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The red people
#angela carter#the magic toyshop#british literature#english literature#feminist literature#finn jowle#francie jowle#margaret jowle#my art
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Hondo Ohnaka’s Not-So-Big Score can be found in this book, which I did in fact purchase, however:
I am posting this here because access to the short story is so hard to come by. THIS IS NOT MY WORK. I did not write this. This is canon/legends material. Transcript by @queenevac. Thank you for allowing me to use it for this post!
Written by Jason Fry / Art by Chris Scalf / Featured in Star Wars Insider #144
It was a summer’s day on Florrum, which meant the plains were baking, the generators were overloaded, and the last place Hondo Ohnaka wanted to be was a messy office crowded with unwashed Weequay pirates. And on top of everything else, the holoprojector refused to work no matter how many times the pirate boss whacked it with his fist.
“Master, you’re hitting the off switch,” objected 4A-2R, attempting to squeeze between the leathery-skinned Finn Tegotash and Goru. Tegotash, annoyed, shoved the bug-eyed protocol droid into Goru, who threatened the hapless mechanical with immediate disassembly.
“Four-aye, as soon as you’re done provoking the gentlemen we’ll get down to business,” Hondo said.
One of Hondo’s blows connected with the activation switch, and the pirates hooted appreciatively at the glossy, needle-nosed liner that now hung in the air above his desk.
“Our target is the Salin Mariner, traveling from Lianna to Botajef,” Hondo said. “A C-One liner with eighteen passengers in first class, enjoying the finest hospitality that Salin Excursions has to offer.”
Hondo raised his goggles and grinned.
“Oh, the sights they’ll see along the fabulous Salin! The Fire Rapids of Mazuma! The Carpastor Comet Swarm! And at the end, a few lucky ones will visit the plains of Florrum and get an up-close look at a real working pirate base!”
Most of the pirates laughed and cheered ― only Hondo’s hasty warning kept Dagu Flask from firing a celebratory pistol shot into the light fixture. But a few of the Weequays looked confused.
“The trip to Florrum will come after we kidnap them from the ship and hold them for ransom,” Hondo said, more slowly this time.
Now everyone was cheering ― including the Kowakian monkey-lizard Pilf Mukmuk, cackling merrily from his usual perch on Hondo’s shoulder.
“Be a pleasure blowin’ a hole in that pretty boat,” the massive Goru grunted. “We’ll stop her dead then plunder her at our leisure!”
Hondo cut short the other cheers.
“Whoa now ― an operation like this requires subtlety and finesse. We shall select our guests through personal inspection during the cruise. Once we have them picked out, we’ll arrange a diversion, bring the Mariner to a halt, and be in and out before sector law enforcement can arrive.”
“But I wanted to blow a hole in ‘er,” grumbled Goru.
“Who’s gonna pick the lucky passengers, boss?” asked Tegotash.
“Ah,” Hondo said. “For that job we’ll need someone sophisticated and cultured, a refined traveler who can blend in with the upper-crust of galactic society.”
The Pirates looked baffled.
“Hey, I’m talking about myself of course,” Hondo said. “Behold Rondo Rosada, import-export magnate and art collector!”
“But boss, won’t you need back up to take the hostages?” asked Flask.
“Our associate at Salin Excursions has arranged for three slots aboard the Mariner. Turk and Piit will be joining me on the cruise.”
The pirates stared enviously at Turk Falso and Peg Leg Piit.
“Now that’s some high-class piratin’!” Sabo said, then began to guffaw. “Imagine ol’ Piit here decked out in the finery of a Sakiyan princess!”
Piit tossed her pigtail, offended. “I clean up jes’ fine. Unlike a grimy spice-goblin like yerself.”
Hondo whistled to cut short the resulting argument.
“Alas! There is only one opening in first class. Turk and Piit shall be posing as crew, and assisting me ― no doubt heroically― from belowdecks.”
“Belowdecks?” Turk wailed, jowl frills drooping.
“Belowdecks,” Hondo said. “Sanitation, to be specific.”
---
Hondo straightened the lines of his black velvet doublet, buffed his crystal monocle on his sleeve, then stepped onto the promenade deck of the Salin Mariner. Outside the transparisteel windows, the churning chaos of hyperspace swirled and seethed. But inside, a quartet from Far Dostany was playing a stately waltz, while liveried attendants hovered around the three tables, bringing cocktails and trays of dainties.
“Mr.Rosada?” asked a young human female wearing the ship’s livery. “Your tablemates are already awaiting you, sir. And can I get you something from the bar? Perhaps a Corellian Reserve?”
“Splendid,” Hondo said, blinking sleepily. Finding his well-appointed suit to his liking, he’d arranged for a pedicure ― the better to show off his gabberwool slippers― and then enjoyed a long afternoon nap between shimmersilk sheets. “In fact, my blossom, let’s make it a double! I’m celebrating!”
“A double it is,” the attendant said with a smile, pulling out a chair at the center table. “And here you are, sir.”
Hondo settled himself in his chair and beamed at his tablemates ― a blue-skinned, near-human young Wroonian female and a fat older male in a maroon overcoat; a balding, bearded and horned Gotal; a grumpy-looking Siniteen with beady eyes and a bald head that looked like an exposed brain; and a salmon-skinned Bivall wearing jeweled clasps on his swiveling eyestalks.
“A fine evening to you all, gentlebeings.” Hondo said. “I am Rondo Rosada, from ― GREAT MOTHER OF QUAY, I AM BEING DEVOURED!”
Hondo hopped away from the table, one slippered foot in his hand.
“Got your toes licked, did you?” asked the older Wroonian, chuckling. “Higgs and Twiggs were just saying hello. Come out, you naughty boys!”
He lifted the tablecloth and two long, green-furred heads appeared, purple tongues flicking at the air.
“Daddy loves his Kobarian swamp dogs almost as much as he loves me,” simpered the Wroonian female. “Higgsie and Twiggsie are show dogs ― a wedding present for me and my fiancé.”
“Worth a fortune,” her father said. “Part of my darling Pelf’s dowry. The marriage is arranged, of course ― we’re not commoners.”
Hondo sat down again, waving away the attendants’ hands smoothing his doublet, and tucked his slippered feet safely behind the legs of his chair. His brandy arrived, and over appetizers he met his tablemates. The Wroonians were Pelf Pachoola and her father Fume, on her way to Botajef for her nuptials. The Siniteen, Sibs Monchan, was an entrepreneur who designed HoloNet interfaces, while the Bivall was Usk Haffa, who proudly proclaimed himself the largest owner of commercial real estate on Protobranch. The Gotal, Dix Tarfait, grunted that he was a small businessman and resumed a truculent silence.
“And what do you do, Rosada?” asked Fume, making kissing noises as he fed giblets to Higgs and Twiggs.
“Oh, I dabble,” Hondo said, signally for another brandy. “Import-export, shipping and, ah, personal acquisitions. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pay for the occasional pampering like this.”
“Don’t work myself,” Fume muttered, brushing a speck off his long coat. “Grandfather’s fortune spared me the indignity. Find the idea demeaning.”
“Speak for yourself,” grumbled Monchan without looking up from his datapad. “My firm, Monchantics, cleared half a billion credits in net profit last fiscal quarter. Our initial public offering hits the Mileva Stock Exchange next month. All the product of hard work and vision.”
“I obviously haven’t worked enough,” Haffa said. “You may feel pampered, Mr. Rosada, but I am not impressed by our accommodations. The cabins are practically threadbare, the holos are last month’s, and while the bottles say Corellian Reserve, what they’re pouring is Vasarian.”
“I like Vasarian,” the Gotal grunted.
“Agree― this cruise is like camping,” Fume grunted. “At least we’re not losing the common touch.”
His tablemates chuckled and Hondo glowered at his brandy as attendants appeared with covered dishes. He decided not to assess the jellied gherks until informed of their deficiencies.
Hondo realized his napkin was still on the table and swept it into his lap. It seemed like there were far too many forks ― goodness, the table was covered with them― and he peered over at Pelf, waiting to see which utensil she picked up. But she was warbling at her father about floral arrangements, while Haffa and Monchan were arguing about Trade Federation excise taxes. Nobody was eating, or showing any signs of doing so. Hondo’s stomach rumbled.
Clearly this called for another brandy, whatever the quality.
---
The next morning, his cabin spinning, Hondo staggered into the refresher’s sanisteam, where he decided after some debate not to drown himself. He donned his green velvet doublet, searched half-heartedly for his missing monocle, and made his way tentatively to the Mariner’s Vista Walk, cringing at each shockingly loud greeting from various attendants.
Outside the view ports, hyperspace was bright and nauseating. He checked to see he was alone and extracted his combination comlink and locator. The device was top of the line, designed to send an encrypted signal to Goru and the trailer ships.
Goru answered at once, and at a deplorable volume.
“Louder― they might not have heard you on Coruscant,” Hondo said. “We’ll stop the ship tomorrow night― after dinner, of course. Are the mass mines ready for deployment?”
“Yeah boss,” Goru said, more quietly this time. “They’ll haul ‘er right out of hyperspace. But we’s having trouble finding suitable medic uniforms.”
Hondo sighed. “Uniforms? Why do you need uniforms? Once you’re aboard the ship you’re allowed to be pirates! Paint one of the attack shuttles in emergency-response colors and memorize the script I gave you. You remember, the one about the quarantine on Phindar. Goru? Are you listening?”
“We could just blow a hole in the ship,” Goru said plaintively.
Hondo sighed and leaned against the viewport, thinking he’d rest his eyes for a moment. Then something hit him in the chest, sending him staggering into the path of an exuberantly fleshed Ruebeqni matron who honked in alarm.
“HIGGSIE! BAD HIGGSIE!”
“Am-Shak’s mattock! What fresh hell is this?” yelped Hondo, as the Kobarian swamp dog leapt on him again, leash trailing uselessly. His comlink flew out of his hand and Higgs snatched it from the air as Hondo fell on his backside.
“Higgsie! Sit this instant!” commanded Pelf.
Higgs belched and obediently settled on his haunches, while Twiggs began to lick Hondo’s face with long swipes.
“Twiggsie! Sit!” Pelf said. “The boys are just glad to see you, Mr. Rosada! And so am I! You were so funny last night! You kept pinching my cheeks and saying I was precious!”
Hondo rose shakily, offering the comlink-devouring Higgs a murderous glance. “Well, so you are, my little blue dumpling.”
Pelf tittered and shook a finger at Hondo. “ You said you wanted to kidnap me and hold me for ransom! I don’t think my fiancé would like that very much, Mr.Rosada!”
“Ah,” Hondo said. “Heh. You shouldn’t listen to dinner-party chatter― it’ll go to your pretty cerulean head.”
“Over dessert you announced you adored the entire table and planned to kidnap us all!” Pelf said. “That was before you decided it was time to speak to the band.”
“Speak to the band?” Hondo asked.
“Oh yes! You announced that if you had to suffer through another dull minuet you’d seize the helm and fly us into the nearest sun. Then you threw a stack of credit chips at the band and ordered them to play nothing but scrak and smazzo. You never said you could dance, Mr.Rosada!”
“I have been known to cut a rug or two,” said Hondo, wandering over to give Higgs an experimental smack in the ribs.
“I’ll say! You put on quite a show ― well, at least until you catapulted Dame Malitikis into the dessert cart. But the surgeon says her shoulder will be good as new.”
Higgs, tired of being thumped, growled at Hondo.
Hondo arrived as lunch was ending, his thunderous headache reduced to a dull throb by a late-morning nap and a carafe of caf. The banquet hall fell silent as he walked in, and the quartet missed a cue. Then the chatter picked up again and the musicians pivoted into a sunny waltz. Glowering, Hondo stalked to his seat. The Pachoolas were arguing about invitations, while Higgs and Twiggs snored contentedly in the aisle.
“Ah, Mr. Rosada,” Monchan said with a smile Hondo found slightly mocking. “Usk and I were just discussing union troubles. We figured a cultured businessman such as yourself must have an interesting take on employee relations.”
Hondo decided two things right then and there: He wasn’t in the mood to be mocked, and he was doubling the ransom on Monchan and Haffa.
“Get yourself a gundark,” he growled. “You want an established matriarch― as in every culture, they’re the meanest. Take the trouble maker with the least talent and throw him in the hole with her while everyone else watches. After she’s torn off his arms, complaints will magically cease.”
“You’re speaking metaphorically of course,” said Dix Tarfait.
“Metaphors, bah― I am a man of action!” Hondo said, bringing one first down on the table and making the excess forks jump.
The surly Gotal smiled showing his flat yellow teeth.
“I distribute liquor and spirits ― my territory covers five sectors. A gundark would prove useful on sales calls.”
The female attendant appeared at Hondo’s side. “Mr.Rosada! What an eventful cruise you’ve had so far, sir!”
“Eventful? Heh! I’m just trying to keep things interesting,”
“We’ve arranged a surprise― a holographic exhibition of Saffa paintings over dessert. Now don’t be bashful, Mr. Rosada! You did say on your passenger questionnaire that you were an expert on Saffa paintings!”
A waiter tripped over one of the swamp dogs, sending a tureen flying.
Monchan stared at Hondo. “Saffa paintings? Really? You don’t seem the type, Mr. Rosada.”
“Oh, I hate to brag. Humility is a virtue― that’s what Mom taught me.”
“I’m sure.” Monchan said. He whispered something to Haffa, who smirked.
Three attendants guided in levitating terminals displaying shimmering paintings, all slashing lines and whorls and colors that made Hondo’s head hurt worse.
“Ooh, pretty,” Pelf said, peering at the paintings.
Hondo cursed whatever whim had brought Saffa paintings into his brain when confronted with the empty spaces of the questionnaire. But then the talk of art reminded him of an annoying Nouane philosopher Sabo had grabbed off a passing liner.
“Swamp dog got your tongue, Mr. Rosada?” asked Monchan. “Please enlighten us about what we’re looking at.”
Sabo had looked stunned when Hondo explained that fancy talk didn’t mean a being had two credits to rub together, while the philosopher’s babbling had proved so annoying that he really had wound up in a gundark hole. But what had been his name? Hondo couldn’t remember.
“Mr. Rosada?” Monchan inquired. “I asked if you recognized the period of this Saffa painting.”
Hondo decided to triple the ransom on Monchan.
“Your question, Mr. Monchan, reveals the difference between looking at art and understanding it,” Hondo harrumphed. “What period is this? What medium is that? These annoying little facts are not knowledge, or wisdom! They are just noise! Which is the opposite of appreciation! Pelf, look at this painting here. Tell me what you see, my delectable azure cupcake.”
“Um, it’s red? Red and green and squiggly! Is it a deek-pa-neek out for a swim?”
“Ha― there you have it, Monchan,” Hondo said. “A what-she-said out for a swim. That is artistic sensitivity ― not your scavenger hunt for facts. You asked me to explain Saffa paintings and I cannot ― for no one can! But I’m afraid Saffa paintings have done an excellent job of explaining you.”
Monchan blinked at Hondo, who folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling.
Then Pelf began to shriek, arm extended, mouth a horrified O.
“Who is that?” she squeaked, pointing at a woman on the other side of the room in an elaborate orange dress that reminded Hondo of a carnivorous night-flower from Forlonis Minor.
“Why Miss Pachoola, that’s the Mariner’s apprentice pastry chef,” the attendant said. “She’s just bringing in the new dessert cart.”
“DADDY!” wailed Pelf. “HER DRESS! IT’S THE SAME DRESS AS THE BRIDESMAIDS’!”
The sleeve of Fume’s maroon coat was instantly wet with tears. He whispered something consoling to his daughter.
“NO, IT WILL NOT BE ALL RIGHT! A PASTRY CHEF ON A THIRD-RATE LINER IS WEARING THE SAME DRESS AS MY BRIDESMAIDS!”
“Apprentice pastry chef,” Hondo said helpfully, signaling for a brandy.
“MAKE IT STOP, DADDY! MAKE HER GO AWAY FOREVER!”
Higgs and Twiggs roused themselves and began to howl. Hondo plugged that ear with a finger and leaned across the table to Dix Tarfait. “Liquor distributor, eh?”
---
With Pelf still in distress, Hondo volunteered to take Higgs and Twiggs for their afternoon constitutional around the Vista Walk. The swamp dogs alternated snuffling at things and leaping on Hondo, who fended them off with Huttese impreciations while waiting for the steward to arrive.
Hondo decided not to kidnap Pelf― the thought of her shrieking in a cell on Florrum made his head pound all over again. But Tarfait would make a fine substitute. A liquor distributor, a Wroonian aristocrat, a HoloNet magnate and a real-estate mogul― yes, those four would do nicely. Now if only the idiot steward would shake a leg and ―
“Mr. Rosada?” asked a young, goggled-eyed human in Mariner livery. “I heard your animal companion needs an emetic?”
“Urgently,” Hondo said, taking the vial and slipping the steward a credit. “Always eating things he shouldn’t! Higgs, you rascal― didn’t I tell you your tummy would get you into trouble?”
He wasn’t sure how one convinced a Kobarian swamp dog to take medicine, but the two beasts spotted the vial and started to yip eagerly. Hondo tried to remember which was Higgs and which was Twiggs, then threw up his hands.
“What am I, a veterinarian?” he asked, uncapping the vial and emptying it on the floor.
Higgs and Twiggs lapped up the emetic, then wagged their tails and licked their chops. Nothing happened for a minute or so, but then the two swamp dogs stopped swishing their tails, looking more puzzled than usual. A moment later, Hondo had retreated to the end of the leashes, eyes squeezed shut, while the other passengers were fleeing the Vista Walk as if a gang of Merson slavers had just smashed through the viewports.
Hondo opened one watering eye wide enough to spot his gleaming comlink in the mess regurgitated by Higgs and Twiggs, who hung their heads apologetically. He took a step forward, one hand fumbling in front of him, then began to gag.
“What do those people feed you?” Hondo gasped. “Mynock knuckles marinated in speeder lubricant?”
That was it: Fume and his valuable swamp dogs were staying behind too. Higgs and Twiggs digestive fluids might render half of Florrum uninhabitable.
Hondo spotted the horrified-looking steward on the other side of the Vista Walk, plotting his getaway.
“Don’t stand there like a stunned nerf!” he yelled, snapping his fingers. “Call Sanitation!”
“Did you hear that?” demanded Tarfait. “We’ve come out of hyperspace.”
“I’m sure it’s routine,” Hondo said with a yawn.
He was almost sorry that his time with his tablemates was ending. He’d spent the third day not fretting about forks, not allowing Pelf’s meltdowns to jangle his nerves, nor dissecting Monchan’s questions for concealed insults. Instead, he’d strolled the Vista Walk and napped and told Porla the Hutt stories and dined and had many refills of Vasarian, which he decided he liked just fine.
And now it was all ending, he thought, checking his cronometer.
Hmm. In fact, it should have started ending already.
Hondo excused himself and ducked into the refresher, where a doleful attendant in Mariner livery was stationed by the sink.
“Is the very concept of privacy extinct?” Hondo demanded. “Shoo!”
“It’s my job,” the attendant objected.
“Behold the miracle of opposable thumbs! That means I can wash my own hands and get my own Cardellian mint!”
A flung credit chip hastened the attendant’s departure and Hondo extracted his comlink― which still bore a disagreeable whiff of swamp dog stomach.
“Goru? What’s taking so long?”
“Mines fired as planned, boss,” Goru said. “But the captain ain’t allowin’ us on board. Think he don’t believe us.”
“If there’s one thing I dislike it’s a skeptic. Did you follow the script?”
“Well … some pages got lost, so me an’ Gwarm improvised.”
“What have I told you about improvising?”
Goru sounded alarmed. “Boss! Sector forces are inbound!”
Hondo sighed. “I’ll take the captives out in an escape pod.”
“But the diversion― “
“Oh, just blow a hole in the ship.”
---
When the Mariner shuddered, Hondo was ready.
“That was a missile impact or I’m a bantha cub,” he said, fishing his brandy. “Everyone follow me. Quickly and quietly― let’s not cause a panic.”
Tarfait was on his feet. Pelf gasped and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Monchan and Haffa exchanged a worried look.
“Nothing to fear, gentles― everyone remain calm while I investigate,” He told the rest of the first-class passengers, then lowered his voice. “Make for the escape pods in the starboard companionway.”
To Hondo’s annoyance, Pelf clamped herself on to his arm, eyes wide with terror. Sensing her distress, Higgs and Twiggs began howling.
Hondo thumbed open the escape pod hatch. In the distance, he heard shouting and footsteps.
“Mr. Tarfait, follow me to freedom!” He said, seizing the startled Gotal and flinging him into the pod. “Monchan! Haffa! Make haste!”
“Eject into a combat zone?” Monchan asked. “Are you mad? I’m heading for the safe room at Junction Besh.”
“As am I,” Haffa said.
“No time to argue!” Hondo said.
“Agreed,” Monchan said. “So long, Rosada.”
“You’re right― take Miss Pachoola with you,” Hondo said.
“That screeching lunatic?” Monchan said over his shoulder. “She’s your problem.”
“I want off this ship!” Pelf wailed. “Women and children first!”
“Pelf my sapphire treasure― “ Hondo began, but Pelf had already scrambled into the pod.
Higgs and Twiggs began to bark. Turning, Hondo spotted Turk and Piit hustling down the passageway, pistols raised. Before Hondo could call out to them, they dodged around Monchan and Haffa.
“No! Stop those two!” Hondo yelled.
“No time, boss!” Turk yelled. “The captain’s handed out weapons! And Sector Patrol just came out of hyperspace. Run for it!”
Turk and Piit pushed passed him into the now crowded pod. Scowling, Hondo followed them. Fume, eyes wild, remained in the corridor with Higgs and Twiggs.
“Pelf!” Hondo yelled. “Stay with your father!”
“NO! DADDY! DON’T LEAVE ME!”
“Let me out!” complained Tarfait.
“Turk!” Hondo yelled. “Hit eject!”
A frantic Fume shoved his way into the pod. Hondo tried to push him back out into the corridor, only to be knocked flat by Higgs and Twiggs, who pinned him down and began to lick his face.
“Turk, hit eject,” Hondo said with a sigh, activating his comlink.
The pod rocketed away from the Salin Mariner, then began to tumble.
“We made it!” Pelf screeched. “I hope Higgsie and Twiggsie don’t get space-sick!”
“Oh no,” Hondo said.
---
Hondo and Turk watched as the freighter disappeared into the sky above Florrum. The captain who’d delivered the Vasarian brandy had protested mightily when ordered to tak Fume, Pelf and two swamp dogs in addition to Tarfait, but an impressive number of guns aimed in his direction had halted his complaints.
“How many credits did we pay and how much time did we waste in exchange for eight cases of grog?” asked Turk disgustedly.
“Bah― math is for schoolboys and accountants, not dashing pirates like us,” Hondo said.
“The girl’s fiancé said we could keep her. The old man said he’d rather die here than pay us. The swamp dogs ate ten kilos a day. And the Gotal lied about having money.”
“Hey he was rich enough to fetch eight cases of grog,” Hondo said. ���Plus Mr. Pachoola was persuaded to leave behind this excellent overcoat.”
“I forgot about yer fancy garment,” Turk snorted. “Guess that makes this a triumph, then.”
“The difference between you and me, Turk, is that I am a boundless optimist,” Hondo said. “ Today, Florrum― and this coat, and this grog. Tomorrow, the stars!”
“Yer an optimist because yeh didn’t have to work Sanitation. Or clean up swamp-dog sick.”
“Try not to live in the past, Turk,” Hondo said. “It’s bad for your disposition.”
#Hondo Ohnaka#Hondo Ohnaka's Not-so-big-score#Star Wars#Star Wars insider#short stories#Weequay#Pirates#Star Wars Legends#Fiction Collection#Clone Wars#Tcw
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FALLOUT - Chapter 5
Chapters Posted: 5 of 18
Rating: T+
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/blood/gore/hurt/comfort
Characters/Pairings: Poe Dameron/Finn, Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, Leia Organa, BB-8, OCs.
Summary: Still reeling in the aftermath of Crait, Poe Dameron and Finn are sent to a secret Resistance base tucked away on Lothal to serve as acting generals. Their numbers dwindled to barely a handful, and with General Organa’s order grounding all surviving Resistance personnel to heal and regroup, morale is at an all time low. Poe grapples with his inability to sit still; the First Order looms, an ever-encroaching threat to what remains of the Outer Rim’s free space; intimate feelings grow impossible to ignore and a shocking return promises devastating consequences not only for those stationed on Lothal, but for the Resistance and galaxy at large.
A/N: An AU adventure, a side-quest of sorts, to account for some of the time between TLJ and ROS. Stormpilot centric. Canon up until the end of TLJ (but does not take into account Resistance Reborn or the Finn/Rose arc).
Thank you to all who have taken the time to read/like/reblog! I so appreciate your time.
Masterlist
CHAPTER 5
The five of them stood in silence that stretched to a void, unable to detach their eyes from Sim Kaspen’s body. They crowded the mouth
of the little galley, blocking it from view of any passersby intrigued by the commotion. Karé and Iolo huddled together, dazed. Finn’s hands shook as they hung at his sides—a sudden stab of longing hit Poe as he watched them tremble—a longing to hold them until they stopped. Next to him was Vrees, usually so stoic and unperturbed, deep, worried lines creasing his brow.
Poe had to shake himself into action. “Lock it down, Beebee-Ate.”
His droid trilled one sharp acquiescence then sped off to incident command. Shortly after came a dull thunk. The lights dimmed, then blinked back to full brightness. A mechanized voice came over the base-wide communication system, “Emergency lockdown sequence initiated. T-minus ten minutes. Shelter in place.”
Dr. Rand and several medics guiding a hover stretcher finally rounded the corner.
“General Dameron…” The doc raked a hand through his mane, brows drawn together in a deep frown.
“What is it?”
“The mayor is calling in.”
Poe’s heart thumped in his throat. This was the last thing they needed, for the mayor to come poking his nose around while they were trying to contain a new crisis.
Leaving Finn in control of the scene, Poe made his way back to incident command.
A grainy, flitting holo popped up, the big-jowled face quivering with rage.
“Mayor Greer, how can I—“
“You listen to me!” He spat each word. “One of your people is prowling the streets with a weapon. Either you get out here and take care of it, or we will be forced to take matters into our own hands.”
The holo snapped out. Poe stood rooted to the spot, mind ablaze trying to fit all the events of the last few days into a picture that made sense. The crash, the murdered local—now one of their own… Something was seriously wrong here, but no matter how he looked at it, none of the pieces fit.
“Poe?” He turned to find Finn standing in the doorway. He looked as uneasy as Poe felt. Poe leaned forward, splaying his hands flat on the empty holo-projector.
“One of our own is out there. Armed. Whatever they’re chasing, it can’t be good.”
* * *
The search team Poe put together predictably included Finn, Vrees, Karé, Iolo and BB-8. The lockdown sequence had to be broken for them to enter town, but the rest of the base had strict instructions to continue to shelter in place while they searched the city. Dr. Rand and his assistants took custody of Sim Kaspen’s body, and maintenance droids were working quickly to clean the gruesome scene to keep some of the alarm quelled. Word travels fast on base, however, and a palpable anxiety permeated the now eerily silent corridors. But, priorities had to be drawn up. First, they had to get to whoever was out there by themselves, before they tried facing off with whoever (or whatever) they were chasing alone.
Freed from its lockdown command by BB-8, the door leading to the square slid open. They stepped out into the market and Poe’s heart sank.
It was bursting at the seams with travelers, Kothalites, vendors. No sun peered through the clouds today, which hung low, gray and heavy, pressing down onto the masses of beings milling about the stalls. They fanned out, shouldering their way through market patrons. BB-8 at Poe’s heels, they took the center, around the fountain—Vrees and Finn to his left; Karé and Iolo to his right.
No one stood out, at first. Poe thought he caught a glimpse of Kemi, braids swishing at her shoulder blades, and she disappeared into the crowd without noticing him.
Then, a few paces before the alley dead ahead, the flash of red—a Resistance shoulder patch. Finn had already seen it and was plowing forward through the crowd. Poe pushed his way after him, BB-8 chirping away anxiously.
“I see them, buddy.”
Finn and Poe convened in the middle of the square.
“Did you get a look at who it was?” Finn asked. The soldier had reached the mouth of the alley ahead.
“Hey!” Poe called. A rush of relief flooded him as the familiar figure stopped. “What are you doing out here?”
Torin Baz turned to face them, jacket falling open to reveal a poorly concealed blaster, and a shirt splattered with blood. Poe stepped forward on instinct, but Finn threw an arm across his chest, stopping him.
The raw vulnerability that had hung like a shadow over Torin’s face, the haunted, frightened look that never faded after the crash, melted away before their eyes, taking with it any trace of the good-natured, Tanaab farm boy Poe once knew. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes picked up the edges of his mouth.
“Please tell me it’s not true, Torin,” Poe heard himself say. His brain lagged, reeling, as the full realization took hold. Torin just shook his head, features suspended in the dissonant smile.
Then, he pulled his blaster and fired.
The blue flare smacked into a building on the square, missing any beings by a longshot—but it was clear the intent wasn’t to hit anyone. The echo alone warped the low bustle of the market into panicked screams.
Torin took off running, away from the square. Poe tore after him, Finn right behind him, and Iolo, Karé and Vrees split off parallel—to hopefully corner Torin if he came out on the other side of town.
BB-8 picked up chase too and squawked excitedly at him whenever Torin would telegraph his next direction, movement too subtle for anything but an astromech to detect.
Torin was a star student during his time in training for the New Republic Navy. The peak of physical and mental fitness, he was sharp, smart and loyal. Something had gone seriously wrong. If the First Order had gotten into his head… The mere thought of them corrupting someone as steadfast and staunch as Torin, tugged the dark shadow of self-doubt over Poe again. Torin was still in perfect shape, maintaining a continuous lead of several paces as they pounded after him.
On the fringes of town, Torin shoved his way through a group of Aqualish women chatting around a doorstep, sending them sprawling. Poe and Finn darted through the cleared path, still behind a few paces. Poe spared a look to his left, and flashes of orange and white told him Karé’s group was still maintaining chase.
Trees jutted up around them—the forest—and they crashed through a clearing after Torin.
He was gone.
Poe skidded to a halt, whirling around in a circle, scanning the treeline. Karé, Iolo and Vrees burst through to them in quick succession.
Finn grabbed his arm, and when Poe turned to look at him, his eyes were closed. Finn’s hand came up, in a detached, almost robotic motion, and he pointed in the direction they had just come. “That way.”
Poe followed Finn’s hand to a gap in the trees—there. A flash of blond hair. The brown jacket. Back toward town. Back toward the packed market.
The crowd had only thinned slightly from the blaster fire, but a bated hush had fallen over the square. Vendors and patrons milled about cautiously, eyes darting about for further threats. Poe caught sight of Kemi again, who noticed him this time, shock flitting across her features as her eyes bounced between the blasters they all held.
Torin had eclipsed them again.
Iolo grabbed the hair at his temples in frustration. Vrees bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in heaving breaths.
“We have to warn the others,” Karé panted.
A strange realization suddenly hit Poe. The circling pattern… Almost as if Torin was trying to lead them back to base.
Finally, down the alleyway to his right, Poe saw him again. He launched forward to follow when a bone-shattering force snatched away his balance and slammed him to the ground.
#poe dameron#stormpilot#finnpoe#finn x poe#stormpilot fic#poe dameron fic#poe dameron fanfiction#poe dameron x finn#sw fanfic#fn 2187#the last jedi#leia organa#kare kun#iolo arana#star wars#writing#fanfic#star wars fic#sw sequels#star wars sequel trilogy#light angst#hurt/comfort#au fic#poe dameron angst#poe dameron au#original character
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𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒
reaching his middle-age, chris is conventionally attractive, though nothing special. when looking at him, the most noticeable feature he has would be his size - often compared to that of a bodybuilder, though it is more appropriate to compare him to a strongman. the more ‘bodybuilder’ like appearance he had from 2006-2009 was a result of his unhealthy coping mechanisms in regards to jill’s ‘death’ - becoming obsessive in his workout routine along with the constant working, lack of sleep or decent meals and frequent dehydration along with his height ( just above average at 6′1 ). after the edonia incident, he lost a lot of weight - but is now at a more healthy and manageable weight.
facially, chris has a strong set features; a strong jawline with noticeable jowls, his nose slightly crooked of an average size, but with wide nostrils, thin lips, thick deep set brows, large forward-facing ears, narrow eyes that match the blue of claire’s though seem to have some form of heterochromia as the edge of his iris is a shade of brown , along with deep dark bags beneath his eyes and lines of age, and he often sports at least stubble, but more recently a trimmed beard. his skin tone is often quite tanned, and during the summer suffers from tanlines of his uniform as well as freckles on his shoulders and back ( a redfield trait, though claire’s are mostly on her face compared to his). in general, chris is incredibly hairy - having thick, dark brown hair, the hair on his head having noticeable and many greys spreading from his temples and his fringe, that thread through both his eyebrows and beard. he sports a lot of body hair too, adding to this; thick hair on his arms, lots of leg hair, and most noticeably thick chest and pubic hair that too carries its own strands of grey hair, however is far less noticeable - generally, he doesn’t shave body hair due to a lack of interest in doing so and a lack of time for unnecessary work on his appearance.
contrary to popular belief though, he’s very on-top of personal hygiene when possible ( times when he can’t be, for example, are on missions ), but he takes little consideration into his appearance unless it is absolutely necessary - he shaves when prompted to, but otherwise his routine only consists of showering and cleaning himself, brushing his teeth, filing his nails and trimming his hair ( although he often gets someone else to do this for him, because it’s difficult to reach the back of his head properly ).
after a lifetime of military service and bioterror incidents, chris’ skin is covered in scars - most of them are worn, faded with age, and there’s too many to count (it’s all part of the job, after all, and he’s constantly in danger and sustaining severe injuries, often unable to receive medical attention until the mission is done as it’s only him and his partner). most are from shrapnel (rocks, bricks, glass - the environmental hazards of doing what he does, he’s often falling through things, into things, against things, along with various things exploding around him), though he has several from burns and the occasional scar from weaponry. his hands are rife with scars - his knuckles most of all, due to the fact he uses his fists so often, otherwise, they are mostly on his arms given that he rarely wears sleeves and so his arms are easily cut, scraped, bruised and damaged. there’s a few on his back, his legs from various broken bones and his chest, but these are difficult to see as they’re often covered by clothing and/or body hair. the most noticeable however are on his face, given that it’s where people look when they talk to him (or at least, should be). this includes the scar on his cheek from the shot jake fired in the underwater facility, as well as the back of his skull from when the napad finn assaulted him - cracking his skull open in several places leading to the need for surgery. this resulted in a large scar that starts behind his ear and up his skull.
the most noticeable scars are as follows:
head/skull: near-miss scar from jake’s bullet on right cheek, craniotomy scar, minor scars from skull going through glass by arias
arms: minor burn scars from encounters with alexia and w/esker, electrical burns from proximity to mutated piers in water, as well as many explosions and debris and embers from the volcano
back: friction burn from being dragged by the motorcycle majini, small shrapnel scars from being thrown into glass by w/esker several times
torso: spinal scarring from repeated injuries
legs: scarring on knees from repeated injuries as well as scarring down the middle of the knees from implants
other than that, notable features of his appearance are that he tends towards neutral but earthy colours ( browns, greys, beiges, greens ).
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒
depression and ptsd diagnosed in 1998 after the arklay mansion and raccoon city Incident.
alcohol/substance abuse diagnosed in 2008, rehabilitation and treatment refused.
ptsd and anxiety diagnosed in 2013 after the edonian incident.
no medical record has been found for the period of december 2012 - june 2013. examination indicates craniotomy has been preformed. possible risk for developing post-traumatic epilepsy.
suffers from photophobia, the beginnings of ataxia, notably issues with balance, difficultly with understanding vocal and facial cues, impairment with articulation and a tremor in both hands ( compensates his degrading marksman abilities by preferring hand-to-hand or knife combat ) as well as rare hallucinations post edonia.
traumatic brain injury effects ( non-physical ): loss of emotional control - reacting unpredictably to events which previously would not have troubled him, difficulty understanding how he presents himself and subtle changes in his skill or behaviour as well as failure to pick up on hints related to social cues.
chris suffers from chronic joint pain and inflammation, especially in his knees. due to taking many falls and landing badly, he has had to have both knees undergo replacement with posterior-stabilized treatments of metal and ceramic joints in order to keep him mobile. along with this, several of his teeth have been replaced with ceramic and titanium dental implants due to the reoccurring amount of hits he has taken to the jaw or face during his time in the bsaa. continuing this, since his brain trauma in edonia, there is now a metal plate in the back of his skull from the craniotomy preformed in order to remove both the blood and the damaged tissue - the traumatic brain injury caused post-traumatic amnesia, along with issues in executive function ( executive skills – that is, in planning, problem solving, reasoning, decision making, and self-monitoring ). he suffers from chronic headaches also.
since the edonia incident, he has slowly been recovering ( after being forced by the bsaa to reduce the amount of missions he was taking compared to his routine in the years following jill’s “death” ) and is much more stable, though the combined effects of the brain injury, ptsd and alcoholism have unfortunately taken it’s toll on him. the recovery process was a difficult one, requiring cognitive rehabilitation and therapy which he was resistant too, with chris becoming increasingly frustrated at the slow rate of recovery and the feeling that despite this he will never be the person he once was and people expect him to be, as well as the guilt of that.. he, unfortunately, has been condition by his time in the bsaa to think that his only worth comes from what he does for the bsaa and if he cannot keep up to it, he has failed.
as of going unofficially rogue from the bsaa in 2018 onwards, his medical checkups are done by rebecca privately, no longer willing to give the bsaa access to any of his information or dna especially given the bows pulled out of the village in bsaa uniforms bear his appearance.
chris also bears a natural immunity to some diseases due to a mutation in the ccr5 gene, ccr5-delta32. despite exposure to the t-veronica and t-alexia virus, the t-howard virus from the philosophy incident and the spores from the mold, he has shown no signs of infection. however, he is has had the following vaccinations: anti-c (chrysalid virus), t-abyss, daylight (t-virus), anti-a (animality virus) as well as the standard screenings, vaccinations and testing given to all military.
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mar 17
The boys (cedar chips were an experiment in bedding that wouldn't hurt if they accidentally ate some)
The girls
And then their half Great Dane genes kicked in and they all thought they were 100 pound lap dogs. Dad was a mystery until they were about a month old or so and he came by to see if mom wanted to make more puppies. And Tater (beige boy) looks just like him while Finn (split face boy) has his wrinkles. And four of them suddenly had jowls. The rest of the mix is boarder collie, Australian/American shepherd, and reportedly some sort of retriever. Mom is colored like the brown girl but more red and a bigger white ruff. Only the girls had any sort of floof.
For the rest of my life today will always be a bit about my puptatoes. This was the only litter we ever had that I remember, like 'all those birthday parties you had as a (only) child' any I had before wouldn't count and the pup we had when I was in college was a singleton.
something something Just because I wore a fancy dress and pretended to go to a prom on a TV show doesn't count you emotionally abusive bitch something something
And that's the story of how I was on Freaky Links but not in the same episode as Jeffrey Combs.
le sigh
I got two of my bookshelves together yesterday, getting the other two together might be all the physical physicalling I have in me which pushes the put everything in place to tomorrow and leaves sewing machine day for whenever.
Never ever question why I don't do commissions.
Then I have to get in to the closet and get the Barbies out and get back in to the GTFO sale. Going to have a $1 with purchase pile then off to the junk store they go.
Like the flock of usetaholds it's coming down to 'do I really want to move this again?' And you'll find if everyone is pulling their fair share of the weight finances get a lot easier.
We also got our first water/sewer/trash bill and it was no where near what that bill payer was fearing but yeah, reality sinking in can be a good thing some times.
Can't say what the next creative idea will be but it will be.
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GIF by David The Joyner
#adventure time#jake the dog#finn the human#funny#haha#lol#guitar#nerd#geek#dork#jowls#animated#animation#art#fan art#cartoon network#cartoons
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Little rascal boy is being punished for his scampering crimes.
Description: A two panel comic, the first panel at the top is of two orange dogs with droopy ears and jowls standing in a field. Both are wearing hats one a fedora and the other a straw hat with flowers, its Finn and Jakes dogs parents from adventure time. Margret is saying "I don't know about this Joshua this feels weird" Joshua's response is "What else can we do Margret? Our boy is a runner! He could run into fire! and then what sweetie? Jake and Jermaine would never forgive us!"
the bottom panel is of them from a further distance Joshua is holding a child leash which is attached to a young fin. he is in his blue on blue apparel but there is a duck decal on his shirt and he has a few Band-Aids on him. He is running to the furthest extent of the leash.
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the state of indian genetic diversity
The jati system, which few people outside India understand, is much more complicated, and involves a minimum of forty-six hundred and by some accounts around forty thousand endogamous groups. Each is assigned a particular rank in the varna system, but strong and complicated endogamy rules prevent people from most different jatis from mixing with each other, even if they are of the same varna level. ...
Around a third of Indian groups experienced population bottlenecks as strong or stronger than the ones that occurred among Finns or Ashkenazi Jews. ... Many of the population bottlenecks in India were also exceedingly old. One of the most striking we discovered was in the Vysya of the southern Indian state of Andhra Pradesh, a middle caste group of approximately five million people whose population bottleneck we could date (from the size of segments shared between individuals of the same population) to between three thousand and two thousand years ago. The observation of such a strong population bottleneck among the ancestors of the Vysya was shocking. It meant that after the population bottleneck, the ancestors of the Vysya had maintained strict endogamy, allowing essentially no genetic mixing into their group for thousands of years. Even an average rate of influx into the Vysya of as little as 1 percent per generation would have erased the genetic signal of a population bottleneck. The ancestors of the Vysya did not live in geographic isolation. Instead, they lived cheek by jowl with other groups in a densely populated part of India.
And the Vysya were not unique. A third of the groups we analyzed gave similar signals, implying thousands of groups in India like this. Indeed, it is even possible that we were underestimating the fraction of groups in India affected by strong long-term endogamy. To show a signal, a group needed to have gone through a population bottleneck. Groups that descended from a larger number of founders but nevertheless maintained strict endogamy ever since would go undetected by our statistics.
People tend to think of India, with its more than 1.3 billion people, as having a tremendously large population, and indeed many Indians as well as foreigners see it this way. But genetically, this is an incorrect way to view the situation. The Han Chinese are truly a large population. They have been mixing freely for thousands of years. In contrast, there are few if any Indian groups that are demographically very large, and the degree of genetic differentiation among Indian jati groups living side by side in the same village is typically two to three times higher than the genetic differentiation between northern and southern Europeans. The truth is that India is composed of a large number of small populations.
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Thess vs Media Mirrors
Reading an article about the polarised reaction to the latest Star Wars movies and made the mistake of reading the comments, though I stopped after, like, three, because of this one: “Can’t we just have lighthearted entertainment anymore?”
Answer: no. And we never did.
What we had was people taking what they could get for entertainment, even if they didn’t see themselves represented and it hurt, even if they saw themselves vilified and belittled and mocked, even if it made them feel alone.
The internet has given people a voice, and that’s a good thing as often as it is a bad thing. I’m not going to give anyone shit for disliking the last few movies of the Skywalker epic ... well, okay, I am, but it depends on the reasons. If it’s “because SJW bullshit”, I am going to judge the shit out of you. I’m sorry, but I am.
The article I read (this interesting little opinion piece in the New York Times) had a lot to say about how the world has moved on for a lot of people. We’re not as afraid of giant superweapons anymore. No small few of us are afraid of angry, privileged white men turning us into good little interchangeable cogs in a system that only benefits them - so we have Finn (angry white man in this case being Hux). We’re afraid of not feeling able to trust even the best-intentioned systems of power and being left desperate to do good but not knowing how because no one will give us all the information - so we have Poe. We’re afraid of being mocked and belittled and taken advantage of for our passion and ideals - so we have Rose (I mean, shit, look at Greta Thunberg). And we’re afraid of angry white men trying to assert dominance over us under the guise of “I’m the only one who can truly appreciate you so you’d better do what I say or you’ll be nothing” - Rey and Kylo Ren. (Haven’t seen the last movie but I have a pretty good idea of how that turned out because spoilers and I honestly don’t know how I feel about it because after Vader, that redemption feels too cheap to me, but I don’t really know, so moving on.)
Point is that it feels like the newer movies are trying to balance the simple joys that made the original trilogy an unexpected classic with what it actually feels like to live cheek by jowl with a political system that wants to grind you under its bootheel. In the originals, it was just assumed: “Empire bad; Rebellion good”. The new movies are trying to show us that rather than telling us, and people don’t like it.
I notice that a lot of people don’t like it when we hold a mirror up to the social and political systems that give them the advantage.
Anyway, the point is that maybe those two things don’t mesh well - simple “good vs evil” isn’t a situation we’ve had in real life for a long time. I’d argue WWII was the last time, but even then it wasn’t that simple when you got past the Nazis. What about the Americans selling weapons to both sides for quite some time after the European theatre started? What about France, who so many revile as ‘surrender-monkeys’ but were just trying to keep their people alive through the horror of the guy next door being a fascist? It’s easy for the UK and US to talk; there’s the North Sea between the UK and Germany, and the US has several countries and the whole Atlantic, whereas France only has a stretch of flat land and, like, Belgium in some places. And this one goes back to that post about Lando Calrissian doing the right thing by handing Han over to the Empire.
Anyway, point is that disliking the new Star Wars movies isn’t the problem, but it might be important to look at why. Because entertainment media is a mirror of our society and culture and always has been, and anyone who says, “Why can’t we just have lighthearted entertainment without all the politics?” is only saying that because before now, media only showed them a version of the world that they agreed with and liked, forsaking all others. We can’t just forsake all others anymore; everyone deserves a place at the mirror, and everyone deserves a voice. That’s not politics, anyway; that’s just the world - a world that consists of more than straight white men with their good little women. If you can’t enjoy something, that’s your prerogative, but if you can’t enjoy something solely because its so-called ‘politics’ offends you ... well, maybe it’s your turn now. People who aren’t straight cis white dudes have been dealing with it since entertainment media was a thing.
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Breakdown of the Adventure Time Finale Intro
Adventure time ending has got me in a bittersweet state and I wanna contribute at least something to the commemoration of it. I’ll probably end up drawing some fan art of Shermy and Beth sooner or later because I love the short amount of stuff we get from them, but speaking of Shermy and Beth: I wanted to make an analysis/theory on everything we see in intro of “come along with me”.
Most of this is gonna be stuff that a lot of people have already theorized and put together but not all the breakdown videos get every point I wanna make spot on, so I just wanted to get everything I believe together in one neat little post.
So right off the bat we start in the Ice Kingdom as usual, and in the first second of the into we can see the ball that Patience St. Pim froze herself in during the elements mini series, so we know that she’s still (technically?) alive in this1000 years in the future version of Ooo. If it’s possible, maybe one day she might be unfreezed. I don’t remember if it was stated that that could happen or not.
And in the very next shot their appears to be pink hands gripping onto the bars of an ice cage. The most obvious answer to who is in the cage is of course Princess Bubblegum. In the episode graybles 1000+, we get a glimpse of the future Ooo and what the new Candy Kingdom looks like. It isn’t much of an kingdom but more like hotel inside of a giant futuristic gumball guardian that roams the land. In this future version of Candy Kingdom Princess Bubblegum is nowhere to be found. I believe that the knew Ice King (Gunther) has took to capturing Princesses again and PB is a reoccurring hostage of his. That’s why she wasn’t seen in the gumball guardian. This future version of the Ice King is a lot more hostile (thus why his ice/snow is more apparent and has expanded a great deal from Simon’s ice kingdom) and is competent enough to be an actual threat, and is able to keep PB for an extended period of time. So PB is still kicking around in this future version of Ooo, just not where she’s suppose to be and she doesn’t have the happiest of turn outs.
PB always being captured by the Ice King leads me to believe that this unknown person riding atop the stone duck with a telescope in the ice kingdom, is in fact Marceline. A lot of people believe that this could be a far descendant of one of the humans from the islands after they came back to Ooo, or Simon because of the shape of the backpack is similar to his: but i’m sticking with this being Marcy. My evidence towards this person being Marcy is the stone duck being present. If you remember, the stone duck’s first (or only, I can’t remember it being in any other episode?) appearance is in he episode where Marcy makes her first appearance, during the house searching song. It just seems like too much of a deliberate choice to be a coincidence. And the reason the gear looks so similar to Simon's is because after Simon died: Marcy started using his gear to travel. Or maybe it’s not his, but his influence in her life is still present so she wanted her gear to look like his. Either way, it’s Marcy. And the reason that Marcy is traveling and why she is in the Ice Kingdom is due to her searching for PB. After the Ice King started capturing PB again, Marcy was the one to start saving her after Finn died. (Kind of like history repeating itself) And it’s just a continuous never ending loop of the Ice King capturing PB, Marcy saving PB, and then the Ice King capturing her again, hiding her in a different spot every time to delay Marcy’s search. And at a certain point Marcy just decided to leave home for good and become a nomad seeing as how busy she is with always looking for PB. The two of them can’t stay in one fixed location thus allowing for Shermy and Beth to move into Marcy’s house.
This is of course the Gunther version of Ice king who we got a glimpse of in the graybles 1000t episode. In concept art, he was called the ice thing. And he looks noticeably different from what he looked like in the finale, the main difference being that he no longer has a body. My theory is that he just evolved to become like this over time, but I also like to believe that after his wife, Turtle Princess died (because she’s mortal) he went mad and become a much more prominent monster and threat to the land of Ooo, and he ventures across the land and interacts with everything a lot more than the Ice King we knew did. Maybe he was the main reason and the cause of the land of Ooo being in the decrepit state it’s in.
As the Ice King flies off we get a distant look as what’s believed to be the Pup kingdom. Probably one of the last standing kingdoms. Theirs truck transport road that seems to be taking supplies in, so while the land of Ooo does look pretty barren: their seems to be enough peeps around for jobs like this to still exist.
And as we zoom into the kingdom we get a glance at what Pups look like. Pups are the obvious descendants of Jake and Rainicorn. Jake and Rainicorn did essentially create a new race of beings, and with how fast Rainicorns grow, it would make sense that they would be able to develop into a new civilization and culture in the span of 1000 years.
And it seems like the Pup race has been doing well for themselves seeing as they have a means of space travel. My theory is that some time while the Pup civilization was being created, some of it’s members split off and decided to venture in space. So half of the Pup Kingdom is on earth while the other half is in space. This rocket ship is just a way for them to communicate and send supplies to each other.
And again, referring back to graybles 1000t episode: we can see some of these space Pups having a wedding. When I first watched this episode a while back I didn’t even put together that these guys were Pups. But the evidence is obvious. They had the eyes and signature jowls of Jake, and they all speak Korean like Rainicorn. So yeah, the Pups are doing good.
Going back to the intro, we can even see some of these space Pups floating on a platform in the sky with another Pup trying to attack Ice King. Which is more evidence towards my theory that Ice King is a wanted criminal and a top priority in this state. But wait, that’s not just any Pup firing at Ice King. It’s Gibbon! Charlie’s son.
He’s still alive after all these years. With being so old, his fur turned white and he grew a super long mustache/beard. But you can still tell it’s him. As for how he is still alive after all this time: it’s because he has one of ice crown’s jewels in his eye, thus granting him some kind of immortality. We saw one of the ice crown’s jewels fall out and be used as a wedding ring in the finale, as for how Gibbon got a hold of this jewel: we will never know. But he got it somehow. Either way it’s cool that he’s still around. With being so old, maybe he’s some kind of respected high up authority in the Pup kingdom.
Now for the part in the intro that everyone has been pointing out the most, the Finn and Jake giant stone statues. It’s obvious that these two stone colossus are suppose to be Finn and Jake. The most apparent theory is that Finn and Jake were regarded as such great heroes that they became historical figures and these statues where built of them as monuments. That or maybe it was their grave stones, such brave heroes do deserve a send off as great as they where.
And it seems as if the flame guy (who I will be getting to in a second) has decided to take refugee inside of Jake’s statue. Although, some people don’t believe that this monument is actually Jake but instead Jermaine because of this:
Theirs a slab of stone next to the flame guy that looks like it use to say Finn and Jermaine as opposed to Jake before it got broken. Now theirs two answers I've come up with for this. One: maybe there where three monuments: Finn, Jake, and Jermaine’s, but Jake or Jermaine’s monument got destroyed somehow and only one remains. The one we see could be Jake or Jermaine’s. Or two: later in his life Jermaine become an adventure like Finn, Jake, and their parents, and claimed a great title as a hero reviled only to Finn. And while Jake was still greatly remembered and respected, Jermaine just began to outshine him in the public eye. Jake was kinda lazy and was never really the adventurer type anyways, he just kinda followed behind Finn. Jermaine must’ve created his own identity and did something as great as Finn’s accomplishments. Personally I like to believe a mix between the two options happened. All three of them did have monuments but one got destroyed, and Jermaine did become a great hero thus why he also has a statue in remembrance.
Also, behind the flame guy you can see a shovel and some covered dirt which makes me further believe that those statues where grave stones, and this patch of dirt is one of the brother’s grave. As for the Flame guy, it’s pretty easy to connect that he is a reincarnation of the flame elemental. And the slime guy that he’s firing at is most likely a reincarnation of the slime elemental. Maybe the two elements are at some kind of war. Sadly, this means that FB and less sadly Slime Princess, are not alive anymore like PB, and died some time in the 1000 years after the finale.
And in this shot you can see what’s most likely a descendant of the two headed duck that use to be outside of Finn and Jake’s tree house, and a space Pup spying on Marceline’s old house that now belongs to Shermy and Beth. Maybe he’s just trying to make sure Beth is safe, it make sense: she is a princess after all, and an important leader figure, they wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. This is their way of giving her freedom to do her own thing while also protecting her.
And finally we get to see Shermy and Beth residing in Marceline’s house. It’s interesting that the Pups let their Princess stay away from home, but it’s nice to see them being so non lenient on her. Another interesting bit is that you can see Bubblegum’s greatest uncle cup: which probably means before PB started getting captured again, she lived with or visited Marceline a lot at some point. Maybe it happened after the fall of the old Candy Kingdom.
In the next shot we can see remnants of the old candy kingdom, and what looks like a resident from Lumpy space. So Lumpy Space is still around. But unfortunately, Neddy most likely isn’t, seeing that the giant tree in the candy kingdom has lost it’s foliage and is probably dead, thus not giving Neddy any sustenance to survive off of. Maybe the lack of Neddy’s juice after the tree and himself died is what caused the Candy citizens to relocate, and on they’re search to find a energy to sustain candy life. And PB built the great gumball guardian to protect the Candy people from the threat of the Ice King (or what ever has brought devastation to the land of Ooo) while they travel. On the upside it looks like the Candy Kingdom did survive fairly a long time after the finale, maybe it became abandoned only few hundred years before Shermy and Beth’s time. I say this because of how much the Candy Kingdom has expanded and developed into a more metropolis like city before it’s fall, that would take a lot of time. Maybe the humans from the islands started living in the Candy Kingdom when they came to Ooo and helped the Princess expand.
Oppose to a traveling Finn sitting on top of a stretched out Jake, we see Shermy and Beth traveling on top of grown Sweet Pea. So he’s still alive and seems to be as friendly as he was as a kid. Or at least friendly enough to give Shermy and Beth a ride. In the finale you can see him walking the land with a giant sword, maybe he’s become the exact opposite of the Lich: an immortal being who will forever protect the citizens of Ooo. He seems like the gentle giant type but won’t hesitate to put a stop to evil doers and exhibit his inner strength.
And with that intro ends with Shermy: a reincarnation of the Hero comet, like Finn and Shoko, and Beth: a far far down the line descendant of Jake, and princess of the Pup civilization, fishing just outside of the cave where their house resides. I would love it if these two had some kind of short ten episode mini spin off series or a comic line, I liked their personalities and it would be great to explore them and the future land of Ooo more.
God I love how this show can cram so much information into just 24 seconds.
EDIT: Recently Steve Wolfhard updated us with some more information about this 1000t years Ooo and it turns out that I was pretty much right about my theory that PB was the person in the ice cage. He stated the PB is present in the intro, and I sure as heck didn’t see her anywhere else. The theory that Marcy is the one riding the Stone Duck is still up for grabs though, but i’m pretty sure it’s true. He also stated that the fire and slime guy are indeed reincarnations of the flame and slime elementals,he said the crew wanted to put them in as a way to tell the audience that PB is the only elemental we knew that’s still around now (except Patient St Pim but I don’t think she really counts).
He also gave us some interesting Pup lore on how every Pup is born with a power, but as of late Pups are having their powers taken away at birth. Seemingly the old version of Gibbon is the one taking their powers away. Turns out I was completely off about the Pups giving Beth space to be her own person by letting her stay away from home, in all actuality she’s an exiled Princess who was usurped by Gibbon and that’s why she isn’t at home anymore. She’s basically on the run. So I was right about Gibbon being an high up authority but I didn’t expect him to be evil in a way.
But it’s interesting and it makes some sense: apparently Gibbons powers we’re stolen and it does seem like the crown’s jewel affectd him in a way similar to how the ice crown makes it’s user go insane.
My theory is that after his power was stolen he fell into a depressed state and searched for a way to get it back or something that would give him special abilities again until he found the Ice crown’s jewel. The combination of the ice crowns affect it has on people and his depression was enough to drive him over the edge. So he decided that if he couldn’t have his powers no Pup could, and started stealing their powers (presumably he uses the magic staff he has to do it)
Must’ve took him along time to work his way up the ranks since he didn’t actually become the Pup king until Beth’s time. I say this because Beth does know of her heritage and that she’s suppose to be the rightful leader of the Pup kingdom, so her parents must’ve been in power at some point in her life or else how would she know that? My guess is that Gibbon took over around the time Beth was a little kid (i’m just assuming that in the finale Beth is a teenager around the ages of 14-17) but Beth escaped before Gibbon was able to take her power. We see her parents nowhere and it looks like it’s just her and Shermy, so they most likely didn’t make it out.
Or maybe Gibbon isn’t that vile and he allowed Beth’s parents to continue ruling but appointed himself as their over see-er, he let them stay in charge of the kingdom but they had to have their powers removed. Beth, not wanting to give up her powers: was exiled or ran away. Thus why she still has her powers. It seems as if the Pups do know of her current location (because of the space spy pup) but aren’t really seeking to take her out. Gibbon doesn’t see her as a threat and just lets her do her own thing while keeping tabs on her.
God it’s all so interesting, I wanna know so much about Beth. She seems like such a cool character.
#adventure time#AT#adventure time finale#come along with me#adventure time come along with me#come along with me intro#adventure time into#finale intro#Shermy#Beth#Shermy and Beth#Beth the pup princess#princess bubblegum#Marceline#Simmon#Flame Princess#Finn#Jake#jermaine#Finale
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A long time ago, a grade-schooler got his hands on a spaceship. He followed the assembly instructions as best he could, snapping on the cannons, the landing gear, the tiny interstellar-chess table. Soon enough, Rian Johnson was holding his very own Millennium Falcon. “The first thing I did,” he recalls, “was throw it across the room, to see how it would look flying.” He grins. “And it broke.”
Johnson grew up, went to film school, made some good stuff, including the entertainingly twisted 2012 sci-fi drama Looper. He’s nearly 44 now, though his cherub cheeks and gentle manner make it easy to picture the kid he was (too easy, maybe – he’s trying to grow back a goatee he shaved); even his neatly pressed short-sleeve button-down has a picture-day feel. In late October, he’s sitting in an office suite inside Disney’s Burbank studios that he’s called home for many months, where a whiteboard declares, “We’re working on Star Wars: The Last Jedi (in case you forgot).” Johnson is the film’s writer-director, which means he ended up with the world’s finest collection of replacement toys, including a life-size Falcon set that nearly brought him to tears when he stepped onto it. He treated it all with what sounds like an intriguing mix of reverence and mischief – cast members keep saying nothing was quite what they expected. “I shook up the box a little bit,” he says, with that same grin.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, everything is broken. In the months since the franchise stirred back to life in 2015’s The Force Awakens, it has felt rather like some incautious child grabbed civilization itself and threw it across the room – and, midflight, many of us realized we were the evil Empire all along, complete with a new ruler that even latter-day George Lucas at his most CGI-addled would reject as too grotesque and implausible a character.
Weirdly, the saga saw it all coming – or maybe it’s not so weird when you consider the Vietnam War commentary embedded in Lucas’ original trilogy, or the warnings about democracy’s fragility in his prequels. In the J.J. Abrams-directed The Force Awakens, a revanchist movement calling itself the First Order assembles in Triumph of the Will-style marches, showing the shocking strength of an ideology that was supposed to have been thoroughly defeated long ago. What’s left of the government is collapsing and feckless, so the only hope in sight is a band of good guys known as the Resistance. Familiar, this all sounds.
“It’s somewhat a reflection of society,” acknowledges the saga’s new star, Daisy Ridley, who plays Rey, and who has gone from unknown London actress to full-blown movie star nearly as fast as her character went from desert scavenger to budding Jedi. “But also it is escapism, because there are creatures and there are people running around with fucking lasers and shit. So, I think, a wonderful mix of both.”
And the worse the world gets, the more we need that far-off galaxy, says Gwendoline Christie, who plays stormtrooper honcho Captain Phasma (as well as Game of Thrones’ Brienne of Tarth): “During testing times, there’s nothing wrong with being transported by art. I think we all need it. Many of us are united in our love for this one thing.”
The Last Jedi, due December 15th, is the second episode of the current trilogy, and advance word has suggested that, as in the original middle film, The Empire Strikes Back, things get darker this time. But Johnson pushes back on that, though he does admit some influence from the morally ambiguous 2000s reboot of Battlestar Galactica (which is funny, because Lucas considered the Seventies TV show a rip-off and urged a lawsuit – long since settled – against it). “That’s one thing I hope people will be surprised about with the movie,” Johnson says. “I think it’s very funny. The trailers have been kind of dark – the movie has that, but I also made a real conscious effort for it to be a riot. I want it to have all the things tonally that I associate with Star Wars, which is not just the Wagner of it. It’s also the Flash Gordon.”
As of late October, almost no one has seen it yet, but Johnson seems eerily free of apprehension about its prospects. He exuded a similar calm on set, according to Adam Driver, who plays Han and Leia’s Darth Vader-worshipping prodigal son, Kylo Ren. “If I had that job, I would be stressed out,” he says. “To pick up where someone left off and carry it forward, but also introduce a vocabulary that hasn’t been seen in a Star Wars movie before, is a tall order and really hard to get right. He’s incredibly smart and doesn’t feel the need to let everyone know it.” (“It felt like we were playing the whole time,” says Kelly Marie Tran, cast as the biggest new character, Rose Tico.) A few weeks after we talk, Lucasfilm announces that Johnson signed on to make three more Star Wars films in the coming decade, the first that step outside of the prevailing Skywalker saga, indicating that Disney and Lucasfilm matriarch Kathleen Kennedy are more than delighted with Last Jedi. And Kennedy’s not easily delighted, having recently replaced the directors of a Han Solo spinoff midshoot and removed original Episode 9 director Colin Trevorrow in favor of Abrams’ return.
The Force Awakens’ biggest triumph was the introduction of new characters worth caring about, led by Rey and Kylo Ren, plus the likes of John Boyega’s stormtrooper-defector Finn, Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron and more. Kylo Ren (born Ben Solo) lightsaber-shanked Harrison Ford’s Han, depriving Johnson of one coveted action figure – but the film left us with Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia, now the general who leads the Resistance, and the climactic reveal of Mark Hamill’s now-grizzled Luke Skywalker.
The Last Jedi will be Fisher’s last Star Wars movie. In the waning days of the cruel year of 2016, she went into cardiac arrest on an airplane, dying four days later. Less than a month afterward, 500,000 or so people assembled in Washington, D.C., for that city’s Women’s March, and Leia was everywhere, in posters bearing her doughnut-haired image circa 1977, with accompanying slogans (“A Woman’s Place Is in the Resistance” was, perhaps, the best).
Johnson had grown close with Fisher, and is glad to hear that I visited her psychedelically decorated Beverly Hills house a couple of years back, where she did almost an entire hilarious interview prone in bed. Afterward, she cheerily cracked jokes about drugs and mental illness in front of a visiting Disney publicist. “You got to experience a little bit of that magical sphere that she created,” says Johnson, who went over the script with her in that same bedroom. “I’m happy I got to poke my head into that, briefly, and know her even a little bit.”
He left her part in the film untouched. “We didn’t end up changing a thing,” says Johnson. “Luckily, we had a totally complete performance from her.” So it is now Abrams who has to figure out how to grapple with Fisher and Leia’s sudden absence. (He is characteristically gnomic on the matter: “It’s a sad reality,” he says. “In terms of going forward … time will tell what ends up getting done.”)
Overall, Johnson enjoyed what seems like an almost unfathomable level of autonomy in shaping The Last Jedi’s story. He says no one dictated a single plot point, that he simply decided what happens next. And he’s baffled by fans who are concerned by the idea that they’re “making it up as we go along”: “The truth is, stories are made up! Whether somebody made this whole thing up 10 years ago and put it on a whiteboard and we all have to stick to that, or whether we’re organically finding it as we move forward, it doesn’t mean that any less thought is being put into it.”
Mark Hamill’s single scene in The Force Awakens lasts all of one minute, and he doesn’t say a thing. But it’s an indelible piece of screen acting with real gravitas, from an underrated performer who had become better known for Broadway and voice-over work – he’s been the definitive animated Joker since the early Nineties. (“With voice-over,” Hamill says, “I thought, ‘This is great! I can let myself go to hell physically! I don’t have to memorize lines!’”) As Rey approaches him on the lonely mountaintop where’s he’s presumably spent years studying the Jedi equivalent of the Talmud, Luke Skywalker’s bearded face cycles through grief, terror and longing.
“I didn’t look at that as ‘Oh, this is going to be my big chance,’” says Hamill, who has just shown up at Johnson’s offices and plopped down next to him, carrying a large thermos of coffee in the right hand that Darth Vader once chopped off. He has a trimmed-down version of his elder-Jedi beard, which he’s grown to appreciate: “I shaved, and I thought, ‘You know what, the beard does cover up the jowl.’”
Hamill is a charming, jittery chatterbox – turns out that even at his youngest and prettiest, he was a geek trapped in the body of a golden boy. He is excitable and wild-eyed enough to give the vague sense that, like Luke, he actually might have spent a few solitary years on a distant planet, and is still readjusting to Earth life, or at least movie stardom.
He admits to having had “frustrations over being over-associated” with Star Wars over the years – his Skywalking cost him a chance at even auditioning to reprise his stage role as Mozart in the film of Amadeus – “but nothing that caused me any deep anguish.” He still spent the decades since Return of the Jedi acting and raising a family with Marilou, his wife of 39 years. And as for his current return to the role of Luke? “It’s a culmination of my career,” he says. “If I focused on how enormous it really is, I don’t think I could function. I told Rian that. I said, as absurd as it sounds, ‘I’m going to have to pretend this is an art-house film that no one is going to see.’ ”
For his Force Awakens scene, he says, “I didn’t know – and I don’t think J.J. really knew – specifically what had happened in those 30 years. Honestly, what I did was try and give J.J. a range of options. Neutral, suspicion, doubt … taking advantage of the fact that it’s all thoughts. I love watching silent films. Think of how effective they could be without dialogue.”
Abrams had some trepidation over the idea of handing Hamill a script with such a tiny role. “The last thing I wanted to do was insult a childhood hero,” he says, “but I also knew it was potentially one of the great drumrolls of all time.” In fact, Hamill’s first reaction was, “What a rip-off, I don’t get to run around the Death Star bumping heads with Carrie and Harrison anymore!”
But he came to agree with Abrams, especially after he counted the number of times Luke was mentioned in the screenplay – he thinks it was more than 50: “I don’t want to say, ‘That’s the greatest entrance in cinematic history’ … but certainly the greatest entrance of my career.”
Johnson turns to Hamill. “Did I ever tell you that early on when I was trying to figure out the story for this,” he says, “I had a brief idea I was chasing where I was like, ‘What if Luke is blind? What if he’s, like, the blind samurai?’ But we didn’t do it. You’re welcome. Didn’t stick.” (He adds that this was before a blind Force-using character showed up in 2016’s side film Rogue One.)
Hamill laughs, briefly contemplating how tough that twist would’ve been: “Luke, not too close to the cliff!”
He had a hard enough time with the storyline Johnson actually created for Luke, who is now what the actor calls a “disillusioned” Jedi. “This is not a joyful story to tell,” Hamill says, “my portion of it.” Johnson confirms that Hamill flat-out told him at the start that he disagreed with the direction Luke’s character was taking. “We then started a conversation,” says Johnson. “We went back and forth, and after having to explain my version, I adjusted it. And I had to justify it to myself, and that ended up being incredibly useful. I felt very close to Mark by the end. Those early days of butting heads and then coming together, that process always brings you closer.”
Hamill pushed himself to imagine how Luke could’ve gotten to his place of alienation. A rock fan who’s buddies with the Kinks’ Dave Davies, Hamill started thinking about shattered hippie dreams as he watched a Beatles documentary. “I was hearing Ringo talk about ‘Well, in those days, it was peace and love.’ And how it was a movement that largely didn’t work. I thought about that. Back in the day, I thought, by the time we get into power, there will be no more wars. Pot will be legal.” He smiles at that part. “I believed all that. I had to use that feeling of failure to relate to it.” (We do already know that Luke was training a bunch of Jedi, and Kylo Ren turned on him.)
Hamill’s grief over the loss of Fisher is still fresh, especially since the two of them got to renew their bond, and their space-sibling squabbling, after fallow decades that had given them far fewer reasons to get together. “There was now a comfort level that she had with me,” he says, “that I wasn’t out to get anything or trying to hustle her in any way. I was the same person that I was when she knew me. … I was sort of the square, stick-in-the-mud brother, and she was the wild, madcap Auntie Mame.” Promoting the movie is bringing it all back for him. “I just can’t stand it,” he says. “She’s wonderful in the movie. But it adds a layer of melancholy we don’t deserve. I’d love the emotions to come from the story, not from real life.”
I mention how hard Luke seems to have had it: never meeting his mom; finding the burnt corpses of the aunt and uncle who raised him; those well-known daddy issues; the later years of isolation. “It’s the life of a hero, man,” says Johnson. “That’s what you’ve gotta do to be a hero. You’ve gotta watch people that you love burn to death!”
Hamill notes that reality is not so great either. “Sometimes,” he says, softer than usual, “you think, ‘I’d rather have Luke’s life than mine.’”
Adam Driver has a question for me. “What,” he asks, “is emo?”
Between training for the Marines and training at Juilliard to become one of his generation’s most extraordinary actors, Driver missed some stuff, including entire music genres. But the rest of the world (including an amusing parody Twitter account) decided there’s something distinctly emo about his character, with his luxuriant hair, black outfits and periodic temper tantrums. “You have someone who’s being told that he’s special his whole life,” Driver says of his character, “and he can feel it. And he feels everything probably more intensely than the people around him, you know?”
As anyone who’s seen Driver in practically anything, even Girls, could tell you, the actor himself seems to feel things more strongly than most. “I don’t think of myself as a particularly intense person,” he says, possibly not unaware that he is making intense eye contact, and that his right knee is bouncing up and down with excess energy. “I get obsessive about certain things and, like, enjoy the process of working on something.” He’s in a Brooklyn cafe, on a tree-lined street, that seems to be his go-to spot for interviews. He arrived early, fresh from shooting the new Spike Lee movie, wearing a dark-blue sweater over black jeans and high-top Adidas. Driver has a certainty to him, a steel core, that’s a little intimidating, despite his obvious affability and big, near-constant laugh. It’s not unlike talking to Harrison Ford, who played his dad. Until Driver’s character murdered him.
Driver, raised by his mom and preacher stepdad after his parents divorced when he was seven, doesn’t flinch when I suggest his own father issues might be at work. “I don’t know that it’s always that literal,” he says. He mentions that Kylo Ren also murders Max Van Sydow’s character, who was sort of a “distant uncle” to him. “No one asks me, ‘So you have a distant-uncle problem?’ ”
John Boyega told me in 2015 that Driver stayed in character on set, but that seems to be not quite true. Driver just tries to keep focused on his character’s emotions in the face of an environment he can’t help but find ridiculous. “Watching Star Wars, it’s an action-adventure,” he says. “But shooting it, it’s a straight comedy. Stormtroopers trying to find a bathroom. People dressed as trolls, like, running into doorways. It’s hilarious.” And when he wears his helmet, he can’t see very well. “You’re supposed to be very stealth, and a tree root takes you down.”
He refuses to see his character as bratty. “There is a little bit of an elitist, royalty thing going on,” he says, reminding us that the character’s estranged mom is “the princess. I think he’s aware of maybe the privilege.” He does acknowledge playing Kylo Ren younger than his own age of 34: “I don’t want to say how much younger, 'cause people will read into it… .” He flushes, and later says he regrets mentioning it at all. If it’s a plot spoiler, it’s unclear exactly how, unless it’s related to his unexplained connection to Rey. The two apparently spend serious time together in this film. “The relationship between Kylo and Rey is awesome,” says Ridley, whom Driver calls a “great scene partner,” apparently one of his highest compliments.
At first, Driver wasn’t totally sure he wanted to be in a Star Wars movie. I’m always skeptical of Hollywood movies because they’re mostly just too broad,“ he says. But Abrams’ pitch, emphasizing the uniqueness of Kylo Ren’s character as a conflicted villain, made the sale. “Everything about him from the outside is designed to project the image that he’s assured,” he says. Only in private can he acknowledge “how un-figured-out he is … how weak.”
Driver can make a passionate case for why Kylo Ren isn’t actually a villain at all.
“It’s not like people weren’t living on the Death Star,” he says, his brown eyes shifting from puppyish to fierce without warning. He seems almost in character now. “Isn’t that also an act of terrorism against the hundreds of thousands of people who died there? Did they not have families? I see how people can point to examples that make themselves feel they’re right. And when you feel in your bones that you’re supported by a higher power on top of that, and you’re morally right, there’s no limit to what you’ll do to make sure that you win. Both sides feel this way.”
You’re starting to talk me into joining the Empire, I say. He laughs and shifts his delivery one degree over the top. “So, the rebels are bad,” he says, connecting his fist with the table. “I strongly believe this!”
On an extravagantly rainy Thursday evening in Montreal, I’m sitting at crowded, noisy Le Vin Papillon, a wine bar ranked as Canada’s fourth-best restaurant, holding a seat for a Jedi. Ridley arrives right on time, in a fuzzy faux-fur coat and a jumper dress – “the dregs of my wardrobe,” she says. Her shortish hair is in a Rey-ish topknot that makes her way too recognizable, but she doesn’t care. “This is how I have always had my hair,” says Ridley. “I am not going to change it.” She’s been in Montreal for three months, shooting a Doug Liman-directed sci-fi movie called Chaos Walking – which “is a little bit chaotic, in that we’re writing as we go and everything,” she says. “I’ve realized I don’t work well with that.”
She’s on the second of two unexpected days off thanks to co-star Tom Holland (a.k.a the latest Spider-Man) suffering an impacted wisdom tooth, but she’s still deeply exhausted.
“I need a [vitamin] B shot in my ass,” she muses, in the kind of upscale British accent that makes curses sound elegant. It seems already clear that typecasting won’t pose the kind of problem for her that it did for the likes of Hamill and Fisher. Instead, she’s just busy in a way that only a freshly minted 25-year-old movie star could be – and she still managed to fulfill a pre-fame plan to go back to college for a semester last year. “I have no control in my life at all,” she says. She has four movies on the way, not even counting the Liman one. “So there is a lot going on, and I have never had to deal with that before. I don’t think my brain can really keep up with what is going on.” She has full-blown night terrors: “I wake up and scream.”
Rey had an epochal moment in the last movie, claiming her lightsaber from the snowy ground, and with it, her power, her destiny, her place at the center of the narrative. Her turn. Ridley is still absorbing what that moment, and that character, mean to women and little girls. But she definitely felt more pressure this time around, especially because last time, “it was all so insane, it felt like a dream,” she says. “I remember saying to Rian, 'I am so fucking neurotic on this one.’ I was like, 'I am going to fuck this up. All these people think this thing. How do I do that thing?’ ”
Part of the problem may have been Ridley’s tendency to downplay what she pulled off in the first movie. Her heart-tugging solo scenes in the first act, especially the moment where she eats her sad little “one half portion” of green space bread, created enormous goodwill, in seconds, for a character no one had seen before. She mentions Harrison Ford’s effusive praise for that eating scene, to the point where he was “getting emotional.” “I don’t know,” she says with a shrug, ultimately giving credit for the impact to Abrams and the movie’s cinematographer, Dan Mindel. “I was just eating!”
But in other ways, Rey has given her confidence. On her current film, she says, she was offered a stunt double for a scene where a door would swing open and knock her back. She took Liman aside and said, “'Doug, I don’t need a stunt double to do that.’ And I thought, 'I don’t know if this would’ve happened if it was Tom Holland.’”
Unlike almost everyone else in the world, Ridley has known for years who Rey’s parents are, since Abrams told her on the set of The Force Awakens. Ridley believes that nothing ever changed: “I thought what I was told in the beginning is what it is.” Which is odd, because Johnson insists he had free rein to come up with any answer he wanted to the question. “I wasn’t given any directive as to what that had to be,” he says. “I was never given the information that she is this or she is that.”
The idea that Johnson and Abrams somehow landed on the same answer does seem to suggest that Rey’s parents aren’t some random, never-before-seen characters. All that said, Abrams cryptically hints there may have been more coordination between him and Johnson than the latter director has let on, so who knows what’s going on here – they may be messing with us to preserve one of Abrams’ precious mystery boxes. In any case, Ridley loves the speculation: Her favorite fan theories involve immaculate conception and time travel. It seems more likely that she’s either Luke’s daughter or his niece, but again, who knows.
Back in 2015, Ridley told me she was fine with the idea of being seen as Rey forever, the way Fisher was always Leia. Now she’s changed her mind. “There are literally no similarities with Carrie’s story and mine,” she says, adding that while Fisher ultimately embraced writing over acting, she plans on continuing to “inhabit” as many characters as possible. On the other hand, “a lot of Rey is me,” she says, “but that is not me being Rey. That is parts of me being a character as Rey, because how could it not? So in that sense, I understand it, because so much of Leia is Carrie.”
This trilogy will end with Abrams’ Last Jedi sequel, and after that, it sounds like the main thrust of the franchise will move into Johnson’s mysterious new movies, which look to be unconnected to the previous saga. As far as Abrams is concerned, that will be the end of the Skywalker story. “I do see it that way,” he says. “But the future is in flux.”
As far as Ridley is concerned, the future of Rey is pretty much set. She doesn’t want to play the character after the next movie. “No,” she says flatly. “For me, I didn’t really know what I was signing on to. I hadn’t read the script, but from what I could tell, it was really nice people involved, so I was just like, 'Awesome.’ Now I think I am even luckier than I knew then, to be part of something that feels so like coming home now.”
But, um, doesn’t that sort of sound like a yes? “No,” she says again, smiling a little. “No, no, no. I am really, really excited to do the third thing and round it out, because ultimately, what I was signing on to was three films. So in my head, it’s three films. I think it will feel like the right time to round it out.”
And how about coming back in 30 years, as her predecessors did? She considers this soberly, between bites of Brussels sprouts roasted on the stalk. (We split the dish, which means she got … one half portion.) “Who knows? I honestly feel like the world may end in the next 30 years, so, if in 30 years we are not living underground in a series of interconnected cells … then sure. Maybe. But again, it’s like, who knows. Because the thing I thought was so amazing, was people really wanted it. And it was done by people who really love it.”
She thinks even harder about it, this new Star Wars trilogy that we’ve made up on the spot. “How old will I be?” she asks, before doing the math. “55.” She looks very young for a moment, as she tries to picture herself as a middle-aged Jedi. Then she gives up. It’s time to go, anyway; she has a 5:25 a.m. pickup tomorrow for her new movie. “Fuck,” Ridley says. “I can’t think that far ahead.”
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#oscar isaac#poe dameron#star wars#the last jedi#rolling stone#rian johnson#mark hamill#luke skywalker#adam driver#kylo ren#daisy ridley#rey#john boyega#finn#carrie fisher#general leia#jj abrams
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PRINCIPLES RESEARCH - MAGIC MAN
(once again can’t get the video to crop, using from 0;00 to 0;10)
Finn and Jakes designs show a use of appeal. They both have very simple designs but by emphesising key details like finns big backpack and boyish style and Jakes rounder body and jowls give you a feel of their personalities, finn being very active and adventurous where as jake is more lazy. They also have different body types, jake being a lot more round than finn and finn being more square
from 0;05 to 0:07 theirs use of stagins. Magic man kneels down at the in the middle and holds his arm up towards the left. When hes stopped moving a blue bird flies from the upper left and lands on his hand. The bird moving when the magic man has stopped as well as its blue colour amongs the yellow backgrouns makes it pop out which makes it easier for us to spot it desipte it being so small compaired to everything else
at 0;11 the bird squashes and streaches as its turned inside out. The blue outer skin squashing in on itself as the fleshy outside streaches out
uni....you made me go though this bird turning inside out part FRAME BY FRAME so i could figure out if this is squash and streach of exageration. I know logicaly i chose this sceene but im going to scape goat you and be moody about it cos OH GOD THE HORROR, WHY MAGIC MAN WHYYYY
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Aug 19
The ballerina Barbie did make it to her destination and I totally get the busy with real life and not being online thing. We thought there'd be a possibility that by now we'd be super busy but that's been pushed back to at least October, perhaps later with the hurricane.
Now, we should be okay. This last winter was pretty stormy and all we got was more ear wigs in the wall. Told you that was load bearing paint. Yeah yeah, next time we're in the 2021 situation again we'll try not to take the only place that would get us out of a hotel and storage units, fuck you.
Actually this is where living so close to the train and freeway comes in handy because the drainage around here is pretty good compared to the last place which was damn close to the mountains. Like 'yup, definitely a coyote' close.
Like my puptatoes could have been half coyote for all we knew until we saw their real daddy close. But Tater looked just like him and Finn had his wrinkle face, and Blarney and Guinness had his jowls.
We also have a generator for the fridge.
I think I'm done trying to make bread for a little while as I think over the science. I definitely made a bread Satan, if He is risen it's a bread Jesus, but it was edible. The one batch of yeast might not be the best or something. Glad I bought packets and not a jar.
Still it was nice to be able to use the kitchen to bread science finally. At the last house it was impossible and here it didn't cross my mind much until recently. It's one of those things that I'll probably get out of my system for awhile.
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tlj spoilers
just got back from seeing tlj and im running a slight fever and my entire body aches so here we go, undeveloped opinions
overall it was an enjoyable experience. not the best star wars movie ever, but certainly not the franchise-ruiner people are making it out to be
there were a lot of really cool moments that had me reacting in ways that probably annoyed my neighbors but they were just SO EXCITING
WHY HAVE I SEEN NO ONE TALKING ABOUT FORCE SENSITIVE LEIA THAT SHIT HAD ME SO EXCITED
some of the character arcs left something to be desired. idk what was up with poes characterization in this one as a hothead mutineer (?!)
very much wish we had more with finn other than waiting for rey and setting up romance drama with rose. as a character it felt kind of like he was in limbo. (altho him falling in the fight with phasma and then coming up on a platform? rebel scum? iconic.)
i love rose so much. my sweet girl
rose kissing finn was comphet. no one can tell me otherwise. i LOVE rose and finn’s dynamic as friends but. theyre gay yall
also speaking of gays. luke force-projecting himself to keep kyle distracted, letting him run him through with a lightsaber, breaking the connection and then DYING ANYWAY? the height of drama.
i feel like luke’s character was kidn of out of left field. he does not strike me as someone who gives up bc he made a mistake, and his characterization as a jaded old man felt like a plot device more than anything else.
idk how i feel abt the stuff with kylo. after he killed snoke then STILL turned out to be a piece of shit i was like “okay, im kind of glad they explored this and got it out of the way” but then the ending kind oof confused that. im a sucker for redemption arcs, but i feel like kylo’s redemption cannot possibly end with happiness, and as he is i dont want him to end up happy.
WHY IS HE SO WIDE
domnhall was killing it with the smarmy englishman shit. his jowls were SHAKING and it made me laugh VERY hard
uhh anyway thats all for now
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[SF] Interrogation
No one knew the woman that accompanied Finn Dralor through the dimly lit corridors of the trader’s deck, but everyone knew enough about Dralor to realize that whatever business she was conducting with him, it was sure to be bad.
Dralor was well known to be a slaver, smuggler, pimp ...and worse. If this were anywhere but the pirate-run Salvation Station, he’d have a dozen or more Inter-Sol bounty hunters already taking aim on him. His rakish good looks and unusually tall frame, in addition to his penchant for rich, colorful clothing, made him quite recognizable for those looking to cash in on the sizable reward offered for his capture. Fortunately for him, it was Salvation, the only space station in the entire solar system where the laws of the Inter-Solar Union didn’t hold sway. Those who came here knew that while they might look and listen, they had better keep their mouths firmly shut and mind to their own affairs.
The woman herself was anything but attractive. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but her scowling face and the fierce glances she cast about made her seem older than her years. One cheek was badly scarred, perhaps from a serious burn, and her left arm, from the elbow down, was a cybernetic replacement, steel and plexicon grafted to living flesh. Her dark hair was cropped short and her clothing, in contrast to Dralor’s rich finery, was made of a course black fabric, sleeveless and unadorned.
Usually, no one would have taken notice of her, save for one glaring detail; she wore no weapon. On Salvation, a lawless bastion of murderers and thieves, everyone was expected to provide their own protection. The fact that the woman in Dralor’s company didn’t feel the need to carry any form of protection led to one of only two possible assumptions. Either she believed that Finn Dralor would keep her safe (which would make her a fool) or, there was much more to this young woman than her appearance suggested.
All eyes watched as the pair made their way to Garl Varo’s shop, The Wicked Way. A run-down, rusted corner of the deck where illicit drugs, synth-whores, and other forms of debased entertainment could be easily purchased. As the sliding steel door of the store closed behind them, the onlookers turned back to their own business, secure in the knowledge that whatever happened inside Varo’s store, the less they knew about it, the better.
Inside, the shop was a cacophony of lights, music, and perversion. The walls were covered with monitrons displaying images of nude synthetic prostitutes, both male and female, dancing and offering their customizable bodies to those that had the currency to buy them. One simply had to select the features and attributes they desired from the touch menu on the screen, pay the required fee, and the synth-whore would be ready and willing in seconds in one of several rooms below the shop.
Directly across from the entrance sat several counters, each with a selection of holographic images showing various wares the store had to offer. Pharmaceuticals, pornographic holovids, and the latest in recreational bio-mods were on sale. The dancing colors coming from the multitude of strobing light emitters, coupled with the sound of Martian jazz, was enough to make a customer brain-dead within minutes from sensory overload, which was probably the intent. The worst salesman in the galaxy could make easy money off a zombie.
At the back of the building sitting on a hover chair was the proprietor, Garl Varo himself. A bloated, greasy lump of pale, pasty flesh, Garl was not someone most people enjoyed being around. A stinking miasma hung in the air around him at all times, a result of his addiction to muru, an extract from the root of the Venusian Orchid that put the user into a state of relaxed euphoria. His bald head and pig-like face were covered in wart-like growths, a side effect of the drug, and his wide mouth resembled nothing so much as two slabs of raw liver, gone bad. His hairless torso was bare, and sweat ran down in rivulets over his sickly-looking skin, even though the room was quite cool. He was the picture of over-indulgence and gluttony. However, anyone who drew their conclusions about Garl from his appearance alone would soon be dismayed by any business dealings they might have with him. His mind was as sharp as a razor, and his greed knew no bounds. Those two traits, along with the selection of wares he chose to sell, made him one of the most ruthless and under-handed traders on the station.
He glanced up as the two entered the shop and his face broke into a wide, stained-tooth grin. Removing his muru pipe from his lips, he beckoned to them.
“Finn, my boy!” He exclaimed throwing his gelatinous arms wide in greeting, “What brings the dirtiest scoundrel in the nine quadrants to my humble little corner of space?” Finn grinned back at the fat blob as he strolled towards him. “Oh, you know,” He said with a casual wave of his hand, “business as usual.” “Oh?” Garl replied, his eyebrows arching. “Well, let’s see if I can help you out then, alright?”
Suddenly, Garl’s hover chair spun around one hundred eighty degrees. From the back a series of panels dropped open and half a dozen tubes extended out. Finn dove to one side as the tubes began discharging ion rounds, all of them aimed squarely for the young woman still standing near the front of the room. The entire store turned into a blaze of screaming energy eruptions, the charges detonating on impact and incinerating anything they came in contact with. After a few seconds, the firing stopped and the chair spun back around.
Garl looked around at the damage to his store. The blackened monitrons filled the air with the stench of burnt ozone, and the music that had been playing was reduced to a quiet garble. The shelves with the built in holographic projectors fizzed and sparked, while puddles of melted plexicon congealed and solidified on the floor. Of the woman, there was no sign. “Well, it looks like you owe me quite a bit of money, Finn,” He said while still surveying the destruction, “I’d say about ten thousand cred’s worth.” He finished smugly. He drew deeply from his pipe as he catalogued everything that would need to be replaced.
“Who was that slut, anyway?” He asked, finally turning to look at Finn, still lying on the floor. “She wasn’t much of a looker, if ya…” Garl’s voice trailed off as he looked at the man on the floor.
Finn Dralor wasn’t paying attention to Garl. His eyes were turned upward, with a look in them that Garl didn’t like at all. Just as he turned to see what had Finn’s attention, he felt a sudden burst of pain as the woman, whom moments before he had assumed vaporized, leaped down from the ceiling she had been clinging to and caught him in the side of his bulbous, warty head with a hard kick that sent him flying from the hover chair and crashing down to the floor next to Finn.
He barely had time to realize he might be in real trouble before a cybernetic hand closed on his throat and yanked him to an almost standing position. Trying to focus his vision, he looked into the eyes of the woman who now held his immense weight up with what appeared to be very little effort on her part.
“That was a really cute trick.” She said calmly, drawing her face closer to his. “Tell me, was it the phrase ‘business as usual’ or the wave of the hand that signaled you?” She asked. “Look, miss, I …” Garl began.
The steel grasp around his throat closed tighter, restricting the flow of oxygen. She held him like that for a few moments, emotionlessly watching him to struggle to breathe. He was almost to the point of passing out when she finally loosened her hold enough for air to pass through to his lungs. His vision fading in and out, Garl heard the woman speak again.
“I don’t want to hear anything from you, beyond the answers to my questions.” She stated flatly. “Do you understand?” Garl nodded weakly, his jowls quivering.
Almost contemptuously, the woman tossed him back to the floor to once again lie next to Dralor, who hadn’t moved during their brief conversation. Looking down on both of them, the woman asked, “You deal in the drug, Irellion-9?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Propping himself up on one elbow and massaging his throat, Garl nodded. “It’s an inhibitor class stimulant, used mostly by rift pilots traveling beyond the Plutonian quadrant.” He responded. “It alleviates the symptoms of void sickness while allowing the pilots to stay conscious for months at a time.”
The woman nodded, then asked, “Do you know of anyone other than a freighter pilot who has purchased it from you in the last six months?” Garl glanced over at Finn, his eyes questioning. Finn slowly nodded his head, not saying a word.
The woman kneeled down in front of Garl, her fierce eyes boring into his. “I’m not given to asking questions a second time, Garl.” She intoned.
Garl swallowed hard, his whole body now soaked in a cold sweat. “This is Salvation, miss.“ He explained, “Someone who goes around talking too much about other people’s business don’t last very long here.”
“Oh, is that so?” The woman asked.
Reaching down with the prosthetic appendage, the woman gripped a handful of the fat man’s belly and clenched her fist. Garl began to scream, but the sound was cut short by the woman’s other hand forcing its way into his mouth, and down his throat.
“I know ways to make you suffer for days without dying, Garl.” The woman calmly assured him.
Suddenly a burning, ripping pain exploded in Garl’s chest, crawling through his abdomen and worming through his extremities. The pain grew and expanded until his entire body felt as if it were imploding in on itself. Squirming on the floor, he began wishing he would die, that he would give in to the pain and horror and simply cease to be. It felt like hours passed, all the while Garl could do nothing but suffer and hope for oblivion.
Then, when he was beginning to feel what may have been the first stirrings of death, the pain ceased, and the hand was drawn out of his mouth. Gasping and vomiting, he rolled to one side, fear and dread washing over him. To hell with the code of Salvation, he thought. He had never felt such pain! He would tell this woman whatever she wanted to hear, so long as it would get her out of his shop.
“Now, I hope we have a new understanding of one another, Garl. You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll begin to get creative. Understand?” The woman said, in that eerie calm voice.
Rolling back over to face her, Garl nodded his head vigorously in answer.
After a moment or two of silence, Garl remembered that she was awaiting an answer to her earlier question. As the woman’s eyebrow raised, a possible sign of impatience, Garl sputtered forth a response.
“There was a woman that came here about four or five weeks ago.” He said, “She purchased a large quantity of I-9.”
“How much is a ‘large quantity’?” The woman asked.
“Three liters.” Garl replied quickly. “She cleared out my entire stock.”
“How do you know she wasn’t a pilot?” The woman asked intently.
“I’ve been in business a long time, miss, and I know the look of a long trek pilot.” He assured her. “They get a real spacy and distant look in their eyes.” He said, partly smiling, as if it were an inside joke between them.
When the woman didn’t smile in return, he hastily continued, “Oh, and she wasn’t armed, just like you.” He added. “Nobody comes to Salvation unarmed.” He looked nervously at her for a moment. “Well, at least, not usually.”
“Describe her.” The woman ordered. “What did she look like?”
Garl licked his quivering lips. He tried to call up the image of the woman in his mind, but he couldn’t remember what she looked like, and that bothered him. He had an unusually good memory. Years of being in the business of selling to people who might come back with buyer’s remorse had sharpened his powers of observation considerably. For him to not be able to remember a customer, especially one as unique as the one in question …it just didn’t add up. After a few moments, he saw the woman’s eyebrow rise again.
“I’m sorry, miss!” He wailed, terrified at what new torment might be forthcoming. “I can’t remember what she looked like!” He began to blubber, “I know it was a woman, but I can’t remember anything about her beyond that.”
The woman seemed to ponder this for a moment, her eyes studying his for any sign of deception. Then she asked, “Do you know where she went, after making her purchase?” Garl was on the verge of telling the woman ‘No’ out of force of habit, when he remembered the pain from only moments ago. It went against the grain to tell someone about someone else’s affairs, but this was no ordinary someone. He had no doubts this woman was being nothing less than truthful when she said she could put him through the most excruciating torture for days before allowing him the luxury of dying. He also had no doubts she would follow through on her word without hesitation if he gave her an unfavorable response.
“Yeah,” He nodded, “Word got back to me that she made straight for the docking ports.” He said. “She got on a transport bound for Xanadu.”
Xanadu was the largest colony on the moon Titan, orbiting Saturn. It would only take a few hours to get there by ship.
“You’re sure it was Xanadu?” The woman pressed him. “Absolutely, miss.” Garl answered. The woman stood up slowly and looked over at Finn Dralor. “We’ll be leaving now.” She said.
Suddenly, the fabric of reality seemed to shift in front of Garl Varo’s eyes. One moment he was lying on the floor of his ruined shop, looking up at the woman who had caused him so much pain and misery. The next, he was seated in his hover chair, looking across the unmarred shop at the woman and Finn Dralor standing just inside the door. He stared in dumbfounded amazement at the displays and monitrons, all undamaged and just as they were before the two had entered his store.
Finally his gaze settled back on the woman, who was looking at him with a hint of veiled amusement. Dralor was standing at her side, a somewhat regretful look on his face. Then, it suddenly came clear. “Bloody shite,” He swore. “You’re a Dah’shia!” The Dah’shia was a sect of assassins known throughout the entire solar system as powerful psionicists, beings able to manipulate the thoughts of others with their minds. Many considered them to be a legend or myth, due to the rarity of survived encounters. It was said a Dah’shia assassin could turn a person’s own mind into a weapon against them. Based upon his recent experience, Garl could personally vouch for it.
“You’ve been very helpful, Garl.” The woman told him in a matter-of-fact manner. “But I’m afraid I can’t leave you alive to tell others about this meeting.”
“Wait …please …I won’t …” Garl stammered, before his consciousness abruptly shut off forever.
Turning to her companion, who was still staring at the twitching corpse floating in the hover chair, the woman spoke. “We will return to your ship now.” She said. “I want to depart for Xanadu as soon as possible.” With that, she moved towards the door.
Finn turned to leave, following the woman, and then glanced back at the body of Garl Varo. They had only stepped inside the store for a few moments, and though Finn had no way of knowing what had passed between the mind-assassin and the smut-peddler, he knew it had to have been horrifying. Exiting the shop, he and the woman, whose name he didn’t even know, made their way back to his ship.
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Tormund And Brienne Is Actually The ‘Game From Thrones’ Passion Our Team Certainly Never Knew Our.
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