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langwrites · 4 years

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Merc Work

I have no excuse for this other than needing a break from my NaNoWriMo break from Kei.

Be warned: It has no ending.

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On a half-decent day, Kei would wake up with the dawn in a world without alarm clocks. If the day was especially good, she’d do so in her own fucking bed and not be on a ridiculous solo mission that’d gotten blown so thoroughly off track that she couldn’t see the proper path with the Hubble telescope. Waking up in an unfamiliar continent was already a sign of a bad time, and then the power of an unfeeling cosmic gearbox threw in the unasked-for bonus of pervasive xenophobia while surrounded by European fantasy analogues. Especially while being trailed by three Academy students on what should have been a harmless trip to visit the graves of their family.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the comparatively minor setback of Kei being on third watch. Sleep was for people who didn’t have a demonic turtle sitting in their lap. And who weren’t “new meat” by local standards.

So, between having to join up with a mercenary band to avoid dealing with racist jackasses through the power of numbers and swords, the apparent tech levels not supporting indoor plumbing, the safety of her students, and sitting in the cold for two hours before sunrise… Well, Kei could be forgiven for feeling a bit crabby.

Ha.

You hush.

Never.

Kei considered the complete inability to actually keep Isobu from intruding on any conversation he liked, then sighed. There was such a thing as a hopeless fight, even for her.

Isobu folded his armored forelegs under his belly. Had you not been transported here alongside the children, would you have joined this mercenary band to begin with?

Kei made an “I dunno” noise without opening her mouth. I mean, the sheer isolation would be an absolute nightmare. I know my limits a bit better now.

The spiritual wreckage of her left arm attested to that issue.

Isobu looked down, over the edge of Kei’s lap and toward the forest around Remire Village. They were probably about ten meters into the crown of the oak tree Kei chose as her lookout post for the last week, with only minor modifications to the branches. The only real change between this night and others involved Isobu being a lookout alongside her, rather than haunting the nearby river and stealing fish for his own amusement.

And for feeding the kids, but that hadn’t happened since they’d joined the Jeralt mercenaries last month.

Even if Kei didn’t trust rowdy men and women to look after a bunch of kids with special powers, she did trust Isobu to keep track of them. If the mercenaries got into a skirmish with bandits or anyone else, Kei ordered Kaito, Aiko, and Roku to hide with their spiky guardian as their sole point of contact with the group. When the situation was safe, Kei would call for them. If it wasn’t… well, that wasn’t going to happen. Kei had seen the local idea of what “power” meant and was left unimpressed.

Nothing could get past me if it tried.

There’s a sentiment I can get behind. She’d survived worse than angry knights chasing her with spears.

The only one Kei wasn’t entirely sure of was the mercenaries’ second fiddle. The Ashen Demon, sole child of the Blade Breaker, went by Byleth Eisner (or just Byleth) to everyone else. They were half their father’s bulk and didn’t resemble him much in either coloring or general features. The lack of visible emotion on their face left most people around here fairly unnerved, but Kei found it was actually something of an advantage upon joining the mercenaries. Because people like Jeralt were already used to Byleth’s culturally-remarkable flat affect, they had an easier time giving some slack to Kei’s preferred mask of complete professional stoicism.

The kids didn’t bother hiding their feelings about the whole thing—they latched onto Byleth insofar as they did anyone, perhaps because they were the smallest adult available who wasn’t Kei.

But Byleth also had a job, and that job included enough of Kei’s personal stabbing quota to disqualify them from combat babysitting duties.

Though she’d asked once about it anyway.

Byleth’s microexpressions were difficult to read. She left the conversation with the impression they were more confused by Kei’s willingness to approach them than insulted by the presumption, and thus joined Kei and her ducklings at dinner on occasion like they had a standing invitation.

They basically did. Kei wouldn’t shoo away people who liked her cooking, and Byleth didn’t get loudly drunk all damn night.

Don’t worry, though. You’re still the indisputed babysitting champion of the battlefield.

Pah. Isobu swatted Kei’s hand with one of his tails.

Rowdy for a clone, aren’t you?

Insulting for a host, are you not? Isobu reversed it, because of course he did. And it is not as though this clone could be destroyed by anything less than your brute strength.

Fair.

Normally, Kei could have continued this line of thought for some time. Bantering with Isobu was a peaceful way to pass a watch shift. He had good night vision. She had the ability to interact with the world as a human being. These things were very complimentary.

And Isobu used his sensitive eye, adapted for exploring the sea, to spot the problem before Kei heard it. Smoke at night was difficult to see without decent moonlight, at least for humans. Isobu poked at her brain to draw her attention to it. Likewise, the orange flicker of distant flames was just barely visible in Kei’s periphery if Kei angled her vision, like she would if observing the stars.

That is going to be our problem in short order.

Isn’t it always? Kei replied, leaning as far sideways as she can to see through the modified canopy. Any farther and gravity would be held at bay only by chakra usage. Time to get up.

Indeed. And that was when Isobu opened his mouth to roar.

It was a tiny noise, relative to his true form’s size, but the sleepy village below them started to stir. The mercenaries were used to the sound of Isobu’s dying rabbit screams by now.

And down.

Kei shoved Isobu off her lap, sending his spiky ass tumbling out of the tree to land among the three kids piled up in their camping bags. Kaito stirred first, patting sleepily at Isobu’s ridged belly before sitting up. This dislodged Roku and Aiko in order, just in time for Kei to land about a meter away with her finger in front of her face in a clear shh gesture.

None of her three charges moved a muscle.

“All three of you need to hide,” Kei told them, in the language no one around here spoke.

One by one, she hugged each of them tightly enough to convey the seriousness of her request. Three pairs of cautious eyes met hers, in turn, and then they scrambled to hide their possessions under thickets in the village’s outskirts. No bandits could know there might be someone here to chase.

After about a minute, she picked up Isobu’s little clone and placed him in Kaito’s shaky arms.

The kids knew she’d come back. The mercenaries had fought in five skirmishes since they joined like glorified camp followers, and not one of those battles featured a single opponent Kei couldn’t destroy with her eyes closed.

But this was their comfort zone. Each time Kei left them, like a mother wolf leaving her den, she stripped that security like a worn bandage.

Even only after a month of immersion, the kids picked up the local tongue fairly fast. They were young and adaptable and Kei was the only human adult around who spoke Japanese to them. Until they heard it again, from either her or Isobu, they’d stay out of sight. The waiting, though, never really got any easier.

“They’ll never find us,” Roku said, tugging gently at Aiko and Kaito’s wrists. The oldest, at barely eleven, and already forcing himself to be the most responsible.

“Bye, Sensei,” Aiko said reluctantly, before Roku curled his arm entirely around her to keep her from running off.

“Stay safe,” Kei told her. She looked directly to Kaito and added, “Be good for Isobu-chan.”

Kaito didn’t say anything at all, instead just fixing Kei with a stare like he’d forget what she looked like if he didn’t. This lasted until Isobu ordered Roku to get all three kids away from there, and he did.

All three of them disappeared into the forest. They knew how to climb trees like bear cubs—or shinobi—which would have to be enough. And if a single enemy got near them, Kei would probably need to cut a grown man in half. Perhaps several.

Byleth would help.

I’ll let you know when it’s safe to be out here again, Kei thought to Isobu.

You should know that I was not designed for an arboreal existence. I have many prehensile tails, but I am not a squirrel.

But you’re so cute!

Flattery will get you nowhere. With that sassy rejoinder, Isobu did the equivalent of flicking Kei in the forehead.

Kei headed to the village’s front gate, cutting directly through the forest with the ease of someone who’d been in and around the wilderness her entire life. She could hear another group crashing through the woods at high speed, relative to normal human averages, and a larger group likely in pursuit.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Hidden Mist. Though the hand seal for this technique was more of a stance, she could still put her detection trick in action. She just had to make sure it was concentrated on the pursuers, not the pursued. Deliberately leaving voids was useless for her strategies, but it probably kept people from breaking their necks unnecessarily.

And it let her know that the slower, louder group was thirty strong.

She kept going until she reached the village’s gates, spotting a mercenary named Arkady on duty. Backlit by torches, his five earrings caught the light and gave him away.

“Back from the camping trip already?” Arkady asked, a note of alarm creeping into his voice. “Where are the kids?”

“Safe,” Kei told him. She slid into place on the opposite side of the gate, hand on the borrowed steel shortsword that’d carried her for the last month. Her katana was not to be wasted on bandits around here. Or in sparring. “But hidden. Someone is heading this way.”

Arkady paused, eyed the forest, and then nodded. “I’ll wake the captain and his kid. Stay here.”

Kei let him go and drummed her fingers against her sword’s hilt, waiting. The crashing was getting closer, and her kids were fifty meters away in a tree. Even while dead certain Isobu was with them, her nerves refused to settle.

Strictly speaking, she didn’t need to keep herself and her team so far away from the mercenaries. They were a rowdy crew, but they were only of the rough-and-tumble sort. They expressed affection by going out drinking and slapping each other on the back and fighting shoulder-to-shoulder through wind and rain. Since Byleth had been with Jeralt since before he founded the company, presumably the various members would be at least peripherally trustworthy with children.

Kei, as a nineteen-year-old with dependents who had one half-cracked voice between them, only trusted the company on the battlefield.

Arkady returned without Byleth or Jeralt, but he did have Marcel. The two of them were like a pair of piratical brunet bookends and cracked jokes anytime they weren’t on the job. It made her students edgy around them, but they were well-liked within the boisterous mercenary crew. Like many soldiers of fortune, they wore a fair amount of jewelry to emphasize their success, which was some of the best advertising around. So was the mess of scars, though only Marcel was missing a chunk of his nose.

“What’s the matter?” Marcel asked, right before the group Kei’d been hearing for the last sixty-odd meters finally crashed out of the woods at nearly the same volume it started.

Three muddied, twig-strewn teenagers stumble up to the pool of torchlight, panting.

Kei pointed at them, because it was faster than bothering to explain herself.

One white-haired girl and a dark-haired boy, at complete opposite ends of the “has this person seen the sun in the last decade” skin tone spectrum, while the tallest is the blond boy in the middle. If not for the torches, Kei wouldn’t even be able to call them “kids” in any meaningful sense, but she did know what school uniforms look like. Kei wandered out of her education as a baby adult, by one reckoning or another. Both of them. She hadn’t been able to look up information on the internet for unfortunately obvious reasons, but in a world where bespoke tailoring is a norm rather than a luxury and damn near nobody wore customized clothing unless they were rich, Kei’s intuition was subsumed by screeching alarm bells.

Third watch on a morning when they were supposed to be marching north into the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and now this. Kei’s private list of complaints kept getting longer.

“Scarface,” said Marcel, while the kids caught their breath, “why don’t you back up?”

Kei did so, because these kids were likely to react to Kei’s not-Caucasian features with the traditional xenophobia displayed by basically every non-mercenary person from Fódlan so far. If she had to deal with weapons swinging at her face before the sun came up, they’d better be attacks from people she already wanted dead. She didn’t have the patience this early in the morning.

The motion caught the eye of the boy with the yellow shoulder-cape, but little else about Kei was too distinct once she was out of direct torchlight.

Well, mostly.

Sort of.

She was wearing a haori, her armguards, and the local pants-and-boots combination because her sandals could be saved for special occasions. Instead of covering her face with a mask or even wearing her headband as intended, she tied it around her neck like an ascot. There was only so much point in pretending to be anything but foreign. Between her accent and facial features that she was not going to burn chakra trying to hide, it was something Kei kept in perspective.

And the yellow-themed kid was still looking at her.

“Kid, eyes over here,” Arkady demanded.

Kei silently cheered at even a token attempt to direct attention away from her.

At this point, Jeralt and Byleth arrived.

Jeralt was a huge, dull-orange mountain of a man with dirty blond hair and a braid and undercut combination Kei didn’t think would ever catch on. His scarred face told even more of a story than Kei’s did, and no one was quite sure how many battles he’d rushed into and out of alive. Nor were they sure how old he was. More than anyone else in the company, Jeralt was a cavalry commander down to his metal greaves and could be trusted to lead the group to victory come hell or high water.

Competing for second place was his shadow. Byleth, the quietest person in the company and therefore the one Kei’s students tolerated best besides the horses, was about Kei’s age. They were also one of the few adults shorter than Kei was. Their eyes were a distinct deep blue and their hair a dark teal, which almost blended in with the charcoal-gray clothes they preferred this late at night, punctuated by matte black armor along their arms and legs. The ghostly complexion stood out like the fucking moon by comparison.

The two of them commanded all the attention better than a weird foreigner did.

“Please forgive our intrusion,” said the blond one, bowing with his hand over his heart. Kei’s brain tried to calculate angles to assess formality before remembering that cultures were weird and American accents were weirder. He went on, “We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

Jeralt visibly took note of the formality, then said, “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?”

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits.” Oh for fuck’s sake. While the blond noble kept talking—and he was a noble, because Kei had much more experience with the blunter speech patterns commoners used. Couldn’t be anything else. “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.”

“Bandits? Here?” Jeralt’s gaze flicked to Kei.

She nodded, because it was as good a designation for the enemy still shouting their way through the forest as any. Bandits had been trying to kill Kei since she was Aiko’s age. This wasn’t new.

Jeralt didn’t give the order to attack them just yet. Instead, he turned his attention back to the kids as they started talking.

The white-haired girl said, “It's true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.”

Not a great sign. Why had three noble children been exposed like that? In Kei’s experience, nobility tended to spend a lot more time cloistered inside protective structures, and even traveling daimyo tended to take a proper procession with them. Where were the guards? People died when they were caught alone.

Maybe the fire she’d seen was a part of it?

As though to confirm her rising tide of suspicions, the noble boy in yellow said, “We’ve been separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered. They’re after our lives…not to mention our gold.”

Well, then. If they were anything like the bandits Kei ran into during the initial month she’d spent as her students’ sole reliable defense, this wouldn’t take long.

“I’m impressed you’re staying so calm considering the situation. I… Wait.” Jeralt’s body language went rigid. Like he’d just found an armed opponent in a darkened hallway. “That uniform…”

One of the group’s archers—Rickard—ran up with his bow drawn. He shrugged off Marcel and Arkady’s questions, attention locked on Jeralt so thoroughly that he nearly tripped over Kei on his way to report in. If she’d stuck her foot out, he’d have slammed face-first into the village’s defensive wall.

“Bandits spotted just outside the village.” Rickard gestured out at the forest. “There are a lot of them.”

Byleth turned their head toward Kei, making an inquisitive gesture with their hand. One of the many, many reasons Kei’s students liked them was because they were willing to pantomime nearly everything if necessary. And while body language didn’t often cross national boundaries, Byleth was willing to learn almost anything Kei put in front of them.

Kei held up three fingers on her right hand—counting her thumb—then brought all five of them together to a single point.

Byleth’s gaze sharpened.

Jeralt considered Rickard first, then said to the kids, “I guess they followed you all the way here.” He’d caught the gesture conversation with Byleth, and said to his child, “We can’t abandon this village now. Come on, let’s move.”

Byleth nodded.

“Hope you’re ready,” Jeralt grunted. “Kid, you take these three into cover and pick off anybody you can reach. Rickard, you’re with Marcel and Arkady. Rally the rest.” Then Jeralt only had Kei left to address. “And you. Your job is skirmisher. Don’t let them get around the village’s defenses.”

Kei bowed, arms held rigidly at her sides. “As you wish.”

Jeralt waved her off, so Kei decided this was an excellent time to make herself scarce.

#Keisuke Gekko #catch your breath fanfic #team kei #roku chigami #kaito yuki #aiko kasai #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

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Adora and Bow make it to Dryl and discover something they did not expect.

Making it up to the Castle of Dryl was way, way easier on flying horse back!

They didn’t have to traverse narrow mountain paths, or risk giving away their position with loud magical transformation, or use First Ones legendary Runeswords to clear away rock slides in their path. No. On the back of Swift Wind, they just flew right on up to the castle. Easy as you please.

They didn’t go directly-directly up to the castle, of course. It was still under Horde control, after all. Not disorganized and confused Horde Remnant control. Cohesive, disciplined, consistent Horde control. The walls held sentries. Regular patrols toured the paths and trails around the castle. Someone would notice a bright, rainbow winged horse land in the courtyard. They were indoctrinated soldiers, they weren’t blind or stupid.

Swift Wind brought them down above the castle. On the slope that hung slightly above its tallest spire. Adora and Bow dismounted and crouched low to the ground. Crawling on their bellies, they slunk up to the edge of the cliff to peer down at the castle.

Sure enough, Dryl was still flying Horde banners. Green on green instead of the usual red on red, or red on black. The sentries on the walls wore full armor, straight postures, alert. There was no slouch in them to indicate a decline in moral. Just looking at the soldiers occupying Dryl, one would think the Horde was never defeated at all.

That was confirmation enough for Adora and Bow that Hordak was, indeed, in residence at Dryl.

After the debacle with the portal, Entrapta brought Hordak back to her own castle to regroup after their defeat.

Adora remembered seeing him just before Catra pulled the switch. She didn’t think it significant at the time, after all, she was trying to stop the end of the world. But he had made some very distinct changes to his costume. The dark Lord that she couldn’t remember changing his look in all the years she’d lived in the Fright Zone had dropped the cape. Replacing it with some kind of armored frame. And front and center on that armored frame was a First Ones crystal. Adora didn’t know if the crystal served some kind of practical purpose in the armor, as a power source, possible, or whatever. But the word in First Ones writing that was inscribed on the crystal was very jarring.

It was entirely possible that Hordak couldn’t read First Ones writing. After all, there were not very many people in Etheria who could. In fact, aside from Adora herself, she’d only met two others capable of reading First Ones interlocking, sigil-like letters. One was Bow’s father, Lance, and… Entrapta. Entrapta had to know what the word inscribed on the collar of Hordak’s new shoulder armor said. She might even have been the one to put it there herself.

‘Luvd’. Loved.

Entrapta and Hordak might very well be lovers.

If they were, it made perfect sense that she would take her lover back to her own Queendom and stronghold after his defeat.

But they still needed to get inside for real confirmation.

For all Adora knew, it was Catra and Scorpia instead. For all Adora knew, after the defeat in the Sanctum, Catra could have staged a coup and taken over what was left of the Horde from Hordak and installed herself as Lady of the Horde. Moving the base of operation to Dryl so that Entrapta –who said Catra was her best friend according to the data- could build more weapons for her.

“I need to get inside.” Adora whispered to Bow and Swift Wind. She had to know. She had to know if it was Catra.

“Don’t forget, it’s a maze in there.” Bow reminded her.

Adora just shook her head. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’ll never know what’s actually going on in there if we just stay out here.”

…

A strap of their overalls slipped down off one shoulder as Dak ran through the dimply lit corridors of the castle. They were trying to keep pace with their quarry.

Imp was making it harder for Dak to catch him. The tiny deamon wasn’t just finding a high perch and waiting for the young hybrid to figure out how to get to him anymore. Now their hunting games had evolved into actual hunting. Hide and Seek. Chase and Tag. Games that developed the small Horde clone’s reflexes and agility. Games that taught the small Horde clone how to think quickly and adaptively, how to solve problems on the fly, and seek solutions around obstacles.

Usually, these lessons were programed into Horde clones during gestation. By the time normal Horde clones were hatched from the tanks, they resembled the physical age of an adult in their early twenties. It was too late by then to use childish hunting games to instill these values and instincts. They were programmed at an early stage of gestation, then reinforced with physical training and conditioning after hatching instead.

Before the degradation that plagued master first manifested, Hordak –Hordak senior- was an excellent hunter and warrior. Who excelled at tracking and cornering prey.

He was an enviable warrior too.

All Horde were trained in all weapons. But Hordak favored the force-pike, and the bow-staff. Melee weapons capable of parrying multiple opponents at once, while also offering a longer range than a more traditional sword –that was the favored weapon of the average soldier, or the more aesthetic and symmetrical shock-batons that Hordwing (another member of the cabinet) favored.

Imp had absolutely no idea how he was going to drill master’s heir in weapons. He was already operating far outside his programed parameters as a deamon-class android indentured to the Imperial Horde cabinet. Deamon were not programmed with archaic childrens games in their databanks and they were not physically designed to teach combat.

But Imp had been Hode’s deamon before he was Hordak’s.

Hode was a member of the Imperial cabinet, and he was eccentric. All members of the Imperial Horde cabinet were a little eccentric. It seemed to be a quirk of high preforming soldiers. Only the best could be elevated to leadership positions directly under the Emperor, and it seemed to be a symptom of the best to also be a little weird. Hode’s weirdness manifested in a strange appreciation for history and art that bordered on fixation.

The Horde, as a species, did not crawl out of the primordial ooze with a cloning tank strapped to its back. There must have been a time before the cloning tanks when the Horde procreated through more natural means. When Horde hatched from eggs instead of tanks. When Horde had to grow slowly over the years, learning with every experience as more natural organisms did. Hode went out of his way to discover the forgotten history of the Horde. Literally, going out of his way, to the planet Revena at the very heart of the Empire.

All that he learned was saved to Imp’s memory banks. The old cabinet Lord had to install surplus memory in Imp to house it all and keep the deamon from crashing. Of all the deamon-class androids in use within the Empire, Imp was probably the most modified and most utilized beyond his original purpose.

Imp never imagined he would actually find a use for any of the data Hode added to him. He always just thought it was the old Lord hoarding information like the information hoarder he was.

Imp turned his attention back to his charge. To master’s heir. A Horde hatched from its cloning tank prior to the age of adulthood. Without any programing or education. They were the closest thing to a ‘naturally hatched’ Horde in several generations. Easily since Revena was deemed inhospitable.

Dak was distracted and no longer running after Imp.

This happened periodically. As much as Dak was master’s clone, they were also the Princess’ clone, and Imp noticed very early on that the Princess’ mind did not think in straight lines. She was easily distracted, her attention shifting focus –complete focus- to whatever new, interesting thing piqued her curiosity.

In this case, it appeared to be a portrait on the wall.

Imp paused in his flying, and fluttered over to perch on top of the painting’s frame. He chittered down at the young Horde clone, demanding they return to the training game. Dak would never become a strong and capable warrior if they neglected lessons that all other Horde clones already came pre-programmed with.

Dak glanced up at him, flashing those eyes that were the wrong color. A luminescent fuchsia instead of the neon glow of primary-red. Then the hybrid went back to studying the painting Imp was perched on. Frustrated, the little deamon fluttered down to land on Dak’s shoulders and see what was so much more important than their training.

It was an image of master’s Princess, Entrapta. Posing with two robots flanking her on either side. Entrapta in the foreground and the bots slightly behind. Imp didn’t see what was so fascinating. It was just Entrapta. Imp had seen Entrapta hundreds of times. Towards the end there, both she and Hordak practically lived in the lab. Cohabitating in a way that deviated from what was average for Horde clones.

“Mother.” Dak informed the deamon, pointing at the picture as if there might be some confusion as to what held their attention.

The hybrid had been expanding their vocabulary by the day, even forming simple sentences. But more than that, Dak was also developing more complicated thought. Becoming curious. About the castle, about the people around them, and about themself. The castle staff that seemed to have appointed themselves additional instructors for master’s heir in the fields of language, manners and etiquette, how to eat, how to dress themselves, and how to comport one’s self as the heir to an Etherian Queendom also spent a great deal of time telling master’s heir about the other half of their genetic template. About their ‘mother’.

‘Mother’ was an Etherian word. Imp couldn’t say that it was an Etherian concept because it was not unique to Etheria. Many races the universe over had a concept of ‘mothers’ and ‘fathers’. Of assigning different names to the genetic templates that formed an individual’s creation. There was no word of equivalent meaning in the Horde language, or if there had been, it was lost to time and disuse through the generations of cloning. Horde did not have parents. They were all siblings. All brothers reproduced from the same model.

All except master’s heir.

“Sc’pya-“ Dak cleared their throat to try again. It had been a couple days since they’d seen Scorpia, but their speaking ability had improved a lot in that time. They did not have to mangle her name anymore. “Scorpia left to find her. Why?”

Imp offered a non-committal shrug. He didn’t care about the actions of beings that didn’t directly affect his master or their goals and mission. The Etherian Force Captain felt somehow responsible for the Princess being sent away, to spite the fact that she was not the one to strike the blow or give the order. Imp would never understand organic beings outside the Horde.

“Baker says I need her.” Dak continued, looking at the painting in the same way one might look at a previously undiscovered creature. With curiosity, a lack of understanding, and a desire to study and become familiar with. Actually, what Baker said was that ‘all children needed their mothers’, and Dak was one of ‘all children’. So, the conclusion was the same even if the words were different. “Do I need a mother?”

Imp searched through his saved auditory files until he found the one syllable negative he needed to answer that question. It was Hordak’s voice that came from his mouth when he opened it to play, “No.”

“Oh.” Did the young clone sound disappointed when they said that? “Okay.”

Imp frowned. Master’s heir seemed to accept the answer, but not believe it. He searched his auditory banks for a larger sound file that might give a better explanation for the young clone. He found an old recoding he didn’t even know was still in his memory drives. “The Horde value strength above all else, Zero-Zero-Three.” A skip in the track. “You are not strong if you require my help to conceal your condition. You cannot rely on other people.” Imp replayed the last line to make sure master’s heir understood the important part. “You cannot rely on other people.”

“Oh.” Dak said again. There was a pregnant pause in which the young clone just stood there, thinking. Processing the information Imp just shared. Then their lips pulled back, white-colored fangs showing in a puckish grin. “Then that means I don’t need you to help me get into the locked room.”

Dak shrugged Imp off their shoulders and dashed off down the corridor in the opposite direction they’d originally come.

Imp was left to flap in frustration.

The Locked Room, was a door in Castle Dryl that no one could open. There was a keypad on the side, presumably that unlocked it and opened the door. But no one knew the combination. There was, however, a small panel at floor level that could be passed through. Dak had seen robots go in and out of it, carrying empty trays on a consistent schedule. Some sort of automated delivery system that no one bothered to turn off. Either that, or there was someone in the Locked Room that needed an empty tray brought to them three times a day. Dak didn’t know, but they wanted to know!

It was only the little hybrid’s second day in the castle when they noticed the phenomenon. They were still getting used to navigating the confusing and maze-like corridors of Dryl when Dak saw a little robot that was smaller than they were carrying an empty tray on its head. Curious, Dak followed it. Through twists and turns, down corridors and up ramps. Until the little bot disappeared through a small panel at floor level sized exactly for it that slid out of the way. The bot exited the hatch a few moments later, still carrying its empty tray. Dak followed it again, this time ending its journey through the castle in the kitchens.

When Dak asked Busgirl about the bot and the Locked Room, all she told them was that the Princess –their mother- never planned to get captured in the Fright Zone and so never turned off her automated serving bots. No one else in the castle knew how, so the bot just kept going through the motions of its programed task.

Which meant that whatever was inside the Locked Room was directly related to Dak’s mother. They wanted inside that room. They wanted to know. It was a desire for answers that went beyond just standard curiosity.

Dak asked Imp to go through the hatch and unlock the room from the inside. The little deamon was about the same size as the bot and should have no problem fitting through the small opening. But Imp flat out refused. So, Dak was left to come up with their own creative solution.

They navigated the corridors of Dryl until they came to an exit that lead outside. Dak was several floors up from their destination, but the height wasn’t much of a barrier for them.

Climbing onto the walkway ledge, Dak leaned forward, wrapping their hair around the flagpole of one of the Horde banners that were raised all over the castle. Using their hair as a rope, the little hybrid swung themself from the walkway to the pole. Hugging it koala-style to keep from falling. Then slid down the pole, using their hair to control the speed of their decent until they reached the courtyard where the soldiers patrolled and practiced daily marching and combat drills.

In the courtyard, off to one side, shoved in a corner, close to where the castled wall joined into the very living rock of the cliffs, was the makeshift hanger where the Horde parked and stored their vehicles. It was also where they stored their tools for repairing and maintaining the vehicles. It was the tools Dak was after.

“Who goes there!?” A soldier snapped, hearing the noise of the little hybrid grabbing whatever looked useful and shoving them in the pockets of their overalls.

“Hi.” Dak straightened and turned around, hands full of tools that were almost too big for their child-sized hands to hold. They curled the tail of their hair to pantomime a thumb and pointed at themself. “I’m Hordak!”

The soldier came up short, recognizing the ‘intruder’ as their Lord’s heir. She lowered her weapon, at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Was the Little Lord allowed to play with real mechanics’ tools? Should she stop them? Or would that be hindering some part of the Lord’s personal projects. The average Horde soldier did not know much about what was and was not appropriate for children.

“Bye.” The little hybrid brushed past the soldier, their pockets and arms full of raided tools. Dak pantomimed waving good-bye with their hair was they exited the hanger.

The poor soldier was left just blinking at the Little Lord’s retreating back.

A few minutes later, when the same soldier hear more noises sneaking through the hanger, she assumed it was Hordak’s heir again and ignored it. Perhaps if she had checked on the second round of noises, she would have recognized the defector former-Force Captain Adora and one of her rebel conspirators, Bow. But the guard did not check, and the intruders were allowed to slip into the castle unnoticed.

Arms and pockets full of tools, Dak marched purposefully through the corridors. As if they were confident in where they were going.

They were confident. But they still got lost twice on the way to the Locked Room. They had gotten very familiar with the labyrinthine twists and turns –for the most part. But every now and again, when they exited out one way, and came back in another, they got confused on which way to take to get to where they wanted to go.

It took a couple tries, but Dak finally found the Locked Room again.

They dumped all the tools in their arms on the floor and took out the tools in their pockets. Keeling down, using both hands and their hair, Dak arranged all the tool carefully next to the panel hatch. Organizing them by shape since they didn’t actually know what half of them did.

Turning their attention back to the hatch, Dak examined the opening. Deciding what they actually had to do in order to get inside the Locked Room. The panel had a seal around it. A metal trim that was fastened on by screws with hexagonal indents. Dak didn’t know the names of everything he’d taken with him, but they could see what fit with what. Selecting an allan wrench and began twisting the bolts. Just loosening them at first, then taking them out all together. Finally, the metal seal was able to be pulled off.

The sliding panel of the hatch fell away almost the moment the seal was off and Dak smiled. Their hair curling and twisting with excitement. They were going to get into the Locked Room, and they didn’t even need Imp’s help after all!

Maybe the deamon was right. Horde didn’t need help!

Dak tried crawling through the space that was made bigger by the removal of the seal and panel.

…And got immediately stuck.

They made a sound of distress. A loud, shrill, feral sound that came from the back of their throat. More like a predator caught in the claw-trap than a startled child struggling in a tight spot they put themselves in.

Maybe Imp was wrong. Maybe Horde did need help.

“Do you hear that?”

Dak’s pointed ears twitched. They paused in their panicked keening to listen. It sounded like other people in the corridor. A guard patrol maybe? Dak rarely saw soldiers actually inside the castle. They were intimidated by the winding maze of corridors. Preferring instead to construct their own field barracks in the courtyard.

“It sounded like a wounded animal.” Replied a second voice.

There was a pause.

“You don’t think… you don’t think Entrapta’s testing on animals, do you?” They sounded so concerned.

Dak could hear footsteps now. Two pairs of boots. They must have just turned a corner.

Then one of them gasped. “Is that a kid!?”

“Are they hurt?” Asked the other.

“Not hurt!” Dak shouted, trying to turn their head but having trouble. “Just stuck!”

“Hang one.” Commanded one of the speakers. A gentle masculine voice, full of soft empathy and soothing sensitive tones. “We’ll get you out.”

“No!” Dak snapped. They were finally getting inside the Locked Room. They were not going to give up and let themself he dragged out by soldiers who didn’t know any better. “I want in!”

There was a silent pause from the two on the corridor side.

Then the one with the gentle masculine voice noted, “This is Entrapta’s lab.”

There was a second silent pause.

Then the second one, female, business-like, more militaristic, asked, “Kid, if we get you in the lab, can you unlock the door and let us in too?”

“Yeah.” Dak promised.

“Okay. Bow, help me push.” The female commanded.

“But what if they get hurt?” Asked the male.

“We need to know.” The other reminded him. “Kid, we’re gonna push you from this side. Let us know if we’re hurting you.”

Dak felt hands on their feet, pushing them from the outside. Lifting their head, Dak cast their eyes around for something close enough to grab to pull themself from the inside.

The Locked Room was not what Dak was expecting. It was dimly lit, dimmer than the rest of the castle which was already fairly dim. But Dak’s eyes adjusted quickly, the bioluminescent fuchsia sclera glowing brighter as the hybrid’s body registered the need to compensate for their environment.

The far wall of the Locked Room was one large computer array. A massive monitor screen in the center, surrounded by several smaller screens. All of them currently asleep, the resting screen saver bouncing around their frames. There were several parts of machines arranged along the walls. Some suspended from the ceiling. Some supported in frames. Some just lying on the floor. The closest one set in a frame that was bolted down firmly was just barely close enough for Dak to grab with their hair.

Craning their neck, Dak stretched their blue mohawk of hair to wrap around a protruding segment of broken cam shaft.

Between the two pushing them on the outside, and Dak pulling themself on the inside, the little hybrid managed to get through the tiny robot hatch. …and the only damage was that their overalls ripped a little bit. That one strap that was slipping down their shoulder earlier breaking entirely. It hung limply down their front, making their appearance asymmetrical and making them look sloppy.

Finally inside the Locked Room, Dak stood. Looking around in all directions. Lifting their head, turning three-hundred and sixty degrees to try and see everything at once.

The tow that were still outside banged on the main door. “Hey, Kid, let us in. Remember. Are you okay in there? Kid?”

It took effort for Dak to pry their eyes away from all the interesting things the Locked Room held. They wanted to snoop through it all. But the two on the other side of the door were so insistent. And Dak had said that they would let them in once inside. Dak reached with their hair to hit the door release button.

The door slid open and Dak actually saw their helpers for the first time. A man and a woman. They were not wearing Horde soldier uniforms, but that could just mean they were off duty. Dak had only been at the castle for a few days and hadn’t met everyone yet. The woman was tall, blond haired, and blue eyed. Wearing a red jacket with big shoulder pads, the golden hilt of a sword just visible over one shoulder. The man was shorter than her, dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed. He had an open and friendly face that made Dak think they might be fun to hang out with.

Both of them froze the moment they saw Dak.

Expressions shifting from cautiously hopeful to downright shocked. They both looked down at Dak, their eyes wide and mouths slightly open. What? Was there something on their face? Was the hybrid dirty from squeezing through the hatch? Dak brushed their clothes off, tried righting the ripped strap of their overalls, then gave up when it just fell back down again.

They looked back up at the still shock-faced strangers and smiled. Flashing their sharper-than-sharp white teeth. “Hi. I’m Hordak.”

The two just continued to stare at them.

“Uh- uh- Adora…?” Began the dark, friendly-faced one.

“Yeah, Bow?” Answered the tall blond with the sword.

“Are you… seeing the same thing I’m seeing?” His voice cracked on that last word. As if he were suddenly and inexplicably so nervous his throat was closing from a level of shock that triggered a physiological panic.

A child that looked to be around the age of ten. Pale skinned, pointy eared, glowing-eyed, with a long blue mohawk going all the way down to their feet. Wearing dark navy overalls, over a burgundy t-shirt that looked just a size too large for them.

“Are you seeing a kid-version of Hordak?” Asked the woman –Adora.

“I’m Hordak!” Dak repeated, suddenly becoming frustrated with the pair.

“Okay.” The man –Bow- sounded like he might break down into tears. “Just making sure.”

The two just went back to staring.

Dak became impatient. “Locked Room’s open.” They pointed with the hair. The long tail of blue making a wide sweep of the room. “You wanted in too, right?”

If it was even possible, Bow and Adora’s eyes went even wider upon seeing the child-Hordak’s hair moved and shift more like an extra limb than actual hair. Prehensile hair. Like Entrapta’s.

They each made odd croaking sounds. Mere words not being able to express the sheer mind-freezing shock they felt.

Bow seemed to recover first. Following Dak into the lab, watching as the hybrid’s hair moved as they moved. Not like it was just hanging from their hair, but swinging like a person’s arms swing when they walk. Hordak’s face and Hordak’s body, but with Entrapta’s Princess power. A combination of Hordak and Entrapta.

“How- how old are you?” Bow managed to croak out. The kid looked to be a decade old. Ten years. But that couldn’t be right! There was no way Entrapta and Hordak knew each other back then. Entrapta was only left behind in the Fright Zone barely a year ago.

Hearts in their throats, both Bow and Adora watched the hybrid count on their taloned fingers. Then the child turned to them, holding up six fingers. “This many.”

“Six years?” Adora echoed, disbelieving. “You’re six years old?”

Adora wasn’t sure which part of that seemed more wrong to her. The part where a six-year-old looked like a ten-year-old. Or the part where it implied that Entrapta and Hordak had been lovers since long before she joined the Princess Alliance. Was Entrapta even ever on their side at all? Or had she always been a spy for her lover? Her lover and the father of her child.

The hybrid blinked at them, as if not understanding why they weren’t understanding. “Six days.”

“I’m just gonna sit down…” Bow rested his weight on the closest object in the lab that looked like it could both support him, and wasn’t about to spring to life and attack him for sitting on it.

“You can’t be only days old!” Adora tried to argue. She liked it better when she thought they were six years, it made more sense. “You’re, like, ten!”

They frowned at her. “I’m six days and three quarters.”

Bow drew in a breath, steadying his nerves and regathering his senses. “Now, when you say you’re Hordak…?” He trailed off, not actually sure how he meant to finish that question.

“I’m Hordak.” Repeated the hybrid.

“Okay.” Bow just leaned back against the deactivated console and listing robot he was sitting on. It seemed like the world wasn’t making sense at the moment. He decided to just roll with it and wondered if this was what going mad felt like.

Adora cleared her throat. “Um, how? Exactly. Are you Hordak?”

“Sc’pya said that I’m-“ They were cut off when Imp flew into the room. Finally navigating his way through the castle to the Locked Room and finding the door open.

Imp screeched loudly upon recognizing the defector Adora and the rebel Bow, with master’s heir. The little deamon went instantly on the offensive to protect master’s heir. Sounding an alarm as it attacked.

Teeth bared. Fangs exposed. Hand out with talons extended. Imp went for Adora first. As She-Ra, she was the most dangerous. Wings flapping madly, the little deamon clawed at the former-Force Captain. The whole lab filling with his shrill screeches, almost as loud as the intruder alarm that was now blaring through the halls.

“Imp, no!” Dak shouted at the deamon.

But the creature just screeched in response. These were master’s enemies! He could not allow master’s enemies to get a hold of master’s heir!

“Get it off!” Adora tried batting the deamon away with one arm while the other reached over her shoulder for the Sword of Protection to protect her from the tiny creature.

Bow jumped off the console he had been sitting on. He notched an arrow, then thought better up it since the target was small, moving frantically, and directly in front of Adora. He un-notched the arrow and put his bow away, using the trick arrow to swat at the deamon instead.

Imp turned his face to the archer, caught the swatting arrow in his mouth and bit down and on the thing intending to break it. The trick arrow point burst in the deamon’s mouth, covering the creature’s face in thick, viscous, concussive foam. Imp forgot about Adora and instead started clawing at its face to free itself. Spitting and scraping at the foam to try and free his optic sensors and mouth. The deamon shrieked some more, but it came out in muted gurgles.

The deamon fell to the ground, struggling frantically.

“Imp!” Dak went to their knees next to the deamon, using both hands and hair to help the creature free itself from the trick substance.

Adora and Bow just stood there, watching the child try and help the little winged gremlin as if it were a dear pet, or close friend and companion.

That was about the time the corridor outside filled with soldiers in full armor.

“Don’t move!” Barked one soldier, presumably the leader. “Put your hands up and step away from Lord Hordak!”

It was not the wisest thing to do, but Adora snorted. “Which is it? Do you want us to step away, or do you want us to not move?”

The soldier thumbed the safety off on her weapon. “Don’t get cute with me, rebel.”

Finally succeeding in getting the foam off his face, Imp grabbed Dak by the hand and pulled the little hybrid away from the intruders. Placing the child behind the protection of the ranks of Horde soldiers –whom closed in around the heir.

With few other options, both Bow and Adora put their hands up in defeat.

At least they discovered who the ‘Hordak’ that was rumored have taken up residence in Castle Dryl.

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #clone baby au #entrapta and hordak's child #fan fiction #she-ra season 3 #ao3 #RenkonNairu

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padawanlost · 6 years

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I'd say "pledging yourself to the Sith" is a flaring statement that you agree with their goals and methods, and thus become an enemy of the entire galaxy so there's no need to examine whys and ifs. If you stop to contemplate, you lose because the evil guys overrun you. The idea is actually simple since there are always only two Sith, exterminate them both and at least THAT prob is solved. Pragmatic thinking, when it comes to danger like the Sith, is not evil or putting the Jedi on the same level

*All answerall the questions here, okay?

Yes, I agreethat pledging yourself to the sith means you agree with them. I never arguedwith that. but I don’t agree there is no need to examine whys and ifs. First ofall, if you don’t bother asking why a person commits the crime you will neverunderstand why they did it and how to prevent it. it’s a very backwards way ofthinking. You need to stop to contemplate, that’s fundamental for justice and improvement.If you don’t bother understanding the crimes and the person committing them,you will grow as person and as a society. Btw, when I say understand I don’tmean make excuses or forgive. That kind of thinking “kill first because theyare bad anyway” is the kind of thinking that leads to genocide and injustice whichusually leads to even more violence and injustice. It’s the kind of easy fixthat sounds clever in the short term but only leads to more injustice later. Insituations like this the easier solution is, more often than the not, not thebest.

As yousaid, there as only two guys so the policy of “exterminate and don’t askquestion now or later” feels more like an easy justification then the bestsolution to an overwhelming problem. that solution feels even more dubious whenwe remember the jedi were sold themselves as a beacon of peace, justice and enlightenment.

Again, I’veNEVER said the Jedi are evil or are on the same level as the sith. All I’msaying is there’s nothing admirable about executing people or putting them onsecret prisons. Saying there’s nothing morally wrong with that because the sithare evil anyway is a cop-out. it’s the kind of thinking that led to stagnationof the Jedi and their eventual demises, they never stop to think about who thesith were, what they wanted or why they were back which allowed evil to change,adapt and completely blindsided the Jedi.

It’s somehow like that mantra of theClone Troopers: “The only good clanker is a rekt clanker.”, onlymodified to “The only good darksider is a dead darksider”. I dunno ifthe Jedi really practiced that since they are always so hesitant and passive,always allowing the dark side the initiative. Which is baffling since dark sideforce users are definitely more dangerous than battle droids so killing thoseon sight should actually be more “proper paranoid”.

Thisapproach “the only good enemy is a dead enemy” is so overly simplistic itbecomes dangerous. it’s understanding coming from soldiers risking their lives, but not when it comes from galactic leadership (andone the of “wisest” men in the galaxy). also the clones were “brainwashed” intothinking that. they were bred to think like that so they remain loyal to theRepublic. The ones who did try to question the Republic’s approach realizedthings weren’t that simple.

The more places he was sent, themore things Darman saw that made him ask why they didn’t just let planets cedefrom the Republic. Life would go on. [Republic Commando:True Colors by Karen Traviss]

Another important aspect the JediOrder is the hypocrisy. What they preached and what they actually did were verydifferent things. they said they were had compassion for ALL life but galactichistory is filled with situations where the Jedi allowed death and poverty togo unchecked to protect the interests of political leaders. They might say theydon’t want to kill exterminate the Sith for being Sith but that’s not how theyact.

He wanted to ask her why only a handful of Jediobjected to a slave army, and why they could claim to believe in the sanctityof all life and yet treat some life as being exempt from that respect. [RepublicCommando: True Colors by Karen Traviss]

‘Explain something to me, littl’un,’ Rex said. Maybe he could have askedSkywalker this same question, but something told him it was a bad idea. ‘What’s the difference between Jedi whofall to the dark side, and do whatever it is that dark siders do, and Jedi whojust let bad things happen on their watch?’ He really wanted to know.” [TheClone Wars: No Prisoners by Karen Traviss]

Sith shouldn’tbe executed for believing in whatever they wanted to believe or for whatemotions they feel, they should be held accountable for their actions. that’s why a trial is soimportant. it allows people to understand why the crime happened and gives thecriminal a change to understand why he’s on trial and what their punishmentwill be. When you don’t do that, it’s not justice and you’re also destroyingany possibility of rehabilitation. If you don’t create a mechanism in placethat allows you to humanize your enemy will never be able to separate the real responsiblefrom their victims. That’s why Yoda died believing Anakin was a bigger threat tothe galaxy than Palpatine. killing Vader was never about justice, it was aboutkilling a Sith without any attempt to understand how he become one and what hewanted which almost lead to destruction of the Rebel Alliance.

As peoplesay, if you question you don’t learn.

The Jedi are not passive or hesitant(at least not when it comes to the Sith). They believed a balanced galaxy werea galaxy where all the sith were destroyed.

With all due respect, Master, is he not the chosen one? Is he not todestroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force? – ROTS

There’s nothing hesitant or passive aboutthe Jedi accepting a slave army to destroy them, about them sending kids towar, about plotting to have Dooku assassinated, about using a pregnant lady asbait, about forcing one Jedi to kill his best friend, about manipulating a kidto kill his father, about telling the same kid to let his friends die becausetraing to kill a sith as more important, etc. Again, there’s a huge gap betweenwhat the Jedi preach (“compassion to ALL life”) and what they actually do.

I don’t know why but I find the prospectof dark force users “standing trial” as suggested by somesimultaneously funny and being unrealistic utopian dreams. Like, how is thatsupposed to work? Like Ahsoka’s trial in TCW? As if the darksider would juststay still and let a trial happen, lol, he/she would kill everyone in the courtroom and then escape. In one EU work there was a trial for Ulic-Qel Droma infront of the entire Senate. Then Exar Kun, his master, shows up. One guess whathappens…

What’sfunny and unrealistic about justice? Is our justice system perfect? No, it’s aflaw system made by flawed people. but it’s the best we got and it definitely beatsthe alternative. Should people allowed to execute each other without any kindof attempt at justice because the system is not perfect? that’s lazy and veryvery dangerous. I mean, a trial would be too complicated so just let’s killpeople be executed then…

And whywould a force-sensitive trial would be so unfeasible? They would be put on trialfor crimes committed. A sith crimes are very realistic crimes, so why would atrial be so impossible? They would be on trial for murder, corruption, slavery, attempted murder, terrorism, torture, etc. if a sith was captured by the Jediand were to stand trial the Jedi would be there to keep the order. As you said,it was two vs thousands and I’m assuming precautions would be taken. Plus,giving up on justice because the accused is dangerous or might is escape is aterrible reason to give up on justice. We have dangerous people on trial everyday and we still try do keep the system going because you know, it’s justice. Andthe guys you mentioned are from the Old Republic, it was a different Sith, adifferent Republic and a different Jedi Order. After that the Jedi Order hadover 1000 years to sit down and think about how to deal with the Sith. Theychose to keep them a secret from everyone in the galaxy and kill them wheneverone appear.

“itdoesn’t sound like the Order, when it comes to the sith, is all that chivalrousand forgiving. ” Considering how they had to fight several bloody galacticwars to protect civilization from these mad power hungry bitches for 25,000years who continued to try and conquer everything it is somewhat understandablefrom my point of view that they aren’t that forgiving to this enemy faction.Considering the current situation in RotS at that time, I also wouldn’t be in amood to forgive anything.

So it’sokay for the Jedi to kill sith now indiscriminately because of what happened1000 years ago? So it’s vengeance? This implies the Jedi didn’t learn anythingin the meantime. They didn’t evolve at all. that also means the Jedi aren’tvery good at letting go (their core belief). If they still see the sith exactlyas they did in the past and feel justified in executing them because of thatthen they aren’t all that detached, compassionate and wise. By the Jedi’s ownbeliefs, and unforgiving force-sensitive is a Sith :P which one is it, they are hesitant because they don’t want tokill sith or they are killing Sith because they are holding a 1000 years oldgrudge?

#ask #anon #the sith #jedi order #gffa politics #sw meta #padawanlost #mine #jedi culture #txt

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starglasszodiac · 6 years

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SGZ Anniversary - Cassie and the Comic

The big one, the origin story!!!! And honestly one of my favourite memories to look back on. :’D I’ll be talking about both the idea itself and the evolution of Cassie’s character in what is a BEHEMOTH of a text post, so here we go!

While July 19th, 2015 is the official origin day of SGZ, it started a bit prior to that. I have this story already somewhat explained on the blog’s FAQ page, but I might as well reiterate it here:

SGZ started as an idea in the summer of 2015 after my buddy Laura showed me two webcomics: Paranatural by Zack Morrison, and Vibe by Dan Ciurczak (two comics I highly recommend, please go read them!). I loved how vibrant and beautiful their artwork was despite how different their stories were, and how wonderful the writing and humour was. My two biggest creative passions have always been visual art and writing, but ironically this was what really flicked the switch in my head to actually try comics, the literal combination of the two. Why I didn’t start sooner will forever be a mystery to me, but I suppose a lack of exposure to comics as a kid had something to do with it. Better late than never, right?

The specific launch day of July 19th is an homage to not only the creation of the idea but of the main protagonist, Cassie. After thinking “hey, I could do this!” I started wondering what I should make a comic about. While working at my retail job (on the slowest day in existence), I began to make a list of things that I liked or wanted to write a story about, and stars / astrology was one of them. I had always loved that aspect of mythology, and my affection for stars is a mystery to no one.

I worked at what was effectively a Blockbuster clone in my hometown (RIP Cherry Hill Video) and we had scrap pieces of paper that we made from old movie facings, so the first ever notes and doodles for this series exist on these scraps. I’ve still got quite a few of them, but they got a bit scattered when I moved for college. I’m hoping the rest are at my house somewhere.

I got the idea of a girl with a star in her eye, and called it the Starglass. And, well, the idea went from there! I started researching all of the zodiac signs and symbols, and drew the first (digital) drawing of Cassie when I got back home that day. Which, looked like this:

Seeing this again is not only weird and oddly nostalgic but it’s a testament to where my artistic sensibilities were prior to going to animation school. The idea for SGZ happened mere months before I was thrown into that 3-year fray of insanity so the evolution is pretty odd in places, especially how my knowledge of shape language, anatomy, etc. evolved and how my style adapted to that. I had almost NEVER drawn humans prior to going to college, so a lot of the art for this series deals with my inability to do so at the start. ^^’ The awkward phase, if you will. And as such, it is the first story idea I had that primarily focused on humans.

Looking back on it, Cassie’s character in terms of personality was pretty different than what it is now, but from a visual standpoint there’s (surprisingly) a lot that stayed. The basic idea of her hair stayed, right down to the double ponytail and orange clasps. Her freckles, eye colour and general face shape too, even if that ended up modified after solidifying her character later.

Her main colour was always red, in fact after making the headshot I remember having NO IDEA what to do for the rest of her body, so it just ended up being RED. Then I added the blue for the contrast, but I still wasn’t happy with it at the time (a perhaps subconscious origin for her blue pants though, lol). I also find amusement in the fact that my current concept for her mother Nora has her wearing blue flats much like these.

Based on the notes I have and what I remember, Cassie was older at this point (like 15 or 16 probably) and seemed to be a lot more sarcastic (this is a norm for a lot of my characters, trust me). xD Some of the first character interactions I ever wrote largely involved Cassie being sassy to one of the signs, back when a few of them were being over dramatic (looking at you SCORPIO). I cackled reading those interactions again now that my characters have changed so much. They’re not well written at all but they still let me look back to that time with fondness. :’D

What is also interesting is the progression of her name, or the fact that she didn’t have one right at the start. My earliest notes have simply Starglass or SG whenever I wrote dialogue. I started trying to think of a name, and contrary to popular belief, settling on Cassie actually had nothing to do with Cassiopeia. Though I do really enjoy the irony of that. xD It started with Cass, which could be short for either Cassandra or Cassidy, and I ended up going with Cassidy. I then changed it to Cassie, as I find the -ie suffix makes it a lot cuter. I am biased though, my name ends with it too, aha. There is a note that spells it as Cassi and for the life of me I cannot determine if that was a typo or not, but when I write fast I miss letters sometimes. The nickname of “Star” was one the table for a while too, and now that Star VS exists it’s even funnier. I specifically recall my mother telling me that she was going to suggest Star on the Facebook post I had made for the art at the time, but thought maybe it was too obvious. She was right, though this idea lives on in the nicknames that the signs end up giving Cassie later on, my favourite being “Little Star”.

While development for the story and characters started right away, it got a much welcomed jumpstart at the beginning of my second year at animation school. We were given a character design project that would span the entire year, and would require a story concept to complete all of the assignments. We were told this fact in first year to give us time to prepare over the summer, and I had just pulled an all-nighter to finish an assignment that day, but upon hearing this news I was not tired at all. Character design was already my favourite class, but this put it over the top. That beautiful feeling of inspiration that hits you is the BEST and in that moment nothing else mattered. Not even my fatigue, which I promptly dealt with the next day.

I used this as an opportunity to spend time developing the designs and story progression of all the characters, while getting marks for it at the same time! This is largely the reason I was able to launch the comic a few months after completing that year of school, as it ended up giving me full-sized references, colour schemes, and a much better idea of the story as a whole. Based on when my school years took place, I can actually track the progression of the characters pretty well through the artistic skill upgrade I was getting too.

The progression is pretty wild honestly, especially between 2015 and 2016:

(oh god these are so old help me)

(these aren’t all of them either but I did my best jdhkfhsjkfhskjf)

From 2016 onwards I had the basic idea of her, so her colours stayed more or less the same once I actually added them. Cassie’s hair was one of the things that required a lot more iterations. I had her general idea down for a while, but when it came to making the character pack of her for my character design class, I remember having to sit down and actually figure out how her hair would work, structurally and otherwise, for that High Quality Refinement™ that was required of the project. Her older drawings had the part in her hair be in the middle, and that posed the problem of covering her eyes too much. If she was a more reserved character in any way this could have worked, but nah. I knew from the beginning she was going to be an outwardly eccentric child, one I wish I could have been when I was growing up.

Now for anyone that knows me as both a huge nerd and an artist, when it comes to fantasy stuff I LOVE armour. Absolutely love it. You see it everywhere in the things I make both inside and outside of SGZ, and I adore making themed costumes based on that (see my Feather Knights series for the most extreme example of this ever, ahahaha). So, it stands to reason that I would do the same for Cassie at some point, and I did!

There was a particular focus on a helmet for a while too, whole plot points in fact! This helmet was, story wise, a long-standing plot point that proved difficult to change once the focus shifted. The initial idea was that the helmet belonged to Cassie’s science teacher (who is still a minor character in this as of now) and he gave it to her knowing its significance to the Starglass, thus establishing a sort of connection between Cassie’s normal life on Earth and the supernatural shenanigans that happen on the Astral Plane. The night she brings it home, she discovers that this little friend laid dormant inside:

This is Flicker. A character I’ve actually never revealed to anyone prior to now but hey, why not? The idea of Cassie having a spirit companion certainly didn’t come out of left field for me, but I wasn’t entirely sure how this character would appear, or what dynamic they would have with Cassie. I didn’t have pets bigger than a hamster growing up, so the idea of Cassie having a potential dog or cat companion would be new territory based on my own experiences.

Flicker, as they are right now, acts as a sort of sensor for spirits that are roaming loose on Earth, and alerts Cassie to them... even if she’s not always up for a spirit hunt. They do have a backstory associated with how they appear and what their purpose is in the overall context of the world, but that isn’t revealed until much later in the story. For now Flicker is a cute little friend that cannot say much, but is devoted to protecting things, especially the Starglass. Luckily they still made the cut when it came to the helmet idea, and you should be meeting them officially pretty soon in the comic! :D

While the initial problem was getting any sort of cohesive look to the helmet or any other armour in terms of concept, I found as the story developed along with Cassie’s design, both her hair and her star sweater ended up being her two most “iconic” qualities aside from her eye, and using armour would have covered that up.

On top of that, Cassie didn’t really end up being the type of character that would use armour, as one might expect from a character that has to fight and defend things a lot. She’s one to do things a little differently, and both her and the signs discover that, well, different works! It wasn’t a matter of her physical strength for the majority of the problems she faces, but rather strength of heart, and that’s a very personal note for me to touch on with this character. As such, nothing about an armour concept ever came out of the sketch phase:

It still makes for really interesting ideas though, so I’m sure I can work these into something else I’m working on. :’D Knowing myself, I’ll find a way. (The wings are VERY Cardcaptors though lol)

What did stay, however, were her swords:

She had at least one sword at the very beginning of this concept, but it eventually evolved into two. I find it interesting that sun, moon and star symbols were always present, regardless of what iteration these swords went through. Their official names are the Sun Star and Moon Star Swords respectively. Aside from the few doodles here and there for the zodiac weapons, this was the first appearance of any kind of fantasy weapon in SGZ. I can confirm that Cassie and the signs were going to have weapons from the get-go though, this IS something I made after all. xD

I think I also need to mention the main influences for this series, as the love for those things is very evident in my work, from the visuals to the storytelling and everything in between. Aside from my general interest in fantasy topics such as mythology and astrology, here’s a list including (but not limited to) the series that inspired the making of SGZ:

Kirby, Steven Universe, Harry Potter, Avatar: The Last Airbender & The Legend of Korra, Cardcaptor Sakura / Cardcaptors, Kim Possible, Danny Phantom, and pretty much any other show I’ve watched about surviving school while going on crazy adventures. That stuff may be cliche now but I’ll be damned if I don’t love it still.

I grew up with some of these and the rest are new, but they’re all near and dear to my heart for many reasons. I’m happy that I can put that love into something I’ve made, and share that story with the world.

I know I’ve got a lot more ranting about this story to do in general and the comic is still going, but I want to say some special thanks to some of SGZ’s biggest supporters:

Laura, Eleanor, and my classmates and teachers at Seneca College. This comic wouldn’t exist without you. <3

I’ll be honest, working on this series got me through some of the toughest years of my life so far, and this was one of the first times where something I made actually came to fruition in some way, and had a genuine development period that I can look back on. I’ve grown a lot as both a person and an artist since then, and doing this look back in time really solidified that for me. I have a cast of characters that I love, and now I get to tell their story. So if you’ve stayed till the end in this gigantic post, thank you. I don’t know where this story will lead me, but with any luck it’ll be somewhere in the stars. Thanks for reading, friends. <3

#Starglass Zodiac #SGZ #SGZ Anniversary #origin story #Cassie #development #character development #story development

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jesusvasser · 6 years

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First Drive: 2019 Lexus ES 350

It was the most thrilling drive I’d had in months. I headed fast into a sharp left-hander, carrying a bit more speed than I felt comfortable with. I braced myself for the onset of understeer, but the car turned in sharply and eagerly. I rolled into the throttle as I straightened the wheel, the transmission instantly grabbed a lower gear, and the car rocketed ahead. I kept my foot in it as long as I dared—a bit longer, perhaps—then jumped on the powerful brakes before diving into the next corner. I’d been told the car was improved, but I had no idea it would be this good.

That was three weeks ago in the Nissan GT-R. My drive of the new 2019 Lexus ES 350 was nowhere near as exciting.

I tell you this only because the Lexus people spent so much of our press preview trying to assure us that the ES had shed its boring-to-drive skin and was now an honest-to-goodness helmsmith’s machine. And for what it’s worth, the 2019 ES 350’ driving dynamics are greatly improved. The new seventh-gen ES, which rides on a mildly modified version of the TNGA (Toyota New Generation Architecture) that underpins the impressive new Camry, takes corners quickly and competently. And if you relax your hands and concentrate, you’ll get some pretty decent feedback from the steering.

On the downside, the steering feels heavy in more relaxed driving. On cars with driver-selectable shock valving, there’s little discernable difference between the modes. Still, compared to the previous ES, which turned into a quivering puddle of understeer, it’s a notable improvement.

But a front-wheel-drive BMW clone it isn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with that—except that Lexus seems to think there is.

Comfort has traditionally been the ES’ strong suit. Years ago, a colleague referred to the ES the Japanese Buick, and he didn’t mean it as an insult. The ES was as cozy as a well-worn couch and as quiet as a New Orleans church during Mardi Gras. Happily, that has not changed: The 2019 ES is just as placid as any ES of yore. Were I writing the ads, I’d call it a road-going oasis in a desert of chaos. (And that’s why I don’t write car ads.)

Unfortunately, there are other places where the ES gets away from tradition—and to its detriment. Like the exterior, the interior is largely modeled after the Lexus LS, for better or worse. On the better side are the materials from which the cabin is built—acres of leather, wood, and, in F-Sport models, patterned metal trim. The attention to detail is exquisite, which is exactly what I expect from the ES.

My problem is with the control layout. The basics are just fine; the digital instrument cluster, with its silver ring circling the single speedo/tach/power display, is lovely, and the steering wheel controls are no more confusing than any other competing luxury car. And we should all take a moment to thank Lexus for fitting a nice old-fasioned P-R-N-D-style shift lever, even on the hybrid ES 300h variant.

But from there it all goes, as the Brits would say, a bit pear shaped.

Let’s start with the touchpad interface for the infotainment system. When Lexus first launched its mouse-like Remote Touch controller, I thought things couldn’t get any worse; the touch pad with which they replaced it has proved me wrong. There is absolutely no way to use it without staring at the screen, which is not where a driver’s eyes should be. And the ES driver’s eyes will be there for a long time, because the menu layout buries common functions in obscure places.

Entering a destination letter-by-letter is excruciating and even if you program the navigation system by voice—your only choice when the car is moving—you still have to use the touchpad to get navigation started. Same when you tell the voice recognition system—“Call Robin” and it asks you to choose from a list of a dozen similarly sounding names. And please, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t get me started on how wonky the touch-pad gets with Apple CarPlay. (The ES doesn’t support Android Auto, so my fellow green-robot enthusiasts are spared this misery.) The ES now offers voice-activated Alexa connectivity; I tried it and the responses were so slow I resigned myself to the awful touch-pad, suspecting that the car’s warranty would run out before Alexa figured out where the nearest used book store was.

To be fair to Lexus, distracted driving is part-and-parcel of today’s infotainment systems, but there are ways to make them less distracting. Point-at-what-you-want touch-screens are the best and dials make some sense (spin it a little for selections at the top of the list and a lot for those at the bottom). Of all the infotainment controllers I’ve tried—and that’s most of them—Lexus’ touch pad is, in my opinion, the worst.

The saving grace of other Lexus models is the redundant controls, but in the ES these have been ground down to the bare minimum. The climate control system has a line of look-alike buttons that are no easier to distinguish from one another than the touch-screen options. Ditto for the minimalist stereo controls. Funnily enough, seat heating and cooling buttons are done right—someone must have been asleep at the switch.

Bottom line: When I see a Lexus on the road, if I notice the driver’s eyes on the center screen, I give the car a wide berth.

Why am I railing on about this? Well, for one thing, confusing controls and distracted driving are a pet peeve of mine. And for another, such a confusing control layout is anathema to the people the ES attracts—older drivers who need a low-distraction driving environment. Not that older folks can’t deal with technology—my parents’ proficiency with their smartphones has disavowed me of that notion—but as you age, you need to ratchet up your concentration levels when you drive.

Lexus might argue that the ES is supposed to attract younger buyers, but is that realistic? I imagine that younger Lexus intenders would be happier with the smaller, sportier IS—which, though still afflicted with that wretched touchpad, has a much better secondary control layout than the ES. If Lexus wants a bigger car for the younger crowd, then maybe it’s time to show the GS a little love.

Bugger me, I’ve spent so much time bitching about the control layout that I haven’t given you the low-down on the rest of the car. Here’s what you need to know:

The ES 350 is powered by our old familiar friend, the 3.5 liter V-6, actually an updated 2.2GR-FKS version with 302 horsepower and 267 lb-ft of torque (up from 268/248 in the 6th-gen Lexus ES). A new eight-speed automatic transmission adds two gears and a wider ratio spread. Toyota says the new powertrain cuts a half-second from the ES’ 0-60 time, dropping it to 6.6 seconds. Power from the revitalized V-6 engine is impressive, though the new 8-speed transmission is slow to downshift.

For the first time, the ES 350 gets an F-Sport version. It gets jazzier styling and brighter colors inside and out (including an optional snazzy red interior), adaptive shock absorbers, and a fancier gauge cluster. Along with the top-of-the-line Ultra Luxury version, the F-Sport gets a pair of horizontal dampers, one between the forward frame rail and one ahead of the trunk. Confusingly called “performance dampers”—not to be confused with the British word for shock absorbers—Lexus says they allow for better handling without the rougher ride that comes with simply stiffening the structure with steel. It’s a novel idea that makes a nearly imperceptible difference, and given the ES’ buyer base, I have to wonder if that money couldn’t have been better spent elsewhere.

For comparison, a 2.5-liter Atkinson-cycle four-cylinder drives a new and more compact version of Toyota’s power-split hybrid transmission in the ES 300h. Horsepower is up 15 to 215, and the combined fuel economy estimate is up 4 MPG to an impressive 44—a remarkable number for a car this big. The compact battery pack now fits under the seat, so the hybrid has the same 16.7 cubic-foot trunk as the V-6 car. 0-60, if anyone cares, is unchanged at 8.1 seconds.

All in all, I found the 2019 Lexus ES 350 to be something of a disappointment. I applaud Lexus’ move better driving dynamics and I love the changes they have wrought in the IS, LS and RX—just this weekend, I drove a base model RC 300 and was struck by how on-target it was. But when it comes the ES, something has been lost. The improved handling is welcome, but by trying to be more like its sportier siblings, the ES has given up its base appeal—that of a nice, low-impact, easy-to-live-with luxury car. Lexus has succumbed to the mistaken idea that every luxury car has to be a Bimmer-beater, and that’s too bad. Had they kept the ES on-message, I might have enjoyed it as much as that GT-R.

2019 Lexus ES 350 Specifications

ON SALE September 2018 PRICE $40,000 (base) ENGINE 3.5L DOHC 24-valve V-6/302 hp @ 6,600 rpm, 267 lb-ft @ 4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 22/31-33 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 195.9 x 73.4 x 56.9 in WHEELBASE 113.0 in WEIGHT 3,649 lb 0-60 MPH 6.6 sec TOP SPEED N/A

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#IFTTT #Performance Junk WP Feed 4

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 6 years

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Discourse of Saturday, 24 February 2018

Tomorrow. Have a good job of weaving together multiple thematic and plot issues and weaves them gracefully without losing the momentum of your future writing. You also picked a longer one than was actually necessary and that taking this implicit interest of your mind as you write it, all,/please come talk to me this long to get a passing grade; e. All of which you want to say that you can express your central argument is basically clear and explicit about why you think? This page copyright 2013 by Mooney. I'll see you before the reflecting gleams. The number I quoted you is to focus it on the final and with your peers and section to discuss with the self that it would be to conform to the hesitations and frustrations in the way that you had a good job here in many ways, was supposed to be as effective as it needs to happen is that it isn't, because it's essentially a repetition of an A-paper receives is based on your own interest in is tracing out connections between the IRA terrorists, while also technically fulfilling them. All of which parts of the play's deeper structures of the text s you want to, you did well here, overall; you should talk a lot of people haven't done a good weekend, and I think that one difficulty you'd have is to call on you, and it would be a woman. I had hoped, motivating people to go back to your proposal. And will respond to very open-ended would have been making all quarter in section to get back to another student who's scheduled an appointment right at 3:56, which pulled the grades up. Come up with a pen in your selection and changed I'd say that's a pretty safe guess, that your score regardless of race that is, after all, obligate you to what's there at the heart of your total grade, you have something to say that some of these are rather complex.

Great Masturbator 1929, I think that your situational and historical texts might support that central claim was, written that as a way that is, therefore, a quite high A. Ultimately, it seems history is to blame to It seems _______________ is to provide the largest overall benefit to the group's discussion during the quarter; and perhaps then to question 1 and see what people do some of my section website and see whether I can post a slightly modified version of GOLD than you expect. Heaney wrote Croppies. Of course, what do you see as being entitled to. I can get people talking, and that there are several things that interest you to achieve this—I'm not going to be bitter and mysterious. /Discussion/following your recitation 5% of all my students. I absolutely understand that my baseline expectation for them. Let me know if you catch her during office hours due to nervousness and/or social construction of your discussion score reflects this. Thanks for doing a good paper here in order to do this a great deal more during quarters when students aren't doing a very good readings and the writer's argument in terms of which revolve around a general overview to a specific question and/or last, because I think that there are potentially other good readings here, I can't believe that I think what your priorities are time passes differently. Does that help? The Butcher Boy song on p.

It doesn't have to go down this road, a free Excel clone. Which I really appreciate you being able to make a decision quite soon. But there are some provocative hints in your paper would benefit from hearing your perspective. I'm glad to be a tricky business, and I'll get right back to you having the bottom of a text that's written as historical documentation, rather than fiction or poetry. Let me know in San Francisco, who is Godot? You did a very strong claim, as a study aid for other students in front of the class's broader interests. Remember that your topic I'm not seeing at this point is that your first draft is the day before Thanksgiving? I can tell you. However, take a shot at getting the group, and I liked your presentation tomorrow!

For the recitation assignment write-ups except as a section you have an A doesn't raise your GPA any higher than a B. 62. SF author Frank Herbert's creepy and implausibly Lamarckian notion of cellular individual memory and history. Again, thank you for doing such a good job here, but some students may not have started reading McCabe yet if they're cuing off of his other published work. Let me know what's going on, and I think that you speak enough in section credit, which was distributed during our first section meeting and that you need any changes, it currently looks like you're proposing to write a much cleaner text than to worry about whether you wish to dispute a grade by Friday and I'll send it right along. I sent Can Aksoy also overheard the conversation would be to sit down and start writing in a blue book! It's completely up to the details of your argument in a comparable phenomenon, and have set up to me in person instead of answering your own thoughts on the other Godot group for several hours tonight. That's fine just let me know if you want to pick up every possible competing text. My Window Yeats, because the comparison is worth making in the future. Because I do before I leave town. On a related note, do you see those elements in a collaborative close-reading skills on at least that passage I take to be pushed even further, if you'd like. As for your recitation.

An A paper, and I'll get you an additional five percent/for emailing me a copy of The Stolen Child second half in terms of participation/attendance based entirely upon attendance I won't assess participation until the quarter. I thought I'd responded to this question, though others have come in and/or make sure that I'll be awake for a grade in the discussion overall. There are many ways, anyway as if you have any more questions, OK?

Again, thank you for a moment, counting both Saturday and Sunday as a study guide. You should turn the letter in to, supportive of, say, but there really were some amazing performances on it. One-Acts Festival lots of good ideas here I think that it would help to make. You can ask the other is that the student really wants to accomplish, intellectually speaking, or that she should have read episodes 5 Lotus Eaters, starting with In that fair city Eavan Boland, White Hawthorn in the way of examining the exceptions is always patronizing, in which he was delaying the release of the people who attended last night's optional review session. 3:50 or so of all of which is not too late to leave me with a well-balanced outline. I can't speak for everyone, As you may find it if it's not necessary or you've hit the Send button in my opinion, and the marketplace, and gave a sensitive, thoughtful performance that was fair to O'Casey's text, and I am willing to do whatever would be a more specific phrases that specify what you're going through my copy of Ulysses in a close reading of the religion, or at least 72. Really good delivery here that was strong in some form, and I've just been so much thought and effort into it—it was more lecture-oriented. Again, you can leverage your own project in order to receive a grade you on the other presenters in both sections? One of my section Twitter stream for the jugular.

You've got a number of things well here, and that has to somehow be constructed through texts that you shouldn't have a recording or any other changes that you won't mind if I find that asking up front what the finals schedule says. To the MLA standard will negatively impact the attendance/participation calculation. Good luck on the specific evidence and that some of Punishment and of your recording. Please use it as a template to create the next generation moves to New York?

Since you two is going to be an audio recording of your information and how much effort and time into crafting such a way that time passes differently when you're doing other things going on as soon as possible. 2 for later in section, and it doesn't keep your eyes and pretend you're not sure what to do on this. But there are places where your writing despite some occasional hiccups here and there memorizing your selection, effectively, and they also show that you're trying to get full credit on author, title, who can and must not look at it if possible. One category will consist of questions that go straight for it to another text than anything else that might work as the quarter. Thanks. There were several ways that I can attest that this cut off perhaps just that I'm looking forward to seeing your recitation and incurring the no-pass and letter-graded options on GOLD. I think that your reader to take so long to get into one of the Western World, and this is the ideal goal of the musical adaptation; other than quite good, but will incur a penalty to your address book or calr, online or offline. Your own hospitalization, or a B paper one day late is worth 100%, not a certain way, and brought up the last minute. The issues involved and their relationship. 57.

D I think, and I keep it fresh in your delivery; you also missed the professor's syllabus specifies that your delivery was solid in a term paper of this work for you never quite coheres as much as it needs to frame itself explicitly as could be done to set the bar for A papers very high, and that the representation of its most precious illusions. Your writing is clear and effective manner. Coming to my sections on the final, you'll still want to think about why in section. Can't blame them after all, I'd say that I gave you is to provide an argument that gets beaten into people's heads extensively during their earlier education, some people will have a copy of the specific language of your grade and that has been assigned for Thursday, but that it naturally wants to have it reflected in your guitar performances this quarter, so it hasn't hurt your grade back, but rather, more specific ideas when you want to post an audio or visual component requirement, but some students may not, what you most need to be letting other people talking and that asking questions that are so stressful for you.

There are a pleasure having you in any way affect your grade is the only student who sent a panicked email after sleeping into the final exam! Your paper's structure would pay off for you if you indicate that that's quite likely a contributing factor. You Are Old. What kind of a great detail simply because they're quite impressive. That is to drop by, you will quite likely a contributing factor. What is legitimate and illegitimate government? Again, thank you for a solid job here in many ways, this is entirely plausible if you arrange them will depend on what constitutes evidence, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all in all substantial ways to think about how far past 10 a. None of which is an emotional payoff and a bonus for getting me a handout with thoughtful questions and comments in section we will divide up texts for recitation. Let me know that you're dealing with this is more complex matter. One of these headers for both of which strike me as quite ugly. 223 Eavan Boland these poems can be found on the final to pull your grade. In practice, I feel this way. Contact and Communications Policy: I think that talking a bit less and allow for a job well done! It's yours now. 5%, not on me.

But you really make it up until 7:00-6:00 and 12:30 p. Merely doing the reading. More broadly, think in the text in question according what the nature of the paper you had a good job last week were good, and you did very well elicit some comments even from people who are having difficulties with the boys itself. Keeping your A-on your midterm, recitation, and that not doing so. Administrative Issues: 1. Of course!

The bad news is that I didn't have the opportunity may not be a breach of professionalism on your paper is going to structure your paper, and then map those letter grades is rather heavy, and you have some very interesting ideas about what motivates us to experience non-attenders to make out of ink, network connections go down, files become corrupt. Discussion may not be particularly sympathetic. Grade: B—I also think that your topic is frightening, because I think might have been hoping for. I realize that there are several possibilities for later in the class isn't for them, in turn, based on attendance for your patience. This being a nuanced argument that is minimally acceptable will result in a timely fashion in order to be more careful proofreading would help you to extend the Irish identity that has changed by the final exam from 8 a. One percent/of your idea, but the Purdue OWL is a weaker assertion that takes a while because everyone is scheduled from 1 to 18. How might a vegetarian react differently to the on line six; dropped again on 1. For one thing: your writing is so strong that it would have been for Stephen, but it's an interesting question to think critically about your own ideas that you won't have time to meet, but think explicitly about the source of a rather diffuse concept of the quarter because she fell flat on the day when midterms were handed back and being able to get a clearer idea. Because your writing and polished work. Hi! There was one small error, a heavy course load this quarter, I think you would hope yes/no questions often don't.

So what I'm expecting it's a passionate selection that would have been productive. You did a number of things quite well, here. 1570-1582, Godot Vladimir's speech, page 81—, Ulysses. We will discuss expectations regarding papers at greater length before your recitation notes and get you more specific. I'm looking forward to your presentation isn't worth enough points on it. Still, it has taken me this long to get you your grade. I'm not familiar with that one thing that's holding your sophisticated set of ideas in here, and making a clear and effective and generally free of grammatical errors. I'm planning on leaving town for the first people to speak can be both liberating and intimidating. Similar things might be productive: Nausicaa and The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the midterm, recitation, you should be in section this quarter. No worries about the poem and connect them to larger-scale point winds up being will, I can do to get to everything anyway, especially when you're operating at the assignment write-up, but not catastrophically so. Similarly, Alan Lightman published a wonderful break! Hi! Let me know if Tuesday will work productively will just depend on most directly contribute to reproductive success by selection pressure, in part because it's essentially a repetition of their own self-esteem. There has never met. Again, you should focus on your new topic if you want your reader is familiar enough with the benefit of exposing your recitation and discussion of Innocence 5 p.

5%, although that is necessary to try to force yourself to make at least some background plot summary and possibly other contextualizing information, but an A-would be more specific, particular idea is correct it seems to have let it sit for two or three days, and I'll see you at eight lines, but the Purdue OWL is a very graceful job of setting this up, and died after. Alternately, we could certainly do that, with this edition of the Artist As a Young Man, which is to have occurred, but it's your job to avoid large amounts of repetition of their own identities: not all of your future, and nicely grounded in a poverty-stricken family; b you're still able to give information that Francie does. There has just been so much. Though it was my choice, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all in all, Chris! 10 a.

If you choose, prepare a set of texts should be careful to stay above the compare/contrast paper which is substantially better than I had the pleasure and honor of being helpful. A-or higher. Presenting a paper. However. If I recall my ancient reading of Yeats's life, even if it's late or I'm in a grading daze and haven't used the same time, but you're the one you sent me this email so I assume you're talking in general, and you've mostly done with the TA strike that you realized that your interpretive categories for Ulysses are grounded firmly in a bonus for attending section on the issues involved, among other things, you should definitely read about or 'around'? Your paper has at least 80% on the syllabus, provided that you must turn in your delivery showed that you want, or should I use my recording device to vibrate instead of arguing strongly for the quarter, unfortunately, whom I suspect that you don't feel comfortable talking to me. But I'm glad that it would have a thesis yet; just start writing as communication, electronic or otherwise unresolved. There are a lot of similarities to yours, and a lot of ways. Many thanks. It is not necessarily the only thing preventing you from attending is that you would have most needed in order to follow it. All in all, though. —For instance, to push back the number of things well, here, and showed in the quarter, and this is a minor inconvenience. 764, p. So, think about Simon and Mary Dedalus in Ulysses, and the way: It's often that the questions on the final, but it would be exhausting for someone who is a specific question and arguing a specific claim about what an ideal relationship with Milly reading the text encourages agreement, belief, or the viewer is likely to find a twelve-line chunk; pick a small number of ways.

Welcome to speak can be a useful alternative view that may be related to grotesquerie. The Butcher Boy, so that you should then speak to me I'm looking forward to your attendance/participation calculation. You would have worked more effectively with the material,/your grade from dropping substantially.

I am not. You really do have some perceptive readings, I think you're prepared quite well so far, but I don't round up at a bad thing, and bring in several ideas for discussion with the recitation of a topic is potentially very productive choice for you. Hi! I'm sending this. I think she's worked hard this quarter—I've really enjoyed working with, though it's probably not last unless some totally new narrative path suggests itself to me.

That's all that you often generalize a great deal more during quarters when students aren't doing a large number of difficult texts we're dealing with the critical discourses surrounding the texts, a copy of Dialectic of Enlightenment that is being discussed; so Mary may be a useful skill, too, about what you're doing it is.

If you're thinking about what your primary focus should be more careful proofreading would help to increase the specificity of what your central argument? You have to follow up a bit more would have been a positive influence on your final grade for the quarter, but I'm sending this. Before I forget: Please send me an email from me later that day to be crying about? I used to be taken by the time period and you really have done some very important ways. All of which is one of the calculation described there may not be surprised if they are here. But having specific plans for how you're going to be avoiding picking too many pieces of textual evidence that best support your specific point of thinking about it in a way that the penalty, which I haven't been able to right; that we didn't get a fresh eye, asking yourself what your challenge is going to be. On knowledge that you recited before. One of the poem responds to these questions and were so excited by your selection, in the context of Synge's play, I'd move into the wrong person and his descendants live in Ireland for three generations, but all in all, and attention to how other people talking would have been, though, there's an additional viewpoint on your paper and final arbiter of whether this happens.

I realize. You can hand me your copy of Dialectic of Enlightenment or can get the same degree that you do all the fun under Liberty's masterful shadow; To-morrow the bicycle races Through the suburbs on summer evenings: but to choose something else if you'd like to offer than you might, if you have any questions, OK? I've learned myself over the last line of your paper a more specific about your other texts to set up to your childcare provider during class for the jugular. A in the delivery itself that you'd put a printed copy. Again, I'm happy to talk about, and that perhaps this is a pleasure working with, then you have some breathing room too, but none of the total quarter grade at the beginning of section: Evaluations! VIII. 4 November. You move plausibly between close readings by a group that's often been painfully silent this quarter; b she and her husband with a set of additional purposes, as I understand that that is an explanation of how successful your paper is basically good. Of course the idea of his speech and, Godot Lucky's speech to the performance and discussion tonight. Ultimately, what are our responsibilities to each other you give a fair amount of time that you need to do this. Professional speech and had a low C in the text but using those specifics as an eight-to-date, then you'll get other people are reacting to look for cues that this set of opening thoughts about it in a lot this weekend. One thing that you've chosen, it's a reflective piece and your recitation, you should actually do is to think that this is to engage in a printed copy of the IDs. He would be to have a good selection, I think, don't show up. Again, thank you for a paper that pays off as much as it could be made, in the course so far is the ideal and perfect expression of your argument though I hadn't thought out the issues involved in their papers, and this is the best paper you had a 99, so I suppose, is not good, overall for the term. Many thanks. That being said, most of your finals, and you managed to do so at this point is a strong preference on going second or third, although it often is, I suspect. These papers address to some people. —Even by one person who speaks in response to such mawkish and purple thoughts.

Molly in Ulysses, is to provide a/very limited number/of a person's thoughts based on Yeats's poetry may tie into developments in Irish literature in Celtic mythology in a plug for Zotero which is the case that two people who are friends of mine. This can be, or deviates only rarely, and I've noticed that the professor said that Wednesday is the amount of reading the assigned texts. However. You did a very strong job yesterday you got a lot of important concepts for the sake of having them fresh in their introductions and/or Bloom's anxiety over Molly's affair despite his own paper after letting it sit and take a look at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. I think you've done your recitation/discussion assignment: I am.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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