#we should get back to using pillowfort

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

Transcript under the cut

Geoffrey: So, our anniversary is coming up. I was thinking maybe we could plan a getaway. Somewhere really nice. What do you think? Nancy?

[Nancy snores lightly]

Nancy Narrates: [It was all starting to wear on me-]

Geoffrey: [softly] Goodnight Nance. I love you.

Nancy: [murmurs] m ‘love you...Vanessa.

Nancy Narrates: [Having to balance the many sides of me]

Nancy Narrates: [There was the Nancy that was a Theta]

Nancy Narrates: [The Nancy that was free]

Nancy Narrates: [The Nancy that was an honest, loving girlfriend]

Geoffrey: Date night tonight?

Nancy: I- have a thing with the Thetas. Maybe another night?

Geoffrey: You know, I’m happy you’re putting yourself out there. I’m proud of you.

Extra Loud Stereo Plays: Do Me! - Bell Biv Devoe

Take a good look at me Tell me do you like what you see

Do you think you can Do you think you can do me

Kiss me pretty baby And touch me all over

Girl what makes you think you can do me Do you think you can do me girl?

Do me baby (x2)

-

Geoffrey: Hey, you ever wondered what happened to Vanessa?

Bob: Vanessa? Vanessa Villareal?

Geoffrey: Yeah. When we came back from break, she just- vanished.

Bob: Yeah, that was crazy, huh? I talked to Cassie about it once. She said it reminded her of that whole Angela thing that happened junior year.

Geoffrey: What Angela thing?

Bob: You don’t know about the Angela thing!?

Geoffrey: [chuckles] No one told me about it! It was like a urban legend.

Bob: Vanessa and her mean girl squad ganged up on her and started bullying her because they thought she was a lesbian or something.

Geoffrey: No way. Was she?

Bob: I dunno. I mean, she was always hanging on to Vanessa. I guess that’s where the rumors started. Anyway, Cassie thinks maybe people were starting to talk about her and Nancy. They were close too.

Geoffrey: What? Why didn’t you guys tell me?

Bob: Dude, it’s just gossip. We can’t know for sure that’s what happened. Vanessa was always getting sent to the office, she probably got expelled.

Geoffrey: Yeah...

Bob: Are you ok, man?

Geoffrey: I think maybe that’s why Nancy’s been so down all this time. I think she misses Vanessa.

Bob: Probably, friendships between women are really intense.

-

Darling: [groans] I can’t believe I have class in 5 hours. I’m screwed.

Nancy: [laughs] Who told us to throw a rager on a Thursday?

Darling: Hey, we’re still in better shape than those two over there.

Nancy: The Thetas? More like tea parties.

Darling: [laughs] Hell nah.

Nancy: Should we check if they have a pulse?

Darling: [chuckles] Man, they can’t handle their liquor for shit.

Nancy: Did you meet them through the club?

Darling: Morgan chased me down to do a tarot reading one day.

Nancy: Ah. She got you too, did she?

Darling: I kinda like that stuff, you know, like zodiac signs and all that. Tells you alot about a person. Speaking of, what’s your sign?

Nancy: I have no idea. Maybe I’m a Pisces?

Darling: When’s your birthday?

Nancy: January 17th.

Darling: Huh, no shit? You’re a Capricorn. I’m a Virgo.

Nancy: What does that mean?

Darling: For one, means we’re compatible.

Nancy: Oh? How can you tell?

Darling: We’re both earth signs, means we grounded. We want the real thing.

Nancy: I don’t know what I want.

Darling: I think you do though. I think you don’t want to say it.

Nancy: What don’t I want to say?

Darling: You tell me.

Nancy: Well. I guess... I guess I have alot of questions.

Darling: Like what? Keep it real, it’s just me.

Nancy: Well.. How do you know that you’re- you know.

Darling: What, into girls? I’ve always known.

Nancy: But how do you know for sure?

Darling: I was probably born this way. I never looked at guys the way I look at women. I love everything about them. I love the way they smell, the way they feel. I’m probably crazy about them. It’s wired in my brain.

Nancy: Have you ever kissed a girl?

Darling: [chuckles]

Nancy: Don’t laugh...

Darling: You’re right, you’re right, my bad. Yeah, Nancy. I’ve done alot more than kissing though.

Nancy: Oh. You mean...like sex?

Darling: Yeah. Like sex.

Darling: Oh. I guess that means you’re done asking questions.

Nancy: ....What is it like?

Darling: Kissing?

Nancy: I know about kissing. I mean [clears throat] the sex. With a girl. What does it feel like?

Darling: You really wanna know?

Nancy: Well. I asked, didn’t I?

Darling: Alright. Give me your hand.

Darling: You wanna know?

Nancy: [swallows] Mhm..

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

AY I CALLED IT! To the anon who asked me about it, we are getting a silly episode today :D

I'll be honest, that arc got me burnt out with all the theories and teasers. Sure was fun but man, it's like coming home from a party. Now I can take things easy. Well, hopefully since the Puzzles figurine already dragged me back to my corkboard, I have no idea what the Team's planning smh /pos

why not have a good ol' time today, huh?

(the following is my live reaction:)

hey 4, I did see Gaslight District and dude, it looks like a movie. like how??? glitch surprises me everytime.

oh yea, and also bc james half-jokingly said that he's stop voicing 3 if we didn't watch the premiere. I mean, I already was planning to, no worries there :)

oh the intro, it never gets old

😨 oh... my god... <- my organized ass

"hey, Four" sorry but the fact that they called him 4 🥹 and technically this would be 3's second time. everyone, write that down

(and I did say it too, huh?)

oh, you mean the microwave 4's grandpa (read: SMG1) gave away? /hj

*sonic voice* oh yeah, this is happening!

put me in coach, todo quedara bien chingón después que acabamos. ✨bellísimo✨ diría yo

Oh, maybe next time for your presentation, luigi

...and there it is 😌↕️

how much food did that fridge....? nope nvm. only in the SMG4 universe *cheesy laugh track*

gross, yes, but Mario ate way worse stuff before. he should be fine, I still feel bad though

can we take a moment of just 4 here? :)

done? ok good

wait... was that a callback to the infestation episode?

well, that makes sense

*concerned microwave noises*

OH GOD MEGGY NOT THE HAIR

welp lesson 1, chat: always tie all hair up before cleaning

there we go, one room down! ooh, ramen sounds nice

...wait, say that one more time? "you don't know what me and those chopsticks have been through together"?

oh god.....

Western Spaghetti, is that you?

don't mind me, chat. i'm just going to uh.... be in my pillowfort for a bit

we were so close, man 😔

c'mon bob, you can't keep hoarding like this

well, we found one of the chopsticks

WOAH 😦 Mario really did it... and he might puke, GO GO GO

AAAH HIT THE BRAKES

ooh.....

oh god, it's even worse

4, you already got knocked out cold once, we can't let you go through it again

same, 3 😔↕️ same

hey swag, just. just take the microwave bud. don't mind this.

"The Castle's had a good run." ....i'm sorry, what?

I need to pause this. I need to leave the room. Everyone, take 5.

*40 minutes later* ......I don't. what am I supposed to say?

the Team had Swag say "the castle had a good run, time to nuke it", LITERALLY have him pulling out the IGBP thumbnail? AND THEN gave 4 ptsd flashbacks? just like that???

everything in my core just sank through the ground and into my grave! why, team, why? dude.......

oh, 4 :( *head in hands* I know bud, ik

idk how 4 does it, man. i would've crashed the fuck out

*sonic voice* hey Shadow, long time no see :D

the rats too?!

ok fine, that did get a chuckle out of me

there's the chopsticks, maybe you should store them under your beanie or smth

I mean, Meggy, you've always been unhinged in a silly way ahlkg;kl

THAT'S HOW WE DO IT 👏 LOCK IN

........the frame's missing. "wha?" the boarded-up door, see?

did you really think that I, Ink, would not know every detail about my mortal nemesis, the boarded-up door? tsk tsk, ofc not. Not while I'm a theorist. Ha, working on reference sheets has its use, mhm

AGAIN WITH THE NUMBER 4, I'M ON TO YOU, TEAM

sorry, Swag, no nukey time!

STOP THE PRESSES. LOOK AT 3 DOING A CELEBRATORY HOP:

you did? good.

also yeah, 4 I feel you bud :(

For sure.... *IGBP war flashbacks*

oh the cafe, my beloved. one day we'll see you soon.

uh oh.....

well um.... eggdog's playing with beeg outside, right chat? (for my sake, please nod) /j

Congrats to PlatinumLightJJ for your art being featured at the end credits! 🎉 love the lighting!

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Man, what an episode, huh? A lot has happened over the past few days, especially bc of the movie, but nothing like another silly episode for our meme show :)

From the looks of it, we actually got a new writer on the Team! Please, everyone, give a warm welcome to Evan Besser!

Lovely to have you here, friend! Not that you're gonna see this, but we look forward in seeing what you will create. While it is our silly little meme show, it has a special place in our hearts because of how much we've connected during its powerful, exciting, and emotional moments. Of friendship, (found) family. Loss and change.

As Boopkins said in IGBP, love wins. Love always wins, and it's been true every time. I offer the best of luck to you 🎉

As for the rest of you (aka chat), Evan (he/they btw) may be on Tumblr, but I expect yall to be respectful to them, as we do for the rest of the Team. Please do not send harassment or push them past uncomfortable boundaries. This is a pretty chill community, simply remember to be aware and kind, okay? coolio 👍

Now with the pleasantries out of the way, let's talk about the actual episode! Admittedly, it caught me off guard that both Bob and Meggy occupied some of the rooms in the Castle. Bob I get it, sure, he lives in the dump, but Meggy does have her home. Then again, it's not 4's Castle, it's the Crew's. 4 just happens to own the property and live there. In some past episodes, Melony has slept over at the Castle instead of her apartment, so it's not out of the question. Plus, I could never imagine 4 rejecting them a place to stay if they need it. Once again, their Castle. (However.... *stares DIRECTLY at the unfinished 2nd floor*)

If it wasn't obvious already, I LOVE cleaning, and I wouldn't mind sitting through Luigi's presentation frfr. (And the episode had to be trash, yea ik.) And about the scene with 3 & Mario in the kitchen, I actually wanted to bring in a bit of behind-the-scenes from editor Star:

"Got a little surprise for SMG4 fans again! The extended version of my 1st scene for today's vid: Mario Cleans The House!" (clip shown below) — Star

I always loved the behind-the-scenes stuff and sharing it with you guys :) It kinda goes hand-in-hand with the moment 3 wanting to go back to his clean cafe. speaking of, I MISS THE CAFE SO BAD.

Speaking of that scene, it was indeed a funny bit of 3's plan of shoving a bunch of spoiled food into Mario ADJL;'LJK. Not the best plan there, bud. (and yea, I'm allowed to say is as someone who's friend-shaped 😊↕️)

I do love the callback to the infestation episode for Bob, I appreciate that, idk how to describe it. And I'm not sure if the Team intended this or not, but I also loved the subtle callback to Western Spaghetti and Meggy's attachment to certain materialistic things bc of her past, I totally get it. And her eventually throwing the chopsticks to the bin, I actually didn't mind it.

Yall might come at me with pitchforks but it was kinda similar to how 4 was in the Mario PC episode. 4 was given a choice to accept a deal to save his past work, and he immediately declined. In some way, he learned from IGBP, not fully but it's a big step in the right direction. Same here with Meggy, she was very attached to those chopsticks bc, like she said, they've been through a lot. Like her beanie given by Wren. But she saw what it truly meant and decided to move on, dropping the sticks in there. Again, a step.

Then, there's that door. What a coincidence that as soon as 4 said "where are we supposed to put [the trash]", the door is right there in the background. Hmmmmmmmmmm, istg the Team had this door out to get me. TEASING US. *shakes vengeful fist* we shall meet again, my mortal nemesis….....

And now, probably the whole reason yall are here for, let's talk about 4:

It is absolutely insane that the Team did that! Not just ptsd anymore, they outright say it in the show, "hey, remember when this happened to you?" I still can't wrap my head around it. Regardless, I did feel SO bad for 4. ik how Swag is, gotta love him, but BUDDY, YOU CAN'T SAY THAT! :(

4's already suppressing his trauma and guilt from IGBP. He blames himself for the whole incident when he was possessed for most of it, he lost his home the first time. Ofc he's terrified of it happening again, of losing his home the second time. Honestly, If I were him, I would've pushed all the trash and everyone out the door, and then curled up in my bed for the rest of the day. With everything he went through, I wouldn't be able to handle it. "oh, I can just nuke it like I did in the most traumatic moment of or life, it's a lost cause" <- you would see me on the news. And ofc he wouldn't do what I would do, he's 4.

He somehow held back, still doing everything he could to save it. And y'know what would make it worse, if this was the first time 4 learned that the Crew was willing to nuke the Castle while 4 and the rescue trio were still in there. Not that I blame the Crew, it was possible for the red monster to spread across the kingdom and put everyone in danger. But it is a bit messed up that the Crew didn't warn them to get out of there before they did the act. idk what to think man..... regardless, that's a post for another day.

Back to the topic, 4 definitely belongs on my "saviors in blue" list. And ofc, adding it in as more proof to the horus eye/glitch segment of my theory:

His left eye is in the frame, the true side of him. Unlike in WOTFI 2024, it was with his right (his perfectionism side) when Puzzles brought back that ptsd the first time. One where he was scared of the incident happening again, the other's a reminder that he was the "cause" of it happening.

Now there has been some talk about about how his perfectionist side slipping through the cracks and seeming like he learned nothing out of IGBP. I suppose I should bring in my thoughts into this (yea, you can get your pitchfork ready 😔). I do love when 4's guilt and trauma come back in moments like these, and as co-ceo of the goop!4 theory, I can appreciate it with a "HELL YEAH".

The in-universe explanation I can provide of his perfectionism is that he's a content creator. All he wants is to entertain people and make them happy, ofc he wants to deliver the best of his work out there. Also, as a Meme Guardian, it's a part of him and his duties. But realistically, it's sometimes like that. As someone dealing with ptsd myself, those old habits/traits that caused the incident slip through in what we do. The least we want is for that incident to happen again, we'd go through extreme panic if we're remotely close to it, but we sometimes do said traits unintentionally.

For a person like 4, who has been suppressing all of it for a long time, it would be harder for him to recognize them immediately. And like in the Mario PC Virus episode, that was very paralleled to IGBP, 4 didn't have the same hesitation. Sure, he wasn't dealing with a life there, but he did learn. Up to now, like in the past arc, he prioritized his friends more than anything. Even if he was injured. It's understandable why he's dealing with his ptsd in an unhealthy way, even if it isn't right. I can see why people may have fixed feelings about it, but those are my thoughts.

The not in-universe explanation is the change of writers. Not that it should be an excuse but it's hard to pick up the pieces, as someone who works in production.

*sigh * yea, if you want to push me down the stairs, you can 😔 /lh

Well, that's all for me, folks! Sorry it took so long to get this out haha. I knew some of you were looking forward to my reaction, especially bc of 4, but it's sweet to know that you guys care what I think, so thanks for sticking by me 💙 It's good to see the silly episodes again after a month of theorizing. Anyway, I'll catch you on the next one and remember: numbers always go first!

.....the Team really wants me to finish the goop!4 theory website, don't they. /silly

[obsessiveagony2point0]

The Past

Charles reminds Hob of someone from a long time ago.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Hob isn’t used to being asked about his past, with Dream being the only exception.

But now, with Edwin and Charles in his life, he was often asked on a daily basis.

Edwin was far more interested in comparing Hob’s experiences to what was written down. It was easier for him to answer those questions since it felt like teaching his History classes. The difference here being these boys knew he was almost 700 years old and his students did not.

A lot of the time, Edwin asked questions about the 1900s, around the time he had died. He’d missed out on not only growing up, but he’d been locked away in hell for nearly 100 years. He was curious, and Hob granted him that curiosity.

It was Charles who asked the harder questions.

A lot of the time, those questions had to do with experiences he should have died from but couldn’t. It was…a bit difficult bringing those memories up, but when Hob spoke about the 1600s where he was homeless and was freezing to what should have been death, he saw Charles’ expression change.

He’d given the boy a hug that day.

He’d asked if Hob had ever been in relationships with mortal people, which led Hob on a very strange and embarrassing yet sad path of all his past relationships. Which meant he spoke about his Eleanor and his once small family.

Then, one day, Charles asked about him.

They were in the kitchen; Hob cooking, Charles flipping through a comic, when suddenly Charles asked, “What was your son like?”

The room went deadly silent.

Hob stared at the eggs, not realizing they were burning until the smell hit him and he immediately moved the pan from the burner and turned it off.

“I-I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, no. It’s alright.” He turned to Charles, who looked like a beaten puppy. “I told you both you could ask anything you wanted and I meant it.”

Charles looked hesitant. “Yea…but…”

“It’s fine, Charles.” Hob gave a small, sad, yet reassuring smile before he leaned back against the counter, staring at the ceiling. “What was Robyn like…”

He looked back at Charles, who stared at him with big brown eyes, his face concerned and worried. Memories of Robyn flashed in his head, the face of a young boy who just wanted to make everyone happy and safe.

Hob reached a hand out, placing it on Charles’ head. “Actually…he was a lot like you.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Edwin appearing through the wall. “Charles, we have a case. You can read your cartoon drawings later.”

“They’re comics, Ed. Comics.”

Edwin rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the wall.

Charles moved to follow, but stopped and turned to Hob. “See ya later, Hob.”

“Hopefully not in another week again.”

Charles chuckled. “Hopefully not, but you know Edwin.”

“I know.” Hob smiled. “Just…be safe. As best you both can.”

The ghost boy smiled back. “We will.” And with that, he vanished.

Hob stood there a moment longer, still smiling.

Yes…he was so very much like Robyn…

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Just really had to get this out of my system. I like the idea of Charles and Edwin of doing things that remind Dream and Hob of Robyn and Orpheus.

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

[cavydude]

Hey everyone guess what's back?

To celebrate the one-year anniversary of the remaster, we (the fine folks over at the Baten Kaitos fan Discord) are bringing back Spiriter Week! And now it's bigger than ever: we're going multi-platform!

So mark you calendars for September 15th-21st!!!

Wait, what's this now? Back in ye olde golden age of Tumblr, we used to have an annual thing we called Spiriter Week, a week-long celebration of our favorite card-game RPGs.

What do you mean, "multiplatform"? Due to fandom no longer being fully (or even mostly) within the confines of one website, we figured it'd be a good idea to have folks participate wherever they want to. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, or wherever. Still have a Pillowfort? Go crazy there too.

Ok, how do I participate? It's super easy- just post something Baten Kaitos related every day. Could be a fic, art, videos, whatever. Wherever you're posting it, use the tag #Spiriter Week I am not blessed with creative prowess Neither am I we're all just bullshitting Doesn't have to be anything skillful like art or writing. Could be fan theories, a personal anecdote, ranking your favorite xyz or even a haiku. Like this example I stole borrowed from No's original post:

Holoholo bird All my apples are rotten Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

This sounds great but I'm super busy there's no way I can post every day. Again, same here friend. No worries, even just one or two during the week is fine. Let's face it, we've all aged a number of years since these were last a thing and life has a way of stockpiling responsibilities.

On what authority are you organizing this? Alright ya got me I'm just some rando with a Gibari pfp. But come on, why not have some fun and build some hype around these games we love?

That's a nice banner where'd you get it? Damn right! Credit goes to No, who still had the old banner and managed to change some digits :D

How can we follow for updates? Here on Tumblr, I (and of course anyone else who wants to say something on the topic) will be posting in the #Spiriter Week tag. Some major updates might also be posted in the baten kaitos tag but I don't wanna spam it too much.

But yeah, that should cover most of the major stuff, feel free to reach out with any questions!

[dayseedrawz2]

My thoughts on episode 3 + theories!!

I'll talk more about this on my YT, but for now here's a tumblr version

(SPOILERS BELOW)

Okay so starting off, my unfiltered thoughts throughout the episode

-They actually spend time together when outside the adventures aww! (Not like they really have a choice, but still neat-)

-Jax being a bitch

-"Zooble turns Straight" Welp, the whooooooole fandom was right!

-Bubbles reversed dialouge. Damn they really don't want those content farms no more.

-CAINE AN POMNI INTERACTION YEAAAA (It was one piece of dialogue I'm so delusional)

-He made this adventure JUST for Zooble cuz they never go and he really wants them to GUYS HES NOT A VILLAN SEE?

-Jax being a bitch

-LUIGIS MANSION REFRENCE FUCKING YESSS

-Wow the visual here are super pretty :o

-...and horrifying

-Jax being a bitch

-I haven't mentioned yet but the lil quirky powers or whatever are cool

-Wow the lore Caine writes for these stories is just like your average artist who torments their OCs (he so me fr)

-2D ANIMATION!!! Also Kinger and Pomni being like the funniest duo ever

-HOLY FRICKLE FRACKLE THEY DEFINITELY DID NOT WANT CONTENT FARMS TO FIND THIS EPISODE

-the monster is awesome looking tho

-THE THERAPY SESSION SEGMENTSS AAA

-Also Caine has a Trans flag hanging somewhere in the circus neat

-He forgot he could use his powers to just teleport Zooble to him lol

-Back to the spooky stuff

-Wow Kinger can actually use a gun! (Never thought I'd be saying that sentence-)

-KINGER AND POMNI GO TO ACTUAL HELL WHILE THE REST JUST HAVE A TEA PARTY WITH MARTHA

-Also JAX IS TIED UP BAHAHAHA

- "You know how men are, always having the silliest priorities..." "Heh, dont i know it!" I think the bunny doll shippers really like that scene

-Zooble has some sorta body dismorphia and has opened up about it to Caine multiple times seems like

-Uhh Caine... you okay buddy? CAINE YOU GOOD BRO? CAI

-CAINE HAS EMOTIONS/SELF AWARNESS CONFIRMED???

-Pomni gets fucking posessed ok

-now we know why it looked like kinger was hitting Pomni with the shotgun

-KINGER AND QUEENIE WERE MARRIED CONFIRMED???

-Father daughter bonding aww...

-I love how the whole fandom took one good look at Ragatha and went:

GAY GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GA-

-also Pomni and Ragatha are on good terms now aww...

-Caine and Zooble Should Pass that pipe from ep 2 and legitemently vent to each other

-Jax is pissed because the Jester actually had a good fucking day for once lmao stay mad

-NOW WE KNOW WHY HE STAYS IN THAT PILLOWFORT IM GONNA FUCKIN CRY NOW

Overall, this was definitely my favorite episode so far! The team is getting better each and every episode! SOOO much happened here!! I'm super excited to see what happens next!!

Okay, THEORY TIME!!

-Okay so to start lightly, so far, all the episodes we've seen contain:

Gangles mask breaking

Jax breaks the 4th wall

A cute/sad heart to heart conversation or interaction

A reference to angels or god or Christianity in some way

Interesting right?? Wonder if this keeps up...

-On the topic of Christianity, I saw a theory saying that if it's true that the gang developed the game (which may be true because of that computer science line), When Pomni says "I knew it would end up like this... He just wants me to suffer..." she may not be referring to Caine, but her Boss at CnA.

If that boss exists and is NOT named able, Imma be mildly upset-

-Okay, Alot of people have been talking about Jax being an NPC, and I wanna bring up my opinion on this:

As I mentioned earlier, he always breaks the 4th wall, witch could be seen as a character in a game being like "What do YOU think?" *Insert Game Options here*

I saw another theory saying that if this is true, Jax might be self aware or sentient to some degree, and This is why he tortures everyone. He knows that this world Revolves around the players and nit him so he wants to make them more miserable.

-OKAY, NOW WHAT (I) WEVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... THE WHOLE DEAL WITH CAINE GLITCHING OUT AN' STUFF!

As one of many Caine angst connisuars on this platform, I really enjoyed this scene...

Caine knows that he only exists to make adventures and if he can't do it well enough than he serves ZERO purpouse and his existence is useless... (he's just like me fr)

This has SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR A SERIES FINALE.

Since in each episode we've (mostly) seen a character being comforted (mostly Either Pomni being comforted OR someone being comforted BY Pomni)

What if the last episode had Caine and Pomni having a heart to heart?

(Shutup this is not about showtime I swear let me have this-)

Someone abstracts, (Ragatha or Kinger probably,) and it's Caine's last straw. He finally breaks and the circus goes into ruins. Pomni does her best to comfort him. This could go one of two ways:

Either she sucseeds and happy ending for everyone :D

OR, they fail and The Circus is destroyed, Taking Caine down with it.

Maybe then that would be how they escape cuz if Caine is emotionaly attached to the circus, it would be completely destroyed or erased if Caine finally broke...

The angst potential is crazy...

This is terrifyingly close to what I wanted to do with R-M AU UHHH I MEAN-

Anywayyyy I believe that's all! If yall have anymore theories lemme know!!

[juliathesuccubus]

Artists UNITE!!

So... With all these changes going on, I got a few things to say.

The new "Block" feature. I put quotes on that because with the new changes made, it is essentially useless. As it says, any accounts blocked will still be able to view your content, but won't be able to engage with them, such as leaving a comment or retweeting or anything. BUT if you truly want to protect your posts and limit who can see what, you can lock your account. But that means you won't be able to get more engagement or new followers.

This also means that NSFW artists/content creators who've blocked minors from seeing their content? Yeah, those minors are gonna have full access anyways and there us nothing we can do about it except maybe report them.

Any abusers/stalkers who like to keep tabs on your accounts? They can see, regardless of being blocked.

This has got to be a violation and Google Play and Apple App Store should put X on blast for it.

The second thing!!

If any of you have seen the tweet going around, there has been a recent change to the Terms of Service and will be effective come November 15th.

It'll let Twitter use your posts (images, videos, audio) to train their Grok AI. You can opt out, but come Novwmber 15th, you just automatically get opted back in.

I dunno about y'all, BUT I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY STUFF USED FOR AI PURPOSES!!

And if you feel the same, I have a suggestion:

I think that we, as artists and content creators, should unite together and nuke our Twitter/X accounts. I know it's a lot, especially those who have really put a lot of work into it, but would you really want to have all that hard work just be fed to an AI?

I say any and all content we have on Twitter should immediately be migrated over to other sites.

Bluesky is always nice and have no complaints so far and since these changes Twitter/X made, they've gain a huuuuuge amount of traffic.

Cora is another place I've been hearing about. I have no opinions about it so far, but did make an account. I've heard they're very anti-AI, so that's good!

Pillowfort could still be a go-to possibly. Hell, maybe even here on Tumblr since it's been getting active again!

We've got options! We can give one last fuck you to Elongated Muskrat to show what we think about his new changes! But that choice is ultimately up to you.

If you guys wanna follow me, my BlueSky account is here, but fair warning, I do post NSFW art on there.

[xannador]

Have you considered going to Pillowfort?

Long answer down below:

I have been to the Sheezys, the Buzzlys, the Mastodons, etc. These platforms all saw a surge of new activity whenever big sites did something unpopular. But they always quickly died because of mismanagement or users going back to their old haunts due to lack of activity or digital Stockholm syndrome.

From what I have personally seen, a website that was purely created as an alternative to another has little chance of taking off. It it's going to work, it needs to be developed naturally and must fill a different niche. I mean look at Zuckerberg's Threads; died as fast as it blew up. Will Pillowford be any different?

The only alternative that I found with potential was the fediverse (mastodon) because of its decentralized nature. So people could make their own rules. If Jack Dorsey's new dating app Bluesky gets integrated into this system, it might have a chance. Although decentralized communities will be faced with unique challenges of their own (egos being one of the biggest, I think).

Trying to build a new platform right now might be a waste of time anyway because AI is going to completely reshape the Internet as we know it. This new technology is going to send shockwaves across the world akin to those caused by the invention of the Internet itself over 40 years ago. I'm sure most people here are aware of the damage it is doing to artists and writers. You have also likely seen the other insidious applications. Social media is being bombarded with a flood of fake war footage/other AI-generated disinformation. If you posted a video of your own voice online, criminals can feed it into an AI to replicate it and contact your bank in an attempt to get your financial info. You can make anyone who has recorded themselves say and do whatever you want. Children are using AI to make revenge porn of their classmates as a new form of bullying. Politicians are saying things they never said in their lives. Google searches are being poisoned by people who use AI to data scrape news sites to generate nonsensical articles and clickbait. Soon video evidence will no longer be used in court because we won't be able to tell real footage from deep fakes.

50% of the Internet's traffic is now bots. In some cases, websites and forums have been reduced to nothing more than different chatbots talking to each other, with no humans in sight.

I don't think we have to count on government intervention to solve this problem. The Western world could ban all AI tomorrow and other countries that are under no obligation to follow our laws or just don't care would continue to use it to poison the Internet. Pandora's box is open, and there's no closing it now.

Yet I cannot stand an Internet where I post a drawing or comic and the only interactions I get are from bots that are so convincing that I won't be able to tell the difference between them and real people anymore. When all that remains of art platforms are waterfalls of AI sludge where my work is drowned out by a virtually infinite amount of pictures that are generated in a fraction of a second. While I had to spend +40 hours for a visually inferior result.

If that is what I can expect to look forward to, I might as well delete what remains of my Internet presence today. I don't know what to do and I don't know where to go. This is a depressing post. I wish, after the countless hours I spent looking into this problem, I would be able to offer a solution.

All I know for sure is that artists should not remain on "Art/Creative" platforms that deliberately steal their work to feed it to their own AI or sell their data to companies that will. I left Artstation and DeviantArt for those reasons and I want to do the same with Tumblr. It's one thing when social media like Xitter, Tik Tok or Instagram do it, because I expect nothing less from the filth that runs those. But creative platforms have the obligation to, if not protect, at least not sell out their users.

But good luck convincing the entire collective of Tumblr, Artstation, and DeviantArt to leave. Especially when there is no good alternative. The Internet has never been more centralized into a handful of platforms, yet also never been more lonely and scattered. I miss the sense of community we artists used to have.

The truth is that there is nowhere left to run. Because everywhere is the same. You can try using Glaze or Nightshade to protect your work. But I don't know if I trust either of them. I don't trust anything that offers solutions that are 'too good to be true'. And even if take those preemptive measures, what is to stop the tech bros from updating their scrapers to work around Glaze and steal your work anyway? I will admit I don't entirely understand how the technology works so I don't know if this is a legitimate concern. But I'm just wondering if this is going to become some kind of digital arms race between tech bros and artists? Because that is a battle where the artists lose.

[beatrice-otter]

Fic: when at last we knew

Here is my Fic In A Box fic! I love Mace Windu, and also, he is a Jedi Master. I'm supposed to believe that being thrown out a window was enough to kill him? Yeah, sure, he got his arm chopped off. So did Luke at Cloud City.You will notice Luke didn't die.

Title: when at last we knew Author: Beatrice_Otter Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Kenobi Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mace Windu Length: 10,993 words Rating: teen Written For: Huntress79 in Fic In A Box 2024

AN: Title comes from the poem An Old Story by Tracy K. Smith

On AO3. On Squidgeworld. On Dreamwidth. On Pillowfort.

Military pilots never got sent on intelligence missions. At least, not if they had working ships. The Alliance had lost a lot of ships in close succession, first at Scarif and then at Yavin, at the same time as they'd started fighting the Empire directly instead of just the occasional ambush or hit-and-run attack on lightly defended targets. They were short on combat pilots, and even shorter on ships.

So Luke was very confused when he got a message to see General Draven and not tell anybody about it.

Draven was in charge of intelligence, and worked with Leia on coordinating her recruiting and supply missions, but Luke had never dealt with the man.

Draven's office was small, cramped, and very neat. No documents or displays were visible, which Luke supposed made sense; keeping things out of sight made snooping harder.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Luke asked.

"Yes," Draven said. "One of our oldest and most reliable intelligence channels has put in a request for you, specifically, to do the next handover."

"Why me?" Luke cocked his head. "How did they even learn my name?" The Alliance hierarchy had debated whether or not to use his name in propaganda about the Death Star before deciding that any gain wasn't worth the additional danger of the Empire's attention. That might change if he ever found a Jedi to train him.

Draven shrugged. "Word is beginning to get out, and it's trickling down our own intelligence channels first. Not all of them are as good at compartmentalization as they should be. As for why you … that wasn't part of the request. Just you, by name."

Luke thought about that. "They must be pretty important if you're taking me off combat runs to do it," he said.

"It would be good to keep them happy, and they've never made a request like this before," Draven said. "I'd like to know why now. If you can find out."

"Right," Luke said. "Who am I meeting?"

"I don't know," Draven said.

"You don't know?"

"Compartmentalization isn't just for lower-level operatives, Skywalker," Draven said. He shrugged. "All I need to know about an information channel is how reliable it is … and in all the years this channel has been in operation, their information has never been wrong, it's usually been useful, and it almost always arrives in time to act on it. It's mostly low-level information, but it's more reliable than any other source we have. It's worth some trust … and if something goes wrong, you'll have Captain Solo and Chewbacca to help you get out of it."

"Han and Chewie are coming along?" Luke asked. He frowned. "Why aren't they here for the briefing?"

"They don't need to know the details of your mission, only the planet and city where you will be meeting your contact," Draven said. "The fewer people who know the details, the less chance that something can leak."

"Han and Chewie are perfectly trustworthy!" Luke protested.

Draven snorted. "Everyone who knows you're the pilot who took down the Death Star is perfectly trustworthy. That hasn't stopped your name from floating around … and it's only a matter of time before it reaches the Empire, and puts a great big fat target on your back. The fewer people who know anything, the less chance there is that some careless accident will reveal it. You will not tell any of your friends any details of your mission, which are classified. You will not tell your squadron where you are going, merely that you have been detached for a classified mission and will return shortly."

***

"So, you can't tell us what you're doing, huh?" Han asked. "Not even now we're in hyperspace and on our way?"

They were sitting in the Falcon's crew lounge. Han and Chewie were playing holo-chess, and Luke was sitting at the nav station reading a book Leia had recommended.

"I'm afraid not," Luke said.

"I can tell you what we're doing," Han said. "The Alliance is paying us to deliver their cargo, and then we're supposed to scrounge something up for the trip back. Either a cargo that takes us close to the base, or something from the list of supplies the Alliance wants."

Chewie said something about paying off Jabba, and Han waved that off. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get to it, but we're nowhere near Tatooine or Nar Shadda or anywhere else he's got a base." He turned back to Luke. "Must be something real secret, if you won't even tell me."

Chewie objected to that, something about Luke showing proper respect for his mission, and Han and Chewie bantered back and forth about that until the buzzer went off that they were nearing their destination.

***

Dolsuf would have astounded Luke a year ago. Now he knew it was a fairly average colony world in the Inner Rim, with lots of agricultural space and lots of industry, the fruits of which were mostly shipped to the core. The port they settled in was one of thousands dotted across the planet, and while it wasn't in the largest city it was still a thousand times larger than anything they had back on Tatooine.

Following the instructions that had been written in the document Draven had handed him, Luke bought a pass for the public transit system and took an underground train to the theater district. (Fortunately, he had gone on leave with Wedge and Dak to Anamuu, and they'd had a subway system there, so he knew how to use it without having to ask Han for help.)

Luke wandered around like a tourist for several hours before slipping in the stage door at one of the smaller theaters, off the beaten track. Nobody challenged him, though several people were sitting in the small antechamber playing cards. He wandered the back halls until he found a door that led to the auditorium, and took a seat near the back.

The backstage area had been worn and threadbare, but the auditorium seats were plush, comfortable, and showed no signs of wear. The walls and ceiling were covered in ornamented carvings that Luke could make out only vaguely in the dim light.

The stage was brightly lit. Four people were on the stage, one of them demonstrating a movement. The other three watched intently, until one of them nodded and tried it himself. After a few comments back and forth, the first man nodded. He turned towards the front of the stage and walked towards the stairs down into the seating area.

This was probably his contact. Luke ran through the code phrase in his head for practice.

The actor was a human or near-human, probably late middle age, with dark skin and curly black hair, shot with gray. "We're flattered by the attention, but we're not open to the public yet," he said, stopping next to Luke's chair. "You can come back and see us tonight. We're doing The Cracked Word."

Yes, this was his contact. "I'm a spacer, shipping out in a few hours. Besides, King Nemlii has been a favorite since I was a kid." It wasn't as smooth as he'd like, but Luke didn't think he'd done too badly for his first undercover mission.

"Mace."

Luke bolted upright in his seat. That was Ben Kenobi's ghost—what was he doing here? Except he probably shouldn't have reacted—did that make him look suspicious?

The actor's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked off to the side, to about where Luke had heard Ben's voice from. Had he heard him? Could he see him? Luke sometimes thought he could, but wasn't sure if he was just imagining things. Ben was very faint.

"Well," the actor said, "if it's your favorite, I suppose we can make an exception. You might as well come up and watch from the front."

Luke got up and followed him down to the second row, and sat in the seat the actor indicated. He watched the rehearsal and tried to look as if he knew what was going on and was enjoying himself. Come to think of it, he should probably have looked up the play and what it was about, if it was supposed to be his favorite.

The actors on stage paid him no mind. After a bit, he shifted in his chair as unobtrusively as he could, and ran his fingers under the seat until he found the data rod taped there.

"The lead actor and director is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Ben said.

Luke didn't jump again, but only because he'd been expecting Ben to say something more. But he couldn't keep his face still at the revelation that here was a Jedi! Right in front of him! A real, live Jedi master! He wanted to pepper Ben with questions, but they were in public and he was undercover. He couldn't just start talking to thin air.

Luke looked down and put a hand over his mouth, so that maybe nobody would notice his reaction, or at least not enough to realize something interesting was happening.

"I thought he was dead," Ben said. "Killed by Darth Vader, when he tried to arrest Palpatine, the night Palpatine declared himself Emperor."

Luke wanted to hear more—a Jedi who'd challenged the Emperor directly! And almost died in the process! How had he survived Darth Vader?—but this wasn't the place for it. "It would be a lot easier to maintain my cover if you weren't saying shocking things," he muttered.

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry," Ben said.

Luke had been planning on leaving fairly soon—anyone watching would assume that he was needed back at his ship, or that he'd gotten bored—but there was no way he was leaving a real live Jedi Master. This had to be why he'd been requested specifically!

What was the Jedi Master doing, though? Surely, he could have helped the Rebellion more by joining up directly, rather than by simply feeding them information? Draven didn't know who he was, so he couldn't have done anything that would stand out.

Ben had spent twenty years hiding, but then, Ben had been watching over Luke. Was Master Mace Windu doing something similar? Were there other Jedi who survived, that Ben didn't know about? Luke was almost vibrating out of his skin, watching the rehearsal.

***

Mace had had decades of experience with galactic politics at the highest level, in addition to considerable practice at amateur theatrics, before the destruction of the Jedi. The two decades of being a fugitive, combined with subsequent professional acting, had polished his abilities to a high degree.

So it wasn't particularly difficult to keep his renewed grief off his face, as he concentrated on the rest of the rehearsal.

The young Force-sensitive in the audience, however, had no such abilities. Fortunately, his focus on Mace was obvious even from the stage, and so it didn't take much to nudge his fellow-actors' minds in a less-dangerous direction.

Force, but he was bright. Not powerful, necessarily, but in a way that suggested he'd never learned to shield himself, not even the rudimentary shields most Force-sensitives developed reflexively, if they lived in a populated area. His every thought and feeling was broadcast like a beacon—how had nobody ever noticed him? It was true, the Inquisitorius was not large; but they made up for it by travelling constantly. And the Jedi and Sith were hardly the only Force-users in the galaxy.

More to the point, how and why had Obi-Wan never taught him any better? As he was, Luke was dangerous to himself and to the people around him. Obi-Wan must have some sort of connection to him, to be haunting him.

Mace ached to know what had happened to Obi-Wan in the years since the fall of the Jedi; his ghost looked old, much older than Mace had ever seen him; he couldn't have been dead for very long. It grieved Mace to know that his old friend and colleague had been alive all this time. It would have been a joy beyond measure to know another Council member had survived, and a great relief.

"You're a bit out of it today, Gann, do you feel all right?" Kangan said.

Sixi snorted. "No, he's just distracted by the tail he's going to get when we're through here."

Mace rolled his eyes. He trusted his fellow actors, and Force knew they'd all proved themselves willing to turn a blind eye to his work, even not knowing what it was. Still. The less they knew the safer they would all be. "Have you ever known me to be distracted by a date? He reminds me of someone I used to know, that's all."

"Someone he used to know in the religious sense." Sixi's leer was predictable.

"I'd be more interested in your innuendo if you weren't trying to insert it into your portrayal of Prince Zirnzevan," Mace said.

"Hey, it could be there, he could be—"

"If you had any shred of textual evidence to back that up, you would have argued for it already," Mace said, dryly. "We're playing this one straight and traditional. He's driven by fear of loss, by grief, by the way his parents and tutors didn't understand him, and the deep scars that left behind. I think if you make it less about Duke Kostrom, that would help."

Sixi was nodding.

Mace continued. "Zirnzevan's actions really aren't about Kostrom, are they? They're about what's going on inside Zirnzevan's head. He's too deep in his pain and fear to really see Kostrom for what they really are. To see anyone for what they really are. Let's try the scene from the top."

***

It took forever, but at last the rehearsal was over. When the actors were done, Master Windu shooed them off the stage. One of them pointed to Luke, but Master Windu shook his head.

Windu ignored Luke, fiddling around with the sets and props for some time.

"He's waiting until everyone else has left," Ben said.

Which made sense; if he was a Jedi, he wouldn't want anyone to hear what they had to say to each other. Still, Luke was holding onto his patience by a thread by the time Windu finally climbed down off the stage.

"Are you really—"

Windu raised a hand. "I prefer to talk in more … private places."

"Oh," Luke said, chagrined. "Right."

"If you've got time for a meal, you're welcome to join me," Master Windu said.

"Of course!" Luke said. He hopped out of his seat. "Let's go!"

Windu got them both food from a market, and then led them to a small and unassuming hotel.

Once they were in Windu's hotel room, Luke opened his mouth to speak, but Windu held a hand up to stop him. "Please set out the food."

Luke took the bag of takeout, grabbed his patience with both hands, and got the cartons and silverware out of the bag.

Windu rummaged around in the bottom of one of his bags, pulling out a machine. It started playing a noise that Luke realized, after a few seconds, was rainfall with the occasional bird sounds. "We can talk a bit more freely, now."

"Is that a jammer?" Luke asked. "Are you worried that people are going to notice you bringing me here and think it's a spy meeting, or something?"

Windu smiled. "No, and no. If anyone was watching, what they saw was an actor bringing a visibly starstruck young person back to their hotel room. And then turning on a privacy box—cheap hotel rooms are notorious for having thin walls, so people who regularly spend a lot of time in them often have privacy boxes. They aren't quite as good at preventing intentional spying as a dedicated jammer, but they're much less obvious … and they're good enough for our purposes."

"Oh," Luke said, blinking. He hadn't thought of it that way, but it made sense. "Do we … need to do anything to sell the illusion?" He blushed, a little, at the thought of pretending to have sex for potential surveillance to overhear.

Master Windu laughed. "No, the privacy box is sufficient, as long as we speak quietly."

Luke nodded, relieved.

Windu gestured to the room's tiny table and chairs, and they both took a seat. "So," Windu said, "did you know you are being haunted by a Jedi ghost?"

"Yes, of course," Luke said. "Old Ben has been hanging around since he died. I can hear him, sometimes, and sometimes I think I can almost see him, but that might just be my imagination. He taught me how to feel the Force, and how to meditate."

"I see," Windu said. "Well. Usually I would beat around the bush for a bit longer to sound you out, but I think Obi-Wan fully proves your bona fides. I am Jedi Master Mace Windu, head of the Order."

"I'm Luke Skywalker—"

Windu's eyes went wide, and he reared back in his seat.

"Did you know my father?" Luke asked.

"Of course I knew your father," Master Windu said. "He was one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order, and one of the most troubled. He was the one who told us that Palpatine was the Sith Master we'd been hunting for. Then, after our attempt to arrest Palpatine had failed and Palpatine had slaughtered the other Masters with me, Anakin came to Palpatine's rescue, threw me out a window, turned to the Dark Side and joined the Sith, and then led the army into the Temple to slaughter everyone there."

At first Luke couldn't even understand what he had said. "No," he said, once the words had penetrated. "No, that's not right, my father was killed by Darth Vader." Or … had he been killed by Darth Vader after turning? Ben had told him a little bit about the Sith, how they were always betraying each other.

"I was there," Windu said gently. "I saw it happen. Obi-Wan was on Utapau. I was trapped on Coruscant, in the undercity, trying to heal and then save what I could and escape, for … a long time. I saw what Anakin did, as a Sith Lord. I felt his darkness. I have, once, fought an Inquisitor he trained. There is no doubt. Anakin Skywalker is still alive, and he is a Sith Lord."

"That can't be true," Luke said.

"I am sorry." Windu's voice was warm with compassion, but it was also implacable and unyielding. Windu had no shred of doubt he was speaking the truth.

Luke reached out with the Force, as best he knew how. As Ben had trained him to. (But could he trust Ben—Obi-Wan? Had Obi-Wan lied to him?) But the Force answered him, with a finality that reverberated through him like a bell: Master Windu was telling the truth.

"Ben, why did you lie to me?" Luke's voice was choked, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, but he got the words out.

"Luke, has Ben taught you how to release your emotions to the Force?" Windu asked.

"What?" Luke felt like he was swimming through water, as he turned to look at Windu.

"When Jedi are in the grip of some strong emotion, there are ways to release that emotion into the Force," Windu said. "This gives us a clear head, and a heart that is not distracted."

"Distracted?" Luke's breath sped up. He wanted to shout, but he couldn't—someone might hear. "Distracted? Ben lied to me!"

"We don't know that yet," Windu said. "There are a great many hard truths that we must face—truths filled with death, and pain. There are harsh things that must be said. It is very easy, in such times as this, to be guided by our emotions: to let our fear and anger and confusion and pain goad us into saying and doing things that we later regret."

Luke wanted to rage, but … Uncle Owen had often said something similar (though less poetic), when Luke was upset. He'd been right, though the simple childhood fights he'd been talking about paled in comparison to this betrayal. "All right."

"First, let's eat our food, before it gets cold," Windu said.

Luke nodded; Aunt Beru would have said something similar. Everything's harder on an empty stomach. He took a bite of his wrap. It tasted like sand, but he knew better than to waste food. His body needed the fuel. He took a sip of his drink.

"What's your favorite food?" Windu asked.

"What?" Luke frowned.

"Your favorite food," Windu repeated. "Mine's Eoffo pudding. Best place I've ever had it was a little food cart tucked away in Hithol City on Scanu. It was so tender, it felt like it melted in my mouth. And I don't know what that person did with the gravy, but it was amazing."

"Oh," Luke said. He tried to think. "A nerf burger, I guess. Correllian-style."

They talked about inconsequential things until the food was done, and by the end of the meal Luke had relaxed a little bit. They put the containers in the recycle chute, and Windu gestured for him to sit on the bed cross-legged with him.

Windu walked him through a basic meditation. It was a little harder than usual for Luke to get into the trance, but he got there.

"Good," said Windu. "Now, feel your body. Where are your emotions, in your body, right now?"

Luke's stomach was roiling, and his breath kept wanting to speed up, and his body didn't quite feel real, but he did his best. Windu led him through the parts of the body, and helped him to notice how each one felt, and what it meant to him.

"Name your feelings to yourself, even the ones you aren't comfortable with," Windu said.

Luke resisted. He didn't want to. Didn't want to face how Ben had betrayed him. (Didn't want to face the ruin of his hopes and dreams.)

Windu waited for him, and Luke tried, a bit, but there were things he couldn't face.

"Now look up to the Force," Windu said, and led his attention outward. It was as deep as a starry night in the desert, as warm as a sun and cold as the void. Luke himself was barely a pin-prick within it.

"Let it pass through you like a wave, and carry away with it all that you don't need."

Luke had seen waves, now; Rogue Squadron had had leave on a planet with an ocean and beaches, once, and he'd played in the shallows while a few of his squadron had surfed. He pictured one of those sweeping through him. Not enough to knock him off his feet, but enough to tumble him around a bit and scour him clean.

"And now, we come back to ourselves," Windu said.

Luke opened his eyes.

"Do you feel better?"

Luke considered. "Yeah?" he said. "I'm still hurt, and confused, and angry, though."

Windu smiled. "Jedi are not computers, Luke, and even computers can have emotions. The point is not to be rid of our emotions; the point is not to let them overwhelm us. If we're so wrapped up in our own feelings, we can't hear the Force. Or we'll hear what we want to hear, and tell ourselves it's the Force."

"Does that happen often?" Luke asked. "The Force is so much bigger than I am—than any Jedi is."

"But we can only sense it through our own selves," Windu said. "The Force is vast, but often subtle or nuanced. Or obscured. The louder our own wants and fears are, the harder it is to hear the Force … and the easier it is to convince ourselves that our own reactions are the Force prompting us. This is why Jedi must strive for peace within ourselves, and self-knowledge. Great power and sensitivity to the Force will not prevent our own self-deception."

"Oh," Luke said.

"On a more prosaic note, overpowering emotions also prevent us from hearing and understanding others," Windu said. "So now that we are both a bit more centered, let us ask Obi-Wan for his side of the story."

He unfolded his legs and turned so that his back was against the wall. "So. Obi-Wan. Did you know that Anakin Skywalker fell to the Dark Side?"

"Of course he—"

Windu held up his hand. "He wasn't there."

Luke opened his mouth to object again, but Windu spoke over him.

"Things were very tumultuous, and there was no chance to meet afterwards and piece together what had happened. Our entire world was destroyed in the space of a few hours. I've no idea how he escaped. I've no idea what he suffered, what he did, to survive. Neither do you. And neither of us will learn, if we do not listen."

Luke pursed his lips together, but nodded. He took a deep breath and settled himself in a more comfortable position. Ben had sacrificed his life to help Luke and the others escape; he'd helped Luke take down the Death Star. Luke should at least listen to hear what he had to say.

Windu nodded. He turned to the wall where the table was. "So. Obi-Wan." He nodded as if he could see him.

Obi-Wan told his story: being shot down by his own men, meeting up with another Jedi Master named Yoda, slipping into the Temple and watching with horror as his apprentice whom he loved like a son bowed to a Sith Lord.

Luke could hear the pain in his voice. He could almost smell the charred flesh, like his last day on Tatooine, discovering the bodies of Uncle Own and Aunt Beru. He shook his head. That didn't justify lying. Not about something this big.

But the story didn't end there. Ben had gone to his mother—a Senator! A former queen!—and told her what had happened, then followed her as she went to confront his father. How his father had attacked her, hurt her, how Obi-Wan had intervened. How they had fought, and his father had lost.

"I know I should have … finished him," Obi-Wan said, voice broken with pain. "It was cruel to leave him to die that way, and if I had, Palpatine couldn't have found him and saved his life. But I couldn't. I knew that I should—I've killed Sith Lords before, I knew how dangerous they were, I knew that they can sometimes survive things you wouldn't believe possible. But I couldn't do it."

Luke tried to imagine it. Fighting someone he loved. Knowing someone he loved was capable of that much evil. If it had been Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru, or Biggs, or Leia, or Han—could he have killed someone he loved, even if they'd done that much evil? He didn't think so. He hoped he wouldn't—but was that even the right thing to hope for? How many people would have been saved if Obi-Wan had finished Anakin then and there? (How many people would have been saved if his father had listened to his mother, and turned away from the Dark Side?)

(How many would have been saved if his father had never fallen in the first place?)

If Luke had had to kill someone he loved, or tried and failed to kill them, how would he have lived with himself afterwards? Obi-Wan's reputation as a crazy old man—a ghost haunting the sands—made a horrible sense.

But it still didn't explain the lie.

"I went back to the ship—the droids had loaded Padmé aboard—and took her to a discreet medical facility Bail Organa knew of. But it was too late for Padmé. She died. The droids couldn't find anything wrong with her—they fixed what he did, it was a simple injury. The birth was … no worse than usual. I've always wondered: was there something wrong with the droids? Was it something an experienced healer would have caught? Did Anakin do something to her with the Force, something more than merely choking her? Or was it something Palpatine did, some sort of Sith magic—she would have been a threat to him, to his control of his apprentice, to his Empire, if she'd lived. Might a Jedi skilled in healing have been able to save her?"

"Those are all reasonable questions," Mace said, his voice warm. "But … Obi-Wan, you know how useless it is to dwell on things that can't be changed. To center your thoughts in the past, rather than in the present."

"I know, Mace." Luke couldn't see Obi-Wan, but he sounded exhausted. Weary, with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. "I've known that for eighteen years. But I was never able to make myself do it. Could you, if it were Depa?"

"Depa was my last apprentice, before the war," Mace told Luke. "I don't know. I hope I would have been able to. I'm sorry you were alone, that there was nobody to help you carry that burden."

"I didn't know anyone else had survived, besides Yoda," Obi-Wan said.

"More survived than you'd think," Mace said. "Jedi are very hard to kill. And there are a lot of people, across the galaxy, who didn't believe Palpatine's lies even at the very start."

This was all very interesting, and at any other time Luke would have been thrilled and fascinated to learn that other Jedi had survived. "You haven't said why you lied to me, Ben."

"It's what he told me, himself," Ben said. "I fought him, once, a decade after he fell. He said Anakin was dead, that he had killed him, that there was nothing left but Darth Vader."

Windu scoffed. "The Sith are masters of deception, including self-deception. He may have believed that; it doesn't make it true."

"Why would he say that, though?" Luke said. "It's obviously not true!"

"It can be true on a metaphorical level," Ben said.

Windu sighed. "He lies to himself about it because that is part of the way Sith manipulate themselves and their apprentices, to keep them tied to the Dark."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"When someone chooses the Dark Side, it is very difficult to turn back from it, and they will be forever changed by their experiences," Windu said. "They will always be plagued by it. But it is possible to turn back … and no Sith master would wish his apprentice to do so. There are several things they do to make it less likely. One is to demand, at the very beginning of the apprenticeship, a task so heinous that it severs every tie the apprentice has and causes them to hate themselves for doing it."

"But if they hate themselves, won't that make them more likely to change?" Luke asked.

"The opposite, I'm afraid," Windu said. "It means that they have a driving motivation to never question their allegiance to the Dark, or what was it all for? If they ever do try to come back to the Light, they must face the evil thing they have done. As long as they continue to choose the Dark Side, they can see it as justified or right or necessary, or simply expedient. In the Light, they can see clearly that it was none of those things. If they can't imagine forgiveness or redemption or even new life is possible … they have every reason to cling to the Dark.

"As for the name, that is similar," Windu went on. "Anakin was a person with friends, a community, a commitment to the Light Side of the Force and the Jedi Order. Anakin had people who cared about him, people who might have held him to account, people who might have walked with him along the path out of the darkness … if he hadn't killed them. Darth Vader has none of those things. If he is not Anakin Skywalker, then he has no connections to Anakin Skywalker's life, no connections other than those he has made through the Sith and the Dark Side. If he is not Anakin Skywalker, then the terrible things he did to Anakin Skywalker's people are no tragedy to him."

"Do you think it's possible for him to turn back to good?" Luke asked, startled. Could his father be saved? His mother had thought so, even after he'd attacked her.

"In the Force, all things are possible," Windu said. "But that is not the same as probable. And it is not a choice anyone can make but Anakin himself. He began his fall with one great evil act, and he has committed countless more ever since. He has tried to kill everyone who reached out a hand to him, to offer help returning to the Light. Including those who loved him, and whom he loved. He must choose his own path—and whether or not he can live with what he has done. You can't choose it for him."

Luke nodded. Leia would have said the same thing. Had said the same thing, about Han. Han had come back, had joined the Rebellion, but not because of anything Luke had said or done. Because he'd chosen to do the right thing.

***

As Luke lost himself in thought, his emotions kept roiling.

Mace hid a wince. He'd have to teach the young man to shield himself as soon as he could; how had Obi-Wan not taught Anakin Skywalker's son to shield? If anyone had found him, he would have been the most important pawn in the galaxy, with dire consequences for Luke himself and everyone else.

But with Luke distracted, there was time for Mace to ask the questions he most cared about, without interruption. He centered himself in the Force, and asked it if this was a safe conversation to have. He felt no danger, saw no shatterpoints other than the remnant of the one that had broken when he had first seen Obi-Wan's ghost and Luke. "You said that Yoda survived the initial few days after Palpatine's rise. Is he still alive?"

The ghost nodded. "Yes. He secluded himself on an uninhabited planet called Dagobah. It has a large swamp, and in that swamp is a cave with a vergence in the Force—a Dark one. From a distance—"

"From a distance, it would conceal all trace of him in the Force, even in visions," Mace said, nodding. "And there would be nothing to draw anyone to an uninhabited planet."

"And a swamp is the most comfortable habitat for him," Obi-Wan said. "At least in so far as a solitary retreat in the wilderness can be comfortable."

"I can see why he made that choice—he was always a very distinctive person, easily recognized—but secluding himself that way meant there was no chance of the Force leading him to me or to any other Jedi," Mace said. "It's a pity. We could have used him."

"Other Jedi?" Obi-Wan sounded startled, as surprised as a ghost could be.

"Nobody you know," Mace said. "Nobody who Palpatine or Anakin would have considered notable. A few who escaped when their battalions turned on them, or who were never involved directly in the war. A few Corps members. A few young Force-sensitives we've rescued from bad situations."

"Where are they?" Obi-Wan asked. "They're obviously not in your acting troupe."

"We have a hidden enclave," Mace said. And he wasn't about to say more than that without better security, even with the Force telling him they were safe for the moment. "But several of us travel around in various guises, looking for survivors, or for Force-sensitives in danger, or for … useful things. Sometimes we find information that would be useful to the Alliance, or to other groups that are working against the Empire, and I pass it along."

"An enclave," Obi-Wan said. "With other Jedi, and younglings to train in safety." He, of course, had no need to worry about security; only a trained Force-sensitive would be able to perceive his words.

"Training?" Luke said. He had all the eagerness of a young tooka. "Could I come? Obi-Wan's been doing his best, but … as a ghost, it's hard."

"You could," Mace said. "It would be a hard path; becoming a Jedi is no easy thing, and—" he shook his head. "Normally, this would be the point where I tell you all about the danger of becoming a Jedi, with the Empire seeking us out to kill us. But given who your father is, and that you're apparently using his name?"

Luke nodded.

"I can't see that training you would put you in any more danger than you're already in, just by existing," Mace said. "And learning to hear and use the Force would be a great ally in staying safe and out of Palpatine's clutches."

***

Much as Luke wanted to begin his training immediately, it simply wasn't possible. Mace had never brought a lover along on one of their tours, and Luke's cover as a theater-loving spacer wouldn't last through a two-second conversation with anyone who knew theater. Moreover, Luke had to see to it that the intelligence Mace had gathered reached the Alliance in a timely fashion.

"You could tell me the name of the planet and I could make my way there by myself," Luke pointed out.

Mace stared at him. "I am not saying the name out loud. Not even if we had a proper stealth generator running."

"If I can't hang out with you until the tour is over and you go to the enclave yourself, and you won't tell me the name of the planet, how am I supposed to get there?"

He was a very impatient young man, Mace noted. "I'm not sure you should go there. If your father doesn't know of your existence already, he soon will—and he will be searching for you in the Force. If he had a vision of you, and could make out any identifying marks of the enclave in that vision, he might be able to track it down. I can't put everyone else at risk."

"Perhaps he should go to Yoda, on Dagobah," Obi-Wan suggested.

"Yoda hasn't taken an apprentice in over a century," Mace pointed out. "And he has never trained an adult who did not grow up within the Temple." And his given the failures of the line of that last apprentice—three who had chosen the Darkness, two of whom became Sith—Mace wasn't sure he was the best choice for Luke.

"Over a century?" Luke said. "How old is he?"

"Somewhere around the 900 years," Mace said.

"He is one of the greatest Jedi to ever live," Obi-Wan said. "He has trained countless generations of Jedi."

"Oh," Luke said, voice filled with awe.

"All of which experience took place in the old Republic," Mace said. "Things are different, now." He considered what Luke might find interesting and relevant. "Your father was brought to the Jedi at the age of nine. We almost turned him away—did turn him away, at first—because he was too old."

"Too old? At age nine?" Luke was appalled.

Mace nodded. "There are advantages to training a child starting when they are a youngling. It ensures that they are part of our culture, and grow up understanding and living by the tenets of our religion, and minimizes the bad habits they will have to unlearn. People who had Force-sensitive children, but who were not themselves part of a Force-sensitive tradition, would often give their children to us." He shook his head. "It is not the only way Jedi have been trained, over the millennia, because our history is ancient. But it is the way Jedi have been trained for the last thousand years. It caused problems with your father—he was so very different from what we were used to. We expected him to adapt, and when he struggled in ways that someone who had come to the Temple younger would not have, we did not know how to help him—and some did not even try."

Mace spread his hands. "It is something I think about often; all of the people we are currently training are older than Anakin was, when he became a Jedi. And we don't have the resources or support that we did then. We have had to adapt. We have learned a great deal. Yoda has trained more Jedi than anyone else in the history of the Order, that we know of."

"But he's been all alone for the last eighteen years," Luke said. "He hasn't learned what you've learned." He sat back, looking thoughtful.

"What do you suggest?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Luke goes back to his base, arranges for leave, and goes to Dagobah."

"But you said—"

"I continue on with the troupe through this engagement," Mace said, "and possibly the next, and then once there's no obvious connection with Luke, I announce that I found another gig and will be taking leave of the company for a while. I join you. It will be … a gift beyond price, to see him again, and we can see what he needs, and what you need."

***

Once Luke had left to go back to his ship, Obi-Wan turned to Mace. "Why did you make such a fuss about Yoda, if you were just going to tell him to go to Dagobah anyway?"

"He idolizes the Jedi, doesn't he?" Mace said.

"I suppose so."

Mace nodded. It had always happened; even at the height of the Order's powers, they were a tiny percentage of the galaxy's population, and the vast majority of people would never see a Jedi in their entire lives. That, plus their abilities, and their role as peacekeepers and bringers of justice, led to a certain amount of myth-making. Their destruction had only heightened that tendency, among people who didn't believe Palpatine's lies. "He can't possibly learn to be a good Jedi himself until he unlearns that, and can see us clearly, both good and bad. We do not want blind obedience. We want a mature Jedi who can see clearly, and learn from the mistakes of the past."

Obi-Wan shifted. Mace narrowed his eyes. He knew that movement; it was guilt. "Unless you do want blind obedience. Why did you lie about his father? Guilt and grief and believing Sith lies can't be the only reason."

"He may idolize the Jedi now, but he's idolized his father all his life," Obi-Wan said. "At best, it will be a distraction. At worst … he will refuse to do what he must. And then we will have no hope left. No hope to save the galaxy; no hope to protect your enclave."

Mace considered this. The deception stank of the worst mistakes the Jedi had made, during the war and in the years leading up to it. Sacrificing ethics for expediency. But he couldn't see the reason for it. "What do you think he 'must' do?"

"Kill Vader," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin, if you prefer. As I should have done, and failed to do."

"Skywalker?" Mace shook his head. "What does that matter? Why would killing the apprentice save either the galaxy or the enclave?"

Obi-Wan's ghost frowned at him. "Vader is more powerful than Palpatine, and the one who has directly slaughtered both the Jedi and countless others. If the enclave is discovered, Palpatine will not come destroy it himself; he will send Vader."

"And if Skywalker is killed, Palpatine will simply replace him with a new apprentice and nothing will change," Mace pointed out. He rubbed his forehead. Obi-Wan had let his attachment to his former apprentice blind his reason. It was understandable, but Mace would have thought that eighteen years to think about it would have given him time to clear his mind. "What would happen if Palpatine were killed, and Vader were left alive?"

"Then Vader would rule in his stead, and take an apprentice, and there would still be two Sith plus whatever acolytes and inquisitors Vader chooses to train."

Mace shook his head. "What, in all the things you know about Anakin Skywalker, implies to you that he would be able to keep the Empire together and rule it?"

"He would kill anyone who tried to defy him," Obi-Wan said.

"No government, not even the Empire, can rest solely on fear of punishment," Mace said. "Particularly not fear of one man. It's true, he could and would slaughter anyone who displeased him, but consider: he can only be in one place at a time. Expanding his powers beyond what he, personally, can be present for requires people to cooperate with him when he is not present. The galaxy is large. Even as a Jedi, Anakin possessed little understanding of politics, and less patience for it. Palpatine rules because, regardless of his considerable skill with the Force, he is an excellent politician. He is very good at getting people to cooperate with him and do what he wants, because he understands what they want and how to manipulate them because of it. Anakin has no such skills. At least he had none when he was a Jedi. Do you think that eighteen years as a Sith will have taught him patience and understanding?"

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Hardly."

"It would devolve quickly into civil war," Mace said, "as other high Imperial officials grabbed for power and tried to either unseat him entirely or break away their own fiefdoms. This would be very hard on the galaxy, and would cause great suffering and death. But it would also provide an opportunity for worlds to free themselves from the Imperial yoke. Not ideal, but better than Imperial rule in the long run." He waited for Obi-Wan to nod.

"As for the enclave, Vader and any apprentice he took would be far too busy trying to maintain their power to come after us," Mace went on. "We'd be safer than we have been since he fell."

He thought about Obi-Wan's reactions, the things he had done since the fall of the Jedi. They had only just begun to scratch the surface of what had passed; there would be many hours of conversation, of meditation, before either would know what the other had lived well enough to understand or judge their decisions.

But it seemed to Mace that Obi-Wan had never considered the possibility that the Jedi might have a future, not just a past. He had thought a great deal about how to kill his old apprentice, but if he had put any at all into what would happen after, it had yet to come up. He certainly hadn't given Luke even the most rudimentary training that might prepare him to carry on the Jedi legacy. And given Luke's excitement at meeting Mace, that lack could not have been Luke's idea.

Had Obi-Wan been trapped, in his head, in those last, few, terrible days? Mace ached at the thought. He himself had spent … a long time, trapped in his own pain, both physical and emotional, and the grief within him was a deep well of sadness that would always be a part of him.

But Mace had, eventually, learned to live. He had crawled out of the hovel in Coruscant's lower levels where he had holed up. He had gathered together what few survivors he could find who had managed to escape the Temple, and they had gotten each other offworld. He had had to set aside his pain enough to function, or they would never have made it. And by the time they had reached a place the Force told them was safe to settle down, and made it habitable, and had time to properly grieve—the worst of it had been behind him.

Behind them. Because they'd had each other to lean on.

Obi-Wan had been alone.

"Why didn't you stay with Yoda?" Mace asked, quietly.

"I—" Obi-Wan broke off, as if he hadn't thought of it. "I had to take Luke to his family, and then watch, to make sure Vader didn't follow. To be there to defend them if he did."

"Were you hoping he would?" Mace asked. "Was that why you let him keep the name, and put him with Anakin's family?" It would be an excellent way to lure Vader in, so Obi-Wan could kill him as he had failed to the first time. But an awful risk for Luke and his family.

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't expect Vader would ever come to Tatooine. He always hated the place, and it has no value to the Empire."

"Did you stay with Luke's family?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Even if I had wanted to intrude, Owen held the Jedi responsible for what happened to Anakin, what he had become. He wanted to protect Luke."

The 'from me' went unspoken, but Mace heard it anyways.

"What did you do?"

"I retreated into the desert."

"Did you have anyone?"

"I was alone." There was a wealth of pain in those words.

"I'm so sorry," Mace said.

"I didn't have to be," Obi-Wan said. "I could have rented a room in Anchorhead or Mos Eisley. But I couldn't bear to be around people."

If Obi-Wan were still alive, and had a body, Mace would have asked if he could hold him, physical comfort for both of them. He would have asked if they could meditate together.

But Obi-Wan was dead, and all they could do was sit together in silence.

***

"Hey, kid, you're kinda quiet."

Luke looked up to Han, who was standing over him. Luke hadn't even noticed him and Chewie come into the crew lounge. "Huh? Oh. Yeah."

"Everything okay? Nothing happened? You weren't gone that long."

Chewie yowled that Luke could find trouble in no time at all.

"You said it, Chewie." Han spread his hands. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Luke hesitated. Besides the Alliance's own classification of the intelligence source, he'd been sworn to secrecy about Mace and the Jedi. He trusted Han, of course, but the fewer people who knew, the better. He realized there was one thing he could say.

"I met someone who knew my father," he said slowly.

"You're not looking like that's a good thing." Han slid into the chair across from Luke.

Luke heaved a sigh. "Depends on what you mean," Luke said. "I learned the truth."

"Which is …?" Han trailed off, inviting Luke to speak.

"He's still alive," Luke said.

"And you're sitting here looking like the world is ending, so I'm guessing it's not that easy."

"Ben lied to me," Luke said. "Anakin Skywalker wasn't killed by Darth Vader. He became Darth Vader."

Chewie yowled something Luke had no hope of understanding.

"The Emperor's enforcer?" Han said. "The guy who personally slaughtered three whole brigades on Rorlun IV? That guy?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "That's the guy."

Han swore. "And Ben didn't tell you that maybe you should change your last name, or at least not go around telling people your father was Anakin Skywalker? If Vader hears about you, I got no idea how he'll react but it can't be good."

"I know."

Chewie asked why Ben had lied to him, and Luke sighed. "I don't know. They were very close, and Ben's kind of messed up about the whole thing."

"He's dead, kid," Han pointed out. "Maybe he was messed up about it, but he's not anything, now."

"His ghost hangs around," Luke said. "Sometimes he talks to me."

"His ghost?" Han's voice dripped with disbelief. "I hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing as ghosts."

Chewie said there were enough weird things in the galaxy that he wasn't willing to deny the possibility of ghosts, especially not where Jedi were concerned.

"Chewie—" Han said.

Chewie reminded Han that it was rude to call someone crazy, especially a friend, and unless Han could prove ghosts didn't exist, he shouldn't give Luke a hard time about it.

Han waved a hand, but gave up on arguing with Chewie. "So. You're hearing voices."

"Just the one voice," Luke said. "And the more I practice meditating and other things he taught me, the more clearly I hear him."

Han made a face.

"Once I knew who my father really was, Obi-Wan talked about him, a bit," Luke said. "He killed my mother. He led the attack on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Obi-Wan fought him, and won—but couldn't bring himself to kill him. Just left him for dead."

"Was this … ghost … the one who told you your father was Darth Vader?"

Luke shook his head. "No. But please don't ask me who did, or tell anyone about it."

"Was it your contact?" Han asked. "Was that why they wanted you, specifically? How do you know they were telling the truth?"

"I could feel it in the Force," Luke said. "I didn't want to believe it, but as soon as they said it I knew it was true." He hunched over.

He could tell Han was skeptical, but didn't argue about it. "I'm sorry kid. "That must have been rough."

Luke nodded.

They sat there in silence for a bit. Luke couldn't think of a thing to say.

***

Draven's office felt strange.

It took Luke a moment to realize it wasn't because the office had changed, but because he had changed. Or, no, he hadn't; but the things he knew about himself, his family, and his past had changed. But Draven's office—the whole Alliance—was still the same.

"Here's the data, sir," Luke said, handing the chip over.

"Anything I need to know that's not on it?" Draven asked. "That won't compromise the identity of the agent?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "You know that my father was the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker?"

"I believe it's been mentioned a few times," Draven said dryly.

"It turns out he didn't die with the rest of the Jedi," Luke said. He closed his eyes. "He turned to the Dark Side, and hunted them instead." He didn't want to tell anybody, but if his father could have a vision of him and see what planet he was on, Draven needed to know. It was a security breach.

"He became an Inquisitor?" Draven's voice was carefully neutral.

"No." Luke took a breath, and let it out. "He became Darth Vader."

Draven was quiet for a while. Luke looked down at his hands. He didn't want to see the look on Draven's face, and he was glad he hadn't learned yet how to sense other peoples' emotions in the Force.

"Is that absolutely confirmed?"

"Yes."

"Shame we didn't know earlier," Draven said. "But it's too late to change your name at this point. Still, I can think of ways to use it."

"I'd rather it not become common knowledge," Luke said.

"Of course," Draven said. "Do you know whether he will be interested in a relationship with you, or capturing you, once he learns?"

"I have no idea." Luke sighed. "He killed my mother."

"So we can't count on any family feeling protecting you," Draven said. "Well, I wouldn't have imagined that was possible in any case."

"It's possible that he might be able to have a vision in the Force, that might give him enough identifying information to figure out where I am."

"That will be harder to deal with," Draven said. "Though—is there any way to send him a vision on purpose?"

Luke frowned. "I have no idea. Why?"

"So we can mislead him, or lure him into a trap," Draven said.

"I … don't know, I'll let you know if I find out," Luke said.

"Good." Draven nodded decisively. "Anything else?"

"I'm going to have to take some leave to—" Luke remembered he wasn't supposed to mention living Jedi just in time "—deal with … things." He finished lamely.

"We'll be sorry to miss you," Draven said. "You're a good pilot, and we need every fighter we can get. But it will make security easier, if Vader can indeed get details—any details at all—of wherever you are."

"Yeah," Luke said. "What's—how do I—I don't know who I need to talk to, about arranging for it?"

"Your squad leader," Draven said. "But don't tell them why, if you don't want rumors about your parentage floating around."

Luke nodded.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea," Luke said, helplessly. How long did it take to become a Jedi? Could he do it part time—a few months with Masters Yoda and Windu, then a few months of missions with the Alliance, then back to training? Surely Master Windu couldn't take too much time off from his travels with his company, if that was how he found Jedi and information.

"Then the question is, how will you find us again when you are ready to come back? We don't make ourselves easy to find, and you know how little communication we allow with outsiders."

Luke nodded again. "I know how to get ahold of Princess Leia, if I have to. And Han, as long as he sticks around." He was always threatening to leave, and Luke wasn't sure if he'd stay without Luke. Also, Master Windu regularly passed information to the Alliance. Even if Leia was out of contact for some reason, and Han had left, Master Windu could get him back in contact.

"Very well," Draven said. "Then may the Force be with you, Skywalker."

***

"If Vader can sense your presence and may be able to track you down, then surely the best place for you is to stay with the Alliance," Leia said, matter-of-factly. She'd taken the news of his parentage with a flinch, but had collected herself with the sort of iron control he'd admired her since the first barb she'd thrown at him when they met.

"I don't want to put you all in danger," Luke protested.

"Whoever you're around will be in danger, if Vader decides to come after you," Leia said. "Nobody else has a prayer of stopping him. The Alliance has a better shot at it than anyone else in the galaxy—and if we could kill Vader, that would be a huge boon for us."

"She's got a point, kid," Han said.

"I know," Luke said. "But I have things I have to do."

"I hope you're not planning to rush off and confront him," Leia said grimly. "At best he'll kill you. At worst … you don't want to know what he does to prisoners. Or what the Emperor does."

"I'm not," Luke said. "This is … something else."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "You've found a Jedi to train you, haven't you."

"How did you—" Luke broke off with a blush as he realized he'd just confirmed it to her. "You can't tell anyone," he said, eyeing them both.

"No, I fully understand," Leia said. "Any Jedi who has survived this long hasn't done it by being careless with their security. I won't betray you—or them. Neither will Captain Solo." She shot him a glare.

"Cross my heart, I won't even tell Chewie," Han said. "Want me to give you a lift?" Han asked. "If you're so determined to go."

Luke shook his head. "I'm supposed to go alone. I need a ship, I won't be able to book passage."

"I'll arrange for a shuttle," Leia said. "We have more of them, proportionally, than any other ship. But it may take a while for one to be free."

***

The moisture in the air rushed in to beat Mace in the face as soon as he opened the hatch, but he ignored it. The Dark vergence clouded his perceptions, but it was only a little worse than the state of the general galaxy.

It took a few seconds of scanning the swamp before he saw Yoda, sitting on a rock to the side of the ship.

Mace drew in a breath. Yoda had aged more than Mace would have expected. A great deal more. "My old friend, it is good to see you." His throat was choked with emotion.

"Yes," Yoda said.

Mace went to him, knelt before him, and embraced him. They clung together, and Mace reveled in the tangible feel of a dear friend he had believed dead. One tiny piece of the weight of his grief fell away.

They meditated together, there on the rock. Words could come later; intwining into the Force with a dear friend was a pleasure Yoda had been denied for eighteen years.

"Tell me about what I have missed, these two decades," Mace said when they raised themselves back to their bodies.

"Caught many frogs, have I," Yoda said. He shot Mace a sly look. "Thrilled, would I have been, eight hundred and fifty years ago, to see that my retirement would produce such bounty."

Mace laughed.

***

"Told me, Obi-Wan has, of your opinion of my teaching abilities," Yoda said later, over dinner.

"I mean no disrespect, or unkindness," Mace said. "You taught countless Jedi, and did it well."

Yoda waved this away. "Afraid of the truth, a Jedi should never be. Telling, or hearing, either. Failed, we did, all of us. Failed our students, failed the Republic, failed the Force. Old I am, and frail. Teach another … I do not know if I can."

Mace nodded. "You and Obi-Wan know more of him than I do," he said. "What is he like? What are his strengths and weaknesses? What strategies had you considered?"

They spent hours discussing Luke and the challenges of training an adult (barely) with no prior Jedi training. It was a relief; Mace was by far the most senior Jedi in the enclave, and conversations like this one, based on an equality of experience and mastery of the Force, were rare.

***

Mace sat outside the hut, and listened in on Yoda's act. It had been Yoda's idea, and not something Mace would have thought of, but it was interesting to hear Luke interact with someone he wasn't expecting to be important. It was very revealing.

Mace had been skeptical that the sort of games Yoda played with younglings in the creche would be effective with an adult, but he'd been wrong.

When Yoda stopped playing with the young man, Mace got up and went in. Luke did a double-take, breaking off his protests.

"Master Windu, you're already here?" he said. "Why didn't you say anything? Were you sitting out there laughing at me?"

"I wasn't mocking you," Mace said. "I was evaluating how you treated someone who is different and odd, and also, how long it took you to look past your own preconceptions."

"But it's not fair," Luke said. "I didn't know I was being tested!"

"In the real world, we rarely know when our words and actions will be important and when they will not," Mace said. "And we weren't trying to evaluate how you treat people you think are important. We were trying to evaluate how you treat people when they're not important."

Luke sagged. "Oh."

"Being a Jedi is not—or shouldn't be—about power," Mace said. "It's about following the will of the Force, and about having compassion for all. It's about being able to see past the surface of things to their true depth."

"Not trusting your eyes, because they can deceive you," Luke said.

Mace nodded. "Yes."

"That was … the Order's greatest failure, during the Clone Wars," Obi-Wan's ghost said. "We became too caught up in reacting to each catastrophe as it came, we did not have the time or attention to step back and see what the deeper problems were. We were too busy with the most obvious problems to see their roots, until it was far too late."

Mace and Yoda nodded soberly.

"And here I just did the same thing," Luke said, a wave of shame flowing through him. "Did you do that sort of thing often, in training Jedi?"

"Lie to them about my identity, I did not," Yoda said. "Could not. Every Jedi knew me from the moment they were first brought to the Temple for training. But play similar games with the younglings, I did, so that practice their manners they could, even when frustrating, the person they talked to was."

"And I just failed a game you played with children," Luke said bitterly.

"You are still very young, Luke," Mace said. "Still learning who you are as a person, still growing. And you are only just beginning your journey as a Jedi. Young people are often impatient, and prone to quick judgments they do not have the experience to realize are flawed. Even back in the Order's height, when all Jedi began their training as children, it was not uncommon for Padawans and new knights to have similar issues. Obi-Wan, for example, was not shy about showing his impatience with the bedraggled and unfortunate people his master regularly associated with."

Obi-Wan's ghost nodded ruefully, although Luke couldn't see him.

"The purpose of being a student is to learn," Mace said. "The purpose of being a Jedi apprentice is to learn about the Force, and about yourself, so that you can more clearly see how to use the Force—and when to let it use you. Don't be discouraged. It's hard work, but I think you will do well, as long as you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them."

Luke sighed, but nodded.

"Let us begin," Mace said.

[helloiamadrawer]

Kinger 👑 Tweaking CRACK HEADCANONS

triggers/warnings: drugs (weed in general nothing too hard) cigarettes, mainly kinger just trying to cope from all the shit going on in the digital circus DON'T DO DRUGS PEOPLE

A/N: THESE ARE ONLY CRACK HEADCANONS I LOVE KINGER TO DEATH ISTG (BUT NOT MORE THAN CAINE THOUGH)

First things first, where did he get the drugs from? well, it's easy Zooble's room but it's actually in her endless box of spare parts she puts on her and we know SOMETHING has to have a stash of hiding somewhere.

Caine would definitely waste his time doing this if he knew Zooble had drugs but shhhh..we'll pretend he's dumb for one day okay?

Kinger has been having rougher times at the digital circus more than usual, plus the lingering paranoia of abstracting like Kaufmo on top of that just makes it worse for his mental state. He just needs to find something new to do instead of Caine's insane adventures. So what does he do? Go to Zooble's room for advice.

"Well, I was going to give this to you at a later time if you were reallly going over the edge but you do not tell a single soul about this. Caine will throw us in the cellar for a year and a year goes very slow in the digital world." she threatened as she slides him a small bag of weed and some pieces of paper . Kinger blankly stares at the pouch and just says, "oh."

He shoves it in his robe pocket and heads back to his room. He lays it out on his bed and ponders about if he should do it now or tomorrow.

Next morning, he decides to try it after another treacherous adventure, tired, he takes a palm full of the chopped cannabis and rolls it up in the paper like a joint. Mans was really doing this but hey, beats anything but getting abstracted. In the middle of the night, he knocks on Zooble's door, she grumpily opens it and sees the chess piece holding out the joint to her as he asks, "Do you have a source of fire to light this?"

"Oh, i forgot about that, come on in, I gotta find a lighter anyway in my box so it may take a minute." she whispers until she closes the door behind Kinger. She pops out her normal arm and her claw arm holds it as she inserts it into the Zooble Box, searching for her lighter.

Should he really be doing this? I mean doing drugs never really existed to Kinger until Zooble came around, he was just collecting insects and hanging out in his pillowfort, but thats when the day Pomni came in and then Kaufmo got abstracted and after that day he feared of himself becoming like that so nothing really took his mind off it.

Maybe I should leave, I can try and find something else

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

Zooble's triumphant outburst made Kinger almost jump out of his robe. "AH! Zooble, you found the lighter, good.". She flicks the lighter switch and lights up Kinger's joint as a line of smoke puffs out from it.

"Now, you can't leave my room with that, Caine will find out what we're doing if he sees this, so take a hit..you'll know exactly how I deal with this bullsh$t around here a little bit more easier." Zooble states as she rolls up a joint and lights it for herself.

Kinger stares at the nowlit doobie and takes a puff from it...

PART 2 will be in effect for later and it's going to be angsty and it'll be my first angst piece of headcanons so it might take a while, see y'all soon!!

[happysaddca]

Defying Gravity sounds tinny coming from the substandard speakers of your phone, but it doesn't stop your eyes from tearing up as the pixelated blobs of Glinda and Elphaba share their goodbyes and Oz's men storm onto stage to take the women into custody. You sniffle, and the arm wrapped around you tightens with a mechanical whine.

"Are you okay?" Sun's rays brush against your hair before withdrawing, allowing him to press his faceplate against you in a pantomime of a kiss.

You fumble to pause the video, nodding quickly. "Yeah, sorry. It's just a lot, you know?"

"I think so. Elphaba's lost everything, hasn't she?" Sun's faceplate remains in your hair, even when you nod. "It's her lowest moment."

"And her highest." It doesn't sound complete. "I think... maybe the worst part is she loses Glinda here."

"Ah."

When Sun goes quiet like this, you're not sure what to think, listening to the mechanicals working instead. A fan kicks on shortly before you are pulled wholesale into his lap. "Sun?"

"Was just thinking together." You can't see his face like this. His nose presses a hard line against the top of your head. "If we lost each other... or you. What it would feel like."

"That's not going to happen." You are squeezed, but you manage to free your arms enough to squeeze back. "You won't lose Moon, and you're both stuck with me."

"Even when you graduate?"

"Especially when I graduate." The tears are back, if for a different reason now. "I'm not going to leave you both here with nobody to properly take care of you except the DJ."

There's a chuckle that's decidedly more Moon than Sun. "Will you steal us away?"

"Yes," you say without hesitation. "If I have to leave, I will take you with me. The DJ too if I can."

"He'll be hard to hide."

"We'll figure it out." You manage to wriggle in his arms to hug him tightly, his chassis warm from your body heat. "I love you."

"We love you too."

---*---*---*---

"You're gonna love this movie. It's based off the musical based off the book that's just fancy fanfiction of The Wizard of Oz." You're tired and you know you smell kind of like lemon and buttercream icing. It'd gotten in your hair and you're not sure you'd gotten it all out, even with Sunny's help. "Sun -- Nova and I would sing it all the time."

"Not Lune?" Sunny sounds amused, helping you set up the pillowfort in his room. You ignore him at first, choosing to crawl inside and check your phone's battery life.

"He would've preferred Beetlejuice if I'm honest." You have to hold yourself close so Sunny can join you in the fort. He's careful to avoid the cushions that make up the walls, withdrawing his rays with an audible click that makes you frown. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. The rays adjust and the one clicks again. He catches your stare and touches over the offending ray, adjusting it slightly. "A kid got scared and grabbed on. It just needs to be put back on the right track."

"Let me see." You ignore his hesitation, making grabby hands until he leans forward. The ray is loose, and it's easy to rock back into place. Sunny still makes a noise when it retracts from your grip with ease. "There. Better?"

"Better."

"Good." You settle against his side, pulling his arm over your shoulder as you open your phone. "Should still get it double checked later."

"Much later. This movie is nearly... three hours long? Are you sure you'll be up by the end?" Teasing you as you yawn. You're tempted to shove him right into the couch, but it'd take too long to rebuild the fort. So you just snuggle into him further, hitting play on the video.

It takes you a minute to realize when Idina Menzil and Kristin Chenowith are in the Emerald City, singing as the ancient wise ones. As actresses pretending to be the ancient wise ones. It's a note Menzil hits, the way that Chenowith speaks with the new Glinda. And the arm wrapped loosely over your shoulder, Sunny comfortable with you in his space, and this isn't the pillow fort in Ohio.

You blink back a tear and refocus on Elphaba and Glinda's journey into Oz's room, the massive mask, the... is that the life finds a way guy from Jurassic Park? His sleight of hand is so obvious, but you realize it's supposed to be. The audience knows he's a shame, but it's a distraction from the thoughts lingering in the back of your head.

And then Cynthia Erivo sings. "Something has changed within me--"

"Hey -- hey, are you okay?"

The phone's not in your hands anymore, held lightly in oversized yellow fingers with the accompanying stylus pressed lightly into the screen. Sunny's other hand is pressed against your cheek, pulling you up to face him. You can't really make out what he's looking at exactly. You blink hard instead, pulling away and rubbing at your eyes.

"I'm... I'm o... Oh." You have to rub harder, willing the tears to go away. But they won't stop; they just overwhelm in a way that's not happened since you first saw Sunny's face. You drop your head, hiding your face even if you can't muffle the soft, snotty sounds of your sobs without also losing the ability to breathe. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Sunny pulls you into his arms, and you have to duck your chin to avoid smearing his poor ruffle with your gross bodily fluids.

"I'm sorry," you whisper into his chest, the painted metal fogging under your breath."

"It's okay." He responds each time you apologize with same the quiet patience he gives a child who has scraped their knee. And it works, or maybe you're just worn out from work and from grief and from the chronic pan that's mirrored in the off-kilter spin in Sunny's fans. A spin that you've only noticed from listening to the Attendant's internal functions for years.

Your Attendant. Your Sun, Nova, and Moon -- Lune.

You sag in Sunny's arms, flinching when a finger brushes against your false eye. "Should we finish the movie?"

"We'd actually gotten to the end. Do Elphaba and Galinda ever see each other again?" When you lift your head, Sunny returns to cupping your cheek. His rays are partially retracted, and his concern is palpable. For you? No... no, he's used to this by now.

"They... they do." You smile as his touch softens on your face. "Yeah, they do. Do you want to hear the rest of the songs?"

The click-cluck of Sunny's fan answers for him, and you can't help but giggle. "Okay. Gimme the phone. I got some good animatics downloaded in one of those old folders."

You settle back into Sunny's side, taking a breath as you dig into your old email's drive. It takes a minute, but Sunny's arm returns across your shoulders. You rub at the scars under your false eye. Just a phantom itch. You can't actually feel anything there anymore.

[norbezjones]

Whumptober Day 3: Set Up For Failure (Romance The Backrooms)

Look, in case you couldn’t figure it out from June Of Doom & Whumptember, I like whump.  So I’ll be participating in @whumptober when I have the time/energy to.  I may use all of the day’s prompts, or I may use some of them.  We’ll see what happens.

Like usual, I will be doing these for the characters of my story Romance The Backrooms, a liminal space otome with 5 main love interests.  This is an original work, not fanfiction.

Enjoy!

(I also included the @fictober-event prompt today!)

Today’s Prompts: Set Up For Failure, “I warned you”, “I know you better”

Characters: Glarence & Adiel

Other Info: This is picking up right from where yesterday’s post left off.  Here’s a link to it if you missed it: Tumblr link, Pillowfort link.

_________

“Glarence, hold on!” Adiel exclaimed as they approached the exit of the amusement park.  “What if there’s another exit to the frontrooms here?  We can’t leave yet!”

“The only exit was the one attached to the weight game—and you blew it,” Glarence growled, turning to face Adiel with a glare.  “Come on, let’s get out of here and try to find a way to another level.”

“At least tell me who that entity was, who was at the game,” Adiel insisted.  “Clearly, they were someone important to you.”

“That’s none of your business,” Glarence snapped.

“Oh, you should tell him, Glarence,” a voice interrupted from behind them.  “Go on.  Why don’t you tell your story?”

Glarence & Adiel turned around to see that the creature was behind them.  Its screen was shattered, bit it was still alive.

“I warned you, Glarence,” the creature said, the moon on its cracked screen moving and revealing its sun.  “You can’t kill a memory.  In your mind, I will never die.”

“Shut up,” Glarence growled, clenching his fists.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” the creature continued with a victorious laugh.  “I always have, and I always will.�� You’re stubborn, and you’ll try to forget me.  But no matter what you do, I’ll always be there.”

“I said SHUT UP, Deimos!” Glarence shouted.

Adiel could see Glarence shaking a little.  He remembered Glarence’s fearful look earlier, and realized he’d never seen the other entity so scared before.  He took a deep breath, and went next to Glarence.  “If you want to hurt him, you’ll have to face both of us!” he exclaimed.

“Adiel, what the hell are you doing?” Glarence hissed.

“Standing with you,” Adiel replied.  He gave the other entity a reassuring smile and took his hand.  Then, he turned back to Deimos.  “Bring it on!” he exclaimed.

Deimos laughed.  “If you insist.”

It charged at the two, claws out.  Glarence jumped back, and Adiel stepped to the side, causing it to miss both of them.  Deimos stumbled, and Adiel used that opportunity to push him.  That caused Deimos to fall to the ground, where Glarence put one foot on his head.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Glarence growled.

“You can’t kill me, remember?” Deimos replied with a laugh.  “That’s a losing game.  You’re set up to fail, Glarence.  You can’t forget me even though you want to, yet you can’t live without me.  Isn’t that pathetic?”

Glarence gritted his teeth, his face filling with anger.  Then, with a loud cry, he stomped on Deimos’s head, shattering the screen to pieces.  He then kicked it repeatedly, until the light was completely gone.

Glarence took a few deep breaths, watching to see if the creature would try to stand up again.  But it was still.

Glarence let out a sigh of relief.  Then, he turned to Adiel.  “Thanks,” he muttered.  “You didn’t have to help me like that. . .”

“Hey, as long as we’re travelling together, I’m here for you, ok?” Adiel said, giving him a smile.  “No matter what.”

For the first time since he’d met him, Glarence smiled.  “Thank you,” he said.  “Now, come on.  Let’s find a way to another level.”

And so, the two walked together, in search of an exit.

[glassbirdfeather]

i have no idea, just rambling about the internet

with the advent of discord in the wake of social media websites collapsing, we're ALMOST back to forums. except worse. because it's private and people can't find a discord server unless they find an invite link through a different website. which makes it unlikely communties will grow and more likely they'll stagnate. and discord is still the one you're giving control to so they can do whatever they like.

like, discord is great for what it was intended to be used for, but it is now being used for things it should NOT be.

can't wait for the soulsmodding discord to just evaporate someday and a decade of knowledge to go with it without recourse. hopefully someone is backing that shit up but i don't know how useable a backup would be for learning.

...but, when discord inevitably self-destructs, perhaps people will learn? and then the cycle will repeat itself and we'll end up with the pressure that creates a centralized blogging website again in 20 years. (and then that site will ban porn because we never learn shit)

like, there is hope. after a bunch of sites kept killing the 'bad' fanfiction, ao3 was formed and it is very successful at what it does, so there's a proof of concept that websites that aren't profit driven and owned by corporations can be successful. but the difference in complexity (and server costs) between a social platform vs an archive which is mostly text is astronomical.

idk, pillowfort might have flopped as a tumblr replacement, mostly due to timing (maybe should have waited for about 5-10 years from now, when tumblr properly dies?) and ownership inexperience, but i think it demonstrates something else is feasible. but could that scale up to tumblr's size? would enough people be willing to pay for something they're used to getting free? it can't be a non-profit like ao3 because people need to be able to sell things on it, you can't just not have people promote their businesses on a social media site. but for profit shit at that scale always grows until it's unsustainable and kills itself. or destroys the stuff it's platforming.

maybe a worker-owned social media site? maybe an employee owned one? sure, fuck it, someone needs to set up the infrastructure for a co-op owned social blogging platform, then sit on it until tumblr is about to die.

no idea where this is going. something like tumblr will come back around eventually, i think a desire for a large-scale blogging platform is a part of internet and something will properly step forward to fill that void. not twitter or whatever, i mean an actual replacement that isn't an advertising vehicle sometimes featuring human connections. but will that next tumblr learn fuck all from this one

[ryuuka-balaen]

m a n .

tumblr sucks and it's not getting better and I would like to jump ship bc bro I don't wanna be here anymore but like there's nowhere else to GO.

yeah I can go make a neocities site to post all my funny little pictures and write my hobby essays on but nobody would look at that, and there wouldn't be any way for me to find new people that way at all. also I wouldn't get to look at memes anymore??? and while I definitely should reduce my tumblr use, like, I still want to have somewhere I can go to look at funnies once in a while but twitter and reddit aren't options anymore, tumblr accounts are getting nuked because of some rich manbaby's hurt feelings, and short of quitting social media entirely there's nowhere else to go. yes people have made other options like mastodon or pillowfort or w/e but do those have large, active userbases? can I find my friends there?? is it worth it.

also discord's enshittifying too and it's only a matter of time til that dies and THEN WHAT. back to the stone age of emailing people I guess.

I do know that it will inevitable get better and something will replace these things just like how tumblr replaced myspace and discord replaced skype but it doesn't have to be like this!! this doesn't have to happen!!!!

we will adapt and it'll be fine, just sucks that it is happening.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Another Night (it doesn't get easy)

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - Squidgeworld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Archive Warnings: N/A Relationships: Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller Additional Tags: Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator | Five Nights at Freddy's 6, Father-Son Relationship, Mild Gore, Angst, Electrocution, Canon Dialogue, Canon Compliant, Character Undeath, POV Second Person, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Bitterness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Introspection, Michael Afton-Centric, Horror Wordcount: 1438 Summary:

This is the first time in years that Michael Afton has been in the same room as his father. Or, the Pizzeria Sim Salvage Scene, but with far more emphasis on the messed up relationship between Michael and William.

You thought it would take longer.

There was always building tension before, night after night with death slamming itself against your doors or whispering in your ears. Maybe that’s the key. Death isn’t something you can be afraid of any longer. There is a gaping hole in your chest of rotted flesh and sharp steel that holds your bones together, and yet you are still here. You stand outside your father’s legacy, the one you rebuild now with your own two hands and the money you have scraped and stolen. It is raining. You are glad that, of all your senses, smell was the first to go.

Your father slumps in the alley behind the building. You said that you would come find him. You failed. It doesn’t matter. He has found you, whether he meant to or not. You wonder if he recognizes you. You don’t recognize you anymore.

You wait for him to move. Six AM is a long ways away. You’ve gotten good at this job. You learned how to clock out early. You want him to stand. You want him to look at you. Your father does neither of these things. He sits in his alley the way a corpse ought to.

If that’s the game he wants to play...

You drag your father’s body inside by the arm without care. The tattered face of his suit scrapes along the tiles in a rough hiss. You hobble along, unafraid of being caught by the other thing inside the restaurant. It’s as afraid of your father as you once were. You heard its frantic gibberish in your mind when it wore you. The creation cowers before the creator until it learns how fallible he is. Or until, like you, it has nothing more to lose. Those souls cling to life because they want it. You wish you’d had the choice.

The table has not been moved since last night. The process of sitting your father across from you is arduous and slow. The scraps of flesh melted into his suit aren’t the same color as your own, but the bones you can see underneath the sinew match the shade of your ribs. You count them sometimes at night, like sheep. It doesn’t help you sleep, but it’s something to do. Most of them are still there. You position him in his chair and limp to your own.

The last time you sat at the table with your father, your family was all still alive.

You have set the table with a cassette tape player and the scrap of paper you’re meant to record activity on. Your father is a puppet with his strings cut, his head lolled down against his chest, the harsh spotlight failing to banish the shadows that cling to him. Without looking down, you reach for the tape player. You slide your fingers over the four buttons until you land on play. The voice on the tape should feel like an intruder at this final mockery of family dinner. Instead, he is familiar. His words and tone are not kind, but you get the sense that he was, once. You think he was a man who used to smile a great deal and hasn’t had cause to in a very long time.

“Before you is an animatronic found in the back alley. We are unsure of its origins,” the man on the tape lies. “It is your job to complete the maintenance checklist before claiming it as salvage,” he continues, and you do not look down from your father as the tape hisses. He does not react. “Or, if you choose to, you can put it back in the alley where you found it and forfeit payment. Please make your choice now.” You wonder if he sounds kinder tonight than he did last time. Regardless, dead men cannot make choices. Your father is still here. You are still here. There is very little left to salvage.

You place your company-issued taser on the side of the table opposite the tape player. You want your father to see it. The man on the tape warns that you can only use it three times before the animatronic in front of you decreases in value. You see this as free rein to use it as many times as you want.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” You aren’t sure what the audio is meant to be. It reverberates painfully in your ears. Your father does not move. You scratch a check inside the no box.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” Again, the sound plays, maybe louder this time, maybe faster. You can’t really tell the difference. You wonder what would happen if you stopped the tape and spoke to him instead. You have so many things to say. It’s too bad your tongue fell out a while back. What a loss. How will you ever bond with your old man now. You scratch down another check in the box that says no and look up. He hasn’t moved.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” It could be breathing. Choppy, contorted breathing. You haven’t heard breathing in a long time, but you imagine nothing healthy chokes down air like the sounds on the tape. You glance down at your checklist and back up at your father. He stares back at you, the shadows obscuring whatever is left of his eyes behind the mask. You put your hand on your taser. The rest of him is still slumped, only his head turned up to get a good look at you.

It’s me, you think. It’s me, Michael, your son. The only one who survived you. Until I didn’t. You rub your fingers against the taser and check the box for no. You asked me to lead my sister out of Hell. They tore out my insides and walked my corpse out of that nightmare, all of them. They wanted to kill you, father. I’m glad they didn’t.

You look at where the springs have become a part of him, dug as deep as they are.

When I died, it didn’t hurt. I’m glad that you can’t say the same.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The painful sound rings between you again. You look down at your checklist and hear the creak of metal. When you look up again, he is sitting up, his mouth slack like a broken jaw, his body still angled slightly by the weight of his remaining arm. That is more like you expected when you brought him inside. Your father, the walking blasphemy, can see you now.

You lift your taser and administer a controlled shock.

The lights flicker, and his body convulses. His hand grabs the end of the table once, metal fingers leaving a dent before his arm seizes and goes limp at his side again. He plays dead once more. “Document results,” the man on the tape reminds you. You check no.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The longest of the audio prompts begins to play. You sit back in your chair. This one sounds nothing like the ones before. Distantly, music plays, discordant and familiar, like a place you can never go back to. If they were someone else’s memories, maybe the music would be clearer and the barely-there voice would be cheerfully robotic. These are your memories, though, and this stupid pizzeria’s foundations are sanctified with your family’s blood. “Document results.”

You look down at your checklist.

There is rattling, wheezing noise from across the table. It is a bag of nails being poured down a throat. It is the sharp end of a bone ripping through skin again. Your father’s head turns up, limp like his neck is the only part of him that obeys. With great effort, he begins to form one word.

“Mich-” You give him another controlled shock. He seizes, the word turning into a rasp of pain before he is silent again. You wait. He does not look at you again. You check the box for no.

“You have completed the maintenance checklist and may proceed with the salvage.” You stand, picking up the taser, the checklist, and the tape player. You will abandon your father at the table. Like the thing that you salvaged before him, he will wander off into the halls of the pizzeria and get lost. He will come after you tomorrow night. He was never one to let you get the last word. “Well done,” the man on the tape says. You imagine he sounds proud of you. “End tape.”

[stevensavage]

Yellow Sticky Notes And Operating Costs

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve's Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Once, many years ago (I think in the 2010s?) I interviewed at a video editing software company to be a Project Manager. When I asked what tools they used to track work, they pointed at a glass divider covered in sticky notes. That was it, that’s how they wrote video editing software which, as you may guess, is not exactly a simple process.

If you’re familiar with Agile methods, it may not seem entirely unusual. If you’re not familiar, then I’ll summarize all-too-simply: Agile is about breaking work into small, easy, tested chunks as you go through a larger list of work. It’s basically quick, evaluated development of software in order of importance.

So sticky notes were, in theory, all you needed for Agile, especially if the Product Owner (person with The Big List Of Stuff To Do) had their act together. I’m going to assume this company had one that did since, hey, sticky notes.

This experience stuck with me. Now, some 15+ years later, having used many project management tools, having seem many technical innovations, being friends with people in tech for decades, a lot of us seem to want the sticky notes back.

We’re beset by enormous choices of tools and the tools have choices. You can buy this software package or that and integrate them. All of them have their own workflow which you have to learn, but you can also customize your workflow so you can confuse yourself your own way. Plus you have to work with everyone else’s tools together in some half-baked integration.

But when all of that doesn’t work, does the tool fix it? Nope you get to! So soon you’re downloading a spreadsheet from one tool, to load into another tool, then you have to correct the issues. That’s if you can think like the people that designed the tools or the workflow, and those people weren’t you.

Past a certain point all our new helpful tools require so much learning and reconciliation, we might want to use sticky notes. And yes, I have met people who still use sticky notes in otherwise high-tech organizations.

I’ve begun to wonder if we’ve entered an era where we’re so awash in tools that the price of learning them, customizing them, and integrating them outweighs their value. This is amplified by the latest updates and changes from vendors, companies being bought out, or regulation and policy changes. There’s a lot of change and adaption that we have to put time into so we theoretically become efficient in the time left.

And that’s before there’s a software outage somewhere in the Rube Goldberg world of ours that brings it all to a halt. I’m looking at you, Crowdstrike, I still have trauma as I write this.

I’m finding a great test of good software is to ask how it would work if it wasn’t software. What if was, I don’t know - done by yellow sticky notes? What if the software wasn’t software but a human recorded, human run physical process. Would it still make sense?

This is something I noticed working with certain medical and research software. Some of it may have old-school looks, or be specialized, but it works (and has to or people get hurt). I once took a training course on medical software and it was both insanely complex because of medical processes, but in review everything I learned made perfect sense and I could see how it’d be done on yellow sticky notes. Even I, some IT nerd who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a patient could figure out how this all came together - and had decades before the software existed.

Sometimes it’s worth asking “what if we did this old school” to see what the software should do and how much cost there would be in changing everything or making it incoherent.

And, hey, maybe you’ll just go back to the sticky notes. Maybe you should.

Steven Savage

www.StevenSavage.com

www.InformoTron.com