#millius

[zacksnydered]

"I know a thing or two about the guilt of carrying on when those you’ve sworn to fight with are gone. Honor them. With everything that you can from now. Carry them. " REBEL MOON ‧ 2023

[arcticdementor]

It was Halloween in Orlando, and we had piled into a car to make a short trip from the Hilton to an after-party down the road, to wind up the first night of the latest edition of a gathering called the National Conservatism Conference. For at least many of the young people, the actual business of conference going seemed to be beside the point, a gesture at how we used to conduct politics back before life in America spun out of control. There were jokes, or maybe they were serious questions, about whether one of the guys tagging along with us was a fed. I surreptitiously made a few searches of the name he’d given me and was surprised when I couldn’t find a single plausible hit—though that could have been because he was a hyper-secret crypto type; there were some of those floating around. Not that anyone cared. These were people who were used to guarding their words.

“Don’t fuck me here,” a dark-haired woman named Amanda Milius said to me—as she somewhat imperiously dealt with a guy at the door who was skeptical about letting a reporter into the party—“and say we’re all in here sacrificing kids to Moloch. We’re just the last normal people, hanging out at the end of the world.”

I had met Milius outside the Hilton when I asked for a cigarette, and she began to chaperone me around, telling people who eyed my press pass that I was there to profile her as an up-and-coming female director who, she said, had attracted more Amazon streams than any woman ever with her first documentary, a counternarrative about Russiagate. “Annie Leibovitz is still scheduling the photo shoot,” she kept saying. In this world, almost every word is layered in so much irony that you can never be sure what to take seriously or not, perhaps a semiconscious defense mechanism for people convinced that almost everyone is out to get them.

…

“This is sad,” Milius said. No one cheered or even seemed interested. But this was not Trumpworld, even if many of the people in the room saw Trump as a useful tool. And these parties aren’t always so lame. NatCon, as this conference is known, has grown into a big-tent gathering for a whole range of people who want to push the American right in a more economically populist, culturally conservative, assertively nationalist direction. It draws everyone from Israel hawks to fusty paleocon professors to mainstream figures like Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio. But most of the media attention that the conference attracts focuses on a cohort of rosy young blazer-wearing activists and writers—a crop of people representing the American right’s “radical young intellectuals,” as a headline in The New Republic would soon put it, or conservatism’s “terrifying future,” as David Brooks called them in The Atlantic.

But the people these pieces describe, who made up most of the partygoers around me, were only the most buttoned-up seam of a much larger and stranger political ferment, burbling up mainly within America’s young and well-educated elite, part of an intra-media class info-war. The podcasters, bro-ish anonymous Twitter posters, online philosophers, artists, and amorphous scenesters in this world are variously known as “dissidents,” “neo-reactionaries,” “post-leftists,” or the “heterodox” fringe—though they’re all often grouped for convenience under the heading of America’s New Right. They have a wildly diverse set of political backgrounds, with influences ranging from 17th-century Jacobite royalists to Marxist cultural critics to so-called reactionary feminists to the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, whom they sometimes refer to with semi-ironic affection as Uncle Ted. Which is to say that this New Right is not a part of the conservative movement as most people in America would understand it. It’s better described as a tangled set of frameworks for critiquing the systems of power and propaganda that most people reading this probably think of as “the way the world is.” And one point shapes all of it: It is a project to overthrow the thrust of progress, at least such as liberals understand the word.

This worldview, these worldviews, run counter to the American narrative of the last century—that economic growth and technological innovation are inevitably leading us toward a better future. It’s a position that has become quietly edgy and cool in new tech outposts like Miami and Austin, and in downtown Manhattan, where New Right–ish politics are in, and signifiers like a demure cross necklace have become markers of a transgressive chic. No one is leading this movement, but it does have key figures.

…

Thiel has given more than $10 million to super PACs supporting the men’s candidacies, and both are personally close to him. Vance is a former employee of Thiel’s Mithril Capital, and Masters, until recently the COO of Thiel’s so-called “family office,” also ran the Thiel Foundation, which has become increasingly intertwined with this New Right ecosystem. These three—Thiel, Vance, Masters—are all friends with Curtis Yarvin, a 48-year-old ex-programmer and blogger who has done more than anyone to articulate the world historical critique and popularize the key terms of the New Right. You’ll often hear people in this world—again under many layers of irony—call him things like Lord Yarvin, or Our Prophet.

I was looking around the party for Vance, who hadn’t arrived yet, when Milius nudged me and pointed to a table off to our left. “Why is it that whenever I see Curtis, he’s surrounded by a big table of incels?” she asked with apparent fondness. I spotted Yarvin, a slight, bespectacled man with long dark hair, drinking a glass of wine with a crowd that included Josh Hammer, the national conservatism–minded young opinion editor of Newsweek, and Michael Anton, a Machiavelli scholar and former spokesman for Trump’s National Security Council—and a prominent public intellectualizer of the Trump movement. Other luminaries afoot for the conference included Dignity author Chris Arnade, who seemed slightly unsure about the whole NatCon thing, and Sohrab Ahmari, the former opinion editor of the New York Post, now a cofounder and editor at the new magazine Compact, whose vision is, according to its mission statement, “shaped by our desire for a strong social-democratic state that defends community—local and national, familial and religious—against a libertine left and a libertarian right.” It is a very of-the-moment project.

Political reporters, at least the ones who have bothered to write about Yarvin, have often dismissed him as a kook with a readership made up mostly of lonely internet weirdos, fascists, or both. But to ignore him is to underestimate how Yarvin’s ideas, or at least ideas in conversation with his, have become foundational to a whole political and cultural scene that goes much deeper than anything you’d learn from the panels and speeches at an event like NatCon. Or how those ideas are going to shape the future of the American right, whether or not Vance and Masters win their Senate primaries. I introduced myself, and soon Milius and I were outside smoking as Yarvin and I chatted about whether he’d be willing to talk to me on the record.

…

This New Right is heavily populated by people with graduate degrees, so there’s a lot of debate about who is in it and whether or not it even exists. At one end are the NatCons, post-liberals, and traditionalist figures like Benedict Option author Rod Dreher, who envision a conservatism reinvigorated by an embrace of localist values, religious identity, and an active role for the state in promoting everything from marriage to environmental conservation. But there’s also a highly online set of Substack writers, podcasters, and anonymous Twitter posters—“our true intellectual elite,” as one podcaster describes them. This group encompasses everyone from rich crypto bros and tech executives to back-to-the-landers to disaffected members of the American intellectual class, like Up in the Air author Walter Kirn, whose fulminations against groupthink and techno-authoritarianism have made him an unlikely champion to the dissident right and heterodox fringe. But they share a the basic worldview: that individualist liberal ideology, increasingly bureaucratic governments, and big tech are all combining into a world that is at once tyrannical, chaotic, and devoid of the systems of value and morality that give human life richness and meaning—as Blake Masters recently put it, a “dystopian hell-world.”

…

And the ferment is starting to get noticed. “I think that’s a really good sign,” one of the hosts of the dissident-right podcast The Fedpost said recently, discussing how Tucker Carlson had just quoted a tweet from one of their guests. “This is a kind of burgeoning sect of thought,” he went on, “and it’s causing people who are in positions of larger influence and relative power to actually have to start looking into it.”

…

Part of why people have trouble describing this New Right is because it’s a bunch of people who believe that the system that organizes our society and government, which most of us think of as normal, is actually bizarre and insane. Which naturally makes them look bizarre and insane to people who think this system is normal. You’ll hear these people talk about our globalized consumerist society as “clown world.” You’ll often hear the worldview expressed by our media and intellectual class described as “the matrix” or the “Ministry of Truth,” as Thiel described it in his opening keynote speech to NatCon. It can be confusing to turn on something like the influential underground podcast Good Ol Boyz and hear a figure like Anton talk to two autodidact Southern gamers about the makeup of the regime, if only because most people reading this probably don’t think of America as the kind of place that has a regime at all. But that’s because, as many people in this world would argue, we’ve been so effectively propagandized that we can’t see how the system of power around us really works.

This is not a conspiracy theory like QAnon, which presupposes that there are systems of power at work that normal people don’t see. This is an idea that the people who work in our systems of power are so obtuse that they can’t even see that they’re part of a conspiracy.

“The fundamental premise of liberalism,” Yarvin told me, “is that there is this inexorable march toward progress. I disagree with that premise.” He believes that this premise underpins a massive framework of power. “My job,” as he puts it, “is to wake people up from the Truman Show.”

We spoke sharing a bench outside in the dark one evening, a few days into the conference. Yarvin is friendly and solicitous in person, despite the fact that he tends to think and talk so fast that he can start unspooling, reworking baroque metaphors to explain ideas to listeners who have heard them many times before.

…

Yarvin has a pretty condescending view of the mainstream media: “They’re just predators,” he has said, who have to make a living attacking people like him. “They just need to eat.” He doesn’t usually deal with mainstream magazines and wrote that he’d been “ambushed” at the last NatCon, in 2019, by a reporter for Harper’s—where I also write—who made him out to be a bit of a loon and predicted that the NatCons’ populist program would soon be “stripped of its parts” by the corporate-minded Republican establishment.

…

He considers himself a reactionary, not just a conservative—he thinks it is impossible for an Ivy League–educated person to really be a conservative. He has consistently argued that conservatives waste their time and political energy on fights over issues like gay marriage or critical race theory, because liberal ideology holds sway in the important institutions of prestige media and academia—an intertwined nexus he calls “the Cathedral.” He developed a theory to explain the fact that America has lost its so-called state capacity, his explanation for why it so often seems that it is not actually capable of governing anymore: The power of the executive branch has slowly devolved to an oligarchy of the educated who care more about competing for status within the system than they do about America’s national interest.

No one directs this system, and hardly anyone who participates in it believes that it’s a system at all. Someone like me who has made a career of writing about militias and extremist groups might go about my work thinking that all I do is try to tell important stories and honestly describe political upheaval. But within the Cathedral, the best way for me to get big assignments and win attention is to identify and attack what seem like threats against the established order, which includes nationalists, antigovernment types, or people who refuse to obey the opinions of the Cathedral’s experts on issues like vaccine mandates, in as alarming a way as I possibly can. This cycle becomes self-reinforcing and has been sent into hyperdrive by Twitter and Facebook, because the stuff that compels people to click on articles or share clips of a professor tends to affirm their worldview, or frighten them, or both at the same time. The more attention you gain in the Cathedral system, the more you can influence opinion and government policy. Journalists and academics and thinkers of any kind now live in a desperate race for attention—and in Yarvin’s view, this is all really a never-ending bid for influence, serving the interests of our oligarchical regime. So I may think I write for a living. But to Yarvin, what I actually do is more like a weird combination of intelligence-gathering and propagandizing. Which is why no one I was talking to at NatCon really thought it would be possible for me to write a fair piece about them.

…

People at the conference seemed excited about being in a place where they weren’t alone. I skipped most of the talks—which ranged from sessions about confronting the threat of China to the liberal influence on pop culture to “Worker Power.” Hawley gave a keynote on the “assault on the masculine virtues,” and Cruz offered up a traditional stump speech, evoking Reagan and saying he thought conservatives would soon prevail at the ballot box. “I’m pretty sure a lot of the 20-somethings rolled their eyes at that,” Yarvin said to me afterward with a smirk. The 20-somethings had a bigger vision.

…

I didn’t see a single Black person under the age of 50, though there were attendees of South Asian and Middle Eastern descent. In March, the journalist Jeff Sharlet (a Vanity Fair contributing editor who covers the American right) tweeted that the “intellectual New Right is a white supremacist project designed to cultivate non-white support,” and he linked it to resurgent nationalist and authoritarian politics around the world: “It’s part of a global fascist movement not limited to the anti-blackness of the U.S. & Europe.” Yet many on the New Right seem increasingly unfazed by accusations that they’re white nationalists or racists. Masters in particular seems willing to goad commentators, believing that the ensuing arguments will redound to his political advantage: “Good luck [hitting] me with that,” Masters told the podcaster Alex Kaschuta recently, arguing that accusations of racism had become a political bludgeon used to keep conservative ideas outside the political mainstream. “Good luck criticizing me for saying critical race theory is anti-white.” But for all the chatter of looming dystopia, no one I spoke to raised one of the most dystopian aspects of American life: our vast apparatus of prisons and policing. Most people seemed more caught up in fighting what they perceived as the cant and groupthink among other members of the political media class, or the hypocrisy of rich white liberals who put up Black Lives Matter signs in front of multimillion-dollar homes, than they were with the raw experience that has given shape to America’s current racial politics.

Milius was a sardonic and constant presence, easy to find smoking as Yarvin stood and talked at warp speed in his unmistakable voice. She was by far the most strikingly dressed person there, favoring Gucci and Ralph Lauren and lots of gold jewelry and big sunglasses. She is the daughter of the conservative director John Milius, who cowrote Apocalypse Now and directed Red Dawn. She grew up in Los Angeles, and it turned out that we’d both gone to the same tiny liberal arts college in Manhattan, so, like pretty much all the people there, she was used to living in social spaces where conservative views were considered strange if not downright evil. She thought something had radically changed since 2015, after she went to film school at USC and started working in Hollywood, before she suddenly dropped everything to work for Trump’s campaign in Nevada, eventually landing a job in his State Department.

“What this is,” she said, “is a new thought movement. So it’s very hard to put your finger on and articulate what it is outside of Trumpism. Because it really is separate from the man himself, it has nothing to do with that.”

She argued that the New Right, or whatever you wanted to call it, was, paradoxically, much less authoritarian than the ideology that now presented itself as mainstream. “I get the feeling, and I could be wrong,” she said, “that the right actually at this point is like almost in this live-and-let-live place where the left used to be at.” What she meant specifically: “The idea that you can’t raise your kids in a traditional, somewhat religious household without having them educated at school that their parents are Nazis.” This apparent laissez-faire obscures somewhat the intense focus that some people in this world have on trans issues—or what they might say is the media’s intense focus on trans issues, one of a suite of “mimetic viruses,” as Kaschuta, the podcaster, put it, that spread a highly individualistic liberal culture that is destructive to traditional ways of life. But the laissez-faire has helped win unlikely converts. Milius brought up Red Scare, a podcast that has become the premier example of this attraction—she’d actually cast one of the hosts, Dasha Nekrasova, in the film she made as her senior thesis in directing school at USC.

…

Yarvin has mused that the liberal regime will begin to fall when the “cool kids” start to abandon its values and worldview. There are signs that this may be happening, though not all the so-called cool kids involved in this vibe shift would want to be colored as the vanguard in a world historical rebellion against the global order.

“I’m not, like, into politics,” the writer Honor Levy, a Catholic convert and Bennington grad, told me when I called her. “I just want to have a family someday.”

Levy, who was a leftist recently enough that she cried when it became clear that Bernie Sanders wouldn’t be the Democratic presidential nominee, is friendly with Yarvin and has had him on the podcast she cohosts, Wet Brain—“Yeah, the Cathedral and blah blah,” she said when we got to talking about political media. But she said she’d never even heard of J.D. Vance or Blake Masters.

Levy is an It girl in a downtown Manhattan scene—The New Yorker has published her fiction; she is named in a New York Times story that tries to describe that scene—where right-wing politics have become an aesthetic pose that mingles strangely with an earnest search for moral grounding. “Until like a year and a half ago I didn’t believe good and evil existed,” she told me, later adding: “But I’m not in a state of grace, I shouldn’t be talking.” I asked if she would take money from Thiel and she cheerily said, “Of course!” She also described her cohort as a bunch of “libertines,” and on her podcast you can get a window into a world of people who enjoy a mind-bendingly ironic thrill by tut-tutting each other for missing church or having premarital sex. “Most of the girls downtown are normal, but they’ll wear a Trump hat as an accessory,” she said. The ones deep into the online scene, she said, “want to be like Leni Riefenstahl–Edie Sedgwick.”

Like Levy, Milius is in the funny position of being at the intersection of many of these crosscurrents, having worked in mainstream politics but appearing on so-called dissident podcasts and being on the periphery of a cultural scene where right-wing politics have taken on a sheen approximating cool.

She said she was too “black-pilled”—a very online term used to describe people who think that our world is so messed up that nothing can save it now—to think much about what it would look like for her side to win. “I could fucking trip over the curb,” Milius said, “and that’s going to be considered white supremacism. Like, there’s nothing you can do. What the fuck isn’t white supremacism?”

“They’re going to come for everything,” she said. “And I think it’s sinister—not that I think that people who want to pay attention to race issues are sinister. But I think that the globalization movement is using these divisive arguments in order to make people think that it’s a good thing.”

…

On the last afternoon of NatCon, a few hours before he was set to give the keynote address, Vance showed up. He spotted me drinking a beer at the bar and came over to say hello. “I still have no idea what I’m going to say,” he said, though he didn’t seem worried.

I wandered down to the ballroom to wait and ended up sitting with the U.S. correspondent for the German newsmagazine Der Spiegel. I knew that some of the reporters there might have been under the impression that this was all mostly just tweedy MAGA pageantry. He had a more complex view, having just spoken to Yarvin, and asked me to explain his philosophy. I found myself at a loss. I said that there were these things called the regime and the Cathedral and that Yarvin was “sort of a monarchist.”

“A monarchist?”he asked. He seemed taken aback to learn that what this hero figure of the New Right dreamed of was a king.

Vance showed up, wearing a suit and bright red tie, looking relaxed for a person who was about to give a speech to hundreds of people who viewed him as possibly a last great hope in saving the American nation from global corporatist subjugation. He’d shot up in the polls and at that moment was second in his primary, helped by regular invitations from Carlson.

I asked how he was feeling about the speech. He looked impish. “I think I’ve got a good topic,” he said. “I’m going to talk about college.”

What he meant was that he was about to give a genuinely thunderous speech, titled “The Universities Are the Enemy.” People immediately pointed out that it was a variation on something that Richard Nixon said to Henry Kissinger on White House tapes back in 1972. Vance denounced elite colleges as enemies of the American people; he has long proposed cutting off their federal funding and seizing their endowments. The speech was later linked in alarmed op-eds to “anti-intellectual” movements that had attacked institutions of learning. But that doesn’t quite reckon with what an apocalyptic message he was offering. Because Vance and this New Right cohort, who are mostly so, so highly educated and well-read that their big problem often seems to be that they’re just too nerdy to be an effective force in mass politics, are not anti-intellectual. Vance is an intellectual himself, even if he’s not currently playing one on TV. But he thinks that our universities are full of people who have a structural, self-serving, and financial interest in coloring American culture as racist and evil. And he is ready to go to extraordinary lengths to fight them.

…

A couple of hours later I found Vance standing up by the bar, surrounded by a circle of young and identical-looking fanboys. I went over. He asked what I’d thought of the speech, and he suggested we find somewhere to talk.

He asked me to turn my recorder off so we could speak candidly. I agreed, with regret, because the conversation revealed someone who I think will be hugely influential in our politics in the coming years, even if he loses his Senate primary, as both of us thought was possible.

It also revealed someone who is in a dark place, with a view that we are at an ominous turning point in America’s history. He didn’t want to describe this to me on the record. But I can show it anyway, because he already says it publicly, and you can hear it too.

…

“I think Trump is going to run again in 2024,” he said. “I think that what Trump should do, if I was giving him one piece of advice: Fire every single midlevel bureaucrat, every civil servant in the administrative state, replace them with our people.”

“And when the courts stop you,” he went on, “stand before the country, and say—” he quoted Andrew Jackson, giving a challenge to the entire constitutional order—“the chief justice has made his ruling. Now let him enforce it.”

This is a description, essentially, of a coup.

…

I’d asked Vance to tell me, on the record, what he’d like liberal Americans who thought that what he was proposing was a fascist takeover of America to understand.

He spoke earnestly. “I think the cultural world you operate in is incredibly biased,” he said—against his movement and “the leaders of it, like me in particular.” He encouraged me to resist this tendency, which he thought was the product of a media machine leading us toward a soulless dystopia that none of us want to live in. “That impulse,” he said, “is fundamentally in service of something that is far worse than anything, in your wildest nightmares, than what you see here.”

He gave me an imploring look, as though to suggest that he was more on the side of the kind of people who read Vanity Fair than most of you realize.

If what he was doing worked, he said, “it will mean that my son grows up in a world where his masculinity—his support of his family and his community, his love of his community—is more important than whether it works for fucking McKinsey.”

…

The next morning, wrecked, I put on sweatpants and a hoodie and tried to smuggle myself out of the hotel without having to talk to anyone. I gave my chit to the valet and looked around to find Vance and Yarvin standing there waiting for cars. “How do you guys feel?” Yarvin asked. Vance was wearing a hoodie too and looked like I felt. “I feel horrible,” he said. “Not good.”

Yarvin asked what I’d thought of everything. I said it would take a long time for me to figure that out. We all shook hands, and they waved as I got into my car and we all resumed our usual battle stations in the American info-wars.

[vintagegeekculture]

RIP Tracy Tormé, Creator of the "Holodeck Malfunction Episode" and Sliders

Tracy Tormé’s most enduring legacy in popular culture is that, while a writer on TNG’s tempestuous first and second seasons, he created the entire concept of the Holodeck Malfunction Episode.

Yes, even people who suggest you skip TNG’s first couple seasons say that “The Big Goodbye” is one you don’t want to miss. And there was a very nice tribute to Tracy Torme in an episode of Picard, which had him as the author and creator of Dixon Hill… which he is, and deserves credit for this.

I suppose I should mention I had a personal encounter with Tracy Tormé at a convention. The main thing I remember was that he looked absolutely terrified when someone asked him about what happened with “The Royale,” far and away TNG’s worst episode except the clip show, about the crew getting trapped on a hotel they can’t leave from a badly written book. To his great credit, he took responsibility for the episode not working and did not pass on the problems to the production crew.

The most extraordinary thing about Tracy Torme is that he had a Forrest Gump like ability to appear in the background of scifi culture’s greatest moments.

Not only was he inside the TNG writers’ room in 1987-88, he was around during the production of Terminator with James Cameron. Tormé was the one who, hearing about the production of the film, squealed on it to Harlan Ellison, telling Ellison that it was based on his old Outer Limits episodes, with a visual based on his script for “Demon With a Glass Hand.” In other words, he was the Gavrilo Princip who got that entire conflict started, where two of the most proud personalities in scifi butted heads, James Cameron vs. Ellison. Cameron, to this day, insists that the film company gave Ellison money and a credit because it was easier to pay him off than to go through litigation (which rings true, frankly, for risk averse production companies), and to this day Cameron insists, with his absolutely expected big dick swagger, that Ellison is a “parasite” who received money for nothing, and if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have given him a dime.

It’s also worth mentioning that Torme also created the TV series Sliders.

Has anyone else noticed that Sliders is an incredibly right wing show? Seriously, watch it again if you haven’t seen it in years. If you haven’t watched this show since the 90s and you were a kid and all that went over your head, it’s kind of amazing how Limbaugh/Newt Gingrich era right-wing Sliders actually was. It made 24 look like Doonesbury. The targets of Sliders were 90s New Right satire: health care systems, infuriating hippies, the nanny state disallowing the public smoking of cigars, California weirdness, the drug culture, the USSR. Torme’s right wing views were less John Millius-style “blood alone moves the wheel of history” stuff, but more like that of a slobby regular joe in the 90s, Dennis Leary’s character in Demolition Man for instance, who mostly just wants to smoke cigars, ogle girls, and eat hamburgers without getting scolded by his wife. He was less “Passion of the Christ” and more “Animal House.”

I am not saying this as a negative, but merely a description. Contrary to popular belief, right wingers driven by bizarre sexual pathology and weird grudges produce amazing art, as Millius and John Swartzwelder show. A lot of Steven Universe fans love to say things like “all good art is about empathy and kindness” and I reject that notion. Good art can also be about reflecting things in the human experience like fear, trauma, cruelty, and paranoia.

For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that Tracy Torme’s best movie script was a horror film about a traumatic experience, Fire in the Sky. An ominous movie about a vanished ranch hand who was the victim of alien abduction, in the earned finale the film’s tension builds toward, our hero remembers the true cause of his missing time: an abduction by aliens, who’s motives are emotionless and incomprehensible, and who subject him to horrific vivisection that we see in excruciating detail. Travis Walton is treated not with sadism or cruelty, but with icy detachment, by alien superintellects that view him as no different than cattle, and are to him as we are to cattle. The most terrifying detail of the film is that the classic “gray alien” look turns out to be spacesuits, revealing a far more frightening appearance underneath.

[soartfullydone]

"rebel moon is just a bunch of disjointed character intros with no substance---"

[loud fart noise in your face]

Anyway, what connects all of the characters together is Honor, a major theme of the movie. It's the reason that These People In Particular are all chosen, beyond their reputations or even their skill sets (which are still important).

What does your personal honor look like? How do you uphold it? What do you do when you lose your honor? Can you ever truly regain it once it's lost? Can you find redemption, or is revenge the closest thing you can get? Can revenge and honor ever be the same?

After her indoctrination and service in the Imperium, Kora deserts, but it's for her survival, not the recovery of her honor. That's the journey she's currently on in the defense of her new home and the people there, triggered by the conflict of choosing her personal safety or rescuing Sam from further assault. She found the line of her honor and refused to ignore it any longer.

Gunnar placed personal gain over maintaining a united front about the grain surplus. His dishonorable actions lead to Sindri getting killed and their village placed under the Imperium's thumb. Noble's culpability aside, Gunnar feels responsible for his role in all this and seeks to make amends. It's why he's the only one who jumps in to protect the child from potential collateral damage in Nemesis' fight with Harmada. He is transitioning from being a selfish character to being more selfless, defining what he wants his personal honor to be.

Speaking of Nemesis, she is the most samurai-coded character here, complete with their version of honor. Her failure at being able to protect her children drives her to defend others, and shoulder the burden of killing once a peaceful resolution cannot be reached. It's why she has an entire conversation with Harmada, to understand what drives her, to attempt to find common ground and shared empathy. It's why she fights first with naked steel, to try to convince Harmada to back off, to value her own life, and it's for the lives of others that she finally ignites her blades when she cannot. Nemesis is not an emotionless cyborg who assassinates in cold blood, but one who is deeply attuned to her pain and that of others.

Tarak is a prince, and yet we learn he's nowhere near his home or his people. Whether he's failed them or abandoned them (or feels like he has) is still a mystery, but we still know that he is an honorable man, regarding his servitude to Hickman with utter seriousness. Tarak will honor his word and any agreements once given, including a life debt, and his connection with nature both demonstrates and resonates his nobility. He even has the whole "honor them" speech to Millius, revealing that he knows the guilt of surviving when all the friends you swore to fight beside are now gone.

General Titus fought proudly for the Imperium until his honor wouldn't allow him to stomach their methods. The price for that included his men's lives, his station, and his dignity. Unable to protect any of it including his ideals, he turns to drink and hopes fighting as a gladiator to the death does the rest. And yet, he cannot bring himself to just lay down and die. He dwells on his mistakes but does not succumb to them. The kernel of honor was still within him, and it's no wonder Kora and the other idealists at her back were able to ignite it again.

Jimmy is from an order of robotic knights, who all laid down their arms in dishonor and disgrace when the Imperium's royal family was murdered. He embodies old and forgotten chivalry, and in case you missed that, they got Anthony Hopkins to voice him. These knights haven't fought back since, even when they are attacked---and yet Jimmy retaliates to protect Sam before himself, finding something honorable to fight for again.

Darrian Bloodaxe has his honor as a rebellion leader tested and rightly concludes that the revolution is meaningless if they will not come to the aid of the most defenseless among them. (But he and his men die anyway!) Indeed, that is the point. Hedging your bets and picking your battles might be the smartest option, but it's not the most noble or honorable. Honor, in case you haven't noticed, often demands a choice and a price.

And yes, even our villains share in this theme in their own twisted ways. Kai is a mirror to Gunnar, but where Gunnar is growing into being a less opportunistic person, Kai is deliberately shrouding his true intentions from the get-go. At Kai's betrayal, Kora demands after his honor, to which Kai dryly replies, "What did happen to it." It isn't a question. Kai long ago saw honor as a death sentence and chose survival over everything, and in an ironic twist, is killed once he tries to tempt Gunnar into choosing his own survival over Kora's. Like Kora before him, Gunnar finds his line that he will not cross as well as what he fights for.

Finally, there's Atticus Noble, who wields the honorable memory of the Slain King and his dishonorable death as a blunt weapon against all that isn't the Imperium, much like his cane. The one time the Imperium was gracious, and they were betrayed for it. Never again, and everyone will suffer for this humiliation until the Imperium's honor is restored---and it never will be. Because honor is not the point; conquest and control is. Revenge is the point.

Literally all of this is in the film btw. But then, I wasn't fast-forwarding or looking down at my phone the whole time or playing Paint By Numbers: Star Wars Edition. I was actually watching the goddamn movie and letting it tell me its story. And then I reflected on it afterward. Whooooaaa!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Babe Across The Bar [LGBT+ Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: Feminine LGBT+ reader who expresses romantic/sexual attraction for more than just men. HOMOPHOBES BEGONE! List is primarily TBB centric, with a few bonus Clones. Minor suggestive content/dialogue. Pining. Gay Panic™. Mentions of alcohol. Sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language. There's one line that could be interpreted as the reader experiencing being outed against her will, but kept vague in Tech's section of these snapshot scenarios. Hardcase's section deals with homophobes. Doesn’t follow the typical headcanons put into bullet points format because I ended up being a little too inspired for these! Some of these also deviated from the original prompt, but I feel they still relate enough to warrant inclusion. 

Word-count: 4,694

Prompt: How would the boys (any boys, all the boys, whomever boys) react to their gal friend/crewmate and/or feminine S/O commenting on how stunning another girl is?

Hunter (Crewmate offering to be your wingman) 

His eyes often flit to the door whenever someone walks in out of habit in large part to his senses. Keeping an eye on his surroundings. Things he was trained to do. So he notices the attractive woman who's just strolled in through the front entrance of 79's. Her clothing, her hair, her nails are all beautiful and immaculate.

And he notices how your breath hitches in your throat when you see her. But it's not insecurity or jealousy that made you do that. He's caught on for a while now that you "swing more than one way" as it were. But you've never been explicit in your words, or given him the big speech, so he's kept his mouth shut. If a member of his crew has something to tell him, he wants to give them a chance.  You're no different.

But the comment under your breath is enough to finally ask. "Oh Maker, she's gotta be one of the angels from Iego…" You've just compared her to the Diathim of Millius Prime, practically swooning. 

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes trained on the bombshell beauty you seem to be pining for. "You wanna go talk to her?" 

You shake your head rapidly at him, trying not to choke on the drink in your hands with the fruit-flavored and colorful, jelly-like particulate. (It's new to the novelty drinks menu at 79's, so Hunter's not sure how it tastes, but you seem to like it.) "Oh stars no!" Did he misread the situation before him, were you looking at her with jealousy after all? 

You sigh, putting your head in your hands with a groan. "She's so out of my league… She's probably only here for the troopers, anyways." you add solemnly, finally slumping forward in your seat at the bar top. Hunter sets down his glass and plants a steady hand on your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He's still getting to know you as a regular part of his squad, in all fairness, but he should have trusted his instinct. You did seem to have a thing for women. 

So maybe he could offer to help. 

"Well… if you've had enough liquid courage and want to try your luck, I'll be your wingman, cyar'ika." he says, giving you a friendly pat after slowly sitting up. You'll think about it, you murmur. 

You never end up making a move to so much as introduce yourself to her, much, much too nervous. At the end of the night, Hunter, who had tried to coax and encourage you several times throughout the night, just gives you another pat on the back. "Maybe next time, cyare. Don't feel too bad." As you walk back to the Marauder together, Hunter won't pressure you into it of course but he offers to help you practice for next time, if you think it'll cheer you up. As part of his squad, there'll always be the banter and the teasing of course, but Hunter will always offer to help.

Crosshair (Initially confused (+ insecure) partner)

Sight sharper than a knife, he was not quite afraid to check out the beautiful woman hanging off another Clone's elbow once upon a time. But now, with you, he keeps himself in check for the most part. You've briefly had that talk as a relatively new couple, that really it’s okay. It’s only natural to look. We’re all kriffing human, after all, aren’t we? The whole possessive ownership aspect is weird and icky to you, and you’re not gonna get yourself in a twist just because you catch him glancing at another woman. But he realizes there's probably something else you should have talked about together. 

You like women too, and you’re looking at them just as much. It's hard to miss by the fifth instance of a remark like "Oh, she's cute!" and subsequent gestures with your glass to indicate who you're looking at. He's trying so hard not to feel like you’re testing him. Like you’re playing some little game by calling his loyalty into question, just how “obedient” he’ll really be. "Oh, yeah?" There's a strange twist of discomfort in his guts that he can't figure out. Is he jealous? Is he upset? (Should he order something to eat from the overpriced appetizer menu?)

"Yeah, I mean, look at her," you invite him with a flashy smile, "she's cute!" 

He blinks at you with mild concern. He's heard alcohol brings out a different side in people, and he can't recall the full array of what you've had to drink. "Are you feeling alright?" He's unsure why he's so bothered. Is it because you're not paying attention to him? 

"Better than alright, Cross. What's wro-? Oh. Oh shit didn't I tell you?" you set down your drink with a soft laugh and an apology, face looking flushed in a way that has nothing to do with the red and purple club lights. "I, uh, I play for more than one team, romantically at least. I'm sorry if I never told you, Crosshair." 

He frowns for a split second, but he quickly answers that there's no need to apologize. He was a little confused at first sure (and perhaps slightly envious that you were commenting so openly on other people who weren't him), but he takes a look now at the woman you had indicated. She's not just cute, "Oh, the smoke show in the red dress?" 

"Yeah. That's the one." you nod approvingly, the movement slow and deliberate. "She's a stunner, ain't she?" Certainly is, he agrees. (One of his brothers sighs playfully and makes the remark that nights out to 79's, or any bar for that matter, will get a lot more interesting from now on.) 

The rest of the night carries on this way, you making the occasional glancing once-over of another trooper's arm-candy for the night, but most of your attention is given to Crosshair. You're with him for a reason. You know how to behave yourself, for kriff's sake. Any inkling of the horrible, hateful stereotypes of your orientation being true are so far from reality. You don't make passes at everyone you see. You keep your comments innocent and general if you decide to get a little gutsy and talk to one of them. 

The redhead's got curls to die for, what kind of product is she using?

That is such a cute dress (with pockets!) that you have to know where she got it, because you swear you've seen fashion like that on Naboo. 

Sorry if this is weird to ask but she's totally wearing a designer fragrance from one of the Core Worlds, right?  

By the end of the night, Crosshair is reassured that you're not playing any kind of game with him, and perhaps the two of you will be having another talk to smooth out any wrinkles he has in his understanding of your orientation; but you promise him over and over you're with him for a reason in case any of your comments tonight made him feel any doubt. Just because you swing more than one way does not mean you're going to leave in the event you feel a stronger preference for women for a while. You love him. 

And he wholly believes you. 

Wrecker (Your enthusiastic hype-man)

"Oh shit." You hunker down in the booth seat, wide-eyed and breathless.

Wrecker reflexively glances down at the casual fatigues he wore to 79's tonight instead of the dark red and gray armor he typically wears. "Wha'? Did I get dip on myself again?" He doesn't see anything, so he takes a look at you, and that's when he notices you practically halfway under the table. "Did you drop something? I can lift the table so it's easier to-!"

"No!" you blurt out, sitting up. "That won't be necessary! Don't lift the table!" 

You're starting to confuse him. "Then what's wrong?" 

"She's here." A slightly shaky finger is pointed across the Clone bar, where seated at the counter, is the woman who's only ever shown interest in the other girls often brought here, or the dancers. You've had a not-so-silent crush on her for ages but didn't want to go and try anything. Until last week when she turned down what must've been the hundredth trooper. "Sorry fellas, afraid I'm not interested. But you'd all definitely be my type if I was into men." Oh Maker you'd been a hopeless mess. 

The endless inner cycle of 'do I want to BE her, or do I want to be WITH her?' had finally sorted itself out in your head after that. 

Wrecker knew from the jump that your romantic and sexual interests did not begin and end with men when he caught you staring at the same woman as him in a dirty jumpsuit on the airfield. And then literally caught you when you tripped over Tech's box of tools in your distraction. Ever since, he's done his best to help you make a move over someone you were clearly feeling something for. 

"Go talk to her!" Wrecker encourages you, nudging your ribs with a careful elbow, "Say hi!" 

"Maker, I can't, she's so pretty a-and like-? Oh Wrecker I can't even explain it… It's like I look at her and I just-"

Wrecker chuckles softly, leveling you with a look that tells you he knows exactly what you mean. "Have trouble thinkin' straight because she's gonna be paying attention and you don't want to kark it up?" 

You bite your bottom lip so hard he's worried you'll make it bleed and get it all over your pretty little outfit. "Y-yes! I'm so nervous…" 

He tells you not to worry about it too much, you're overthinking it! "Introduce yourself, mesh'la. You'll kick yourself for days if you don't." Okay, okay, he's right. Here goes nothing, you say. You slip out of the booth seat and sidle up to the drinks counter under the notion of ordering another drink first, but your crush takes notice of you in her proximity, and all she manages is a pleasant hello before you're a grinning mess. Wow, you had it bad for her. You stammer through your introduction, and give her your name as you say it was nice to meet her, and sure, you'd love to chat while the drink slinger whips something up! 

In one of your many nervous glances around the club, he makes sure you get a clear view of his approving thumbs up. You're doing great! You end up talking to her for nearly forty-five minutes before she has to leave, she's got work in the morning, but she's scribbling something down on the bar top that Wrecker can't see. 

"Hey, look at you! You did it, kid!" Wrecker cheers as you walk back over to the booth in a daze, your eyes focused on the slip of flimsiplast in your hands. 

"Sh-she gave me her comm frequency… What does that mean?" 

Wrecker can only laugh. Oh man, guess even you will have your help-how-do-I-function-around-a-girl-I've-never-even-met-a-girl moments he's seen many Clones have. 

"I think that means she wants to keep talking to ya, ad'ika." 

"O-oh." Is all you simply say. "Holy kriff I did it. I talked to her." you add after a long, long pause as Wrecker adds the number into your contacts for you, just in case the flimsi gets wet and you end up losing the number before the night is over. 

"You sure did! I knew you could do it!" 

Tech (Not-so-surprised friend) 

To him, the fact that you have a romantic, perhaps even sexual interest in women is as obvious as the fact that the phenotypic eye color for (most) Clones is brown. 

That's simply just how it is, in his world. But he has extensively researched how significant a coming out is for people such as yourself who do not fall under a heteronormative scope. He does not ask. He does not hint to you that he knows. And if he has let it slip, he is careful to express that it is not a big deal. 

Not a big deal in the sense that he would end a friendship with you, or view you as if there was something "broken" and "defective" about you. That would be rather hypocritical of him after all. Well, sort of. He's more deviant than defective, because his genetic mutations do not hinder his ability to perform as a competent soldier of the GAR, and much like your inclinations, that is not something he has control over. He is simply a Clone from a "bad batch" much in the same way that you are a woman who fancies other women. 

If you were to even come out to him, he has already carefully considered what he would say to you. He values your friendship and your company. He would very much like to maintain this by saying the right thing. 

That he is glad that you trusted him enough to share such an important facet of yourself. That though, quite honestly, he has questions, he will save them for another time. That he understands you must be nervous, scared even, but he will never treat you any different than before you told him. And he most definitely will not tell you that he deduced this months ago. 

But blast him, when you sent him a message asking to meet up at 79's a little earlier before the typical meetup, he was so certain that this was the conversation. So he had been mentally coaching himself on what to say, but more importantly what not to say so much, that when you slipped into the booth and said "I wanna tell you something, Tech…" it slipped his mouth faster than a Mon Calamari in water. 

"That you like women?" 

Oh shit. Oh shitshitshit. That was the thing he was supposed to refrain from saying or asking! 

"Hah… Was I really that obvious? Did I worry for nothing?" You ask with a sincere laugh. You're not offended, or angry, or anything in the slightest. In fact, you look relieved. "...Tech?"

"I'm so sorry." is all he can offer. Oh Maker, he's so incredibly sorry, he tells you. He's robbed you of the chance to have a very significant conversation about what many deem unnatural, but in fact it's not; just before you joined him in their usual booth at 79's he was reading an admittedly rather heartwarming article about same-sex couples occuring in the galactic animal kingdom before you arrived, actually! (Everything from the little nuna to the mighty and magnificent purrgil!) But he's suspected this for some time and didn't think it was his place to ask. He's sorry he's ruined this chance for y-

You interrupt him with a laugh as you take one of his hands and squeeze it reassuringly. You just laugh and laugh, a grin from ear to ear the whole time before you settle yourself. "Oh, Tech… It's okay! I don't care if it didn't end up being surprising to you. I'm just so glad you understood that you shouldn't say something just because it was obvious in this case. Thank you. You're a good friend. Not everyone has been." 

He's sorry to hear that, first and foremost. "But I am… glad that you trusted me enough to want to tell me." 

Echo (Friend who's known for ages)

Echo carefully tests whatever fun and colorful drink you ordered for yourself as you give his a try. The two of you have been friends for ages, since before the Citadel. So that means Echo's known nearly as long as you've been friends that you swing more than one way. In fact, it was surprisingly comforting to know that had not changed since ending up in a Techno Union chamber. 

"Hey, cyar'ika. Can I ask if you… Would it be weird to…" he sighed sharply and says he's just going to rip off the bacta patch and ask. "Do you still like women in addition to-?" 

"Don't worry. That hasn't changed while you were gone." you told him, wrapping him up in a careful hug on one of those first nights since he'd been freed and given time to rest. To fill himself in on what happened in the galaxy around him since being plugged into an algorithm. "Welcome back, Echo." 

He sets the drink down and shakes his head, and you give him back his beverage with a disgusted shudder. "Ugh. How can you stand that?" you both tease each other in tandem. 

"I don't understand your taste in beverages, but at least I understand your taste in women." Echo rags on you with a mischievous smile, indicating someone across the club who's been staring at the drinks menu for the last three minutes. "How about her? Clone News Network suggests she's a little shy, perhaps, but I've heard you have a similar hobby. That's something, hm?" 

You scoff, knowing well enough that the rumor mill requires taking things with a grain of salt. "Oh no, that's not enough to just-"

"She's also of 'multiple persuasions'." Echo assures you, quelling that particular anxiety. "Believe me, I asked around rather… extensively." he suggests. 

"Oh, did you now?" 

"Mhm." 

"Are you trying to set me up on a d-?"

Echo shakes his head. "Mm-mn. Only asked if any of the boys had gotten a vibe, or heard anything. She's pretty forthcoming about it, turns out, so it's not like this was something I found by invading her privacy or betraying trusts." He's a skilled tactician, he reminds you gently, and he understands that asking around takes delicacy and knowing that you can't just ask any ol' brother. 

He's nothing but mindful, as ever. "If you wanna do anything about it, that's up to you. You get more out of something when you want it, I wasn't going to set you up for something against your will."

You take a thoughtful swig of your beverage and set the glass down on the bar top once more. "If I did… would you help me plan on how to make a move? You know I'm a little hopeless with this stuff. Guys are one thing, but, I dunno, it's different when trying to flirt with another woman as a woman." you admit with a nervous laugh. 

Of course he would, Echo promises sweetly, kindly as ever. 

BONUS CLONES

Fives (Gives you advice)

Between reminding Hardcase not to go in rotary cannons blazing nearly every mission, and coming up with sufficient battle strategies as an Advanced Recon Commando, Fives is nearly convinced that he'll go gray by the time he's, what, technically fifteen? Nearly. 

So in a way, he loves when you send him a message asking for his input on low-stakes stuff. No one's in any danger, he's not worried about a brother's safety, and he still gets to show off how smart he is. 

>Oh Maker Fives help there's a total babe here tonight I think she's super cute but I don't know if it's safe to make a move or say anything what do I do

It's 21:00: are you at 79's?

> Yeah why

79's is a pretty accepting establishment, so see if anything she brought with her or is wearing has any kind of pin, or keychain or deliberate color scheme, Ka'ra. Take a deep breath. 

He chuckles as he watches the bubbles start and stop at the bottom of the messaging feature repeatedly. Poor you. Must be so nervous. So worked up on your own anxiety and panic that you might benefit from a second, teasing reminder. 

Ka'raaaa. Did you take a deep breath, silly? I don't care what the song says, love is not a battlefield, you don't need to panic. 

He thinks for a second and changes his mind. 

Actually no, scratch that. It is, but it isn't. You still need a strategy, but you need to have a level head first. 

> You're right, you're right. Taking a deep breath

Captain Rex seems to materialize behind him and over the shoulder like a hologram, peering down at the screen out of curiosity. "Those don't look like reports. One of our brothers having a little lady trouble at 79's again?" 

Fives laughs in good humor. "I'm not exactly sure why I got designated the 501st's biggest flirt, but I'll take it, Captain." He can get plenty nervous and unsure of what to say like anyone else, but Fives cares about his brothers; of course he's going to do his best to help them. "No, it's our favorite mechanic here on Coruscant." He trusts his Captain will exercise his discretion and make no mention of knowing the romantic and sexual persuasions of their friend if she hadn't made explicit mention to him. "I see. Well, wish her luck for me. I've got my own reports I've put off long enough."

"I'll have mine in by 21:30, Captain!" Fives promises, knowing he'll probably be helping some of the Shinies learn to fill them out properly once again. A little extra guidance and another source of advice goes a long way for many, brothers and friends alike. 

> Good call about looking for pins, Fives. I think I'm in the clear

He's not totally sure what that color scheme ties to when you describe the personal touch this "total babe across the bar" has added to her handbag looks like, but the simple fact that you're now fairly sure you're safe to flirt with her (if that's what you decide to do) brings you a lot of relief. 

Him too, honestly. 

You gonna go for it, mesh'la? The Captain and I wish ya luck if you do!

> I'd have to think of the right words first, but thanks Fives. You coming to 79's later tonight?

Have reports to finish up, so we'll see. 

> Your's or some of your brothers'? (Is it Hardcase's again?)

Very funny, Ka'ra. I just try to be helpful to whoever asks.

> I'm only teasing~ You're a very smart dependable brother, and friend, Fives. Next time you come to 79's if it's not tonight, I'll buy you a drink as a way of saying thank you.

Fives smiles. He'd like that, he responds. He wishes you luck once more, and says he should get a start on wrapping this particular report up since it contains information the Captain will need to report to General Skywalker with. 

Never told us there'd be this much damn paperwork to do as part of our training on Kamino if you're gonna be made an ARC trooper. 

> Good thing you're smart, Fives. I'm confident you'll figure out something wicked intelligent, like how to stop this war one day. 🩷

Captain Rex (Doing his best to learn and support you)

"Huh… gotta say, there's certainly a lot to try to understand; I might still have a few questions about it, but I'm not gonna pry into it if you don't feel like explaining it." The Captain admits, scratching the back of his neck with a soft chuckle. "I'm not quite up to speed on all this, but-" 

"Rex, it's okay." you assure him. "I know you're doing your best. I only told you a short while ago, remember? And hey," here you take his hand and give him a friendly squeeze, "it took me a while to realize this stuff about myself too. It's not always like the media where it just… "clicks", suddenly! It's almost like a building suspicion, or passing thoughts that you try to excuse at first, but then you realize that you're feeling these feelings and thinking these thoughts more and more. And that's when you tend to figure out "Oh, hey, that term I found on the Holonet describes me!" and it all makes sense. For the most part." 

"Oh?" Rex asks, intrigued. 

"Sometimes you find a label or orientation that fits you better than one you were first using." you explain, scribbling down a few labels off the top of your head onto a scrap of flimsi you had among your things as you met up with the Captain for a cup of caf on your day off, "Like say, you think this one best explains you," you circle an example, "so you use it for a while. But then later you hear about this-" you x-out the first label and circle a new one, "and you find it does a much better job of explaining how you feel. And there was nothing wrong with identifying with the first one for a while until you found what fit better and changed it, either." 

He nods thoughtfully, very clearly mulling this over. Then it hits him. "A little like, well, when a Clone finds their name?" 

"Yes!" you cheer, "Yes, kinda like when a Clone finds his name! Maybe he thought he wanted to be called Skip for a while, but he decided he felt more comfortable with naming himself Tripper after hearing someone else say it for the first time." 

He thinks he better understands this now when he thinks of it in this context, he explains with a smile that suggests a lot of relief. He's just so busy, but he wanted to understand what you meant after the last night out you had with the 501st and you were all sharing embarrassing stories. Rex wasn't a stranger to the fact that men could like men and women could like women, but some of these other labels were lost on him. 

"I've been around a while, but I have to admit I don't know what that means." he sheepishly replied when you explained what your orientation was as part of your embarrassing situation. But now that he knows, Rex wants you to know you'll always have his support.

Hardcase (Identifies as a Kriffing Problem if you don't respect his friends) 

It's good news for you, bad news for the nasties when they decide that they want to be antagonistic in a safe space. You wanted to check out a new, very accepting bar in the area, and had asked Hardcase to come along with you to help ease your nerves about it. 

His lively energy would do everyone some good, you figured. He was friendly and personable, so he'd get along with everyone. And you were right; Hardcase truly does get along with everyone from the snappily-dressed bartenders to the other allies who are there to support their friends in case there's trouble. 

Everyone except the bigots. He's always been all-smiles off the battlefield due to his energetic nature, and you've never seen him drop a smile so fast. When it's time to get serious, Hardcase gets serious. "What the kriff did you say?" He's not asking because he didn't hear what insults had been lobbied your way, he's giving the other guy a chance to back down and leave if he knows what's good for him. "I know you didn't just say that about my friend." 

The other guy repeats himself, louder this time. "I said anyone who identifies as a-"

"I'm about to identify as a kriffing problem if you don't shut the hell up." Hardcase warns him one last time, putting himself between you and the antagonizer who overheard you mentioning there were a lot of cute girls here tonight.. "Sorry that you feel so threatened by a woman finding someone other than you attractive, but that's a "you" problem that you should take somewhere else." He suggests they take a hike to 79's specifically. He conveniently "forgets" to mention that it's a Clone bar, and as the troublemakers leave, he tips off a few of his brothers about what's headed their way. 

"Don't worry about them. They'll find out how many of us identify as a kriffing problem before they think about trying this again anytime soon." Hardcase promises, his sweet and charming smile present like it never even left as he checks on you after the fact.

Tagging: @the-hexfiles

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[jinglebellrockstars]

zack snyder really gave us a major space opera blockbuster about a heavily diverse group of people fighting fascism together

like every time i think about millius, a canon trans woman played by a trans actor fuckin up fascist soldiers like nothing, i just tear up

no other director would dare to make a movie about black and brown and lgbt people at the forefront of a grand adventure like this

hes really the goat

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

Introduction to Iego - Overview

Canon / Legends

In the mind of the average citizen of the galaxy, the planet Iego--the legendary home of angels--is merely a spacefarer's myth told to young children as a bedtime story.

However, the planet is indeed real, albeit an incredibly difficult place to reach. It is nestled deep within the Extrictarium Nebula, a remote region of the galaxy that can only successfully be navigated by a Force-sensitive. Few people are able to make it to Iego, and even fewer are able to leave, giving way to the general consensus that it is a purely fictional location.

True to the legend, Iego is orbited by a thousand moons. Its largest, Millius Prime, is the home of the Diathim, the mysterious and beautiful species commonly referred to as "angels." They are the ones who illuminate the moons, as the planet strangely doesn't orbit a star--it gains all its light and warmth from a combination of stellar gasses and the glowing aura of all the Diathim. As a result, all of Iego exists within a state of perpetual twilight.

Like the rest of the nebula, Iego itself is incredibly rich in the Force, which in part miraculously sustains life upon the planet and its moons. As a result, however, the native flora and fauna are all... rather strange. To compensate for the lack of true sunlight, many plants are carnivorous and are known to consume the occasional unfortunate sentient being. However, they also often have invaluable medicinal properties--evidence of the dark and the light existing in tandem. The animals, having adapted to compete with and live alongside these plants, are equally as unique: many sport extra eyes and limbs, making them incredibly beautiful or incredibly frightening.

Aside from the native Maelibi--commonly referred to as "demons," they are a secretive race that reside in subterranean tunnels and caverns--Iego has a small population of a few thousand sentients, the descendants of offworlders who shipwrecked on the planet long ago. In ancient times, they had organized into multiple tribes, each one claiming a different part of Iego as their territory. While they have since fallen into obscurity, many Iegoans will attempt to trace their ancestry to individual tribes and claim to identify as them.

The city of Cliffhold is home to the majority of the planet's (non-native) sentients, but the population is also dispersed among various small villages across the planet. Iego has no true capital, let alone any organized planetary government, but the village of Meru--the oldest settlement on the planet--is regarded as the historic and cultural heart of the planet. Practitioners of the local religion will often make pilgrimages to its ornate temples built into the sides of thousand-meter tall cliffs. It is a perilous journey, but, as with every aspect of life on Iego, people endure.

OC Fic Lore Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@canon-can-fight-me

@aldhanii

@alexlifesonofficial

@dailydragon08

@coffeeorsomething-irl

@masterlukessaber

@rogue-kenobi

[performativezippers]

In ultimatum au, I know that Kate and Cara don’t live together, but are there any other original couples who don’t, or never have, live together?

okay i'm making this up off the top of my head and i reserve the right to change my mind at any time if the narrative calls for it

original couples:

Kate and Cara: did not live together due to kate being, you know. kate.

Lucy and Marcella: did live together but lucy always "kept her own apartment" aka a studio she'd move back into every time marcella dumped her

Jane and Charlie One: did not live together because his protein powder would not fit in her kitchen

Kai and Hina: did not because they've spent most of their time being long distance

Ernie and Dahlia: did but ernie hated it

Chase and Pike: did not because they're both A Lot and chase likes her space

Joe Millius and Melanie: sure why not

[ilionproject]

Millius- Ilion's race queen and secondary mascot!

[oh-munda-kukkad-kamaal-da]

I LOVE YOUUUU GOOD NIGHTTT GO TO SLEEEPPPPPP

I love you too Millius *hug* its just 12, dw I'll sleep

[deafeningnightcollection-things]

I gotta know, am I the only one who’s annoyed by Tennant and Torres’s relationship?

I don’t mind them as friends, but I absolutely hate this “will they/won’t they” angle that seems to get pushed with every crossover.

She’s a mature character from a better written show, as much as I love Torres, he’s too immature for her.

And it’s also weird that they keep bringing this angle up even though Tennant and Millius have a thing going on.

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Diathim

The Diathim gave off an aura of kindness, and they were consistently described as benevolent by those spacers who propagated the legend of the Angels. They described themselves as a peaceful people. However, the Diathim were fascinated by spacecrafts, which often prompted them to mob any ships that found themselves in the vicinity of their homeworlds, Iego and Millius Prime. Because of their hypnotic abilities, those curious Diathim had a tendency to provoke accidents, causing the mesmerized observers to plunge their vessels into violent crash-landings. For those reasons, they were still regarded as dangerous entities.

Since the Diathim were only seen when they gathered in flocks to welcome arriving ships, knowledge of what their habitat looked like remained hidden to outsiders.  

The Diathim evolved in the Outer Rim Territories, on the planet of Iego and the largest of its forty-two moons, Millius Prime. They shared those worlds with the Maelibi, a species of three-meter tall burrowing beings who fed on castaways. They were known in the wider galaxy as early as 25,793 BBY, more than seven centuries before the founding of the Galactic Republic. At the time, the Basic idiom "space angel" referred to a selfless, innocent person. Millennia later, during the Clone Wars, some Diathim were driven from their home on Millius Prime when a laser grid system was installed there by the Separatists to keep people from leaving. The Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker travelled to Iego with his master Obi-Wan Kenobi while on a mission to uncover a root said to contain the antidote to the Blue Shadow Virus. The two encountered one of the Diathim refugees, and the Jedi eventually managed to deactivate the laser field, thus freeing the inhabitants of Iego.

The mysterious species whom the University of Sanbra xenobiologists called "the Diathim," otherwise known as "the Angels," seemed to be made of blazing white light tinged with a yellow aura, which suggested they were beings of pure energy. At any rate, their intense radiance made it difficult to make out their biological details. Most accounts depicted them as slender, 2 to 3 meters or 6.6 to 9.8 feet tall feminine anthropoids with six blade-shaped wings protruding from their backs. One particular individual appeared in front of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, two Human Jedi, as a tall woman of their species with wings, milky white skin, blond hair, light blue eyes, a tiny nose and long limbs. Some other witnesses described the Angels as more androgynous, while many non-Human observers portrayed them as mysterious and fascinating variants of their own species. Whether their wings were physical or not, the Diathim could fly and glide freely. They could even fly in the vacuum of interplanetary space without the assistance of a protective suit or life support. They also had natural hypnotic abilities.

Language: Although they had no apparent language of their own, at least some of them were capable of speaking Galactic Basic Standard.

[theunusualworldofalpinism]

Chli Bielenhorn : Millius 6c

It feels nice to take a short trip away from Chamonix for some days. It is quite busy there at the moment as August is when all the tourists visit on their holidays! I am staying in furka pass in the car and climbing with @james_boothroyd27

We drove over this morning and choose a short approach and route as a half day of climbing. This route was a good choice and the grading felt quite soft. There were plenty of bolts (which was unfortunate as we carried two sets of cams!) and my favourite pitch was the last one as it was steeper and on big flakes! #furkapass🇨🇭 #climbing #climbinggirl #climbinglife #climbingtrip #climbingrocks #climbinglovers #granite #mountainequipment

[isagrimorie]

That was some good NCIS Hawai'i episode.

Once again loving the co-parenting between Jane and her ex-husband and Jane Tennant. And Jane's increasing frustration with the whole Gap Year and traveling with the Girlfriend idea but still willing to talk about it.

I loved Jesse and Kai's continuing partnership and fleshing out of Jesse more. And Kai's willingness to just jump into water ANYTIME.

I love the friendship between Ernie and Lucy and how this time it was Lucy's turn to be there for Ernie.

I love the balance this show strikes between being close but also being professional, there's a line in between and also I love that they all have different lives outside of work while making it believable that they do sometimes hang out with each other.

Plus, Tennant asking Hawai'i bureau to shutdown beaches it really impresses on me the difference between Tennant and the rest of the team. She's not a Deputy Director but also her responsibilities and role is not not Deputy Director level.

Tennant is seen equal to Joe Millius's Deputy Chief of Staff of the Pacific Fleet back when he was still stationed in Hawai'i.

I hope we get to see more of this, also I liked NCIS NOLA, but IMO I feel like Tennant's portrayal as SAC is a lot more believable than Pride's.

[lisan-algaib]

I was tagged by the lovely @cavarage (thank you, my dear ♡) to post my ten favorite films! It was a tough choice to make for sure but here it is :

Night of the Hunter, Charles Laughton (1955)

The Princess Bride, Rob Reiner (1987)

Parasite, Bong Joon-oh (2019)

Hostiles, Scott Cooper (2017)

Excalibur, John Boorman (1981)

Arrival, Denis Villeneuve (2016)

Johnny Got His Gun, Dalton Trumbo (1971)

Mulholland Drive, David Lynch (2001)

Conan the Barbarian, John Millius (1982)

Frozen I & II, Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck (2013 & 2019)

Tagging my waifu @dearestnevermore