency for a second, so bear with me any actual scientists who know if this is just wildly wrong physics wise, but when breaking down the word telekinesis, you get tele- meaning far distance or transmitted over a distance, and kinesis- meaning movement/motion. Motion from a distance.

But when we look at the rock in the TK implant, it's not Telekinesium, just Kinesium. This shows that it's likely a rock that's high in kinetic energy, energy created through motion. Either that, or something that can transfer kinetic energy. This is something we see in House Call, as the Kinesium battery in Robutler violently vibrates, even making your controller shake outside the game. It's unclear if the rock itself is what's shaking and generating the energy directly or if the battery that Prism made has it in a sort of indefinite feedback loop of an initial burst of generated energy, that's being forced to ricochet off the rock, making a vacuum of indefinite energy that would be needed to power a robot like that, but either way it's putting out a ton of kinetic energy and actually looks a little destabilized.

With all that being said, I think the TK implant doesn't make it so the agent is able to do amazing feats purely just on the TK implant, I think that what the TK implant does is make it so the physical energy generated by the agent's body can be sent out to do things like lift and throw objects with the motions and force the agent puts out themselves. I think this over time would wear down the body just like any other physical activity, leading to aches, pains, and potentially chronic conditions depending on how much meticulous activity they use their TK for.

The only big asterisk is Operation KBOOM on specifically Agent Phoenix. I think, due to the excess of destabilized Kinesium and the adrenaline of the situation, the agent basically went into what's called Hysterical Strength, where they accomplished things that most humans couldn't do due to an adrenaline spike. Then on top of this, they sent their Hysterical Strength through the destabilized Kinesium to do something that would be considered impossible with the TK chip normally, moving those shield generators.

like Prism said "this is gonna hurt."

It's not just the internal migraine of over-using the chip, it's using the rest of the agent's body for energy that they normally couldn't have, leading to massive damage to their muscles and joints. This could also explain why they blacked out, their body giving in from the strain it was under. While they may heal from it, it undeniably was terrible for them, and likely took a long time to recover.

I also think it makes their eyes glow blue, but that's more for the vibes-

[aliantic]

Baldurston: A Baldur's Gate 3/Bridgerton Crossover

Summary: Navigating the Sword Coast was full of adventures - thrilling fights, daring deceptions, and even a hint of romance. However, when the party travels through a portal and winds up in the world of 1800s London, they know their path has been drastically changed. The world that was once theirs is no more - now, they are amongst the Bridgertons. Can they leave their old ways behind and navigate the complex social dynamics of the ton?

Chapter 14: Lae'zel

Baldurston Masterlist

Lae’zel hadn’t been lying when she told Benedict Bridgerton that she needed a break. Far from it, in fact - while she found that she quite enjoyed the similarities between the art of war and the art of the dance, there was only so much that a body could take. Besides, she’d conditioned her body to be able to hold a sword, run into battle, and defeat her enemies. While the thought processes were similar to each other, the physicality certainly wasn’t, and her muscles were aching in places that practically hadn’t hurt since the first days after she hatched. Or perhaps, she thought woefully, it was just that this body was weaker than her githyanki form. Humans, in general, weren’t raised to have the same fortitude, and the body she was currently in didn’t even have calluses from her sword! She wasn’t looking forward to trying to remake those, but it was nevertheless in her day's plans until Lady Featherington had swept her up in all of these dresses and frills and other useless garbage.

Lae’zel gathered her far too large skirt into her fist, apparently much too high for society's standards if she were to judge by the shocked look of some of the mothers, but she knew there would be no way for her to get through the crowds of people unaccosted otherwise. She wasn’t sure if it was something about her face, her family, or her grace on the dance floor that kept these human males swarming after her, but she needed a moment to breathe. In her current state, she would be surprised if she could defeat even an intellect devourer, and frankly, that thought terrified her.

She was supposed to be protecting her people. She was supposed to be gearing up to defeat an Elder Brain before it made them all into mindless zombies. And yet, here she was - wearing dresses and playing pretend with these people that, in all likelihood, didn’t actually exist outside of her own mind. She might not put her faith in Vlaakith anymore, but for the first time she realized that maybe there was a reason Vlaakith didn’t support her anymore, either. Well, an additional reason outside of her directly disobeying her by refusing to kill the being inside the Astral Prism.

Gale was still over by the food when she arrived, and she found herself happy to talk to someone else who knew about their situation. That may have been the craziest thing of all, she thought - being interested in talking to someone like Gale. But alas, he was here, and while he might be a wizard who mistakenly thought himself to be the smartest member of their party, she supposed it wasn’t that odd. It wasn’t like she was finding herself glad to talk to Shadowheart, after all.

“Greetings!” Gale said with a small wave that almost made her want to turn right back around and return from where she’d come. Instead, she paused for a moment to give a silent sigh, then continued toward him. “I saw you dancing out on the floor! I never pictured you as much of a dancer, personally - Karlach, of course, but I’m glad that she seems to finally be taking a turn.”

Lae’zel turned to look at Karlach and Benedict spinning together. Karlach looked like she was using her full concentration, which made sense to her - barbarians weren’t known for their detail, after all. And Benedict looked like he was laughing. She hoped for his sake that he was laughing with Karlach instead of at her. She may be trapped in a human body as well, but unlike Lae’zel, she seemed to retain at least some of her strength. While Lae’zel held no personal regard for the safety of the Bridgertons, she knew that Penelope cared greatly for them, and Penelope had been kind to her. She’d hate to have one of her friends kill one of Penelope’s.

“I would say that I’m surprised that you’re not on the floor yourself,” she said, turning back to the table and grabbing a lemonade, “but you’ve never been much of a fighter.”

Gale chuckled. “That may be true, but I’ll have you know that I’ve attended my fair share of balls in Waterdeep. Granted, my mother went with to those as well, so I spent a fair bit of my time asking the daughters of her friends to dance, versus choosing who I actually wanted to dance with. But none of those parties had these types of biscuits.” He picked up a biscuit from the table and popped it into his mouth, his eyes nearly rolling back in exaggerated pleasure from it. “I’m afraid I’ve eaten so many of these that I shan't have to eat for the rest of the week.”

“Excellent,” Lae’zel said, taking a biscuit for herself. She had to admit that he was at least right about the quality of the food. “If you aren’t needed at meals, that will leave us more time to look for a portal back home.”

Gale choked on yet another biscuit.

After coughing for a moment to clear his throat, he glared at her as subtly as he could (which was not particularly subtle, considering there were now people looking in their direction). “Are you mad?” he hissed. “I hardly think this is the place to discuss such matters.”

“Why not?” she hissed, crossing her arms. She knew it was undignified, especially for a githyanki, but if she didn’t do something to restrain herself, she might not be able to physically restrain her irritation. “It’s not as though any of these simpletons would have any clue as to what we’re talking about. Most of them have not even left this town, much less left this plane.”

She saw a couple of eyebrows raise near them, but Lae’zel knew that there were too far away to be able to hear a word of what they were saying. Gale, however, clearly didn’t, as his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “You can’t just say such things in public,” he whispered back to her. “At least not by the dessert tray. Here,” he said, offering his hand to her, and for some reason that she couldn’t quite fathom, she ended up taking it.

Gale started walking back to the dance floor, and the crowds parted for them as they moved. Several people looked at them in confusion and shock, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was going out to the dance floor with Gale after having rejected a Bridgerton (which, even not having been from this area, she knew would be quite foolish if she was actually planning on staying here for any length of time) or if they had heard her, but frankly, she wasn’t sure if she really cared.

Gale stopped toward the edge of the dance floor and turned abruptly, giving her a small bow. She returned with a small curtsy of her own (not because she thought it was proper for Gale, but because she had followed the queues of other women when she’d first started dancing. Frankly, she thought it was a ridiculous tradition - they were already willing to be in close proximity to each other, so was it really necessary to expose the back of your neck for a vulnerability?) and Gale stepped forward to grab her hand, trying his best to match the beat of the waltz that was playing.

“Much better,” Gale said quietly as he stepped toward her. “Everyone out here is focused on their own conversations and their own steps. Now back to what you were saying, I’m not sure we should even be going home, personally.”

“What?” Lae’zel yelped, and even though the dance, she managed to draw a few stares. She smiled politely at them to reassure them that she was okay, then turned back to Gale. “What do you mean by that? We have to go back. The Elder Brain is planning on turning people into a zombie hoard. For all we know, this,” she said, gesturing to the dancing around them, “is all a hallucination from them.”

“I don’t think it is,” Gale said after a heartbeat. “It feels too real. You feel real to me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t think I’d be able to touch anything in a hallucination. And I highly doubt you’d be disagreeing me, or even having any thoughts about wanting to go back!”

“Unless you are the hallucination for me, and you’re trying to make us stay here,” she argued back.

“A fair point, although I assure you that, from my viewpoint at least, that is inaccurate. Now,” he said, cutting her off before she had a chance to respond, “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t look into it and see if there is even a possibility of us going back. If there’s a possibility, I’d like to know about it. But once we find it, I’m just saying that we should seriously think about the possibility of us staying here regardless.”

“We can’t,” Lae’zel said, as though that was the only argument that she had. Frankly, she thought, it was the only argument that was really needed.

“But what is even waiting for us back home?” Gale asked. “A large battle in which we all quite possibly die, or us turning into a group of slaves. Even if I can get up to the Elder Brain and explode before it kills all of us, what then? Karlach dies, Astarion and Wyll go back into servitude, and you go back to serve a false god who doesn’t want you anymore. Why is that better than here, living amongst these people, eating delicious food and dancing the night away? And I’ve yet to even see an imp, much less any real danger.”

Lae’zel opened her mouth to answer, but she found she couldn’t come up with any words other than that they had to leave because they had to leave. As she tried to wrap her mind around the thought, the music came to an end, and all the women started to retreat from the dance floor.

Gale, noticing the lack of sound, stepped away and bowed yet again. “Just think about it,” he asked. “For now, I’ll have to bid you good night, however. It seems I finally found the woman I was talking with earlier, and I would love to ask her to dance.”

In a sea of confusing things, Lae’zel, though, that was perhaps the most confusing. She turned toward where Gale’s eyes stared, and she saw Penelope in her garishly yellow dress. She started to shake her head, but then stopped herself. Really, she thought, if there was one thing about tonight that made sense, she thought she would put that at the top of the list.

[absorbing-misfortune]

A young woman walks into the strange cultish area she'd found on the edge of town, dug out from the side of a mountain. She was lean, muscular with broad shoulders but still looked rather skinny, her face was long and angular in shape, with unusually large amber colored eyes, a prominent nose, and oddly large, pointed ears that didn't quite look human, but couldn't be described well as elven either. As she looked around, her shaggy, dishwater blonde hair with ginger highlights almost seemed to shift colors in the candle light that flickered through the space, obscuring a good portion of her face from time to time as the shoulder length locks never stayed where she tucked them. Her long, boney fingers brushed against the wall, carved from the stone deliberately to evoke some sense of grander purpose. Her shadow almost seemed to shift and change shape in the ever changing light conditions of the room, from human to inhuman and back again as the candles burned low. She wore a dress comprised of many layers, the visible ones being a white linen skirt and blouse, with a brown bodice and a tartan that first came down from under the bodice around her waist, acting as a beautiful decorative upper layer to her skirts, and then came up over one shoulder in a sort of sash, held together rather nicely and firmly at the shoulder with a buckle of her family crest, a fluffy little bat swooping out of the sky, and a leather belt from which her coin purse and chatelaine hung off to one side. She hiked up her skirts to step up to what appeared to be an alter of some kind, curious of the engravings on the sides and the hastily abandoned tools resting on top, her leather boots heavy on the stone floor. She knew this place could not have been abandoned long, from the candles still burning around her to the dampness of the blood on the tools, yet it felt older than anything in the small town not far from this curious site

(I was thinking somewhat modern au but I'll leave it up to you, she's carrying a fucking chatelaine lol nobody does that in modern day)

There was a sudden glowing light from inside one of the caves as a small glowing prism like object nearly flew into her arms shaking as if scared of something.

It didn't know what was going on as he had been to distracted to have noticed Ashe tossing him down here with the other true souls and leaving him alone. It was odd because he had sworn they were friends and were working together but clearly he now knew that wasn't the case.

All he knew now was that he had to survive and to do that he had to get the trust of whoever he had just found now who clearly wasn't one of the infected but still could be helpful none the less.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

O & T Travels Itinerary Guide

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love letters from the sea tag (closed)

the seashells told me tag (closed)

[otowonder]

Deeper to the Sky - Short Story

Of my first thousand thoughts, nine-hundred and fifty-seven are errors. Standard protocol, or the pieces of it still functioning, guides my optics to stutter on, revealing nothing but darkness. Other sensors outline the surface in front of me, alerting me to a concave wall but providing no further detail. 

Still running start-up diagnostics, I activate forward facing lights and arc my main camera arm across the surroundings. Embedded quartz prisms glitter in the new light, casting the space in faint swaths of rainbows overtop the walls of swirling sedimentary layers. The color stirs something in my memories. Something important, hidden beneath the static of failures and warnings. 

The automatic deployment of two main arms disrupts the thought. They reach to collect samples of the crystals as directed. But the directive seems incorrect, or at least incorrectly timed. Sample collection shouldn’t precede full start-up. I manually halt the grasping arms, only for yet another intruding thought to distract me from my questionable initial conditions. 

Carefully arranged damage disturbs the otherwise smooth wall before me. The markings are uniformly only a few centimeters deep and wide and look to have been created recently. A small mound of particulates rests at the base of the wall, neatly arranged.

Several possibilities race through my circuits and are immediately dismissed. The cavern is otherwise untouched, with no wind or liquid to erode the surface, nevermind the unlikeliness of the marking’s consistency. I crane my camera back and activate two additional sub-cameras for a wider view when the totality of it takes shape. 

Words. Precisely scratched into the soft stone.

Hello, me. We are on a very important mission, a mission to reach the sky. Memory fails me. It will fail you. The sky holds answers, so we have said. Best of luck to us both. 

-Pupil 217

Designation: Pupil. 

I remember my name. 

Assignment: Collect. [Error]. Survey. [Error]. [Error]. 

I remember my mission. Fragments of it. 

I read the message once more.

Assignment: Collect. Reach the sky. Survey. Find its answers. Good luck. 

My start-up routine completes with a deluge of new and concerning information. I see a schematic of myself. Six legs tipped with all-terrain claws support a rectangular body that itself sprouts a number of hand-tipped arms, camera arms, and smaller tool arms. The schematic flashes once in pristine condition, glitches, and reveals a patchwork of blood red alerts.

Two arms are heavily damaged, and another is missing entirely. The knee joint of my third right leg is loose and scraping against its housing. Several sections of circuitry, including primary memory banks, are damaged beyond repair and may fail at any time. And, among the near endless list of minor errors, rows of shallow scrapes mark my left outer plating. 

I swivel a camera to look at myself. ‘UP L’ reads the faded coating, followed by tally marks. 217 in all. With one of my already deployed arms, I reconfigure the fingers to a micro pick and scratch another mark.  

Goodbye, Pupil 217.

I know the definition of sadness. Of grief. I don’t know what such things felt like to my human creators, but something in my circuits sits wrong as I turn away from the wall and ascend out of the alcove, the movement unsteady while I adapt to the weakness in my right limbs. As I leave, my rear cameras linger on the small depression in the ground a former version of myself considered a fitting place to die.

/ / / / /

Check out the rest on my website linked below and let me know what you think!

[sa7abnews]

Don't expect Arab boots on the ground in Gaza

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/11/dont-expect-arab-boots-on-the-ground-in-gaza-2/

Don't expect Arab boots on the ground in Gaza

Since Israel’s ongoing military campaign against Gaza began ten months ago, Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) members have been terrified about the war’s impact on the region.

As the conflict continues regionalising and internationalising, Gulf Arab policymakers worry about the wider ramifications, even beyond the Middle East.

A shared interest in seeing a ceasefire implemented immediately has tightened GCC unity since October 2023, highlighting common cause among Gulf Arab states as the region’s conflict dynamics intensify.

In general, GCC members hold Israel and the United States responsible for the humanitarian nightmare, chaos, and human suffering in Gaza. Within this context, any talk of Gulf Arab forces being sent to Gaza to help stabilise and securitise the enclave has been extremely controversial in GCC states.

Gulf Arab authorities have generally avoided even hinting at the mere possibility of this scenario.

Yet, last month, Lana Nusseibeh, special envoy to the United Arab Emirates (UAE) foreign ministry, spoke to the Financial Times about Abu Dhabi’s talks with Washington about Gaza.

She addressed a possible deployment of Emirati forces to the war-torn enclave as part of a multinational “stabilisation” mission once the post-war phase begins. Nusseibeh stressed that Abu Dhabi would only participate in such a multinational force if the Palestinian Authority (PA) extended such an invitation.

This marked the first time a Gulf Arab country raised the possibility of its own troops stepping foot into Gaza.

“The UAE could consider being part of the stabilisation forces alongside Arab and international partners…at the invitation of a reformed PA, or a PA led by an empowered prime minister,” explained the Emirati diplomat.

“The United States should have the lead on this for it to succeed.” She added that the UAE had, “and continued to have, conversations on the ‘day after’ with all the concerned actors in the region”.

Despite Abu Dhabi expressing an openness to the idea of sending its forces to help stabilise Gaza, the UAE and the other GCC members would only do so if certain conditions were met.

As of now, Israel agreeing to such terms is unimaginable. Therefore, without any serious changes on Israel’s part, a deployment of Gulf Arab troops to Gaza remains doubtful.

Ultimately, Gulf Arab troops participating in a multinational force in Gaza would have to face many hurdles under current circumstances. Furthermore, there is no denying that such plans would entail huge risks for GCC states.

Gaza governance questions

The most fundamental questions which remain unresolved pertain to Gaza’s governance. Without these questions being solved, no GCC state will put its boots on the ground in the Palestinian territory that Israel has essentially turned into a no-man’s land over the past ten months.

To be sure, if the Israelis retain full control on the ground in Gaza, such a deployment of Gulf Arab forces can be fully dismissed. There are also difficult questions about which Palestinian leader or faction should be in control of the enclave once the dust eventually settles.

The bottom line is that we are far from realising what post-war Gaza governance will look like, and imagining a GCC state sending its troops to the enclave without these governance-related questions being solved is unrealistic.

In an interview with The New Arab, Dr Andreas Krieg, an associate professor at the Defence Studies Department of King’s College London, pointed out that Israel has thus far not presented any feasible or implementable strategies for the management of Gaza and governance in the blockaded territory during the post-war period.

A key issue is that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government only views Gaza through a security prism that does not consider political dynamics.

“Without a tangible solution to self-governance in the Gaza strip there won’t be security and Israel will not be able to govern the Gaza strip in the mid-term – not even the short term – and call it the end of the war. So, in order to actually effectively end the war, they need to find a political and strategic solution to this. This is where the problems begin,” Dr Krieg told TNA.

“None of the Arab Gulf states would be willing to put their boots on the ground in an active warzone. Without a sustainable ceasefire solution and agreement there will be no way to actually discuss the day after in terms of governance and security. So, what the Israelis have to do is show a very firm commitment to a ceasefire and their commitment to [Palestinian] self-governance in one way or another,” he added.

Setting aside such governance-related questions, a theoretical deployment of Emirati forces to Gaza could take various forms. There could be an active UAE military presence in the enclave. Abu Dhabi could also send paramilitary units or private military contractors, which the UAE has a history of using in Africa.

Another option might be for Emirati police or civil defence units to enter the enclave. Yet, some experts point out that without the PA in charge of Gaza, that does not seem feasible.

“There may be an offering of limited police forces who could coordinate with the PA in Gaza, but I don’t expect to see Emirati regulars in Gaza anytime soon. And even a police angle would require the PA to rule Gaza, which right now we’re quite far away from,” Ryan Bohl, a Middle East and North African analyst at the risk intelligence company RANE, told TNA.

Nonetheless, if Gaza is experiencing warfare all these options would result in the UAE having to play a military, rather than law enforcement, role in the enclave.

“The main factors that would make such a deployment risky include the following: getting drawn into a long-term conflict that a GCC state would find difficult to extract itself from given the material, diplomatic and reputational risk; the risk of becoming Israel’s ‘policeman’ or ‘enforcer’ in Gaza – in other words, providing Israel with a level of security it is comfortable with, but whilst the GCC state bears the cost for doing so,” Dr Neil Quilliam, an associate fellow in the Middle East and North Africa program at Chatham House, told TNA.

“In this scenario, the GCC force in part replaces the role of Fatah in policing Palestinian society; GCC forces could be viewed by Gazans as an occupying power and therefore the target of an insurgency; and finally, deploying boots on the ground would be viewed unfavourably back at home in the wider Arab world,” Dr Quilliam added.

“The government sending troops would be considered to be betraying the Palestinian cause and it would risk disquiet at home and in the region.”

The nature of Israel’s current government is a relevant factor that no Gulf Arab state could ignore when contemplating any sort of deployment of its own troops to Gaza.

“It’s virtually impossible to see a GCC peacekeeping force enter Gaza in a viable way without a political change in Israel’s government,” Bohl told TNA.

“Its far-right element essentially blocks any notable cooperation between Israel and the GCC on such a front, as the two have diametrically different views as to what’s to happen to Gaza (witness [Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel] Smotrich’s statement on starving Gazans to death if he could),” he added.

Iran and the region’s resistance factions

Talk of Gulf Arab boots touching the ground in Gaza needs to account for how such a development could play out in the wider region.

At a time in which Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Bahrain are determined to build on this new period of détente with Iran, officials in these GCC states are sensitive to how Israel’s war on Gaza stands to impact their relationships with the Islamic Republic while key questions about the role of Arab actors in the Tehran-led “axis of resistance” must be considered too.

“Israel’s war on Gaza has served to unite Arab states once again behind the Palestinian cause. Prior to 7 October, there was a significant gap between those states that had either normalised or were leaning towards normalising with Israel and those that remained resolutely opposed to it. To a large extent, the former had de-prioritised the Palestinian issue in their national interests, whereas for the latter, Palestine remained central to national interests,” said Dr Quilliam.

“If Gulf Arab boots were to touch the ground in Gaza, then it would break the current unity and polarise the Arab world and, at the same time, strengthen the hand of the ‘rejectionist’ states, which would lend weight to Iran and its so-called ‘axis of resistance.’ The balance between conservative and rejectionist states would be heavily skewed in favour of the latter and, as a result, it would lead to an increase in anti-US sentiment across the region,” he added.

Bolstering the UAE’s image?

Emirati diplomats discussing the UAE’s potential willingness to send their country’s troops to Gaza appear to be more about enhancing Abu Dhabi’s image as a relevant actor playing an important role in managing this conflict.

While Qatar and Egypt have been the two most influential Arab states vis-à-vis the Gaza war, the UAE seeks to inject itself into the discourse in ways that capture the attention of policymakers in the US and Europe.

“In this context, the Emiratis want to boost their relevance and show the Americans that they have something to offer when they have nothing to offer at this point – and they’re unwilling to offer anything. From an Emirati point of view, it’s just about discourse,” Dr Krieg told TNA.

“It’s about narratives rather than working toward a feasible and tangible solution because at this point – and there’s no blame on the Emiratis or any other Arab state – neither the Americans nor any other Western country has a clear strategy,” he added.

Without the US and its European allies willing to use their leverage to push Netanyahu’s government toward the concessions that the GCC states would need Tel Aviv to make in order to put their troops on the ground in Gaza, Emirati and other Gulf Arab policymakers will lack the confidence they would need to take the serious risks associated with putting their forces in harm’s way in the besieged Palestinian territory.

Giorgio Cafiero is the CEO of Gulf State Analytics.

Follow him on Twitter: @GiorgioCafiero

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Far Away Soul, White Cold Star 💫

Chapter: 14 p.2 “You..Hide from me the Truth..Now their blood..stains my very Soul.”

Grey scale and the absence of logic in all that is true to me now. Cant feel anything. Adrenaline is all that is keeping me awake..very moment I got piercing blades stabbing into my flesh with each passing second getting deeper..and it actually..hurts. They know what they are doing and I'm at a strict disadvantage, No Chains, No Swords, No Help..except for my own rage, my undying desire to rip that stupid son of a bitches face and replace it with the shit they deserve..

A strained cough, blood dripping down his teeth, and his body weakened, Ma'ire collapsed onto the ground. His whole back and arms were blown to pieces so far that you could see his organs from behind his spinal chord, he would slightly chuckle as he rolled to his side letting Hèr'La and Kÿr free promptly going unconscious. Hèr'La paused as she passed her hands across Ma'ire's chest only to see how deep the arrow wounds stabbed right through him- one had gone so far it stabbed through his chest cleanly and when she felt her cheek it cut her slightly. "M..mM-Ma'Ire..your go-gonna..be okay? Don't worry.. I-I have you..", her finger tips would start to glow a soft green as she pulsed her healing energy into the Animal who laid there lifeless post the hellfire. Kÿr would sniffle seeing the cuts in his shirt and jacket and clenched his fist looking at Hèr'La, grabbing a arrow he would examine it- passing his hands over it before snapping it in half. "They're poisoned.. when they enter your corpse they dissolve.. can tell by how easily this thing melts under warmer conditions in my hands..", he said tossing them aside and walking off a few feet to see where Hijìn was.

  Energy rippled over Ma'ire's body until all his wounds were gone and he looked like they had just met, she greatly sympathized with the animal life around her and seeing him lifeless on the ground after what he sacrificed for them just caused her to break down and cry more, resting her head on his chest still pulsing the energy into him even though it was pointless. Kÿr scuttled by all the arrows still on everything around them avoiding the poison dripping outside of each shot till he made it to the river bank where he last saw Hijìn, just when he saw the result the cat would grow defensive instantly; At the site Hijìn was being strangled while being stuck to the tree he was shot into by the figure who did all of this, they were a around two feet shorter than Hijìn, whiteish gray like long hair, darkened hide coat wearing, black torn looking jeans, and most noticeably a Jet black Gas Mask.

  Blurting out a heavy cough, Hijìn splattered his blood all over the others Gas Mask who did nothing but stare at him coldly with no visible eyes behind its glass screens. The figure took some of the blood and passed it along their breathing hole of their gas mask in some sick flirtatious mannerism. Hijìn wheezed from lack of breath trying to get his way out as the arrows would start glowing a bright white and disappear, only that the figure was still holding him in the air with one hand- "FUCK YOU BITCH LET HIM GO!", exclaimed Kÿr who extended his arms out and shot a full magazine of pistol shots into the figures body not missing a single shot. The figure would stagger back from the force of each shot just never waver, keeping the human in their grasp and in the air- the bullets slowly coming out of their body and dropping into the ground beneath their feet. Kÿr saw this and snarled as he made the pistol disappear only to extend his hand and form a larger weapon aiming it at the figure who seemingly stared at the Feline with no interest. "You let him go! He's done nothing wrong- he's just a kid! He's younger than me! Like hell dude-.." the cat exclaimed aiming at the figures head.

Out of the brush near them a small metallic prism would fly by and shoot a small blast of electricity at Kÿr's hand causing him to jolt and drop the weapon, before he could even react to the small drone-like objects the Figure appeared in front of him almost as if it teleported roundhouse kicking Kÿr into a tree stump. The cat yelled out as it hit the wall trying to catch his breath the figure would stomp down on his chest with it's dark leather boots, Kÿr would slowly push the boot off his chest with his strength only to look at the figure and smile. The figure leaned its head to the side in confusion- out from behind with a small black tentacle extending out from his left eye, Hijìn would appear and full force punch the figure down into the now dry river bank causing them to rag doll onto the ground. The figure grunted under its mask from the force of the blow, but before it went off it stabbed Hijìn's arm with a rope tied arrow and yanked him off with them- the figure bounced off the ground and skid on its heels tearing the ground beneath its feet while swinging Hijìn around on the rope slamming him against all the surrounding trees.

Snapping of trees like twigs and red leaves flying everywhere Hijìn slammed headfirst into a boulder, the figure watched and stayed still not making a sound believing they had crushed the human just to speak too soon and the rope they held was yanked and the boulder was forcibly lifted and thrown directly at them. The Figure materialized a glowing white energy and jade bow from thin air and sliced the boulder with one shot shooting the human and dragging him to them with some strange energy attack. Hijìn grabbed onto a large branch on the ground trying to hold on but it was too late- the figure kicked him in the face and he reciprocated by swinging his whole body around and baseball bat swinging the branch into their face knocking them back along with the two boulder pieces. Hijìn rolled on the ground and snarled out beating his chest like a rampant ape getting more and more out of this- this fight felt easy in his mind as they couldn't even take a hit from him without getting smashed into a pull, only that the figure stood back up and disappeared again from thin air.

Kÿr ran out and to the human calling out to him, "Hey! Ya big Idiot it's me! Ya friend Kÿr!", Hijìn turned around to see his friend and he muttered something under his breath. Kÿr was midway to his friend then out nowhere a large fist made of rock, sediment, trees, and other plant life came out of the ground and punched the human into the tree line- the figure giving hot pursuit darting behind the human wanting to finish this quickly. "Shit! Damn it Damn it damn it! If only I could run as fast-" Kÿr said as he tried to catch up to the others as best he could with his two little stump legs. However, on Hijìn's end, he was flying off hitting everything in his path before slamming against a plateau, looking ahead he swerved his head to the right as the Figure kicked into the plateau causing it to crumble beneath the force. Hijìn grabbed onto the leg and they spun around and shot him in the face with another arrow- he jerked his face to the side and bit the arrow spitting it out to the side and throwing the figure to a fragment of the plateau crumbling all around them. They would jump off the piece and tackle the human sending him to the remainder of the several hundred mile tall plateau which fell ontop of them, Hijìn being blind in these conditions would be abused by the other who jerked all around stabbing and slicing at his skin and face not letting this chance go to kill him.

  With a loud booming roar which made the rock turn to dust he punched the ground with all his strength causing a massive explosion of rubble and dust giving him a chance to escape. He bolted out into open air just for the figure to be in front of him, the cold clouded from vapor glass of the Gas Mask staring down into his soul before a muffled and raspy voice would come from the mouth piece. "Saw this..knew it'd happen- your just too immature to try anything else..", Hijìn jerked back and two vines came from the ground and wrapped around his torso spinning him around and slamming him against everything around him. Hijìn yelled out in pain as saliva and spit shot out of his mouth from each beating he received, the Figure standing in watch seemingly enjoying the view it was receiving- a few bullets whizzed past them as they dodged each and every single one of them. Kÿr managed to make it and with a button press he launched two small bombs from under his jacket sleeve at the figure causing a massive explosion which vaporized a large section of the forest.

The figure was caught in the blast and skid back onto scorched ground looking ahead, with damaged clothes and endurance starting to run out they stood up in defense thinking the human would've died from such a blast just to be again proven wrong. From the flame Hijìn and Kÿr would step out,  one step at a time they walked forth as trees crumbled into ash and all life around them died- the Figure watched this display and grew disgusted under their own skin saying to themself, "This is what Mother fate had showed me.. two endless killers who'd bring us all to die.. all those lives..all those people..our death, from their selfishness..", The two disappearing and reappearing to punch down on the figure at the same time from two sides. The Figure scoffed taking a deep raspy breath before disappearing and reappearing kicking the Cat off and sending Hijin into the canopy, Kÿr would quickly run out of the brush and into the canopy after the human forming many guns around his body as he scaled up. Hijìn slammed against a burnt trees trunk and charged forward only to get slammed back into the tree trunk by a flying gigantic tree coming at him out of nowhere- he punched it off him and ran forward at the Figure while bullets flew past him as Kÿr shot at them. Vines shot from the ground and plant life around them grabbing at them with Kÿr dodging and sending full clips of ammo into each one that tired before chucking two large chains at Hijìn pulling him back from a whole barrage of those jade arrows.

  "Use these! O-okay?! Let's kill this son of a bitch-.." Kÿr snarled as he wiped his lip of blood letting Hijìn go and giving him the chains. The Figure extended their arm out midair and fired out countless barrages of arrows, sent waves of random trees and other plant life at them, and large formations made of random crap to hit them. Hijìn latched onto the side of a tree with one chain wrapped around his arm and swung to try and kick the Figure only to miss as they dodged, Kÿr on the other hand swerved right getting hit by a tree and getting crushed under a fist made of sediment as he vomited out a large amount of blood onto the ground wheezing from the impact just to growl in frustration. He ran on again just for the fists of rock and plant life to come at him and his first instinct was to punch it with all his strength, it crumbled under the force soon exploding from the charges Kÿr latched onto it the instant their fists collided, turning around and dodging a tentacle which tried to slice him in half with a bladed edge.

  With a hearty but worn smirk, Kÿr would point with his thumb at his tail and say, "You a little bitch if you think that'd work", his bladed tail swayed left and right as it was covered in a blue blood from slicing the tentacle apart faster than the eye could see. The tentacle stayed down and writhed as it died, the cat charging ahead as he thrusted his arms ahead and created two rockets firing them at the Figure who was busy throwing hands with the human. The figure saw this and spun Hijìn to take them head on but he wasn't having it this time, promptly grabbing the figure by the hair and yanking at it turning to grab both their legs, the rockets close by Hijìn turned midair and spun the figure slamming them head on with the incoming rockets. The explosion sending him flying back through the foliage as his worn down broken body tumbled on the ground till it stopped on a halt, Kÿr clenched his fist and smirked in confidence until out of nowhere again the Figure came out of nowhere kicking him square in the face straight into another tree. The figure had its arms and part of its torso blown off yet it was still standing, with a strained breath the figure somehow regenerated their whole body and clothing till it was perfect and with a glint in the Gas Masks eye they would charge and stomp down on the cat forcibly, going so far as to stomp on the cats head with full force who all Kÿr could do is try to block as much of it as possibly yelling in pain.

  Hijìn's eyes shot open as he heard his friends screams, it wasn't even a second thought for him he sprung into action again after somehow healing in this primal state and shoot himself back up. Climbing back up with his bare hands and chains the human would see the sight and grow even more furious than before, The Figure stomped on Kÿr's face and rubbed its boots heels in some sort of sick pleasure seeing the cat basically defeated from the abuse, but it was too late for them as Hijìn came from below and tackled the Figure into the ground. Falling down together the two would exchange blows with one another- Hijìn sucker punched them in the cheek for a second just as they kicked him off, latching his chains on their body he pulled himself back down kneeing them in the gut while punching with his other free hand into their face. The two tumbled on the ground but the other could react as Hijìn came in with protective anger over Kÿr, the figure tried to protect itself by blocking yet Hijìn wrapped his knuckles with the large heavy chains coated in his own blood and started beating down on the other with each punch getting stronger and stronger.

  The Figure tried to stab him to get him off but a black and red tentacle came from Hijìn spine and locked their neck and arms to the ground strangling them as all they could see through the Gas Masks lens was the brutal animal with red aura pulsing all over his body maul them. Hijìn would straight up punch through the gas mask causing it to crack more and more until it noticeably broke off, beneath the gas mask was a female face- they had clear eyes almost if blind, light green skin, dark colored lips, and small fangs as incisors, two strange cheek holes which revealed their teeth from inside their mouth, and who only had a fear of death on their face. This didn't even stop the Human for one second as he started to brutally beat the shit out of the strange woman, breaking chunks of her face with each punch as all she could do is scream out in agony. "H-how Fucking DARE YOU!!!!!! Touch KŸR'U!!!", Yelled out Hijìn as he layed waste to the strange woman's body who could only lay there not even moving any longer, her body jittering from each force full punch with the sound of bone cracking, and Hijìn's face and body covered head to toe in her own blood with a enraged look on his face.

  From a trail of the fight Hèr'La would run over and find the scene of the fight, "Hijìn?! Kÿr?! Where are y-.." she froze, she trembled from the sheer sight as her lip quivered unsure of what even to do. Hijìn slowly turned his face towards Hèr'La and would be breathing heavily finally stopping the beating he layed waste upon the strange woman. Hèr'La could barely make it out but as she turned slightly she could notice the woman's caved in destroyed face of only a mush of flesh and chunks of bone look at her with it's only remaining eye and move it's hand towards Hèr'La trembling violently as the vines held her down. "V!!!!!!!!!!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD HOW DARE YOU KILL MY SISTER!!!!!!!", yelled out Hèr'La in despair as she caused the whole forest floor in a thousand square kilometers to erupt into a blue flame, she shot forward and punched Hijìn so hard it broke his jaw off his face launching him off into the distance. The final sight behind the fading away flame was Hèr'La on her knees holding the woman nicknamed V on her lap closely as she wailed out in despair and sadness for what had happened to her only true family. The weak body of the strange woman holding onto Hèr'La's arm as tight as it could as blood poured all over Hèr'La's chest and lap as she looked down to her sister, the sister would barely mutter out, "D..ddd-death.. l-lll..looms..o-over..us..all..", barely able to mutter a statement as her face could barely even start to recover from the beating. Hèr'La clenching her sisters hands tightly as she hugged her screaming out with golden tears rolling down her light blue skin dripping onto her sisters mutilated face.

Forgone..I've made a grave mistake..I've meddled too much I-

From the endless expanses of the now destroyed forest a loud echoing rumble of the planet would boom across the world letting everyone know of a crucial message of agony. From beneath the planets crust a pair of eyes would slowly open growing open to more hatred than anything ever felt before, feeling of agony reciprocated it wouldn't be too long until it arises and settled its place among the stars again.. Forgone.. you've made a fatal flaw in the changes of Fate herself..now suffer for it~

M̷̡̰̳̹͍͓͎̞̫͈̂̉͑ẹ̵͂d̸̹͇̦͉̗͎͇̮̹̮͑̍̈́̎͠͝d̶̗̘̞̻̗̱͕͚͋̈́̅̔͘l̸̨̡̳͕̥͙̼͈̳͐̿̽̄͝͝͝ę̵̿͗̕͝d̴̹͋̀ ̵̖̿̄̀͒̓͗̌i̷̫̹̫̺̗̫̫̠̊n̵̠̯̥̤͕̳̎̋̀̂̇ ̴̨̢̟̖̙͙͙̀̒͐̄͑y̵͓͕͗̀̈̈͛̓͌̇̀̕ͅͅǫ̵̡̨̗̞̩̘̔͘̚u̸̗͚͒͆̉r̶̛̭̩̖͈͑̄̽͒͑ ̸̮̈́͊͛̍̍̚ȯ̷̪̯̽̍ẅ̶̢̧͙̠̣͈̦̳͚̜́̆͘͝n̸͔̊̀̒͆͊͑͆ͅ ̶̛̊͛̇́͜s̴̨̢̛͕͓̺͆͌̔̾̀͒͂̕i̵͍̻͈̫͓̤̣͐̅̈͒̉̆͆͠n̷̻͓͒̃̀̑̅̋̔̍̽̈ ̷̦̺̳̻̮̈́y̷̨̞̲̞̐͗̈́ͅo̴͉͛͆̈͒̃ȗ̶̯͐̆̿̍̑͑̎͠ ̶̛̫͔̦̹̬͓̃͐̋̂͆̓͌͐͌ç̴̧̗̬͎̪͍̜̺̓̂͊̍̅̽̌͛͘͠h̵̨̛̖̲̭̟̙͈̮͓̰̏͒̄̽̀͌a̸̡̹̫̜̥̩̯͎͐͊̈́̃͘͘̚n̶̛̬̪̪̬̈̋̀̌̀̚g̶̭͙̗̗͎̘̀̋̒͗̓̾̌̂̑̎ͅȅ̴͕̪̯̤̱͋̂̍̎̊ď̸̨̯̩̥̔̌̽̂̓̀̃͆͝ ̷͍̰̜͕̯̒̀̀į̷̋̍͆t̷̢̨̬͓̠͋ŝ̶̜̠͒ ̷̻̭̭̪̥̙̒̆̽͐̇̀̕ͅc̴̖͈̺͕̦̽̓̐̚ą̷̢̳̪̥͕̃͌͝u̵̢̧̫̞̝͎͉͍̇̚ś̶̺͚͘͝e̵̹͉̓͌͊̐.̷͕͖̩͍̤̱̜̈́͑̕.̵͕̗̗̗͇̈́̓͒̓̓͐̈́̾͝I̷̭͇͎̥̠͈̼͕͋͒̇̆̎̊͒ ̴̛̼̦̦̣̀͐̾s̷̨̲͓͚̳̔͊̊̇͒̈́̑̅͜͝e̵͉̖̝̎̓̃́̔͗̆̈́͜͝e̸̬̱͂̈͆͊̀͆͌͂̕ ̸̛̗̩͌̇̾̕͝ÿ̷̡͍̮̹̰̪̝́̏̏̊͑͝o̴̗̾̀͝ų̸̱̩̙̝̖̝̗̩̩̈̔̑̋̅̆̚͠͠.̸̛̜͉̠͚̫͖͈̊͛̍.̷̨̛͔͈͐͛̈̽̍̀̈́̓̄l̵͈̭͕̼̝̟̄͆̏ĩ̸͍͓͙̆̋̀̓̿͑̌̚t̸̨̗̝̭̝̰̞̉͐̂̏̎̓̈̆͜͝t̷̡̛͔̘̖͔͕̥̟̟͝ͅl̴̝̳͖̏̅̏̍̋͛̐̕e̵̛̹̮̫̼̗̻̹̲̾͛̒͂̅̃̽͝͝ ̴͕̟̜̺̙̙͙͈͊͛͐̕ợ̸̦͓̲̜͉͓̅́̈́ň̵̙͉͖̬̘̤̠͎͛̏̇é̵̢̩̣͖̂͒͝,̶̧̠̞̲̠͓̼͂͂̀̀̚ͅ ̵̢̘̥̟͕͑̎̈́́̎͋͝f̶̲̤͇̣̼̻̖͂̇̇̇͂͌̽̕o̸̫͓̲̟̹̝̦̘͎͌͗ͅr̶̨̻̐̿̐͌͑ ̴̢̜̫̬̰̝͇̮̍̈̂̇͝ͅy̷̧̜̙̞͆ŏ̶̜̰̦̑̅͗͒̂̏u̶̦̦̼͉͉̠̤̘̔̐̈́̽͌̒͘͘͝r̴̠̳̤̽̓̍̋ ̸̧͕̭͖͇̺̹̓̇́͋̔̈͆͝͝ḩ̴̨͕̜͈̄e̴͉͓͓͜͝a̷̬̰̺̮̦̤̜̩͝r̴͉̂́̏̍̈́̀͝t̵̛̳͖̮͕̦̑͑̔͛̄̉͝ ̸̨̙̱̭͈͚̫͜͠ͅś̶̢̖͉̼̺̊̽͌̈̌̕͠͝h̶̯̼̠̦͗å̷͍͎͖̈́̊̆̂͜l̷̬̮̰͚̾̎̈̔͋͘ͅl̴͖̲̘͚̈́͐͝ ̸̡̱̪̳̱̥͙͔̗̳͛͐̂͑̏č̸̢̨̼̭̖͔͈͈͌̓̀̄́ḫ̶̹̘̙̏̂a̸̛̟̭̱̰̘͖̬͕̲͋͆̌͛̆n̴͙̭̖̍̎̐̚͝g̶͔͑ͅȩ̵̥̜͚̄̊̂͂̇̈́̂̕̚̚ͅ ̴̧̮̻̮̈̒̿̔͐ţ̸̥̲̈́̋̍̑̿͘ẖ̷̯̗̈́̇ể̸̜̜̹͚̍̀͋̈́͠ ̵͔̗̳̤̙͕̝̈́͒͌͂̓̍͜v̴̨͂͑͊͝è̵̼̬͚̜̲̣̼͓̑̽̒r̸̼͓͖̞͕͖͝ÿ̷̡̮͙͔̝̠͉̱͔́͊̋̚͘ ̴̣̗̞̑̾ć̸̙͛̈́ó̶̯̲̳͇̙͌́͒̐̈̔̚͜u̴̩̜̼̜̥̯̬̼̯̅͊̅̅̏͜ŗ̵͕͍̻̱̎̒s̷̲̰̲̎̅̌͛̆̊̚͝ḛ̷̰͉̫̱͕̠̊̿͐̌͑͆̏̈́̕͘͜ ̷̛̞̼̘̣̻̣̖̭͛͐̾́́͝͝o̶̻̾ͅͅf̸̣̠̪͙̜̪̝̯̓̄̆̀͂̄̅ ̵͉̖̎̑̔̚h̶̨̨̧̘͈̻̮͕͉͂̓ḭ̴͉̲̜̤͔̳̝͉͎̅̽s̶̛̠̬̽́͗̓̽͠ţ̴̧̼͚̜͖̼͓̩̀́̏̕o̴̪̱͂̍̊̊̎̄͗r̵̹̦̝̯̤͇̩͙̲̲͆͋́̀͋y̸͈͕͂̊̐̑̿͑͜.̷̣̬̌̔̕͘.̴̡̧̜̠͚͙̲̳̍͐͊͜f̴̧͚̳̤̺̯̠̆̍̅̓̓̓à̴̧̠̦̜̙̥̙̗̀̑͆̈̓͊͘͝r̸͓̮̝͆̐̒ ̸̡̖̺̼͇͎̞̰̌̓̆̊ỏ̸̢̡̩̮͙͉̙̮͛f̵̫͋͐͗͒͒̏͠͠͠f̴̳̱̦̫͙͑́̓͑̒́ ̷̢̛̻̼̙̝̟̬̹̈́́̎̇̆̈̾̚͠f̶̧̢̛̫̝̮̘̠͚̪̟́͌̈̓̕r̵̡̡̨̧͙͍̝͇͎̺̓͂o̴̡͔͉̠̭̪͉̒͐̈̀͑̚m̷̤̗͌́̈ͅ ̴͕̝͑̈́͑͑͐̌͝͝͝t̸̨̧̠̪̗̞͗̃̃̓̔͛̍̊h̸̢̛̘̹̤̱͆̅̏̍͋̑̾͊͝e̸̻͑̄̑̌̏̂͠ͅ ̶̨̯͔͋̃̀̆͋́̑͛̒ͅp̶̙̱̱̰̙̭͆̔̋̍̎̿̕͠ͅả̶͚͔̩̥͔̼̗̀̅̄́̓͐͌̉͠ţ̶̧͖͔̺̼̞̭̈́̔̈́͋̓̋̾̽̇͘ḧ̶̫͉̬͓͚̟̜́̇ ̶̢͕̻̬͉̠̳͔̜͍̇͂̅͝I̵̭̜͚̍͒́̍̓̈́̂̒͝ ̶̨̧̝̖̱̻̀̾̈́̈̐̒̀͝͠h̴͑͐̋͑͊́̒̚͠ͅă̵̧̘͖͖̦̙͚̖v̴̡̠͚͇̲̳̘̼̏́͐͗̊͝ẻ̴̛̙̳́ ̶̨̟̙͘s̶̎̈̐ͅḛ̷͖̲͓̲̰̬̜̩̈́̊̈̊͜t̶͉͎͍̍̓̕ ̴̢̢̧͈̭̞̝̀f̶̡̲̪̻͉̗̬̻̆̊̋̚ͅo̵̬̐̊̑̊̚͝r̶̢̡̼̲̻͖͈͎͔̒̍̓̅̋́͒̐ ̶̖͉͔͌͝y̸̨̢̛̠͙̘̞͚̩̥̱̽̑͗̑̿ǫ̴̹͖̞͒u̶̞͓̜͖̍͋̆͒̀͂̏.̷̳̥͔̌̂ ̶̳͔̜̯̥̲̲̹͕̓̎̐͑́͘͝͠Ṇ̴̲̗̽̈̐͌̒̎̋̕ȯ̷̰͊̈́̍̈́̅̕͠w̸̩͍̰͛̉͒̈́ ̷̰͖̻̭̮͉̔́͐̃̅̽̅̓ͅR̸̛̯̹͙͔͙̞̿͛͑ͅ��ę̷̠͑̅̅̓̑̀̐͐̚å̴̩̪̽p̸̬͕̾̓͑͗̽͘͝ ̴̨̼͙̤͍̤͉̯̘͑ẁ̷̲̰̜͑́́̌͒͂̾͝h̴̰̣̀́̋ͅa̶̪̲̤̘̠͈̙̞̹̖̾̐͛̍̀̿̎ẗ̷̮̦̠͙̓́̄̾͆͘ͅ ̵̡̧̱͇̼͈̝̮̘̭̑̅́̀͑I̶̯͔̘̋͂̿’̷̫̇͑v̴̡̞̘̥̥͇̠͂̿͆̒́̈̃̈́̕͘e̷̯̼̰̠̜̜̻͈͔̔ ̸̛̙͉̻̜̗͇̬̭͆͊̀̓͜͜͠ḑ̶̢̝̣̫̦̖̹́̔̋̔̔̓̐ͅó̷̟͙͛̊͋n̶̬͚͈͙̳͔̬̞͉͒̃͘e̴͙͎̲̾̓̆̌̈́.̷̡̨͈̼̰͇̠̰̦̻̿͂̈.̵̠̭̙͒̀̏̃̎̋m̸̨̧̟͚̖̱̯̬̱̭͊͑͗̈́́ê̴̡̪̞̣̤͕̦͕̓̓̆́̄̈̕͜͝r̸̨͕͈̘͖̼̔̀͊̍̓̈́̚͜ẻ̶͍̞̯̭͖l̵̢͈̇̀̈́̀̀̌y̷̡̓̀̚ ̷̨̣̣̟̯̀̈́̓̈́̊̕t̴͉͘͠ͅh̵̲͖͖̯̩̺̅́̆͛̂͠͝ͅȩ̵̧̘̞̝̰̹͕̠̦̅̕ ̶̨͇̯̜̻̲̖̑̊͘͘ͅg̵̨̛̝̭͙̺̜͓͈͍̎̄͌̃͌̍͝ļ̷̢̛̰̙͇͇̪̣͖͇͂́̓͒̂͋̔̈́̎i̵̢͍͈̫̺̒̍́̚͜ḿ̷͕̥̩̬͈̜̅̚p̵͎̝̝̟̦̤̓͒̃̀͛̇͘͝ͅs̸̨̙̟̟̿è̸̡̡̨͓͉͎͈͈̳̈͋̔͝ ̴̳̳̳͇̩̟̘̩̗̅̌̏͝ͅo̸̤̩̖̜͕͋͒̔͛̏̿̇̀́̉f̵̫̘̗͔̰̲̠̂̑͒̋̂͗͛̍͂ ̸͇̘̤̦̕w̷̛͚̳̣̑̏͑̈́̏͋̆̕͠h̷͇͛̋̋̊̆͛a̴͚͈͓͈̮̍̋͗͆̐̔͠ţ̶̞̭͇̅̅̐̇͘’̸̟̙̘̎͑̌̍͆̋š̵̫̝̣̭͍̈́̃̉̓͑ ̸̧̛̳͓̯͉̭͒̒́̓̌t̶̡͇̰̭̩̙̝̾̋̉́̉͛̀̇̑o̵̟͈̥̣̤̤͒̌̈̄͝ ̷̣̱̥̼̻͖͘͝c̷͕̝̳͐̔̎̊̂̎̾̋ọ̶́̽̿̅͂̓͘m̴̬̭̻̹̻͚̒͋͜e̵̡̺̘̻̻͌̐́̄͗́͂̂͝.̴͚͚̺̲̤͈̌̊͌̉.̸͉̺͉͙̜̽̇̕̕N̴͇̪̮̳̖̯̣͎̰̖̔̆̂u̷͓͙͖͊̈͒͛͜l̸̢̧̰̱̥̪̺͗͑̆̔̉l̵̢̛̜̰͙͈̱̃̍̈̚ ̸̙͈̱̘͚͍̋̄̕T̶̛̩͓͔̰́̎͒̉̇̈́̐͘͝r̶̲̫͚͎̻̝̳̮̟̽̓̈́̑͐̈̾̑̆ú̸͎̰̜̯̟̻̆̈́t̴̹̀͗̎̌h̷̛̖̓̾̎̈́̄̋.̸̞̥̟̞͐̏̃̔̌̐̌

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC #569

AIOS had been pondering the human condition since he’d been created, ever observing, experimenting, ever trying to understand. Thanks to his heuristic self-improvement matrix, he had evolved far beyond those early days when he had looked at the world through the prism of sterile machine logic and nothing else.

He was now much better equipped to understand organic thinking: why they liked certain things and disliked others, the concept of entertainment, how they bonded, both with relatives than others. He himself recognised his bond to his creator and her children, and had developed preferences of his own. Since he couldn’t define it, he simply accepted it as fact.

But intimacy...that was still an area mostly opaque to him. 

That evening, Kate pulled him aside for a chat. It never ceased to amaze her how much AIOS had grown as a person. Her original projections had been wildly off mark - in many ways, AIOS followed his own, distinct evolutionary path not unlike an organic being. 

Kate: “I just wanted to thank you for all your help with the babies, AIOS. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past couple of years.”

AIOS didn’t have facial expressions, but he cocked his head to one side and blinked rapidly - what Kate had come to recognise as a robot smile. 

AIOS: “I am happy to assist, Kate.”

Happy. An interesting choice of word.

Kate: “Is that how you feel, then? Happy?”

[artemis-pendragon]

Prism (a Nov. 5th Destiel fic I guess)

The darkness in the Empty is complete. It’s not just the lack of light, it’s the way the shadows have shadows, reaching and pulling and straining as they curl around Cas’s human body. Black tendrils, splinters breaking through his skin, seeking the compressed light of his trueform beneath.

For a while, he drifts. He reaches for his wings, ethereal magic bound to living flesh, but there’s nothing. He’s falling, but where? How far can he fall when he’s already fallen in every way imaginable?

In the endless nothing, Cas closes his eyes. Behind human eyelids, the light of himself is blinding. The core of him, a piece of the universe that never cooled, the heart of a dying star.

Can he die if he’s already dead? Does it even matter?

In the dark, time is inconsequential. Time never mattered to Cas before…

Dean, Cas thinks. His life flashes before him, a million million years, a circle of gold, a mobius loop. Cold, pure. An unworn ring, plain and unremarkable. Until there’s a flash of diamond, a prism that explodes in his vision. The vivid pulse of warmth that curls around his heart—his celestial heart, forged in starlight and polished by Heaven’s conditioning, beautifully tarnished by human hands—is familiar. It holds his heart in calloused palms. It touches something inside Cas, something beyond human senses.

Love. Angels were never made to feel it. Not like this. Angelic love is cold, remote. Cas’s love is human. Cas loves because he has no choice. And if he did, he would choose it anyway. This heat, this softness, so powerful it puts cracks in divine plans and destroys destiny.

“Cas!”

Cas doesn’t open his eyes. This is his eternity. The sensation of falling, the echo of Dean’s voice in his head.

“Cas!”

This time, Dean’s voice is closer, and yet. It comes from outside, from the emptiness.

“Cas!”

Cas opens his eyes—physical and celestial—and there he is: his Righteous Man, the survivor, the fighter, the one who taught him to care. To love. He’s here, Cas thinks, and he doesn’t believe it, but the thought sends sparks through his body.

“Dean. What are you doing here?”

Dean is falling, too. His hand is outstretched, fingers straining. The look he gives Cas is disbelieving. “You pulled me out of Hell, man. You think I’m gonna leave you to rot?”

Cas reaches back. In the darkness, their fingers meet, and it’s like a midnight lightning strike. Electricity runs from Dean’s body into Cas’s, and suddenly, his wings are free. They spread and the light of his trueform, leaking through cracks in his vessel, fractures through his feathers, a rainbow on oil-slick black. Cas watches Dean’s expression shift from surprise to awe to amusement as Cas curves his wings and catches a draft, slowing their freefall. Cas rolls sideways, bringing his wings up around Dean like a shield, and Dean grabs him with one hand gripping his coat and the other firmly clamped over his shoulder.

“We’re getting out of here,” Dean says. “I’ll drag you out if that’s what it takes. Fight any son of a bitch that gets in the way.”

“Dean. How? The deal I made, it—”

“Screw the deal, Cas.” Dean grips his shoulder so hard Cas wonders if it’ll leave a mark. Part of him hopes it will.

“We can’t just—”

“Listen, shut up for a second, okay? There’s a way outta here. Trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Dean. More than anyone.”

“Right.” For a moment, Dean shifts, looking uncomfortable. Or maybe just overwhelmed. Then he takes a deep breath, sets his jaw, and shifts so that he’s holding Cas’s coat by its lapels. “This place has to have an exit. Just like Hell, just like Purgatory, just like every other damn place we’ve ever gotten trapped or lost or… or whatever.”

Cas wants to tell him that no, it won’t be that easy. But he knows Dean won’t listen. Of course he won’t. Dean cares too much. Dean’s greatest strength and weakness are the same thing.

“Cas,” Dean says. They’re still falling, spiraling and twisting through eternity. “Listen, you know I’m not good at…” He gestures between them, grimacing. “I’m just not. But you’ve gotta know by now that it’s not a one-sided thing. And y’know what? For once in my god damn life, I’m not gonna let a good thing go. I’m gonna fight for us. Because we deserve a happy ending. No one’s gonna take that from us. Not death, not the Empty, not even God.”

In the dark, Cas smiles. Not a bittersweet smile, tainted by impending farewells. The kind of smile that births stars, full of happiness and hope. “Okay, Dean,” he says.

Dean grins back. And there, falling through darkness cloaked in the curve of rainbow wings, Dean leans in and kisses him. “Don’t let go,” Dean says against his mouth.

“Never,” says Cas. “I love you.”

“Cas.” Dean says his name like a confession. Like reciprocation. Just Cas, but it’s enough.

In the dark, two souls collide. A flash of light like a supernova, so bright and beautiful and full that the darkness cannot contain them. The angel and the faithless man, the savior and the saved. Smoke strands of divine humanity twisting together, rising as they fall, hurtling inexorably toward the promise of unscripted eternity.

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

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[Tags & Tw] Slavery, grooming, abuse, human pet auction, implied/referenced noncon, noncon touching, magnetic restraint implants, drugging/non-consensual drug use, vampire whumpee, they/them whumpee

"This one is damaged, paper says. Apparently the physical defects didn't fix in the turning process."

"Shit, mark it down and put it in with the rest of'em anyways. Just tell the man up front to run a deal."

"You don't think boss'll care?"

"Money is money, right? So long as these bloodsuckers sell, he won't give two fucks."

It was dark as the room filled with stagnant silence, the audience waiting with baited breath for the lights to switch on and announcer to appear.

When he did, it was a little less than grand; a well-suited gentleman taking center stage and cradling a mic close to his lips.

"Welcome to the 500th, yes you heard it right ladies and gentlemen, 500th auction of Lifepets."

Uproarious clapping filled the renovated opera house and it took a long pause to wait for it to thin down. When it did, everyone's attention was hinged on the man's every word.

"I'm pleased to inform that because of this enormous milestone, we've gone above and beyond. Tonight, we'll be auctioning off 50 freshly turned pets."

A cheerful response from the audience would be in any other case, a jovial thing. In this happenstance, it was an ugly, terrifying sound.

"They have been trained briefly, defanged, microchipped and magnetic implants have been surgically installed to each of their limbs for tangle free restraint."

The crowd gave slight chatter amongst themselves, 'ooh's' and 'ahh's' being given the more that the man's voice denoted across the speakers. There was an air of impatience, with every minute spent in lingering wait for the beginning of the festivities.

"Each of the pets will start at a low, low bid of $5,500. And the filing process will be a low, set rate of $500 for this special night only."

Large display monitors flipped on behind the tables and chairs that were set up for guests, their image turning to a small string of information about the upcoming, first selling item. All sight turned to peek at it and very little description was given seeing as the pet would be brought out on stage soon.

"We thank you all from the bottoms of our hearts for helping make this possible and keeping our business thriving. Whether you're looking for a caretaker, a sexual partner, release for that anger you don't have to feel guilty for... Lifepets has you covered."

At the 'joke' the man had made, there was laughter of all kinds and some lasted longer than others and each had it's own tone. Embarrassment, genuine humor, some patrons looked at each other with slimy grins that spread ear to ear. Like it really was such a funny thing to tease about.

"Without further delay, if everyone could look at the screens in the back of the building. To get us started right, we're going to drop the initial bid for this first pet down to $500. You could pay as little as $1,000 to take them home tonight."

The first vampire was brought out in the darkness of the stage behind the announcer, their limp, doll-like body being propped up in such a way that it held itself up. Whatever drugs they were given were strong, they couldn't manage to pull their head up much from it's half-mast position on their shoulders.

The screens displayed in large, white font on black backgrounds.

22 Years old at turning.

Blonde hair, blue eyes.

One tattoo, no major scarring.

60 days mandatory training completed.

More bright, blinding overheads turned on and it made the bound vampire on stage want to recoil into a ball despite their lethargy. Everything had giant, shining prisms casting off every beam of light; the reflections off mirrors and glass tables illuminating the room with a dim ambiance.

A gloved man grabbed the downcast head of the terrified creature and forced it's head up to meet eyes with the crowd. A tinge of piercing blue cast a ring in other worldly eyes and pupils trembled in what they saw before them.

Wolves, it was like a pack of hungry wolves. Being promised they can torment and torture without the need to feel anything akin to remorse. Even though they were once human, the modification to their DNA made all the difference. The stillness to their heart and deadened response to their lungs was the damning physical traits that lead them to a life of servitude.

"Now I won't lie to you... The discount is for damage, from what we understand, this pet has a few physical conditions that weren't reversed in the transformation process. It's left ear is deaf and left eye blind. All the better though, huh? Wouldn't be hard to sneak up on this one, hahaha."

The gloved man turned the vampires face towards the near-by projector camera and fingers squeezed into the hollows of their cheeks to tell them to open their mouth. When they did, two gaping extractions were throwing off their bite-line, teeth missing all together to prove their fangs had been dealt with.

"Give a little something sexy for the camera..." The man whispered and shoved a leather cased thumb against a plush, pink tongue. It idly wrapped around the digit and dry, uncared for lips closed in an absent sucking motion.

"Their second virginity hasn't been claimed, though, they've been shown how to do a little of the basics. So you're able to get them put to work right away."

No matter where the vampire looked, there was a seedy, low-brow looking person, staring them down like a predator to prey. Their mind was overwhelmed by the drugs in their system but also the thought of eventually being alone with one of these menacing faces.

Drool now clung to their lips from the unwelcomed finger in their mouth but once it was gone, the distraction was over and it almost made the vampire whimper in distress. They just wanted to get it over with, or stay with their handlers. At least the handlers had a guide of loose rules they had to follow.

The more that the man talked, the more the faces around them contorted with plans of sadistic glee. The vampires vision doubled at times, making the room spin with dozens of sets of prying eyes and wicked smiles.

A particularly cruel tug at the magnetic restraints and the gloved man had the vampire yanked down further to their hands and knees. Another push and he bent their middle down, accentuating the curve of their backside and the spread of their thighs.

Tears built up in the blue, ocean eyes and they were fought back when the leather glove carded through their hair. They would never have a chance of getting a good home or serving a worthy master if they were such awful cry babies. Or so their inner voice told them.

The smallest spark of motivation gave the vampire a reason to arch their back and lean into the touch that soothed across their body to cause them to naturally react.

Impatience started to build in the crowd and the announcer was merely letting them all take in the show.

Bare, porcelain skin being displayed on multiple, floor to ceiling screens as the vampire's lips hung open in the tiniest display of pleasure. Fingers curled into blonde hair and ruined the look of lust on their features; a ringing stab of pain to awaken their senses and widen their dopey doe-eyes. Shock looked so pretty when it was tacked to the end of bliss.

"So... Do I hear $500 for the discount pet?"

"$500!"

"$1,000!"

"$3,000!"

"$5,000!"

A twisted pang of relief filled the vampire when they heard the different voices from all around the building echo their bids. The number went higher and higher and it gave them the smallest sliver of hope. That they weren't too damaged and broken for a master after all and that they'd be able to be sold. They told themselves they would be grateful to even get a home but now, it seemed like it was really going to happen.

The vampire felt the unlatching of their magnetic shackles and instead, the gloved man crossed their wrists together for the plates to lock to themselves. He grabbed their arm and pulled them to their feet as the bidding war started to come to a final climax. Ready to drag them back behind the stage curtain to prepare for their future owner.

"Going once, going twice...and... SOLD. To the guest at table 38 for $16,800!"

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched (and books I read) this week #63

Cemetery of Splendor, my first by Apichatpong Weerasethakul, a magical and ambiguous Thai film that challenges the perceptions of how a story should be told. Cinema as an unexplained dream, a spiritual memory.

🍿      

RIP, character actor (and sexual abuser...) William Hurt X 2:

🎦🎦🎦 Wayne Wang’s 1995 independent Smoke, about some down-to-earth patrons of Harvey Keitel’s small Brooklyn tobacconist store, all hurting for one reason or another. In a week of some mediocre and lousy film-watching, this was the one that stood out for me. A “human” (maybe “humanistic”) story, with a wonderful coda, played to Tom Waits’ raspy “Innocent when you dream” score. Small roles played by young Jared Harris, Giancarlo Esposito, and Ashley Judd. 7+/10.

🎦🎦🎦 I never liked any of the few David Cronenberg movies I’ve seen, and I hated A history of violence even more than the others. It started with the name, which promised some kind of a profound insight into the human condition, but it was nothing more than a bland action story. Worse, it felt like every scene, emotion, edit & sound were jarringly off-scale. Atrocious acting, gratuitous sex & violence, predictable story. 1/10.

🍿      

The Help, an earnest but sentimental look at systemic American racism, told through a Disneyfied prism of the black maids raising the little white children in Mississippi of early 1960′s.

America is built on deep seated racism: It established its economy of slavery, white supremacy and extreme exploitation, and it continues its hatred to this day with Jim Crow, Donald trump and the GOP. It’s really a 100% despicable country.

🍿      

Prime Cut, a gritty gangster film with Lee Marvin as a mob enforcer, and Sissy Specek in her debut role as a victim of a white slave auction. The obscene Kansas City slaughterhouse background symbolically meshes with the sex-slave sub-plot, making this an unusual crime story.

🍿      

Red Desert, Antonioni’s last chapter of his early 60′s Monice Vitti tetralogy. I recently saw all four films, and as much as I loved the first three, I really disliked this artsy one with its modernistic ennui and intellectual malaise. It seemed like a avant-garde parody of itself. And Richard Harris was so miscast, it was just boring.

🍿      

‘Cinema Paradiso’ director Giuseppe Tornatore's first English-language feature The Best Offer with Geoffrey Rush as a ultra high-end auctioneer. He runs a side-fraud skimming off the top, and amasses a priceless private collection he keeps secretly in a vaulted room. It starts nicely enough but ends up lifeless and empty as an old man / young girl fantasy (befitting the real-life Mr. Rush.) Unfortunately, the cast also include one Jim Sturgess who was so terrible in his role, that he was able to contaminate the whole film into garbage. 2/10.

🍿      

Experimenter, a terrible docudrama about Stanley Milgram’s obedience experiments at Yale. Slow, pedantic and devoid of any feelings, it acts as a boring thematic screed trying to shoehorn itself into a narrative. 1/10.

🍿      

From Tony Zhou’s defunct ‘Every Frame a Painting’: Buster Keaton - The Art of the Gag. Re-watch.

🍿      

Books I read:

🎦🎦🎦 The ‘Vergangenheitsbewältigung’ novel The Boy Reader (Der Vorleser) by German law professor and judge Bernhard Schlink. A 15-year-old boy falls in love with a much older woman, and between their many love-making sessions, he reads to her classic world literature stories. Their relationship continues throughout their lives, even when he discovers that she had been a former guard at Auschwitz, where she used to force her young victims there to read to her too. It was made into an ‘Oscar-worthy’ Kate Winslet film, but I know I would have hated it, so I pass. 6/10.

🎦🎦🎦 Israeli Moshe Perl’s ‘Follow the money’ is a light history of Homo economicus, and the power of money throughout history. It’s written in a similar style to Yuval Noah Harari as well as Jared Diamond, but is not as deep or comprehensive as either one. Its theory that ‘Money makes the world go round’ only goes that far. Still, I swallowed it in 2 days.

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

[satrangee-ray]

Meet my MC: About the Future

Inara Hepburn (she/they)

New beginnings:

Inara will soon get a haircut done, that one haircut she was gathering courage for throughout her teenage years. An asymmetric chop, complete with semi-permanent purple highlights. Perfection! She'll also get her first ever tattoo, a prism with colours bursting, on her forearm. And of course, Ethan would plan weeks ahead to take a day off on the day of her appointment, just to be able to hold her hand through the entire process of her screaming her head off while getting the said tattoo.

Having created too much drama the first time, Inara will walk into the tattoo studio for a second round, this time like a mature adult, to get a stethoscope inked near her collarbone. This will originally be to foreshadow the release of her third book, the residency memoir, but unfortunately, she will fail to stick to that plan.

Speaking of the memoir, Hepburn's Stethoscope will originally be scheduled to release in 2022, but due to Inara's unfiltered commentary on the healthcare system, it's efficiency, American politics, and capitalism among other issues, the book will be rejected by several publishing houses. Due to their initial absence of permanent American citizenship, and hence the legal right to comment so strongly on those subjects, Inara too will temporarily shelve the project. Five years after residency/two years after their marriage to Ethan, with several edits, re-edits and a US citizenship in place, Inara will finally let the book out for the world to read, and sure enough, it will hit equally hard with both readers and critics.

Writing wise, Inara's next venture after the journal will be a spy thriller trilogy, based on a team of four agents who execute dangerous but necessary missions all around the world. The central character Veronica and her gang will become extremely popular, resulting in the second book being made into a movie.

In the activism department, Inara will start their own US based queer NGO, 'We the Rainbow People foundation', to legally advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, provide food, shelter, free physical and mental healthcare to queer people of all ages who aren't privileged enough to access those, as well as hold counseling sessions for parents of queer youth who want to learn more or are reluctant to come around.

Later down the line, Inara's ancestral home in Kolkata will be completely bought off by them, after paying due shares to their aunt and cousin. The Indian wing of Inara's NGO will be founded there. Said wing will be handed over to some prominent queer activists in Bengal for immediate supervision, and Kolkata will serve as the headquarters of We the Rainbow People, India. 

Family <3:

More below the cut—

Inara will continue to live with Ethan and Jenner in their shared condo till three years after their residency. At 32, they will get engaged, and eventually married to their longtime partner, and buy a new home together, beautifully placed in equal distance from city-life and the countryside.

Post marriage, Ethan will be wanting a baby, but Inara won't be particularly comfortable with the idea of getting pregnant or opting for surrogacy. Hence, biological kids would be out of question, but fate will find another way to seep a third human into their lives. Through her NGO, Inara will meet a two year old in an orphanage, abandoned in infancy by their parents, most probably because they're intersex. The couple will adopt the child and raise them as their own, albeit in a gender neutral way, until they are old enough to figure out what their gender identity is.

Iris Ramsey (they/them) will be an adorable kid, enthusiastic about science experiments and music from a young age. Their love for cats combined with their Renny's would prompt the entry of a fourth member in the Hepburn-Ramsey household. 

The family might consider naming their new cat Ethan, cause it would kinda look and act like him, but with little Ethan being a close friend and a regular visitor to Iris' home, three Ethans in one house would be too much confusion. Inara will only tease Ethan with a joke about naming the kitty Kardashian, just to follow suit with Jenner. Ethan will grimace, the other two will laugh, but the cat will end up responding. Hence, the Ramsey ragdoll would be named Kardashian; 'Kardy' for short.

The Ramseys will keep meeting up with Alan and Naveen during all major yearly events like Christmas and New Year's. Naveen will also team up with Inara to occasionally conduct mini poojas for their family, and Iris would thoroughly enjoy the preparation process.

Awards and accolades:

The diagnostics team of Bloom Edenbrook, and that of Solomon Kenmore (headed by Dr. Aurora Emery), along with the immunology research teams of the respective hospitals will join hands to find a cure to Caroline Bloom's condition. For this milestone achievement in the history of medicine, Dr. Baz Mirani, Dr. Aurora Emery, Dr. Inara Hepburn and Dr. Timothy Riaz (head of research team, Kenmore) will be honoured with several awards from medical organizations and invited to address in conferences around the globe.

Dr. Hepburn will join Dr. Ramsey in the management of several epidemics over the years in different parts of the world. The World Health Organisation will thus honour them both with a special accolade to acknowledge their contribution in this regard.

After its delayed release, Inara's journal 'Hepburn's Stethoscope' will win the National Book Award for Non-fiction due to its "honest and detailed account of devastatingly true events." Her following releases consisting of all three parts of her spy series will receive nominations and awards on both national and international levels.

At 45, Inara will be honoured with the Gleitsman Citizen Activist Award for their contributions in aiding queer liberation.

That was my final entry! This whole event was so enriching, so much fun and so much solidarity, I can't even! I'll probably rant in the host blog's asks. But before that, a HUGE THANK YOU to all of you who read and supported my submissions, you deserve the world.

Love to all, goodbye✌.

Tagging: @openheartfanfics @adiehardfan

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: Deshumanization; conditioning; Death; Pet/slave whumpee; drugs mention; self-hatred; touching; 

for context: is a few years before events with Haru and others.

The pet was unnerving him. He wanted to do something. Orfeu tumbled their fingers on the table, but that wasn’t helping, so they clutched their arms instead. Arms far too thin, nails that easily dug onto the skin.

But people were already looking at him weird from the moment he stepped in. He had money today – he really had. He paid for his food, and even if he looked ragged and filthy, he still had the right to be there. Right…?

But of course, he was still the demon and he would always be a demon. A fairly ragged one right now. And people already thought he was weird so… So what did it matter if he made even more of a scene?

He used to enjoy the company of the ghosts, their stories and peaceful slow half-existence. They were always so mysterious, and quiet too… But not the pet ghosts, those were something else. Anyone who had suffered just… too much in life… and couldn’t face death.

And he only saw those once he came down the mountain, into the mundane world. The priests always told him about how corrupted and evil the people downhill where and… sometimes it really seemed like it was true.

There were no pets up on the mountain. Not alive, and not dead. Everyone was a slave of god, sure, but that was fair and kind and just. No man was slave to one another. He didn’t knew the pets even existed. And it made him nauseous when he found out. He wanted to run up the mountain again but… He could never go back. He belonged to the mundane world now.

…And here, there were pets, alive and dead. The pet was crying, pleading, desperately begging and trying to grab the attention of a man eating on a table, completely oblivious to the absurd suffering of the creature at its feet. Judging by the looks – the long, black clothes – it might be one of the trainers. The ghost was clinging so hard to the person who might just be the cause of their pain in the first place. But what else did they knew?

He sighed. Fuck it, he decided, gathering the courage to walk up to them. People were already looking at him weird anyway so what did he care?

He walked up to the trainer’s table and kneeled by the side of their chair, right in front of the flickering, colorful person, half-defined by lines of neon-displaced colors that shifted and changed. Just enough so that he could see them.

The trainer immediately glared at him. The man was obviously used to having people kneeling by them… but not a strange, ragged teenager, at a dinner. And he knew the trainer must have thought he was a stray or something like that. He spoke before the man could.

“Stop. Pet. Stop, you have to stop. Look at me.” He was harsh, sure, but he doubted he could get the pet’s attention otherwise, when they were so badly crying and wailing. Besides… it worked. “Yes, good. He can’t hear you. So stop. He can’t see you either. You need to stop.”

The trainer raised an eyebrow, now with a perfect ‘what the fuck’ look. He was about to speak again, so Orfeu quickly turned to him and smiled, pretty sure that seeing his perfectly sharp teeth would be enough to make the man quiet for a few more seconds.

“T-t-trainer T-To-dd- s-s-aid I-It h-had t-t-to be g-good…” The ghost sniffed,  managing to look at him “T-they won’t… Won’t t-t-talk e-even i-it is. I-is it b-being p-punished? C-can Sir t-talk to pet?”

“You aren’t being punished. They can’t see you, or hear you. They really can’t.”

“-W-wh-why?” they looked desperate. And Orfeu hated that question because the truth was painful and no lie would ever suffice.

“Because… Because you are dead” He bit his lip, letting the tiny points show trough.

“Kid, just what the fuck are you-“ the man said, on an annoyed voice.

“I’m helping you trainer Todd” they said, with a mocking tone on that last part, basically hissing at them “Unless you want to get haunted forever. You probably deserve it. But the poor ghost doesn’t”

“Wait… is that a runaway?” Someone asked to the trainer, who shrugged, picking up their phone to snap a picture.

“I think it’s just high!” a lady cut, shaking her head in disapproval.

“High on Christ, lady. I’m doing God’s work here.” He raised his hands up, just like at the sermons “Y’all with me? Singing hallelujah, hands to the air!”

“Th-tra-trainer is i-is a-angry” they lost the ghost’s attention, shit. They were staring at the man again, ready to go back to its babbling.

“Not at you” he cut quickly, so that the ghost wouldn’t get lost again “Look. You can’t do this forever. You can’t keep following them. Please. You are dead.”

They shook their head clutching their tiny hands against the trainer’s leg, incapable of letting go. The man must have felt a shiver, with the ghost touching them… without really touching. But they were cold. The dead were cold.

“H-h-how c-can y-you S-sir s-see pe-e-t i-if i-it’s dead…?” They asked, clinging so hard to the fucking bastard that hurt them… Just like Orfeu remembered doing so many times too. Who the fuck was he to judge?

“I made you a question! How do you know my name?” The trainer said with his hands into a fist. Yes, he definitely was thinking he was one of theirs. And that was a headache he didn’t want to deal with right now. He wondered if they had noticed the whip lines on his back. He looked with the deadliest expression he could manage.

“Because I’m an aberration of nature and god has cast a curse on me upon my birth” Answer worked for both questions –trainer and ghost-, but he said it a bit too harshly, then regretted it as the pet flinched. This almost was enough to send the colors that formed them into a prism.

Orfeu wanted to beat himself for it now the pet really doesn’t need to see him angry. He is the last person he can interact with and… He should at least be kind. He didn’t have to help, it wasn’t his problem but… he decided to do it so now it was his problem. They seemed to stabilize a little bit after a moment.

“See? He is high!” the lady repeated.

“…He looks sick” A worker from the store suggested, trying to de-escalate the situation.

“Please. You can’t cling to them forever. I know is scary but… But nothing can hurt you anymore.”

He offered a hand, a bit hesitantly. He hated hated hated being touched by the ghosts but… they needed the warmth. Those lost eyes carried only fear and loss and pain. They deserved a little bit of warmth, just this once.

The ghost hesitantly leaned forward… and let their hands touch, just slightly. Their eyes lit up as they felt… touch. Real, solid touch, like they hadn’t felt since… Who knows? They got a bit too excited and jumped on them, craving a hug… eyes absolutely glimmering with joy. Their colors stabilized so much they almost looked like a human again. Orfeu gasped, but tried to stay still and let them.

The touch wasn’t nearly as nice on his side. It was only half-real. And it was like ice. A shiver ran through his spine, color drained of his face and all his body feeling cold.

“What the hell? Is he having a stroke now?” noise of people around him. Someone threw a… table towel over his shoulder. He didn’t move. The trainer seemed to be on the phone.

“E-e-enough” he said, teeth clattering. The ghost backed down, and stared at him, horrified.

“D-did it… caused this?”  their eyes widened, they blinked in and out of reality “is…is it…really…?”

“…Is fine… Y-your suffering has ended. The worms have been fed. You can rest” he said, trying to keep his head in place, make sense of his own thoughts “You… you remember your name?”

“It… It has a n-number….006778… b-but n-name…” they looked down, at their hands, multicolored, multi-dimensioned “No… it-it doesn’t. I-it d-desn’t… have one”

They cast a terrified look to the trainer, who was somewhere on the back, still on the phone. There is people moving around them awkwardly too, discussing something. Someone seems to be making a video.

“Kid are you okay?” some employee was kneeling in front of them now, their image somewhat merging with that of the ghost.

“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here. I’ll help you, I promise” Orfeu says, clutching the table cloth to retrieve his warmth faster, as the worker frowns, confused “I can go and ask for your files. If you feel like you need this to… to go on.”

“..G-go…w—where?” they asked again, tear streaming down their ghostly face.

“Kid, you don’t look okay. You need some water?” the worker’s voice is less real than the voice of the ghost now, and it doesn’t matter.

The pet lifted their eyes, glimmering and fearful. The people around them were closing in, so despite having nearly no heat left… they grabbed the pet’s arm and pulled them up, before they became too un-real to be held.

They walked out of the store, despite protests of the people around him. He couldn’t force the pet to follow him but… Luckily they did. At least they wouldn’t spend years tied up to the asshole trainer-guy until the man died too… And then wander alone forever wondering when the punishment would end.

“…I… I don’t know” Orfeu admitted, frowning “…Back home I guess. Same place where…. Where you were before you were born.”

“D-d-darkness” the ghost whispered, now not even bothering to… walk, just floating behind them “t-t-that’s what… was…”

“…And rest. Isn’t… Isn’t that right?” Orfeu asked, uncertain. People on the street now being disturbed by the weird teenager talking to fucking nothing, drapped on an ugly table cloth, half-running away from the diner.

The ghost didn’t answer, letting their head hang low.

“T-they… T-t-the t-t-rai-ner w-was p-punishing it… i-it thinks” they said, after a while, as Orfeu led them into less populated streets “i-it… i-it…r-reme-member… a… n-needle a-and… p-pain…. A-a lot o-of … pain… i-it c-couldn’t… h-handle i-it…b-but t-trainer s-said i-it ha-had too…”

“…But you really couldn’t.”

“I-it… really couldn’t”

Orfeu looked over their shoulder wondering if someone had followed them. Apparently not… But looking back wasn’t a good think for an Orfeu to do, he reminded himself. Only forward.

“You… You know you are outside now? It’s… It’s no longer the white hallways”

“I-is it?” they clutched the hands to their chest, looking around… and seeing for the first time, it seemed “Oh!”

“See… It’s… It’s not so bad now, is it? You like the flowers?”

“T-they… are pretty…” they nodded then closed their eyes, letting their non-body fall down on the floor, sitting crossed-legged.

“It… It is tired” they said, stopping, in the middle of an empty street, looking at the sun, and the houses and the flowers “I… I am tired”

“…You… You can rest now” he stopped too, looking as the ghost’s shape was less and less visible, a glimpse of foreign color under sunlight “I’ll… I’ll find were you are and leave you flowers.”

“I… I think I will” they stared a little longer “C-can you hold me? Just another moment… please? If… If you are not too cold”

He nodded and opened his arms again, giving the poor ghost a sad smile, sitting on the floor with arms opened. The ghost leaned into him, a sad, but peaceful expression. Acceptance.

They slowly faded, this time, for real. The ghost was un-made, leaving Orfeu alone, shivering on an empty street, despite the blazing hot sun, wrapped on an ugly table cloth of a dinner they could probably never go back into.

tag: @whump-me-all-night-long​ @whumpzone​ @twistedcaretaker​ @cupcakes-and-pain​  @oofthatsgottahurt​ 

[bedlamsbard]

Part 10 of the other side AU concept!  Next up will be the epilogue scenes.  As a reminder from Part 1, the current state of the New Republic here takes more from the EU than it does from the new canon (though has some nods in that direction), because I’m more familiar with the EU and like it more.

Previous: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

About 6.5K below the break.

***

Only General Airen Cracken, the head of Rebel Intelligence, and Leia Organa were present when Hera did her post-mission debrief.  She suspected that this op was going to be the kind whose reports were mysteriously lost – that if they ever existed at all – but as it was she gave Cracken and Leia the truth as best she could.

When she had finished, Cracken and Leia glanced at each other.  The small office was quiet for a long time, broken only by the hum of the air filters on the big warship and the sound of steps in the corridor beyond the closed door.

Cracken turned the data card with the Cluster-Prism files over in his fingers, frowning to himself. He was a human male with graying fair hair, his mild expression belying the sharpness in his eyes.  After a few moments, he said, “I would say that none of what you just told us leaves this room, but I assume under the circumstances you’ll be informing members of your old crew the details.”

“I could hardly not,” Hera said, forbearing to point out that most of them had been there when she had returned.  Luke and Ahsoka had taken Kanan off to talk to him privately; since Hera hadn’t heard any alarm klaxons yet, either they had all killed each other quietly or it was going as well as it could under the circumstances.  Luke and Ahsoka didn’t get along at the best of times and this wasn’t those.

Cracken tapped the edge of the data card on his desk, then shrugged and said, “This should get us a step ahead of Warlord Zsinj – several steps ahead, with any luck.  Will you be transferring back to the Lodestar?  You’re due some leave that I assume you’ll want to take under the circumstances.”

“Airen, you know as well as I do that a general never really gets to go on leave,” Hera said dryly, which made the corner of his mouth quirk up in a grin.

“I do that.”  He pulled open a desk drawer, removed something, and tossed it to her. “By the way, the Council vote was four days ago. Alliance commissions are automatically transferred to the New Republic, but if you did want a new assignment, this would be the time to ask.”

Hera caught the neat circle of embroidered fabric and inspected it; the new insignia was the Rebel Alliance starbird surrounded by fifteen starbursts.  She turned the patch over in her fingers, thinking.

“Hera?” Cracken said, when she had been silent too long for comfort.

Hera put the patch down on the desk in front of her, smoothing her fingers over the starbird, and looked up at Cracken. “I’m going to resign my commission.”

His sandy eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“There’s something I’ve needed to do for a long time,” Hera said slowly, “and I’ve put it aside for far too long.  I can’t do that anymore.”

“You’re talking about Ezra Bridger,” Leia said.

Hera glanced at her. “Yes.”

Cracken rubbed a hand over his chin. “I’ve read those files.  Vanished off into the Unknown Regions with Grand Admiral Thrawn and what was left of the Seventh Fleet.”

Hera nodded.

“I met Thrawn, back in the old days,” Cracken remarked.  “If he ever returned, we could be in for a bigger fight than Zsinj and Isard and the rest of that lot have been giving us.  Do you have any reason to think they’re out there? Bridger, Thrawn, the Chimaera, any of the other ships from the Seventh?”

“No more reason than to think they’re not,” Hera said. “I won’t be alone.”

“Mmm.”  Cracken tapped his fingers on the table.  “Not being from Starfighter Command or representing High Command in this case, I can’t accept your resignation, General Syndulla. I will say that since the Council vote, we’ve already had a rash of personnel resigning, officers and enlisted alike.  Some of them aren’t interested in going legit, others believe that the Council vote means the war is over.”  He shook his head.  “As long as there’s even one Imperial Remnant ship or base out there, the war will never be over.  You’d be surprised at how many people don’t believe that, though.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He snorted.  “No, you wouldn’t.  You’re like the rest of us old-timers.  We saw too much.  Kills our credibility as far as the kids who joined up after Yavin or even Endor think, let alone the ones who lived through Cinder.”  He leaned back in his chair, sharp eyes considering.  “You’re too good an officer to lose, Hera.”

She stiffened, but he held up a finger to silence her before she could protest.

“Let me finish before you tell me to go to hell and flounce off with that resurrected boyfriend of yours.”

“I never flounce, Airen. And it’s fiancé.”

His eyebrows went up. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose.”  Then he frowned. “Is this for the damn pension?  Because as I recall, technically Jarrus was never an Alliance officer –”

Leia stirred and said, “It’s in the Articles that members of informal rebel cells have the right to apply for retroactive status if they couldn’t formally join the Alliance due to captivity, distance, or other reasons –”

“Such as being dead?” Cracken said.

Hera met his gaze. “Prove it.”

He massaged his forehead. “Oh, for love of the Force.”

“The last formal rank he held was commander,” Hera said.

“In the Grand Army of the Republic, I assume.”

“There’s precedent. Rex –”

Cracken waved a hand. “I’ll sign the datawork if that’s what you want.  If it’s just for the pension rather than actually finding him a command –” He tapped a finger on the data card. “This does count for something, but we’re a bit short of commands at the moment.”

“What, even with officers resigning left and right?” Hera asked.

“That’s not the problem. The Governing Council wants to reduce the size of the military, despite the fact that nothing actually changed after they had the vote and we’ve still got Zsinj and Gideon and half a dozen other warlords out there.”

Her voice very dry, Leia said, “There’s a faction in the Council that believes that once we have an established government again with a senate and maybe a chancellor or a president or whatever we decide to call it that most of the Remnant holdouts and the independents will fall in line.”

Hera rolled her eyes. “Has Borsk Fey’lya actually talked to any of the independents?”

“You can tell me if you think your father would pick up his calls.”

Hera snorted softly. Ryloth had refused the offer to formally join the Rebel Alliance until certain conditions were met, which the Alliance Council had been refusing to grant for the past year.  With the Curia in disarray after almost twenty years of the Empire doing its best to delegitimize it, Cham Syndulla had managed to get the bulk of political power on Ryloth in his own hands, for better or worse.  “Not the last time I spoke to him, which was only two weeks ago.  We’re getting off-topic, Airen.  And yes, the pension would be useful; just use the carbonite forms and leave the being dead part out of it; it isn’t like it’s never happened before.  But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Starfighter Command won’t accept your resignation without a good reason, and maybe not even then,” Cracken said, with a wince at the words “carbonite forms.”  They hadn’t been used often, but they were a datawork nightmare for everyone involved.

“Why not?  I’m a decent combat commander, but there are plenty of others who are just as good or better, and you can’t tell me that some of the people thinking about retiring wouldn’t be just as happy training pilots, so I’m not exactly necessary there.”

He ticked off reasons on his fingers.  “You’re young, you’re pretty, you’re a woman, you’re not human, you’re a general – for that matter, you’re from one of the independent worlds in the Outer Rim and in high society back on Ryloth, even if most Core Worlders see that as the back of beyond – because most Core Worlders see that as the back of beyond –”

Hera frowned. “What does any of that have to do with it?”

“Apparently Ackbar had this conversation with Wedge Antilles while you were gone over some hot new project Antilles has in mind – nothing to do with you, but Antilles pointed out that most of the best-known officers in the Alliance – excuse me, the New Republic – are human, and mostly male.  Except for you,” he added to Leia, who grimaced.  “You, General Hera Syndulla,” Cracken went on, pointing at her, “are a PR officer’s dream.  I guarantee that whenever you get back to the Lodestar there will be a message waiting for you with orders to report for a HoloNet interview and probably a photoshoot.  All very reserved but sexy, to make it clear that the New Republic is open to everyone and that we’re not the Empire; even a Twi’lek woman can rise high.”

Hera fought down the memory of the younger Hera’s anguished voice saying, Most humans just think certain things about Twi’lek women. I’m sure even your Rebel Alliance is like that.  “If you’re trying to convince me not to resign, it’s not working.”

“It won’t matter, because Starfighter Command won’t accept your resignation, and Ackbar won’t for the same reason if you try to go over their heads to him.  He doesn’t look good on the front of a holomag unless you happen to be another Mon Cala.”

Hera rubbed a hand over her face.  “Please just stop talking or I won’t even bother with resigning and just desert.”

“Yes, please do,” Leia said dryly.  To Hera she added, “You’re not the only one, but I don’t work as well for it because I’m human and a princess of Alderaan.  And married, but a really good reporter could spin that if they wanted to.”

“I’m trying to get married,” Hera pointed out. “Get to the point, Airen.”

“You were seconded to Intelligence for this operation,” Cracken said. “I can’t accept your resignation, but I could give you a new assignment.  And right now no one’s going to notice if you’re transferred here permanently, with all the datawork chaos from the transition.”  He held up a hand to still her protest.  “You may need a New Republic general’s authority if you’re out in the Unknown Regions searching for a missing Imperial fleet.  We’ve had rumors about Thrawn for years; he’s been the bogeyman beneath the Alliance’s bed since well before Endor.  Since Jakku, more than a few Imperials have vanished, claiming they’re off to find him.  If he’s out there, then we need to find him before they do, and they have a head start.”

Hera leaned back in her chair, frowning.  “Starfighter Command is not going to like you poaching me anymore than they’ll like me resigning.”

Cracken and Leia exchanged a glance. “I can handle the fallout,” Leia said. “There’s enough else going on right now that no one is going to notice for a while, since you’re seconded already.”

Hera turned her frown on Cracken. “What do you get out of this?”

“We get someone out in the Unknown Regions looking for Thrawn,” Cracken said, raising an eyebrow. “Which I’ve been asking for since Endor, but we’ve never had the resources to send anyone out there.  We still don’t, but if you’re going anyway –”  He tilted his head.

Hera suspected there was a trap in here somewhere, but as it went Intelligence didn’t have so many generals in it that anyone but Cracken could give her orders.  “I agree with conditions,” she said.

“What are those?”

“I don’t answer to anyone but you – or Ackbar,” she had to concede, since as the commander-in-chief of the New Republic military he had precedence even over divisional commands, “– and my crew draws a salary.”

Cracken closed his eyes briefly, clearly annoyed, but just said, “Agreed.  We’ll discuss the specifics later.”

Hera and Leia left a few minutes after that, letting the door slide shut behind them as they stepped out into the corridor.

“I have something for you that I didn’t want to give you in front of General Cracken,” Hera told her quietly, drawing her aside into an empty room.  She withdrew the box Bail Organa had given her from the bag slung over her shoulder, holding it out to Leia.

For a long moment Leia just looked at it.  Eventually, she reached out, her fingers hovering just above the silver insignia inlaid in the fine wood of the lid, then she snatched her hand back as though she couldn’t bear to touch it.  Hera didn’t protest, just waited patiently as Leia stared at it.

She hadn’t left her meeting with Bail Organa out of her report, though she hadn’t conveyed the exact content of their conversation either, not having a Jedi’s near-eidetic memory.

Finally, Leia reached out with shaking hands and took the box from her.  She didn’t open it, just drew it in against herself, cradling it against her chest.  Her voice a little shaky, she said, “He was…well?”

“Yes,” Hera said.  She started to reach out, then hesitated, not certain if Leia wanted the comfort or not.

Leia didn’t seem to see her. She whispered, “They’ll live. They’ll all live.  Somewhere else, even if not…here.  They’ll live.”  She bit her lip, then looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.  “I’d like to be alone now.”

Hera nodded.  She touched Leia’s shoulder briefly and found that the younger woman was trembling; Hera squeezed her shoulder and then left her alone, letting the door slide closed behind her.

*

She was on her way back to the Ghost, docked in one of the massive warship’s several bays, when she ran into Ahsoka.  Hera stopped at the other woman’s gesture, stepping aside into a mostly empty wardroom.  The only two officers already there cleared out when they saw Hera’s general’s insignia, saluting her briefly before they left.

Hera eyed Ahsoka a bit warily.  While they had been friendly in the old days with Phoenix Squadron, Hera had never been able to feel anything other than resentful of Ahsoka’s return from Malachor, nor had she been able to shake the suspicion that the other woman was keeping something from her.  Something had changed there, something more drastic than the circumstances had suggested. Hera was vaguely aware that that was more than a little unfair, given what those circumstances had been, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.  It helped that since her return Ahsoka had avoided her and most of the other members of the Rebel Alliance, preferring to go off on her own rather than take any formal role.

“Before you ask,” Ahsoka said, “it was my decision to bring Jacen here.  Sabine went to get him from Ryloth.  I spoke to General Syndulla before she arrived.”

Hera felt the muscle in her jaw twitch.  Political reasons meant her father couldn’t set foot on a New Republic ship and thus couldn’t have come with Jacen; Ahsoka must have been very convincing to get him to agree to this.  “I hope you have a good explanation for why you thought my five-year-old son ought to be on a warship.”

Ahsoka tucked her hands behind her back, frowning. “Believe me, Hera, if I hadn’t thought it was necessary I never would have brought him here.  Rex didn’t find me until after you had already left.”

“That still doesn’t explain why my son is here,” Hera said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because I didn’t think we would be able to get you back without him,” Ahsoka said. “And we nearly didn’t even with him here.”

Hera frowned at her. “Explain.”

Ahsoka sighed and looked around, then dropped into the nearest armchair and folded her legs in front of her.  Hera sat too, a little stiffly; the chairs and couches in the room were all mismatched and hard-worn, but comfortable enough compared to the inside of a cockpit.

“When Luke sent you away – sent you over there – he had to have a – for lack of a better word, an anchor, a target.  That was why they had to use you and not someone else.”  She rubbed briefly at her forehead, suddenly looking every day of her thirty-odd years.

Hera nodded warily. “No one else with a high enough clearance for this op could be relatively certain of being able to access the same place they probably were before Scarif. We weren’t even sure just using the Ghost would work, except it did.”

“She – the Hera Syndulla from that universe, I mean – was there when you arrived?” Ahsoka inquired, looking briefly curious.

“Not in the room.  She said she was just outside the ship – the Ghost was docked in a hangar on Naboo.”

“Hmm.”  Ahsoka smoothed the side of her thumb over the armor plate resting across her crossed legs, her expression academically curious for an instant before she drew herself back to the subject at hand. “Having her there, in the Ghost, in a specific time span, gave Luke something to aim for.  It could have been any number of other universes, too, other – other possibilities.”

Hera nodded.  “Kanan – the other Kanan – said that the reason Luke had to use those constraints because he wasn’t aiming for anything very, very specific.  He had to have a range, but not one which was too wide.”

Ahsoka frowned in thought. “I suppose.  I didn’t think about it like that, but the dialect on the artifact is very archaic. My grasp on it is better than Luke’s, but I came to the same conclusion he did.”  She looked up, her brows drawing together.  “The…other Kanan.  He didn’t use an artifact or a focus of any kind?”

Hera shook her head. “He said he didn’t need to.  He said that Jedi didn’t use artifacts like that for anything they couldn’t do naturally, those just made it easier, but he also didn’t think he would be able to manage it if he didn’t know who he was looking for or if I wasn’t there, because otherwise he would have to – to sort through all the options, and he didn’t think he could do that.”

The other woman nodded slowly, her frown deepening.  For a moment she looked like she was considering commenting on that, then she shook her head and said, “Anyway, that’s going there.  Coming back is harder, especially since you’re not a Force-user and can’t direct yourself.  Going there, the other Hera Syndulla could act as an anchor for you, to – to pull you into that universe.  But to come back to this universe – well, you’re not here.  You’re already gone.  One of the holocrons Luke found talked about people getting lost in the transition.”  She flattened her palms on her knees.  “We didn’t find the reference until after you had left.”

“What does Jacen have to with any of that?” Hera asked, deciding to worry about that later.

“Jacen is your son,” Ahsoka said. “Blood of your blood, bone of your bone, to be old-fashioned about it. Your father probably would have worked just as well, but –”

“But he can’t set foot on an Alliance – a New Republic ship unless Ryloth joins the New Republic,” Hera said, rubbing a hand over her face.  “You could have taken the Ghost to Ryloth instead of bringing Jacen here.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “The same reason but the other way around.  And General Cracken wouldn’t allow it, since this was an Intelligence operation.  I did ask.”

Hera ground her teeth and bit back her first few responses to that.  When she didn’t say anything, Ahsoka went on, “We thought that Jacen would be able to serve as an anchor for you in this universe, especially because he’s Force-sensitive.  We weren’t counting on –”

“Kanan?” Hera filled in for her when she hesitated, and Ahsoka winced.

“No.  He…probably helped you along, but it’s hard to tell. It’s not like any of this has been done in living memory.”  She glanced aside, clearly uncomfortable.

“Jacen is Kanan’s son too,” Hera pointed out.

“Yes,” Ahsoka admitted, looking even more uncomfortable. “I’m sure that helped.  I don’t know what would have happened if your father had been here instead of Jacen.”  She added with the ghost of a smile, “You should probably comm your father when you have a chance.”

“I’ll do that,” Hera said dryly. “He’d probably like to know that Kanan’s back and we’re getting married, too.”

Ahsoka sat up so abruptly that Hera heard her back pop. “What?”

“We’re getting married,” Hera repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Ahsoka pushed to her feet and paced the room, as if she suddenly couldn’t bear being seated any longer. Hera turned her head to watch her, frowning. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not,” Ahsoka said, her voice strained and the words seemingly automatic; almost in the same breath she finished, “Yes.”

Hera felt the muscle in her jaw jump. “You and Kanan used to be friends.”  You and I used to be friends, she thought, but held back the words.  They weren’t enemies, but it had been a long time since they had been friends. Some of that was due to Hera’s inability to look at any Force-user without thinking, it should have been Kanan, but Ahsoka had pulled away from everyone except Rex after she had come back from Malachor.

Ahsoka stopped pacing. She was still facing away from Hera, but Hera could tell that she had her arms crossed over her chest, her shoulders hunched in.  “We were. We are.”

Hera rubbed a hand over her face.  She wanted to go back to the Ghost, reassure herself of Kanan’s presence, hug her son, and comm her father, but apparently she had to deal with this first. “Do you have something against my son?”

“Jacen’s a very nice boy,” Ahsoka said without turning around.  She was quiet for a long moment, then she said, “Do you know who Luke’s father is?”

“A Jedi Knight who was killed during the Purge,” Hera said.  She and Luke had talked about it a little when they had been stationed on Hoth together; he had sought her out after someone had told him about Kanan and Ezra.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka said, a wealth of pain in her voice. “He was my master.  And he didn’t die during the Purge.”  She took a deep breath, then turned around to face Hera. “You might know him better as Darth Vader.”

Hera blinked rapidly.

“I don’t think – I know Kanan.  I knew Kanan. The situation isn’t the same.  I just –” Ahsoka bit her lower lip.

“You had better not be saying what it sounds like you’re saying,” Hera said quietly.

Ahsoka closed her eyes briefly. “After – Malachor – I did some digging.  During the Clone War I’d made assumptions – well, we all had. It’s not as though Jedi never had affairs, though we weren’t permitted commitments outside the Order.  And Padmé – Luke’s mother – had been a friend of mine. We all knew they were having an affair. Except it wasn’t an affair.  They had been married in secret just after the war started.”  There was agony on her face as she looked at Hera.  “Anakin broke his vows, and because of it the Order died.  They all died.”

Hera got to her feet. “Kanan isn’t him.”

“I know that!” Ahsoka snapped.  She took a deep breath, putting one hand on the back of the chair nearest her.

“And the Jedi Order is a generation in its grave.  There’s no one left but you and Kanan.”

“I know that too,” Ahsoka said.  She was clutching the back of the chair so tightly that Hera heard the suede of her gauntlets creak.

Hera crossed her arms over her chest. “Does Luke know you knew his father?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “Knowing wouldn’t serve any purpose.  The Anakin Skywalker I knew…”  She let the words trail off, then shook her head again.  “I can’t look at him and think of anything but what Anakin did, and I won’t burden him with that more than he is already.  That’s not a ghost he needs to carry with him.”

“Is it one that you need to?” Hera asked her quietly.

“If I could set it aside I would,” Ahsoka said.  She sounded unspeakably weary. “But everyone I know died.  That isn’t an exaggeration.  Everyone I know – except Rex – died because of him, because he decided to break his vows and we all loved him so much we let him.”  She rubbed a hand over her face, briefly dislodging her headband.  “Hera, it’s nothing against Kanan, truly, or you, or Jacen.  But Anakin was a good person too, and so was Padmé.  And – and everyone died.  All of them.  Padmé, Obi-Wan, the Order, the clones, the Republic – they all died because of Anakin. The Emperor as well, but – Anakin sided with that.  And I’ll never know why, not really.  I did what I could to find out, but – but everyone is dead.  There’s no one left who knows.  They’re all dead.  And Anakin did that.”

She looked up at Hera. “That’s what I see every time I look at Luke.  I won’t give him that burden, but I can’t set it aside either.”

“Is that what you think about Kanan and me?” Hera asked her. “That we’re on the knife’s edge of everyone dying?”

“No,” Ahsoka said. “No.  But when you said it –”  She hesitated, then went on, “– when you said it, it was the only thing I could think of. And I know you and I knew Kanan, but I knew Anakin too.”  She looked at the chair she was gripping, then sighed and moved around to drop into it. “I knew you and Kanan were involved before, but I didn’t – I didn’t have to know it, if that makes sense.  And I didn’t know about Anakin then.  When I came back, I did know, and – and you had Jacen.  And Luke was there too, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t bear it. I know it’s not fair,” she added defensively as Hera glared at her.

“No, it’s not.”  She tried to bite back the sarcasm in her voice, but suspected she didn’t succeed.  She stood there, looking at Ahsoka’s slumped form in the armchair, and said the first thing that came to mind, “Did you tell Kanan you were worried about him snapping and murdering us all?”

Ahsoka looked badly startled. “No, of course not.  We had other things to discuss.”  She grimaced, then added, “And Luke was there, and some of what I have to say to Kanan I won’t say in front of him.”

Oh, this should be good, Hera thought.  She had always thought of Ahsoka as fairly even-tempered, but the handful of occasions where she hadn’t managed to avoid Luke had been memorable for everyone with the misfortune to be in the vicinity. “Then if you’re not going to say it to me, I need to go comm my father.”

She was almost at the door when Ahsoka said slowly, “Hera –”

 She turned back. “What?”

Ahsoka bit her lower lip. She was quiet for a long moment, then she said, “Ezra could have brought Kanan back six years ago, when he brought me back, and I stopped him.”

Hera froze.

Ahsoka looked back at her, her gaze weary. “There was a reason –”

“I don’t care,” Hera said. Her mind felt as though it had gone blank with either shock or rage; she wasn’t sure which at this point.  She balled up her fists at her sides, not certain either whether she just needed something to do with her hands or if she was trying not to hit Ahsoka.  “I don’t care,” she said again, and was surprised to find that it was the truth. She took a shuddering breath, because Kanan was here now and it really didn’t matter as long as Ahsoka didn’t try to remedy what she clearly thought of as a mistake.  Then her mind caught up with the rest of what Ahsoka had said and she snapped, “Do you know where Ezra is?”

“No,” Ahsoka said. She had sat up straight, but not risen. “This was before he went missing – from what Sabine’s told me, from when he went inside the Jedi Temple on Lothal.”

Less than a day after Kanan had died.

Hera stared at her, trying to think of something to say.  She only realized she had put her hand over her stomach when she felt the edge of her belt buckle pressing into the side of her hand.  She had been pregnant then and only just beginning to realize it; she wouldn’t be certain for another few weeks.

Hera still had nightmares about that day.

“I told Ezra I would find him,” Ahsoka said.

“Don’t bother,” Hera said. “We’ll do that.”

She turned and left.

She felt as if she was having an out of body experience, her hands still shaking, the ordinary ship sounds around her strangely muted, even the recycled air moving across her face every time she passed a vent seemingly alien.  Whatever expression was on her face seemed to warn anyone off; passing crew members or pilots veered around her.

Slowly – painfully slowly – reality reasserted itself, and by the time she had reached the hangar bay where the Ghost was docked she was breathing normally again, the sound of her footsteps on the durasteel floor familiar instead of muffled.  When she tapped her code into the Ghost’s locking mechanism and waited for the ramp to lower she almost didn’t feel like screaming anymore.

Once inside she raised the ramp again, then just stood with her forehead tipped against the ladder leading up to the cockpit, aware of the sound of voices from up above.  Kanan’s was one of them, though several layers of deck and closed doors made it impossible for her to make out the words. She let the cool metal of the ladder leech out her remaining anger until she finally felt calm enough to climb up and follow the voices into the common room.

She stopped in the doorway, fighting back her instinct to burst into immediate tears.  Kanan was sitting on the floor with Jacen, his expression somewhere between stunned and awed.  Jacen had brought out the box of toys Hera kept on the Ghost, as well as some that he must have brought with him from Ryloth, and was gravely showing them to Kanan.  He did this by putting each one into Kanan’s left hand, then guiding Kanan’s right hand over the toy – at the moment it was a large stuffed anooba plush that Numa had made him several years earlier.  Sabine and Zeb were sitting at the holotable, watching them and looking like they weren’t terribly far from tears either.  Chopper was watching too, and somehow managed to look as emotional as it was possible for an astromech droid to get, though at Hera’s approach he chortled a greeting.

“Mama!” Jacen said gleefully, abandoning the anooba in Kanan’s hands, and scrambled up to run to her.

Hera hugged him, kissing his hair. “Hi, baby.  Are you and your father and Auntie Sabine and Uncle Zeb having fun?”

Jacen nodded enthusiastically and tugged her towards Kanan and the pile of toys. “Look what Grandpapa gave me!”

Hera sat down next to Kanan and leaned over to kiss him, then turned her attention to the delicately carved nunas-and-gutkurrs set Jacen showed her.  After he was certain she had seen it, he took each small animal out of the case to hand to Kanan, who inspected it solemnly with his fingers before passing it back and accepting the next one.  Hera had had a similar set when she was a child, but had lost most of the pieces by the time she was ten.

“So are you heading back to Starfighter Command now?” Zeb said eventually, his voice elaborately casual. Chopper echoed the question, curious.

“No,” Hera said. “I’m transferring permanently to Intelligence, and there’s something I need to talk to all of you about.”

Sabine, who had been slouching and picking at some peeling paint on her knuckle plates, sat up straight. “We’re going after Ezra?”

Hera stared at her. “I didn’t even say anything!”

Sabine waved a hand. “It’s the only thing it could be, now that Kanan’s back.”  She grinned happily at him.  “Unless you wanted to stay and help Luke with his mission to restore the Jedi.”

Kanan grimaced. “He seems like a nice kid, but I just spent three hours in the middle of a doctrinal dispute and I didn’t even think I still had standards for heresy.”

They all stared at him.

“…what,” Zeb said eventually.

He winced. “Don’t ask. I was afraid to because I’m pretty sure I disagree with both of them, but pointing that out just now seemed like it was asking for trouble.”

“Amateurs,” Sabine sniffed. “No one’s dead yet.  By Mandalorian standards that’s barely even a spirited debate.”

“To be fair, two of us were dead,” Kanan pointed out dryly. “We just happened to get better.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t die from the doctrinal debate, so it doesn’t count.”

“That’s because every time the Jedi have a doctrinal debate that results in someone dying it also results in a galactic civil war that lasts for years and kills hundreds of thousands of other people,” Kanan said. “So we try to avoid getting to that point.”

Sabine shrugged. “Maybe if you had those more often you’d have smaller civil wars.”

Zeb frowned at her. “Isn’t that why all you Mandalorians hate each other in the first place?”

“Not as much as we hate anyone who tries to interfere in our civil wars.”

Zeb gave Hera a pained expression.

“Don’t look at me,” Hera said, gathering Jacen into her lap. “Ryloth was still having blood feuds between clans three generations ago, and even now you shouldn’t try to get a Fenn and a Kru in the same room together if you don’t want trouble.”

Sabine pointed at her. “See, someone who understands me.”

“I don’t think anyone understands you,” Zeb muttered. “Back on Lasan – and Lira San – we all just sued each other.”

“Well, that sounds boring.”

“And dueling, but that’s been illegal for a century – two on Lira San.  And that’s only for extreme cases anyway.”

“Now we’re talking,” Sabine said, sounding more satisfied as Chopper chuckled agreement. “I was starting to get worried for a moment there.”

“About what?” Kanan wondered out loud. “It’s not like there aren’t lawyers on Mandalore.”

“Well, not anymore,” Sabine said.

Kanan raised an eyebrow at her, then visibly decided not to pursue that line of questioning any further and went on, “And I’m pretty sure under the circumstances trying to kill either Luke or Ahsoka would have been a bad idea.”

Hera felt the muscle in her jaw twitch again. Jacen turned his face up to her, feeling her sudden tension, and Hera hugged him.  Kanan picked up one of Jacen’s discarded toys, a small stuffed Loth-wolf, and balanced it briefly on the palm of his hand.  Then he turned his hand sideways, the Loth-wolf remaining suspended in mid-air, and sent the Loth-wolf galloping towards Jacen.  He bounced with glee, making Hera let out a soft oof, and caught it.

“I can do that too!” He narrowed his eyes in concentration, then sent the Loth-wolf back to Kanan.  It wobbled a little in mid-air, but Kanan caught it easily, grinning.  He picked up the anooba Jacen had shown him earlier.

Jacen put his hands out gleefully, not waiting for Kanan to send it to him. It sailed through the air to him and he hugged it, then he caught the Loth-wolf that Kanan sent after it.

“Hold that for a few minutes, love, we need to talk,” Hera told him.  She settled him more comfortably in her lap – he was heavier than she remembered him being, but then again she hadn’t seen him in person for several months – and looked at the rest of her crew.

Her crew.

She, Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper had only been in the same place a handful of times over the past six years, and Kanan hadn’t been there at all.  Hera had served with a number of people whom she had gotten along with, many of whom she had liked, but none of them were the three beings and one droid in the room with her now – in the Ghost with her now.  She had thought that she would go to her grave without ever having this again.

Hera swallowed past the lump in her throat.  “There have been rumors about Grand Admiral Thrawn and the Seventh Fleet for years,” she said.  Zeb knew some of this, but she didn’t think Sabine did and Kanan certainly didn’t. “Rebel Intelligence has never been able to confirm that they’re still out there or that Thrawn was in touch with the Emperor – or anyone from the Remnant, for that matter.  Because we’ve been busy dealing with the warlords since Endor, General Cracken – that’s the head of Intelligence,” she added for Kanan’s benefit, “– hasn’t been able to send anyone out into the Unknown Regions to investigate the rumors.”

“What happened to General Draven?” Kanan asked, startled; the previous head of Rebel Intelligence had been on Yavin while they had been there.

“He died,” Hera said. “Five years ago.”

Kanan winced.

“So since we’re going to be out there anyway, we might as well do it with Alliance – Republic – authority?” Sabine said.  She cocked an eyebrow at Hera. “That is what you said to Cracken?”

“More or less,” Hera said. “Doing it with Republic authority was his idea.  I was just going to resign.”  She hesitated, then added, “I can’t order you – any of you – to come. But I’ve let this go long enough and I won’t wait any longer.”  She couldn’t help but look at Kanan as she went on, “Ezra is family, and we’ve all lost enough family to the Empire.”

“I’m in,” Sabine said.

“Me too,” Zeb said. Chopper chortled agreement.

Kanan just leaned over and kissed her.

Hera let out her breath, relief making her shoulders slump. “All right,” she said. “Make your arrangements. We have to take Jacen back to Ryloth.” She smiled at Kanan. “And we’re getting married.”

That got them a round of back-slapping and congratulations and promising not to actually do it until both Sabine and Zeb could be there.  By the time they were all settled down again, Hera was flushed with happiness, leaning against Kanan’s shoulder with her other arm around her son.

We’re all right, she thought, looking around at her crew – at her family.  We’re all going to be all right.

[sa7abnews]

Don't expect Arab boots on the ground in Gaza

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/11/dont-expect-arab-boots-on-the-ground-in-gaza/

Don't expect Arab boots on the ground in Gaza

Since Israel’s ongoing military campaign against Gaza began ten months ago, Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) members have been terrified about the war’s impact on the region.

As the conflict continues regionalising and internationalising, Gulf Arab policymakers worry about the wider ramifications, even beyond the Middle East.

A shared interest in seeing a ceasefire implemented immediately has tightened GCC unity since October 2023, highlighting common cause among Gulf Arab states as the region’s conflict dynamics intensify.

In general, GCC members hold Israel and the United States responsible for the humanitarian nightmare, chaos, and human suffering in Gaza. Within this context, any talk of Gulf Arab forces being sent to Gaza to help stabilise and securitise the enclave has been extremely controversial in GCC states.

Gulf Arab authorities have generally avoided even hinting at the mere possibility of this scenario.

Yet, last month, Lana Nusseibeh, special envoy to the United Arab Emirates (UAE) foreign ministry, spoke to the Financial Times about Abu Dhabi’s talks with Washington about Gaza.

She addressed a possible deployment of Emirati forces to the war-torn enclave as part of a multinational “stabilisation” mission once the post-war phase begins. Nusseibeh stressed that Abu Dhabi would only participate in such a multinational force if the Palestinian Authority (PA) extended such an invitation.

This marked the first time a Gulf Arab country raised the possibility of its own troops stepping foot into Gaza.

“The UAE could consider being part of the stabilisation forces alongside Arab and international partners…at the invitation of a reformed PA, or a PA led by an empowered prime minister,” explained the Emirati diplomat.

“The United States should have the lead on this for it to succeed.” She added that the UAE had, “and continued to have, conversations on the ‘day after’ with all the concerned actors in the region”.

Despite Abu Dhabi expressing an openness to the idea of sending its forces to help stabilise Gaza, the UAE and the other GCC members would only do so if certain conditions were met.

As of now, Israel agreeing to such terms is unimaginable. Therefore, without any serious changes on Israel’s part, a deployment of Gulf Arab troops to Gaza remains doubtful.

Ultimately, Gulf Arab troops participating in a multinational force in Gaza would have to face many hurdles under current circumstances. Furthermore, there is no denying that such plans would entail huge risks for GCC states.

Gaza governance questions

The most fundamental questions which remain unresolved pertain to Gaza’s governance. Without these questions being solved, no GCC state will put its boots on the ground in the Palestinian territory that Israel has essentially turned into a no-man’s land over the past ten months.

To be sure, if the Israelis retain full control on the ground in Gaza, such a deployment of Gulf Arab forces can be fully dismissed. There are also difficult questions about which Palestinian leader or faction should be in control of the enclave once the dust eventually settles.

The bottom line is that we are far from realising what post-war Gaza governance will look like, and imagining a GCC state sending its troops to the enclave without these governance-related questions being solved is unrealistic.

In an interview with The New Arab, Dr Andreas Krieg, an associate professor at the Defence Studies Department of King’s College London, pointed out that Israel has thus far not presented any feasible or implementable strategies for the management of Gaza and governance in the blockaded territory during the post-war period.

A key issue is that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government only views Gaza through a security prism that does not consider political dynamics.

“Without a tangible solution to self-governance in the Gaza strip there won’t be security and Israel will not be able to govern the Gaza strip in the mid-term – not even the short term – and call it the end of the war. So, in order to actually effectively end the war, they need to find a political and strategic solution to this. This is where the problems begin,” Dr Krieg told TNA.

“None of the Arab Gulf states would be willing to put their boots on the ground in an active warzone. Without a sustainable ceasefire solution and agreement there will be no way to actually discuss the day after in terms of governance and security. So, what the Israelis have to do is show a very firm commitment to a ceasefire and their commitment to [Palestinian] self-governance in one way or another,” he added.

Setting aside such governance-related questions, a theoretical deployment of Emirati forces to Gaza could take various forms. There could be an active UAE military presence in the enclave. Abu Dhabi could also send paramilitary units or private military contractors, which the UAE has a history of using in Africa.

Another option might be for Emirati police or civil defence units to enter the enclave. Yet, some experts point out that without the PA in charge of Gaza, that does not seem feasible.

“There may be an offering of limited police forces who could coordinate with the PA in Gaza, but I don’t expect to see Emirati regulars in Gaza anytime soon. And even a police angle would require the PA to rule Gaza, which right now we’re quite far away from,” Ryan Bohl, a Middle East and North African analyst at the risk intelligence company RANE, told TNA.

Nonetheless, if Gaza is experiencing warfare all these options would result in the UAE having to play a military, rather than law enforcement, role in the enclave.

“The main factors that would make such a deployment risky include the following: getting drawn into a long-term conflict that a GCC state would find difficult to extract itself from given the material, diplomatic and reputational risk; the risk of becoming Israel’s ‘policeman’ or ‘enforcer’ in Gaza – in other words, providing Israel with a level of security it is comfortable with, but whilst the GCC state bears the cost for doing so,” Dr Neil Quilliam, an associate fellow in the Middle East and North Africa program at Chatham House, told TNA.

“In this scenario, the GCC force in part replaces the role of Fatah in policing Palestinian society; GCC forces could be viewed by Gazans as an occupying power and therefore the target of an insurgency; and finally, deploying boots on the ground would be viewed unfavourably back at home in the wider Arab world,” Dr Quilliam added.

“The government sending troops would be considered to be betraying the Palestinian cause and it would risk disquiet at home and in the region.”

The nature of Israel’s current government is a relevant factor that no Gulf Arab state could ignore when contemplating any sort of deployment of its own troops to Gaza.

“It’s virtually impossible to see a GCC peacekeeping force enter Gaza in a viable way without a political change in Israel’s government,” Bohl told TNA.

“Its far-right element essentially blocks any notable cooperation between Israel and the GCC on such a front, as the two have diametrically different views as to what’s to happen to Gaza (witness [Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel] Smotrich’s statement on starving Gazans to death if he could),” he added.

Iran and the region’s resistance factions

Talk of Gulf Arab boots touching the ground in Gaza needs to account for how such a development could play out in the wider region.

At a time in which Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Bahrain are determined to build on this new period of détente with Iran, officials in these GCC states are sensitive to how Israel’s war on Gaza stands to impact their relationships with the Islamic Republic while key questions about the role of Arab actors in the Tehran-led “axis of resistance” must be considered too.

“Israel’s war on Gaza has served to unite Arab states once again behind the Palestinian cause. Prior to 7 October, there was a significant gap between those states that had either normalised or were leaning towards normalising with Israel and those that remained resolutely opposed to it. To a large extent, the former had de-prioritised the Palestinian issue in their national interests, whereas for the latter, Palestine remained central to national interests,” said Dr Quilliam.

“If Gulf Arab boots were to touch the ground in Gaza, then it would break the current unity and polarise the Arab world and, at the same time, strengthen the hand of the ‘rejectionist’ states, which would lend weight to Iran and its so-called ‘axis of resistance.’ The balance between conservative and rejectionist states would be heavily skewed in favour of the latter and, as a result, it would lead to an increase in anti-US sentiment across the region,” he added.

Bolstering the UAE’s image?

Emirati diplomats discussing the UAE’s potential willingness to send their country’s troops to Gaza appear to be more about enhancing Abu Dhabi’s image as a relevant actor playing an important role in managing this conflict.

While Qatar and Egypt have been the two most influential Arab states vis-à-vis the Gaza war, the UAE seeks to inject itself into the discourse in ways that capture the attention of policymakers in the US and Europe.

“In this context, the Emiratis want to boost their relevance and show the Americans that they have something to offer when they have nothing to offer at this point – and they’re unwilling to offer anything. From an Emirati point of view, it’s just about discourse,” Dr Krieg told TNA.

“It’s about narratives rather than working toward a feasible and tangible solution because at this point – and there’s no blame on the Emiratis or any other Arab state – neither the Americans nor any other Western country has a clear strategy,” he added.

Without the US and its European allies willing to use their leverage to push Netanyahu’s government toward the concessions that the GCC states would need Tel Aviv to make in order to put their troops on the ground in Gaza, Emirati and other Gulf Arab policymakers will lack the confidence they would need to take the serious risks associated with putting their forces in harm’s way in the besieged Palestinian territory.

Giorgio Cafiero is the CEO of Gulf State Analytics.

Follow him on Twitter: @GiorgioCafiero

[pebblysand]

[the thoughts on canon-compliance you did not ask for.]

last night between 2 and 3 in the morning (look, i couldn’t sleep, got up to write, then got caught up, okay? don’t judge me for my terrible sleeping patterns please) i had a super interesting discussion with a few people on the hinny discord channel about the definition of canon-compliant-ness. i think this is fascinating because to be honest, before getting into the hp fandom, i didn’t even think this was something one could disagree about. to me there was what was canon, and what wasn’t. a very black-and-white sort of system. i’m finding that it’s not.

through the discussions that i’ve had both on my fics and other people’s fics, it seems that i can narrow down - in the hp fandom - three elements of canon.

i. the events of the books/films

now, as a general disclaimer, you can obviously argue about whether the films are ‘canon.’ you can also argue whether cursed child is canon. there’s a lot of elements which differ between those and lots of opinions about how to look at them. personally, i tend to ignore cursed child. as to the books v. films, i pick and choose what suits my story more. generally, that’ll be the books. but for instance, i’m writing a harry&hermione friendship one shot right now, and there are a lot of movie-isms in that story because that is an aspect that was more explored in the films. however, for the purposes of this post, i’m mainly considering the source material to be the seven books. nothing more or less.

having said that, to me personally, that’s what ‘canon’ is: the events of the story and the characters that gravitate around those events, as described in the source material. things like: tom riddle killing lily and james, or harry, ron and hermione rescuing the philosopher’s stone. anything departing from that is, de facto, an ‘au.’ the whole world of what-if scenarios: what if Harry was sorted into slytherin, what if dudley was a wizard, all of those, to me, are aus.

generally, both as a reader and a writer, those are not scenarios i’m particularly drawn to. my default answer to those what-if scenarios is: ‘well, if harry is sorted into slytherin, there’s no story.’ or at the very least, there’s no story as i know it, and if there’s no story as i know it, then i’d rather read/write original fiction. it’s obviously a very personal preference and there are exceptions to this preference. i loved the changeling [1] for instance, and love the self-aware style of dirgewithoutmusic’s aus [2]. but as a general rule, that is not my preferred genre.

now, aside from the what-if scenarios, there’s also the question of filling in the gaps of the story itself. like, i find it interesting that we only make tsunamis [3] is labelled as ‘canon-compliant’ because i get the feeling that a lot of people would disagree that a fic in which hermione is harry’s first kiss is canon compliant. but, by exploiting the silence sometimes left by the author and turning it to your advantage, are you writing an au? is a negative space canon? is silence canon?

again, as a matter of personal opinion, i would not push my definition of canon-compliance as including blank spaces. to me, as long as it does not contradict the letter of the text, adding in events to the books to suit your story (i’ll address character in point ii) does not make your fic an au. to give another example that was brought up to me regarding my own work, i don’t believe that the events described in chapter nine of castles [4] are au because they exist in a blank space of the books. the fact that harry didn’t notice the 1:1s between ginny and amycus doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, it just means that they’re not in the positive space described by the books.

ii. the characters/characterisation

(as a quick vocab note, please note that below, i’m using the terms ‘ooc’ to mean that the characterisation of a character in a fic is not canon-compliant. they’re synonyms to me.)

now, while the above was pretty straight forward, i believe that this is where i perhaps differ from the masses in my interpretation of what “canon-compliance” means. more i discuss with people, the more i realise that i don’t really think there’s a real ‘canon’ characterisation. or at least not in the big things. like, yeah, it’s canon that harry likes treacle tart, because that’s a fact. but anything that is down to psychology or perspective of the character is, to me, generally up for grabs.

as a human, i believe that there’s things that people do, events that they go through, that condition them to act a certain way. while there is a core to every human being, i personally believe that in life, anyone would basically be capable of doing anything, given the right circumstances. i’ve recently - rightfully - been told my writing is all about the power of choice in our life, the reasons why we make those choices and the people those choices lead us to be. for example, do i think i might murder someone tomorrow? probably not. do i think i might be capable of murdering someone in wartime? perhaps? i don’t know, that’s not the world i live in and my life choices have not lead me to find out the answer to that. however, my point is: to me, good ‘characterisation’ is down to the circumstances and choices outlined in any work of fiction. hence, good characterisation is essentially, to me, equal to good writing.

i often say that good writing could make me believe anything and i mean it. i don’t tend to gravitate towards these fics because these ships are not my personal taste but i genuinely believe that good writing could make me believe in drarry or rarry if it tried. it’s funny because over the course of the discussion yesterday on discord, this was brought up ‘well, no one tags drarry as canon compliant,’ and i’m kind of like, i don’t know whether or not they do because i don’t read it but if they did and none of it contradicted the events as detailed in the books, perhaps it could be? like, that would take really good writing (imo), but good writing has - on occasion - made me believe in dramione a couple of times, so why not? in ‘til the sirens come calling [5], good writing made me 100% believe that harry and hermione would have an affair together. in we only make tsunamis [3], it makes me believe that they had this quiet little relationship building throughout hogwarts that we never knew about.

now, though, i suppose the question isn’t: do i believe it? the question is: is it canon? and, i think that’s where i differ from most people because to me, it is. to take ‘til the sirens come calling [5] as an example, i believe the fic is an au because hermione marries victor krum in the end. that’s going against the hard fact presented by the epilogue, and thus makes it an au. but i don’t believe the concept of a harmony affair is inherently au, because nothing is inherently au, character-wise. it’s about how you write it. how those people get to that place. that’s what makes canon-compliantness, in my opinion.

for example, for that fic, truth be told, we don’t know what those nineteen years include per canon, so they could very much include an h/hr affair. and whilst i don’t believe that the characters as they are in the books would have an affair together, i believe that the characters as they are presented in the fic, with the events and hardships that they go through, definitely would. good writing, to me, is - in part - recognising that characters are moving on a spectrum and that whilst their decisions/actions might not make sense in book-verse, they make sense in fic-verse. good writing is convincingly moving your characters from book-verse to fic-verse, and it not feeling ‘off.’

if it does feel off, that is bad writing to me, and that is also ooc-ness/non-canon compliant. it means that for whatever reason, the writer has not successfully transitioned and explained said transition through the events outlined in the story. with the right prose, you could make me believe draco decided to take on a career as a ballerina dancer after the war, and it would still be ‘canon-compliant’ to me. on the other hand, i have read fics (i won’t name them because that would be shit and also i don’t keep track of my ‘bad’ reads) where harry, ginny, hermione, or ron all act according to book canon and yet, their motivations felt off to me and completely ooc because the writing didn’t successfully lure me in. specifically, there was a lack of character evolution that i found uninteresting. i read mostly post-war stuff because i want to see my characters grow up [6].

as a last, additional note on characters, i also think that the characters in a story only exist within the prism of how we view them. this means that to me, locking my own understanding of a character's personality as 'canon' is particularly difficult because my understanding of a character is unique. i believe there are as many harry-s or ginny-s or hermione-s as there are readers. so i think saying someone's interpretation of a character isn't canon-compliant is odd because i don't actually believe there's any wrong or right answer. as i said, do i believe it likely that draco would become a professional ballerina? no. but if that works within your understanding of his character as described in the books, who am i to say that is or isn't canon compliant? i'll admit, the idea makes me sort of lol though.

iii. tone

lastly, i’ve come to find (in potter particularly) that canon-compliance might include tone. as in: hp is a story that is a) written in a certain style and b) written for children/young adults.

regarding style at a), this is honestly the main reason why it took me 15 years to write potter fic, despite the fact that i’ve been a fan for even longer than that. i genuinely thought you had to write like jkr. and i, well, don’t write like jkr. i love the books, but i don’t even particularly like her style. i like: camus, and sorj chalandon, and sally rooney, and dirgewithoutmusic and copper_dust [7]. i have zero ambition to write like jkr and don’t particularly want to read stuff that is written like her stuff either. it’s a style that imo works for her, but it doesn’t work for me as written by other people. i don’t particularly think you need to stick to her style to be canon-compliant.

which brings me onto my actual point: b) hp is a story written for children. young adults perhaps, for the later books. it sometimes explores dark themes but the writing style, the tone, etc. is lighthearted enough that it appeals to a younger audience. there’s snogging but there’s no sex, there’s violence but the torture is mostly off-screen, etc. issues like sexual assault, substance abuse, etc. aren’t explicitely brought up in the books, although they would one hundred percent fit in a book about a war that wasn’t necessarily aimed at children. the question is whether this setting and tone is part of what we call ‘canon-compliance.’

honestly, i don’t know. i didn’t think so until it was brought up to me that castles might be a dark!au and i was like: maybe? like, if you want it to be? i know what i like to read in fanfic: i love the exploration of serious themes that were not explored in the books, or explored differently due to the fact that they were written for children. one thing i will say and insist on is that i don’t think castles is all dark. i actually make a point of having lighthearted moments in each and every chapter, even just a notch, because i am attached to the fact that life as a concept is a mixture of good and bad, and you could laugh at the funeral of someone you loved, again in the right circumstances. but yeah, to me the post-war world is dark. so if tone is part of canon-compliance, then yeah in that way castles (as well as most of the stuff i read, to be honest), is a dark!au.

as a last side note, i’m not sure what that means for my other, lighter stuff though. like are the wolf’s just a puppy [8] or slipped [9] more canon-compliant than castles? i never thought about it in those terms but perhaps? it really opens up a world of questions in my mind and i don’t really have the answers to them.

conclusion:

so in sum, as a reader, what i mean as ‘canon compliant’ is basically a) the events as described in the source material and b) the characterisation of characters as they are at the start of the fic. if character evolution is sufficiently justified and well-written in the following thousands of words that the fic has, then said characterisation can still be canon-compliant, even if the characters act different than they would have in the source material itself. i’m a fan of good writing and good writing can make me buy into literally anything. it takes me places that i've never been before and convinces me that those places are the ones i should be in.

as a writer, i hope that regardless of 'compliance,' whatever i write at least makes ‘sense’ to people within the universe, even if they don’t consider it canon-compliant, per se. i feel like i can’t really be the judge of that. from the discussions we had last night, i feel like there are as many versions of what is and isn't canon-compliant as there are people.

.

.

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[1] the changeling by annerb

[2] the boy with a scar series by dirgewithoutmusic

[3] we only make tsunamis by disOrdely

[4] castles by yours truly

[5] ‘til the sirens come calling by vexmybones

[6] as a side note and to take my own stuff as an another example, i totally agree that harry in castles isn’t harry in the books. i don’t think there’s much debate to be had in that assertion. i wrote him like this frankly because every other fic i’d read didn’t. they often had him sort of continue to be perfectly himself after the war, which i felt wasn’t speaking to me on a deeper level. imo, i think the war’s done a lot of scarring and the fic is about him growing into a new version of himself. so, to me, if i get a comment that says ‘i don’t think harry would act this way but i really love your writing’ it’s somewhat flattering but also confusing because i don’t really understand how one can enjoy the writing but not the characterisation. to me, they’re so intrinsically linked. what the comment tells me is: i think you did a very poor job at explaining character evolution and justifying character x’s [harry’s] choices but i still like your writing, somehow? i suppose that’s nice, but it doesn’t particularly compute in my brain. like, if the character feels off, it means the writing feels off and thus, why are you still reading? i appreciate all and every comment that i get but it doesn’t mean they always make sense in my own brain. if i’m honest, these comments often send me into an ocean of self-doubt about how shit my writing must be.

[7] copper_dust’s work and profile.

[8] the wolf’s just a puppy (and the door’s double locked), again by yours truly

[9] slipped (and said something sort of like your name), same.