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inposterumcumgaudio · 3 months

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Harold Ridgwell

Dr. Ridgwell is one of two Doctors with a unique texture (the other being Dr. Hughes). Unlike the stock Doctor skin that features a green Tyrolean hat and yellow wellies, his hat and boots are red. Practically, as with Hughes, this is to help the player identify the particular Doctor they are meant to be seeking out in a malpractice of them. Dr. Ridgwell is currently head of Wellington Health and since Dr. Hughes is the only named Doctor working at Haworth Labs, we can perhaps assume that Hughes is head of the Doctor contingent there.

My favorite thing about Dr. Ridgwell is this memo he wrote admonishing the staff and students for complaining about being made to study botany. Aside from the respect to disciplines peripheral to his own, it also indicates that this is a guy who is aware of the broader community and industry. Which, you know, actually a good thing for an organization like Wellington Health.

Also the criticism of Sally's ability to go into business for herself rather than work towards the greater good. Which is something I rarely see talked about actually. Like, in a post-war England - especially an isolationist one that lost said war and is suffering shortages of all kinds - Sally's abrupt departure from Haworth Labs would be considered selfish and unpatriotic. You do see others in the game approach the precipice of calling her out for this (Harry Cavendish's glib statement that "when love fades, you must move on"; Dottie Lloyd-Ramsey saying that she might have told Verloc that Blackberry wasn't based on Coconut) but their English propriety prevents them from outright saying that her selfishness has caused civic and personal suffering.

Although really, what Ridgwell is criticizing isn't that Sally has elected to profit off her skills rather than put her shoulder to the wheel, so much as that she's been allowed to. Back in his day, if you were that valuable to the town, they wouldn't let you play dickdick with them about it.

Anyway, Ridgwell's also aware of the shortages in his own organization and in the town's population. In this other note to the admissions director, he points out that the populace simply does not have many people in it who can qualify for training as Doctors. Aside from the bad Joy taking out possible applicants that he mentions, there's also the fact that Doctors have a height (i.e. strength) requirement on top of the intellectual demand of the job. Wellies are malnourished (which results in shorter, weaker people), but Doctors still have to be able to lift and restrain patients. Especially with so many of them being plague Wastrels these days. It's like that fungus gives them extra strength or something.

But let's be real, you probably asked about Ridgwell because you want the tea on his rivalry with Verloc.

I mean, Ridgwell obviously has opinions about the guy.

That said, the environmental storytelling of Wellington Health is complicated. The motilene-filled room with Ridgwell's draft letter and the chest? I remember the level designer blogging about designing the environmental storytelling in that area, but I have no clue what the story is supposed to be there. Like, Ridgwell doesn't seem like he's planning to bug out otherwise. That the admissions office has been converted into plague wastrel patient cells? I mean, I guess if you can't find students, you don't need the offices, but there's nothing saying they need the space otherwise. Both of those things are just sort of there, you know? They don't go anywhere with it.

I honestly think this part of the story and accordant level was one of the most contested and revised areas, particularly with regard to what was supposed to be happening here. Then, because of the confused environmental storytelling, there was also confused supposition in the fanbase as to what it all meant.

That is, because of this statue in here, people assumed it meant that Verloc used to be head of Wellington Health. after all, Ridgwell donated a fuck-off big statue for his own office, surely an egomaniac like Verloc would have too.

I do not think this is the case.

Usually when I have a question like this, I start digging around in Poedit to get hints as to what the intent might have been. If I can see what was or where they might have been headed, then I can usually assume whether a detail was revised or jettisoned. But there's nothing in there suggesting that Verloc was head of Wellington Health at any point. And I also think that he's too young to have become head of this organization while still having to work in subordinate roles at Haworth Labs. If he'd become head of Wellington Health, going to Haworth Labs would only make sense as a lateral move, especially for a guy with an ego like Verloc. One does not go back down the ladder. A guy who was head of Wellington Health does not write a letter like this.

But... I have a concept.

Verloc has two statues in Wellington Health. One in the hallway, that he apparently donated himself.

And the toppled one in Ridgwell's office.

That the one in Ridgwell's office is knocked over and vandalized and not just removed entirely suggests that Ridgwell's ascension to that role is recent. And as I supposed in that other post about Verloc and Haworth, there are no statues of Haworth at Wellington Health despite inventing Joy, but there are these statues of Verloc. Suggesting that Haworth is not a Wellington Health alumnus, but since Verloc is, they can be proud of and take some credit for his becoming head of the other (competing) medical organization in the town.

What if the previous head of Wellington Health then considered Verloc's acquisition of Haworth Labs to be his own vicarious greatest accomplishment? I mean, this guy probably taught Verloc, maybe thought he was quite promising. Verloc does have that effect on people after all. Maybe this guy even thought he was raising up a protegé.

But Verloc's also fairly good at hiding his disdain for the people of Wellington Wells and he doesn't need a mentor at this point because he's young and invincible and his uncle is still alive. Also, he has no intention of serving the greater good. So regardless of whatever machinations this former director had for him, Verloc gets his degree and defects to Wellington Health's competitor. Which, that's fine, this former director thinks. Brings Haworth Labs into the Wellington Health fold to have it under the watch of an alumnus. Or so he might have hoped.

Ridgwell clearly never liked Verloc, stating particularly that his refusal to share his healthy test subjects with them is not unexpected. I don't think they were students together, but rather that Ridgwell may have been a professor at the time. Might maybe even advised the former director against investing so much energy into Verloc above other more reliably tempered students.

And he was right. Verloc refuses to collaborate or share resources, which hinders progress for both organizations and is very modern and unbecoming behavior typical of the youth these days. Would that they could just be conscripted still.

So shit plays out how it do, former director puts a statue of Verloc up in his office because he's just so damn proud, but isn't it actually sad because that's not even his accomplishment, it's that of a student who probably thinks about him only as a stepping stone to where he actually wanted to be, if at all. Indeed, we don't even know this guy's name because he's ultimately unimportant.

And when Ridgwell succeeds him, he knocks down that monument to misplaced pride and replaces it with one celebrating his own achievement.

What a familiar pose he chose!

And why not? If anyone is going to save Wellington Wells with the next big medical breakthrough, it'll probably be someone who can work well with others and is willing to entertain disciplines beyond his own field of study.

#dr. harold ridgwell #dr. anton verloc #sally boyle #we happy few

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tessiete · 1 year

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Either of this for Korkie and Obi-wan pretty please? 👁

• ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

• selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

@featheredmoonwings Look! Look! I did it! It took me ages, but I did it! I...I do feel as though each attempt is getting better though I think ultimately the take away from the end of this is not quuuuuuite as clear, or as focused as I intended. Still, I think what I meant is *in* there. I'm trying!

Anyway, all that said, thank you for the lovely prompt! I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it <3

selcouth

He’s in the dining hall, fork halfway to his mouth, when his aunt comms him asking if he’d like to come with her to Coruscant. Later, he’ll wonder if there’s a catch, some sort of agreement lying in wait he’ll have to adhere to. He’s missing class to go. Perhaps she’s arranged some extra assignment, or a supplementary report to be handed in upon his return. Maybe there’s a junior delegation he’ll be required to join to justify his attendance. Or maybe he’s meant to act as her personal aide, standing silent and attentive in every meeting.

It doesn’t matter. He says yes. He’d agree to anything, he wants to go so badly.

“What do you think you’ll do there?” asks Lagos. Her envy is so potent he can practically feel it curling the ends of his hair with its heat.

He throws her an infuriating smirk – the kind he knows she hates. “I don’t know,” he says. “Probably meet a lot of important people. Emperors. Queens. Maybe even a Jedi. Maybe –” he catches himself. “Maybe I’ll send you some holos so you won’t feel left out.”

Lagos tuts, and crosses her arms but promises to water his daesyn while he’s gone. He takes his databank, his pad, and – almost as an afterthought – he grabs the little paper book on botany from beneath his pillow. Just because…well, somehow it feels wrong to go without it.

This is silly because on Coruscant, the person who gave it to him will be closer than ever.

–

“Do you think we’ll have time to go to the Cala Brin Gardens?” he asks his aunt. Coruscant looms in the viewport, and they’ve received their docking permits. Only a few more minutes before they’re breaking atmosphere, and Korkie can contain his enthusiasm no longer.

“If you like,” she replies, smiling.

“And the Galactic City Library? Or maybe the Shrine of the Laughing Goddess? I know that’s on the other side of the planet, but I read they’ve put in those vactracks now that make the magna-trains look like a fathier-drawn carriages.”

“They’re not quite that fast.”

“Faster,” he says. “Do you think we can go to the Temple?”

His aunt frowns. “The Temple?”

“The Jedi Grand Temple. I checked – it’s open to the public. At least, parts of it are. The Archives, apparently, and they’ve got a gallery of relics –”

“Korkie –”

“They’re open to the public, so anyone can go. It wouldn’t mean anything.” He can feel how his aunt withdraws like a physical thing against his skin, like the bristles of a brush bending back. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Anyone can go.”

She waits to speak until there is nothing left on her tongue but denial. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

Korkie feels his own upset eating out the center of his chest like acid, filling his mouth with a sharp and bitter taste. “Then what was the point of coming here at all?”

–

She takes him to the opera. He toggles through the list of languages on the babble-deck until Stewjoni comes up. The letters are strange and he can’t read them, but through the headset provided, he can hear the music translated into this foreign tongue.

He takes the botany book to the Gardens. His aunt takes him on a path that meanders through a thicket of trees before opening into a wide meadow dotted with thousands of little white flowers like stars in the night sky. She points out a clutch of Mandalorian peace lilies growing in a grove of galek trees. He’s seen one of those before in the Civic Center, but never so many together. On their way out, one of the little star flowers drops into his path. When no one is looking, he picks it up and presses it between the pages of his book, hoping that the nectar won’t stain the ancient paper leaves.

At the Galactic City Library, the librarians there tell him not to worry! There is even more to be found here than in the Jedi Archives. But he knows that is impossible. The library could be as big as the planet itself, and it still wouldn’t hold what Korkie is looking for.

They pass by platoons of clone soldiers on their way back to their hired speeder. Korkie can’t help but be fascinated by their presence. He’s looked at his own face and seen his aunt in it. He has her nose, he knows, and her mouth. But he wonders what it’s like at someone else and see your reflection.

“Don’t stare, Korkie,” his aunt chides. “Now come quickly, before we miss our afternoon sup. I promised you little cakes!”

The soldiers disappear, and Korkie turns back to his aunt, eyes gleaming.

“You did, indeed!” he says, and they take of racing to see who makes it to the speeder first.

Most mornings, though, his aunt goes to work at the Senate building. Korkie goes with her. They have breakfast in her office, and she regales him with stories he’s never heard before about her university days in the city, or anecdotes about the most ridiculous stunts pulled in the Convocation Chamber, or what she thinks he positively has to see while he’s here. Afterwards, she holds private conference hours out of her own office. Initially, Korkie had worried that he’d have to attend these, too. Perhaps these sessions were the catch and he’d be expected to observe and report back.

But no. Instead, his aunt hands him a chit full of credits, assigns a Protector and an aide, and sends him off to explore the city. Sometimes he’ll glance at her itinerary before he goes, though he rarely recognises any of the names. This makes sense. After all, her friends tend to visit after hours. What he does recognise is the frequency of delegates and diplomats making appointments with military titles.

“We are at war, kairkiyc,” his aunt reminds him gently when he points this out.

“Well, the Republic maybe,” he says. “But we aren’t.”

Mandalore is neutral. Mandalore is safe. While these captains and generals bow and scrape, he remembers how his aunt stood in front of her own parliament on Commemoration Day two years ago. The Republic had just declared its intentions against the Separatist faction while the Duchess recited her Names of the Fallen, and promised her people never again.

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Her voice is light, and her smile is wide and clear as she welcomes the next soldier into her office.

Korkie leaves, his freedom settling easily upon his shoulders. The day is bright, and the city of Coruscant is vast. There is no limit to the things he might do. He might go see a holoflick, or visit a gaming lounge. He meanders the shopping district, and tries on suits in the modern styles of distant stars. He overindulges on glass pearls in the heart of the culinary district, and then later throws them all up after spending the afternoon at a theme park that has a coaster with a drop of three city levels. He skirts the edge of every district that surrounds the Temple, but his aunt’s caution nags at him and so he keeps his distance. Close, but never touching. It wouldn’t do to draw suspicion, and he is never without eyes on him. The aide keeps time so that he gets back to the Senate before dark. The Protector follows behind.

–

Once the sun sets and the work of the day has been put to rest like a recalcitrant child, his aunt receives more welcome visitors to her offices.

Senator Organa, he knows. He has been to Mandalore before, and though Korkie is endlessly curious and eager to see the wider galaxy, and though he appreciates the insight into the mechanisms of governance, he can’t help but feel relief at the sight of a familiar face here on this strange world.

The senator passes Korkie a small parcel of Alderaanian candy. A label reads sweets for the sweet in his wife’s hand. Korkie grimaces. It seems Her Majesty The Queen still thinks him three years old and unblooded. But after the first bite of licorice kangan he forgives her.

“So! Is the seat of galactic democracy everything you thought it’d be?” Organa asks.

“There’s a lot more paperwork than I imagined,” Korkie says, mouth full.

Organa chuckles. “Tell me about it.”

Korkie likes Organa. He likes how he carries himself. He likes the easiness of his laughter and the flexibility of his good humor. He likes how Organa listens to his opinions on things without interruption, and without throwing indulgent looks in his aunt’s direction. He likes that he drives his speeder with the roof down, even at the height of Coruscant traffic. He likes that he doesn’t tell him to sit back when he leans over the side to see how far down the city levels go. He likes that on their way back to his aunt’s apartments near the Senate, he slows down and points out the Jedi Temple as if it is a new thing and not something Korkie has thought about or imagined a million times. Korkie lets him believe this.

“That’s the Processional Way,” Bail says, pointing at a long mall lined by ancient stone figures. “That’s the route a Jedi takes the day before he’s knighted. Then, they climb the spire to spend a night meditation. Do you know anything about the Jedi?”

“A bit,” Korkie says, leaning over the door to get a better look. Temple airspace is restricted, but he can see the tiny flecks of shadow walking up and down the path. He imagines what it must be like to walk it. The sound of his feet against the stone. The swirl of robes brushing the back of his calves. The wind spilling over the towers and flowing along the concourse like a river. The weight of a sabre at his hip. The brush of the Force at his fingertips. “Do you?”

“Can anyone ever know the Jedi?” Bail chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in my experience, they’re never quite what you expect.”

“Have you ever met one?”

Bail laughs. “Oh, I’ve met many.”

“I met one,” he says, looking back over his shoulder with great authority. “Ahsoka Tano. Though she was just a Padawan, I suppose. And I – Do you know Master Kenobi? I met him once, too.”

“Master Kenobi, of course,” says Bail. “One of my good friends. You’ll never meet a better Jedi than him. Or a better man.”

“He’s not what you expect?”

Bail laughs. “No,” he says. “He’s better.”

The Temple glistens gold in the sunset.

–

Garm Bel Iblis is easygoing and free with his laughter, too, but even so, he frightens Korkie. There’s just something about him that seems dangerous as if even his joy must be held in check. But his aunt assures him he’s harmless.

“As harmless as a tooka in a toko nest,” Korkie mutters.

His aunt laughs, and gets out her best bottle of tihaar, cracking it open at the same moment Bel Iblis lets himself into her rooms. Garm has come for a visit three times in the last week. Always, he has exceptional timing, and he never turns down a drink. Usually, Korkie joins them with a frizzpop or a tea, letting the tide of their conversation roll in and out, and drag on and on. But this time, when he sees the two tumblers Satine has set out he winks at Korkie and tells her she might as well get another.

“How old are you, kid? Man enough, I’d say. Your Honorable Grace, we ought to raise a toast to your nephew’s first trip to the Core.”

“I’ve been to Alderaan before,” Korkie protests.

Garm claps him on the arm. “Coruscant ain’t Alderaan. Come on, Satine, let the kid have a drink.”

Shockingly, his aunt agrees.

He sits with the alcohol cradled in his hands, sipping when his aunt takes a sip, and when he’s finished, Garm laughs and says, “Better keep an eye on the boy, Satine. No one’s that stoic if it’s really their first taste of tihaar.”

Korkie ducks his head as his cheeks flush, the heat of the alcohol only heightening the heat of his embarrassment. He coughs, but it’s clear the deception comes far too late – it serves no other purpose than to send Garm into a bout of raucous laughter.

His aunt hums speculatively as Korkie turns his glass over in his hands.

“Would anyone like a drink of water?” he asks.

“No, but you can bring the bottle if you’re going to the cold box.” Garm shakes his tumbler, rattling the ice cubes that have yet to melt.

Korkie rolls his eyes but obeys. The tihaar has left a sweet-sour taste on his tongue that reminds him of school, and of his guilt. He pours some water into his empty glass and downs it before refilling it again. Behind him, he can hear snatches of a conversation about people he doesn’t know going places he’s never been.

“I saw Amidala on my way up,” says Garm. “She mentioned dinner plans. You’ve been dithering about for two weeks. Can I assume this is your true reason for being here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Senator. I came for work – though I don’t expect you to have much understanding of that, either.”

Garm laughs again, warm and comfortable. “The best business is done over drinks,” he says.

“Then I suppose Padme is taking your lesson to heart.”

“You and I both know that dinner isn’t drinks. It’s something else.”

“A coincidence.”

“Good,” he says. Korkie hears the sound of the glass hitting the table as it’s set aside. “Then I’ll take it to mean if I were to ask you now, you’d be free tonight?

Korkie grasps the bottle of tihaar by the neck and turns back to see Garm sprawled out with his legs spread and his arms folded behind his head. His aunt laughs softly, hesitating on the edge of an answer.

“I –”

But Korkie gets there first.

“A top up, Senator?” Korkie asks, holding the bottle out towards Garm’s glass.

Garm smirks, looking from Korkie and back to his aunt.

“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t think so.”

–

The next night, he gets dressed in a fine set of twill trousers and a cross-cut tunic that’s so popular in Sundari these days. He combs back his hair, and pats it down until it lies flat and orderly, parted to the side.

His aunt comes in dressed in shimmersilk. She stops short, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. Though beautiful, she looks pale, her mouth drawn and discontent drawing a line between her brows. In her hands, she holds a battered travel cloak.

“I thought we were going to Mozca’s for dinner,” he says.

She crosses the room, pressing the cloak into his hands then raking her fingers through his hair, mussing it up.

“Hey –!”

“I am going to Mozca’s,” she says, stepping back and looking him over. He tries to sweep his hair back but it refuses to stay in place now that it’s been set free. “I am going to Mozca’s. You are not.”

“What? Why?”

She turns on her heel and hurries out of the fresher, throwing on a much more fashionable cloak over her gown. He follows after her, all confusion.

“Auntie, if this is because of the tihaar, I swear it was one drink. And it was Tav’s graduation! That was practically a year ago, and –”

“Senator Organa is waiting in a speeder downstairs.”

“I don’t want to go back to our rooms. Please can’t I come?”

“Not tonight.”

“But –”

“For Hod’s sake, Korkie, must you debate everything?”

He stops in his tracks. When maybe a few years ago he might have burst into tears and plaintive whines, he now cocks his head, the defiance of adolescence taking great offense to this accusation.

“I don’t debate everything,” he says.

His aunt merely looks at him.

He sighs. “Fine.”

He throws the ratty cloak over his shoulders and she pins it closed at the front, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek and then pulling up the hood.

“It’s cold out,” she says. “Keep this up. For my sake.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Remember. Senator Organa. He’s waiting in Bay Four.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Comm me when you –”

“Yes, Auntie. Goodness, it’s not as if I’m going to get lost between here and home.”

She only smiles at him, tight and somewhat sad. Why sad? He wants to ask but he half thinks that if he says it, she’ll confirm it, and he’d rather believe it was only the shadows and his imagination that makes her look so. Still, he keeps the hood up as he makes his way through the corridors of the Senate building and down the lifts to the docking bays. For her sake.

Senator Organa’s speeder has the roof up today.

He’s still familiar, but that ease about him is gone, replaced by a strange and worrying gravity. He throws open the passenger door, looking back over Korkie’s shoulder though no one is behind him.

Once he’s safely inside and wearing his harness, he throws back the hood and exhales against the mounting tension. Bail gives him a once over, taking in the cloak and the messy hair.

“Thank you for the ride, Senator,” Korkie says.

Bail hums. His speculation becomes acute and Korkie squirms breaking whatever thought it was that had Bail so entwined. “Don’t mention it,” he says, then backs out of the space, dropping them into the Coruscanti night.

–

Organa doesn’t take him home.

Instead, he asks, “Are you hungry?” and without waiting for an answer, he drops them down several levels and swings into park at a seedy little diner on the edge of a district.

Korkie looks at the restaurant. He wants to be polite, but he’s never been down this low before, he’s never been out alone with Senator Organa before, and he promised his Aunt he’d go straight home.

The Senator reaches over and lifts his hood back up. Then, in a voice that makes Korkie think they ought to be whispering in a dark corner of the Senate building, he says, “Keep this up, and keep your head down. Find Dex. Dex, okay? He’s a besalisk. You know what that is?”

“Yes.”

“Only Dex. You find him, and you tell him that Ben’s waiting for you.”

“Who’s Ben?”

“Talk to no one else.”

“Senator –”

“Do you understand?”

It’s strange. He ought to be afraid. But just like with Almec, there is no fear. Only a calm kind of certainty. There is danger here, but it doesn’t come from the senator. He can be trusted.

“I understand,” he says.

Then, he exits the speeder and walks toward the diner with his shoulders hunched and his face hidden by the fall of his cloak.

Inside, it is as if all the light of the city has been condensed and poured out into cup. There are voices raised in laughter and debate. The smell of fried food and syrupy sweets floats through the air, mingling with the chemical tang of cheap cleaning supplies. A sweeper droid butts at his heels, urging him out of the way, and a set of tentacles prod at his shoulders, sending him stumbling out of the way as a Parwan in a rush barrels through.

Korkie tugs at his hood, and pushes his way up to the bar. Over the heads bobbing up and down, he sees a large alien with a ridged head and four arms slinging drinks and pushing plates. He aims for him. When he’s up against the countertop, bodies pressing him into the ledge, he reaches out to tug on the stained white hem of the besalisk’s shirt.

“Excuse me, sir –”

The besalisk turns, his frown melting into a look of comprehension.

“Let me guess. You’re looking for Ben, aren’t you?”

“I –” Korkie nods.

“Flo!” A droid whirrs up behind Korkie, bearing a tray and a load of dishes. “Show him to his seat. Then wipe your banks after.”

“Sure thing, honey,” she says. Then, her hand on Korkie’s elbow, she leads him through the throng. “This way.”

At the very back of the diner, in a tiny booth by a window with the privacy screen drawn sits a man wearing a worn grey suit similar to those worn by Senate administrators and data clerks. But he is not a clerk or a secretary.

He is a Jedi.

Korkie’s heart leaps up to his throat as if it’s trying to make a bid for freedom as if it’s trying to reach its origin and its home. He slides into the seat. “Master Ken–”

“Thank you, Flo.”

“No problem, sugar.”

Right. No names. He understands that. He understands subtlety and subterfuge. He has lived it his whole life. Suitably chastened to silence, Korkie watches the serving droid disappear into the crowd. He licks his lips and dares to look at the Jedi again. It seems to him he very nearly shines with light, gleaming golden and bright under in the gloom of the diner.

“Seems like an awful lot of people here to be private,” Korkie says.

Master Kenobi smirks. “Sometimes the more voices speaking, the less there is being heard. I would have thought your Aunt had taught you that.”

“She – well…” He doesn’t want to insult Master Kenobi by debating with him. “Perhaps I’m only a terrible student,” he says.

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Oh.”

Korkie wriggles in his seat, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves, and twisting the hem of his cloak wondering what on Urch his aunt has said about him. And what is he meant to say back? It he meant to talk about his day? About his schoolwork? Is he meant to tell his father about Tav’s graduation and the tihaar they smuggled in after curfew? Is he meant to complain about his the prefects and juniors who bag for them? What does one say to the Hero of the Republic?

Master Kenobi has liberated worlds and saved thousands of lives. He lifts his lightsaber and despots fall. Dictatorships crumble to dust under the might of his fist, and tyrants surrender to the melodies of his silver tongue. He is a Jedi. To Korkie, he is the Jedi, and he remembers as a child how his aunt would point to this man in old holoreels and tell him how brave he was, how strong, how pure. His throat goes dry, the silence growing awkward and heavy.

Then they both speak at once.

“I hope you like nerf burgers –”

“I saw they had nerf burgers on the menu – oh.”

Master Kenobi makes an aborted huff. He laughs, or maybe he sighs. It’s hard to tell and Korkie has very little to compare the sound to.

“Yes,” he says. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us a bit of everything. Or near enough. And Dex will supply the rest anyway. He’s very enthusiastic.”

“Is that the besalisk?”

“Yes. A fine chef, and cleverer than he looks. Fingers in more pies than he has hands, you know.”

“Oh.” A joke? Korkie isn’t sure, so he smothers the little laugh that beats against his teeth.

“Well, anyway…thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for – I suppose my aunt asked you to do this? I’ve been bugging her and bugging her for weeks, but I swear, I only asked to go to the Temple. It’s open to the public, you know, so it wouldn’t have to raise any – any suspicions. Not that there are any. To raise. I mean, I just – but I didn’t mean for her to put it on you. I would never have asked you –”

“I asked your m – aunt. I asked to meet with you. I didn’t know how we’d manage it, but I thought that after our last…encounter…I thought it was unfair. To ask of you so much grace, and offer you so little in return.”

“Oh,” says Korkie. He doesn’t feel lacking in grace, or whatever it is his father is speaking of, so he rushes to reassure him rather than risk him running off. “I don’t mind.”

Master Kenobi smiles. The curve of his mouth is hidden by his beard, but his eyes crinkle at the edges like the pages of Korkie’s botany book, and for a brief, delirious second he wonders if that can be pressed and preserved like the star flower he kept.

“So, how are you enjoying Coruscant?”

“I like it a lot!”

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course,” Korkie says, leaning hard into enthusiasm. “The opera was wonderful, and all the people have been wonderful! I’ve never seen so many different cultures in one place. And we went to the Gardens, and a speeder race, and at least three or four ceremonial galas. Thankfully, she’s excused me from any obligation I might have had to Senatorial duties. I was half-afraid in coming she might assign me a report or make me take notes on it all, though, between you and me I rather despise politics though I find the theories and philosophies interesting enough –”

At this, Master Kenobi throws back his head, his laughter bursting out and coloring the rest of the ringing din with its notes of unexpected delight. Korkie can’t help but smile, though he doesn’t know what’s so funny about that.

The Jedi reaches out across the table, palm up to forestall any offense. Korkie twists his own hands together on his lap so that he doesn’t reach back and take it.

“Oh, Kiorkicek,” his father says. “You and me, both.”

Something that was so tight it was on the edge of snapping instead uncoils gently in his chest. His shoulders relax, and a genuine smile, wide and unguarded, spreads over his face.

Flo returns once with their food, and Korkie assumes it must be the whole menu for how loaded up she is. There are nerf-burgers, of course, but also blue milkshakes, protato wedges, tip-yip wings tossed in agu-sauce. There’s a plate of steaming poppers, and crispy O-rings. Master Kenobi claims a whole plate of muja bites to himself, while Korkie makes a dash for the blimas and cava cake rolls. There’s frizzpop and ting, and Korkie doesn’t think for one second that his father would even consider letting him have a taste of tihaar so he takes the pop and asks for nothing else.

“I saw the holoreport on the battle on Castell,” he says later, after they’ve tucked away a respectable mountain of food and are picking at the last few protato chips. “They said you took the base with only one squadron.”

“Oh,” says the Jedi. “Did you receive the Gossam bead-braid I sent?”

“Yes, in one piece this time. And in school, we were reading the Armistice Proclamation of Enarc and I saw that you were one of the appointed witnesses.”

“Enarc? Oh, yes, I took advantage of its access to the Hydian while I was there. You got the stockings?”

“Mhm. And then I couldn’t find out anything about Felucia, but I figured out the lumi-sphere you sent me must have come from there. Or that sector, I suppose. The ‘net said that was a ‘decisive victory for the Republic,’ and I’m sure it must have been.”

“I don’t – I don’t quite recall Felucia.”

“Then they said they were sending you to Kiros, but I couldn’t find out anything about that, either. Was there victory on Kiros, master?”

“Ah,” says Master Kenobi. But he doesn’t say anything else. He tugs at his sleeve, picking at the hem of one cuff, his gaze sliding away from Korkie’s to watch the people lounging in other booths or teetering on their stools at the bar. Korkie feels the loss of his attention acutely.

“Well, I assume there was,” he says. “I can’t imagine there’d be defeat. Not if you were there, anyway. I must’ve just missed the declaration. Or perhaps there were too many. It probably wasn’t that important, anyway. I don’t think you sent me anything from there – not that you have to. I don’t expect – anyway, that��s all one. Anyway…”

Master Kenobi shakes his head and smiles at him, attention focused once more. But this smile feels forced, and Korkie feels like a burden.

“Kiros was liberated,” says Master Kenobi.

“Oh, good,” says Korkie. “Of course. I had no doubt you – and I didn’t mean anything by –”

“Not at all,” he says. “We were not there long. I’m afraid I didn’t have a chance to find you anything of worth.”

“It doesn’t have to be of worth,” Korkie says.

“Well, we weren’t there very long, and I –” He tugs at his sleeve again, but this time he winces. Korkie’s gaze follows the movement but now he sees more than he did before. What he’d thought was the skin-tight sleeve of an undergarment is actually a web of bandages wound around Master Kenobi’s wrist, and though his father is quick to pull the cuff back into place, he is not quick enough to hide the blossom of pink that has stained even the topmost layer of wrappings.

“You – you’re bleeding,” he says.

“Yes, I –” But he says nothing else. There is nothing to say.

All the things that Korkie had wanted to talk about, all the things he had wanted to tell him but was still working up the courage to mention, all of it evaporates in the face of the tight-lipped man before him. He doesn’t look glowing or golden. He looks wan and waxy, washed out under weak yellow lights, the pink stain darkening to red then black beneath his sleeve.

He is not a untouchable hero. He is not an invincible shoulder. He is not a saviour, or a saint, or a god. He is horrifyingly – humiliatingly – mortal.

He is a stranger, Korkie thinks. I don’t know him. For all that he has his eyes and his hair, for all that he has seen his face on every holoscreen, on every frequency for years, for all that he has followed his exploits and studied his gifts, and tried and tried and tried to know him…he doesn’t.

This man is a stranger. He doesn’t know how to make him laugh, or frown. He doesn’t know what will goad him into action, or urge him into consideration. He doesn’t know what he eats, or drinks, or how he takes his tea – if he even likes it. He doesn’t know at all what to say. And Master Kenobi says nothing to him, either. Perhaps there is nothing between them.

“It’s getting late,” says the Jedi. “I’ll comm Bail to bring you home.”

–

The lights are on, but his aunt is asleep when he lets himself into their apartment. She’s slumped in a chair near the door, still dressed in her shimmersilk with flowers in her hair. The fabric glimmers in the starlight peering through the window, and the rippling headlamps of the passing airtraffic.

Korkie goes to wake her, to let her know he’s home safe, but he stops before his fingertips graze her cheek, looking at her. Really looking.

Her skin is pale, and soft. He knows how the inside of her forearm feels beneath his palm when he presses there. He knows the weight of her shoulder when she leans into him to mutter a joke beneath her breath. He knows the warmth of her lips upon his brow, the tug of her fingers through his hair. He has memorised the beat of her heart, and he holds his breath now to hear it. They are so close, and it is so quiet, and he knows her so well he imagines he does. Or maybe it’s his own heart thumping softly in his ears.

He exhales, and looks away. Dawn is liming the edges of the buildings in bloody golds.

“Auntie,” he whispers. Satine jolts awake, alert but instantly calmed when she sees his face. Korkie smiles. “You ought to go to bed.”

“Yes,” she says with a yawn. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m alright,” he says. “See you in the morning.”

She stumbles off to her room, still half asleep, but Korkie doesn’t go to his. Instead, he sits in her chair and watches the sun rise.

–

The next day, he doesn’t leave when the Convocation Chamber is opened for debate. He goes with his aunt, and he stands behind her. When she speaks, he watches as the whole of the galaxy listens. She argues her reasons, and states her position, and though generals and kings and warlords and even the Chancellor try their advance, she gives them no ground.

She is dressed in her regalia. The mythosaur tusks hang like daggers from her ears. The collar of her gown bursts outward like a blade, her purple shift glinting like arterial blood. Her voice is like iron, and her spine is as stiff and straight as beskar. She is a guardian. A sovereign. The Duchess of Mandalore.

He is hers.

And she will always be his.

#my fic #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #prompt fic #sw

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colleenmurphy · 30 days

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Grey Queen's Court / It's Bitch Craft Verse

The Queen still doesn't have a 'true title' yet in my mind but it's slowly getting there. Trying to flesh out the court a little bit, so here goes.

The Henchmen / The Hounds - A band of merry trouble making young Dukes of the Grey Queen's Court. Take on a very dedicated canine appearance while in the mortal realm. Rescues from the Winter King's Court. Training under the Knave of Roses' tutelage.

Lord Petrus of the Greenlands / Thomaz Zieliński - A large nobleman that oversees the midsummer meadows later goes on to become the King of the Rose Court. In the human world he oversees the New York City Parks Department.

The Winter King Fergal the Winter Court / Francis 'Frank' Patrick Flannery - The raving lunatic that once held Col's hand in marriage. A true monster she's set out to hunt to the ends of the earth. Lives for pain and destruction of all that is good in the world. In the human realm he deals in all make and manner of crime and corruption, his latest is running a used car dealership in Hoboken NJ.

Lord William O' Good / Billy Goode - Personal assassin and loyal confidant to both the Grey Queen and King but also the Courts of Spring and Summer. A Secret Keeper in the Society of D'Nan along with his cousin Micajah 'Cage' Astwood / Lord Thistlewood of the Summer Court. Knave of Roses. Owns the local record store 'Goode Music'

Mary Colleen Murphy / Macha Danu Lady of the Roses - Daughter of the goddess Danu and the Imbolc Lord Machallan of the Grey Lands she tip toes precariously through the veils and Fae Courts. Balance keeper & karmic enforcer for women / Key Holder to the Rose Garden. Runs the tavern and bed and breakfast in a tiny little hamlet in upstate New York. Was once a force to be reckoned with in the mergers and acquisitions department of the large city firm. That was long ago before Frank ruined her. Now she'd found balance in the quiet.

Helene Marie Starling / Lady Helene of the Spring Blossoms ( Later Queen of the Spring / Green Courts ) - Daughter to king of the Spring court, King Hervé II and Lady Grace of the Autumn Court. Helene brings both balance and calm to both realms and is a steadfast confidant and best friend to Colleen. Without her vast knowledge of botany and herbology as well as her compassionate nature the world ( and Colleen) would be lost. Brings beauty to the unexpected. Guardian of children and small woodland creatures. In the mortal realm she takes the guise of a small town florist and specialist botany professor at large for the Swanmoore School as well as Chestervale College.

Elizabeth D'Ardenville / Lady Elizabeth of the Summer Court ( Later Queen of the Fae Fire Court ) - Steadfast warrior to her people and equally solid friend to Colleen. She is the spark of imagination in a child's eyes, the burning desire to succeed and the confidence to see it through. Without her mankind would grind to a halt and slowly extinguish itself. Guardian of the Hearth and home. In the mortal realm she exudes confidence and unarmed power; teaches yoga and self defense at the local civic center in weekends. Her day job? blown glass artist who oversees the Artisan Collective Board at Swanmoore School of the Arts as well as instructs the master class

#about colleen #bitchcraft verse

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scotianostra · 7 months

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On October 2nd 1854 the biologist, sociologist, geographer, philanthropist and pioneering town planner, Patrick Geddes, was born in Ballater.

Some biographies still maintain that he was born in Perth, not Ballater! It is generally conceded nowadays that he was born in the Deeside town, it is not known in which house and, with his father a serving soldier; it may even have been in the

barracks. A few years after Patrick was born the Geddes’s moved to Perth, where their house, Mount Tabor is still in existence and whence, eventually he went to the Academy. In addition to formal schooling, it is known that Geddes, from an early age was fascinated by plants and animals – he spent hours and hours botanising on Kinnoull Hill. As he grew up he initially wanted to be an artist but father put that idea out of his

head.

He had a lifelong contempt for examinations and never took a university degree. After a period of private study, he chose botany as his subject but left Edinburgh University after one week. He went on to study botany and zoology with individual teachers and mentors in London and Paris. It was in Paris that he became influenced by the work of the French sociologist Le Play.

Geddes became a demonstrator in practical physiology at University College London, and in 1879 he travelled to Mexico to collect biological specimens. While there, he suffered temporary blindness and this left him with permanently weakened eyesight. It was during this period that he discovered his 'thinking machines' — a visual method of presenting and connecting facts and ideas to aid thought.

Geddes spent most of his life outside normal academic channels. He seemed to have difficulties expressing his ideas in writing. However, he had a gift for mobilising others and for putting his ideas into practice.

Geddes succesively demonstrated or lectured in Physiology at University College, London, in Zoology at Edinburgh University from 1880 to 1888, and held the Chair of Botany at University College Dundee from 1888 to 1919. At the University of Bombay, India, he organised a department of sociology and civics and held the Chair of Sociology there from 1919 until 1924.

Although trained in Biology, Geddes had generalist interests and these soon led him to become a social geographer, practical administrator, historian, dramatist and philosopher. He involved himself in the renovation movement in the Old Town of Edinburgh and it was in the Old Town too that he situated his famous Outlook Tower, a museum of local, regional, Scottish, and world history.

In 1919, Geddes who was 'considered one of the greatest living authorities in civics and social survey' was entrusted by the International Zionist Commission to plan New Jerusalem and its proposed university. He was also the founder - in 1924 - of the College Des Ecossais (Scots College), an international teaching establishment located in Montpellier. In the British Mandated Territory (part of which later became Israel), the new city of Tel Aviv (the White City) was constructed from the early 1930s until the 1950s based on an urban plan by Sir Patrick Geddes - a plan which reflected modern organic planning principles. He was also involved in Indian town planning work.

#scotland #scottish #history #town planner #philanthropist

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manasastuff-blog · 2 months

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Ap Intermediate Time Table 2024 1st year Exam Dates

Exam DateSubjects ( 9 pm to 12 pm)1 March 2024Part-II: 2nd Language Paper-I4 March 2024Part- I: English Paper-I6 March 2024Part- III: Mathematics paper- IA, Botany Paper- I, Civics Paper-I9 March 2024Mathematics Paper- IB, Zoology Paper-I, History Paper-I12 March 2024Physics Paper-I, Economics Paper-I14 March 2024Chemistry Paper-I, Commerce Paper-I, Sociology Paper-I, Fine Arts, Music Paper-I16 March 2024Public Administrator Paper-I, Logic Paper-I, Bridge Course Maths Paper-I (For Bi. PC students)19 March 2024Modern Language Paper-I, Geography Paper-I Ap Intermediate 1st year Time Table 2024 Exam Dates IntroductionThe Andhra Pradesh Board of Intermediate Education has released the exam dates for the 1st year Intermediate examinations in 2024. Students need to be well-prepared and aware of the schedule to excel in their exams. Let's dive into the details of the Ap Intermediate 1st year Time Table 2024 exam dates. Important Dates to Remember

The exam period is from May 4 to May 22, 2024.

The exams will be conducted in two sessions: Morning (9:00 AM to 12:15 PM) and Afternoon (2:30 PM to 5:45 PM). Subject-wise ScheduleThe timetable is as follows: May 4, 2024

Morning Session: Part II - 2nd Language Paper I

Afternoon Session: Part I - English Paper IMay 6, 2024

Morning Session: Mathematics Paper I A/ Botany Paper I/ Civics Paper I/ Psychology Paper I

Afternoon Session: Mathematics Paper I B/ Zoology Paper I/ History Paper IMay 8, 2024

Morning Session: Physics Paper I/ Economics Paper I/ Classical Language Paper I

Afternoon Session: Commerce Paper I/ Sociology Paper I/ Fine Arts, Music Paper IMay 11, 2024

Morning Session: Chemistry Paper I/ Commerce Paper I/ Sociology Paper I

Afternoon Session: Fine Arts, Music Paper IMay 14, 2024

Morning Session: Geology Paper I/ Home Science Paper I/ Public Administration Paper I/ Logic Paper I/ Bridge Course Maths Paper I

Afternoon Session: Modern Language Paper I/ Geography Paper IMay 17, 2024

Morning Session: Modern Language Paper I/ Geography Paper I

Afternoon Session: Geology Paper I/ Home Science Paper I/ Public Administration Paper I/ Logic Paper I/ Bridge Course Maths Paper IMay 20, 2024

Morning Session: Ethics Paper I/ Science Paper I/ Fine Arts, Music Paper I

Afternoon Session: Mathematics Paper I A/ Botany Paper I/ Civics Paper I/ Psychology Paper IMay 22, 2024

Morning Session: Mathematics Paper I B/ Zoology Paper I/ History Paper I

Preparation Tips

"Success in exams comes from preparation and focus."

Here are some tips to excel in your exams:

Start early and create a study schedule.

Practice previous years' question papers.

Focus on comprehending the principles rather than learning them by heart.

Take regular breaks to recharge your mind.

Conclusion

As the Ap Intermediate 1st year Time Table 2024 exam dates approach, it's crucial to stay organized, focused, and determined to succeed. Don't forget that these tests are just the first step on your journey to a bright future. All the best, and give it your best shot

#interexamdates2024 #intermediateexamsdetails #intercollege #intermediate2024timetableexamdates #inter1styearexamtimetable2024

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dyggtheway · 6 months

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Changing Narratives : "Botanarchy" Brings the Streetwear Vibe

Streetwear is more than just a fashion trend. It is a way of expressing one's identity, culture, and values through clothing and accessories. For some urban gardeners, streetwear is also a tool for activism, empowerment, and community building. They use their style to challenge the norms of urban space, reclaim the land for the people, and create beauty and abundance in the midst of concrete and pollution.

One example of this is the Hackney Guerrilla Gardener, a mysterious figure who plants flowers, herbs, and vegetables in neglected patches of soil around the London borough of Hackney. She calls her practice "botanarchy", a combination of botany and anarchy, and sees it as a form of resistance against the gentrification, privatization, and homogenization of the city. She wears a mask, a hoodie, and a backpack full of seeds and tools, and works under the cover of darkness to avoid detection by the authorities. She also leaves behind messages on walls and fences, such as "Power to the People" and "Grow Your Own Revolution".

The Hackney Guerrilla Gardener is not alone in her mission. She is part of a global movement of urban gardeners who are transforming their cities into greener, healthier, and more livable places. Urban gardening has many benefits, such as improving nutrition, physical and mental health, environmental quality, social capital, and civic engagement . Urban gardening also fosters a sense of community among diverse groups of people who share a common interest in growing food and flowers. Urban gardeners often collaborate, exchange knowledge, and support each other in their projects. They also create spaces for connection and empowerment, where people can learn new skills, express their creativity, and have fun.

Streetwear and urban gardening may seem like an unlikely combination, but they both reflect a desire to make a positive change in the world. By wearing clothes that reflect their personality and values, and by planting seeds that grow into life-giving plants, urban gardeners are showing that they care about themselves, their communities, and their planet. They are also challenging the status quo and inspiring others to join them in their botanarchist vision.

Join us. ✒️💖🤝🧑‍🌾

Free Gardening Courses: https://linktr.ee/Jenn_jaxx

#streetwear #fashion #urban #gardening #botany #hip

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walimatu-library · 1 year

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Archives

Primary sources ║ Public records ║ Rare books

Catalogue

Page 1 (#-H) ║ Page 2 (I-Q) ║ Page 3 (R-Z)

Map collection

Atlases ║ Maps

Periodicals

Comics ║ Magazines ║ Newspapers

Subjects

Arts

Architecture

Cinema

Comedy

Dance

Literature *

Music

Puppetry

Storytelling

Theatre

Visual art

Sciences (formerly natural philosophy)

Alchemy

Astronomy

Biology

Botany

Chemistry

Cosmology

Ecology

Geology

Herbology

Mathematics

Medicine *

Meteorology

Monsterology *

Oceanography

Paleontology

Physics

Psychiatry

Thaumatology (formerly arcanology) *

Theology

Zoology

Social studies

Anthropology

Body culture

Civics

Cuisine

Economics

Folklore

Geography

History

Human culture *

Linguistics

Military

Mythology

Philosophy

Politics

Religion

Technology

(*) means there are multiple categories under the listed subject (Red text) means the material has been challenged (Strikethrough text) means the material has been banned

#under twin stars #worldbuilding #directory #taglist #always being updated

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hemanchong · 2 years

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Quite possibly my favourite room that I’ve encountered in the past weeks. The pairing of #AlexandraPirici and #LouiseLawler made so much aesthetic, conceptual and spatial sense that it literally made me have multiple orgasms in this room. If you haven’t been to Venice, carve out an hour or more and soak yourself in this. You won’t regret it. @alexandrapirici @labiennale Alexandra Pirici is a Romanian artist and choreographer known for staging public actions, gestures, and sculptures that provoke re-assessments of historical narratives and civic space, nature, and digital imagery. Emphasising the role that collective presence can wield in addressing power structures – or at least making them known – Pirici, a trained dancer, frequently assembles groups of actors and performers into formations that she describes as live sculptures, which act, move, shift, and sing. Activated over long durations of time, these works, which span from minimal arrangements to complex live environments, are not conceived as singular events, but rather, as ongoing actions that unfold over times, with no linear narrative, no beginning nor end. Pirici’s new ongoing performative action #EncyclopediaofRelations (2022) is hinged on embodiments of collective relations as seen in biology and botany, as they are in constant stages of reconfiguration. Taking inspiration from symbiotic and parasitic interactions between individuals, as well as those negotiated in more abstract types of relations – between humans and technology, rocks and waves, plants and animals – performers choose to move through space according to a set of possible actions, which can be infinitely combined and recombined. Reminiscent of a Surrealist “exquisite corpse” game, through the body, the natural world merges with that of the fantastic. #MadelineWeisburg (at La Biennale di Venezia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfcNPoHoyqn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#alexandrapirici #louiselawler #encyclopediaofrelations #madelineweisburg

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13thpythagoras · 4 years

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enter the unknown...

#ecotopayana #w.i.p.#fiction #sci fi #solar punk #urban decay #urban agriculture #civic botany #request a copy #the ecotopayana #is #fan fiction #for #ecotopia

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fatehbaz · 3 years

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“Being a bad biocitizen.”

-------

Marlene Feenstra (née McCorrister), my grandmother, was a Cree woman from Peguis First Nation. Peguis, our nation, is nestled among the ancestral lands and shared territories of the Cree, Anishinabeg, Assiniboine, and Métis peoples -- our homelands that sprawl out from the forks of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers in what is now Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. [...] Gram [was] born in 1936 [...]. She attended residential school [...], and then, as an adult, she was legally denied residence on her reserve due to her marriage to a non-Indian [...]. Yet, despite these and other experiences, and like many Indigenous people, my grandmother never thought of herself as being colonized. [...]

Three years ago, when my grandma passed away, I spent a few days going through the old photographs, newspaper clippings, calendars, and notes she had archived for over sixty years. [...] I was glad, on that cold Winnipeg afternoon, to appreciate her taste in interesting imagery. Their combined content lays out a scene ripe for analysis: One card depicts what it called the “Discovery of Canada”: Jacques Cartier presenting the “weird apparition” of an Indian Chief to the king and queen of France in 1536. A postcard named the “Canadian Rockies” displays a scene of Alexander Mackenzie, Simon Fraser, and La Verendrye: on the back, the card describes them as “great explorers who played stupendous and courageous roles in western development.” Another postcard features the nineteenth-century Métis leader Louis Riel, sitting inside a prison cell awaiting his federally sanctioned execution. Finally, at first glance out of place in this set, is a postcard with the name “Science and Invention” and an image of a basement laboratory peopled by Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and Frederick Banting.

-------

It is difficult to say whether Gram chose these cards for how, taken together, they illustrate the curious relationships between colonial expansion, the confinement of Indigenous peoples, and scientific inquiry. If she did conceive of the reciprocal relationships connecting the logics of exploration, discovery, and innovation with histories of colonialism, then she was in good company.

Historians of colonial science, for example, have shown that there is a historical relationship between the development of what is now considered modern science, the technoscientific advances indelibly marking Western civilization, and European imperialisms and colonialisms. Further, Indigenous studies scholars have located modern science within an ongoing colonial system that, working in tandem (and, at times, in tension) with other institutionalized fields, overwrites Indigenous peoples’ knowledges of their existence as peoples in terms of the logics of citizenship, rights, sovereignty, and capital. [...]

-------

Advances in genomic knowledge are both intriguing and frightening given that the “gift” and “weight” of science and technology fields have always been simultaneously present for Indigenous peoples.

When I was invited to speak at “The Gift and Weight of Genomic Knowledge: In Search of the Good Biocitizen,” out of which this special report evolved, I was enthused by the rich conference rationale provided by organizers Joel Reynolds and Erik Parens. Consistent with Foucauldian scholarship such as that of Nikolas Rose, Carlos Novas, and Dorothy Roberts, the conference framed biocitizenship in relation to that shift provoked by increasing amounts of biological, and especially genomic, knowledge and data that are changing the ways that citizenship is being imagined. Civic responsibility in the age of biocitizenship, Reynolds and Parens observed, encompasses being and remaining healthy for the sake of ourselves and for the greater good of human populations: biometrically monitoring one's physical activity, seeking out direct-to-consumer genetic tests, coughing into the inside of one's elbow, employing barrier methods during sexual intercourse, and on and on are all examples of good bio-practice. In this spirit, biocitizenship -- the emphasis on the human population as biological -- has been endowed with the capacity to reconcile historic wrongs. The conference and this special report, as I understand them, are challenging us all to take pause amidst the accelerating pace of biomedical and genomic data generation and to critically reflect on the seemingly simple yet hugely difficult questions, what is a “good” biocitizen, and how do we become one?

I propose that one analytical pathway leading to said aspirational goodness might be found in its reverse: that is, in badness.

Following bell hooks's description of politicized looking relations, I am establishing these provocations to reorient, from my explicit vantage point, the set of concepts and real-world problems that this special report explores. As examined by hooks, in resistance struggle, the power of the dominated to assert agency by claiming and cultivating “awareness” politicizes looking relations -- one learns to look a certain way in order to resist. Reframing the terms of the discussion is a critical practice in also restructuring the power dynamics that shape common-sense ideas about what it means to be good. The exogenous generation of genomic knowledge about indigeneity, for example, exerts a scientific claim that one can see indigeneity in a way that actually matters. Seeing indigeneity through the prism of genomic knowledge is shaped by colonial lenses insofar as it is based on an understanding of indigeneity as primarily real, genetically. Academic and other ways of thinking that try to make sense of and represent genomic realities of the present are also structured by colonial looking relations. [...]

-------

Over twenty years ago, among the formative scholarship of early Indigenous studies, Vine Deloria Jr. published Red Earth, White Lies: Native Americans and the Myth of Scientific Fact (1995). Through this book and his other works, Deloria locates modern science within a colonial matrix that seeks to secure itself as a panacea of truthful knowledge creation at the expense of Indigenous sovereignties. [...] Fields, including scientific fields, that attempt to externally translate Indigenous peoples’ self-conceptions into a categorical or taxonomical language are interfering with their sovereign way of being.

Since the publication of Red Earth, White Lies, others have considered what the complicated entanglements of Indigenous knowledges are as they exist in relationship to science and technology fields. In Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (2013), Robin Wall Kimmerer, for instance, provides a textually melodic illustration of the complementarities between botany, Potawatomi ecology, and the human and nonhuman relations that sustain her everyday experience. Noenoe Silva's Aloha Betrayed: Native Hawaiian Resistance to American Colonialism (2004) similarly considers how Kanaka Maoli have leveraged modern technological advancements in press and printing to oppose the illegal annexation of their territories. These works and others like them have unlocked methodological potential that is not premised on orthodox cultural expectations by framing the use and formation of twentieth- and twenty-first-century sciences and technologies as being instead Indigenous. These novel works set a stage for elaborate consideration of how engagement with technosciences on Indigenous peoples’ own terms might support their local governance systems: their ways of relating in and with localities of misewa (all that exists). [...]

-------

Fundamental to colonial civilizing missions were the so-called gifts of science and technology that Western imperial powers gave to their colonies and subjects.

Through the rhetorical prism of gifting, scientific claims to the “greater good” have been an enduring logic justifying scientific pursuits, while the collateral damage characteristic of incremental and experimental scientific methods have been disproportionately felt by Indigenous peoples as well as all other bodies deemed unreasoned (including human and nonhuman). [...]

Although there are now many versions of justice in concept and practice, many if not all of them are shaped through the presumed possibility that a normative good exists and that the journey of becoming good is, in itself, good. [...]

I charge non-Indigenous and Indigenous peoples alike to be bad: unpack and undermine the investments they have in propertied [...] state-based sovereignty and nationalism, capitalist cultures of consumption, and settler fantasies of being rightful and good.

-------

Jessica Kolopenuk. “Provoking Bad Biocitizenship.” Hastings Center Report Vol. 50 Issue S1. June 2020.

#Kim TallBear #Robin Wall Kimmerer

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cuppajj · 2 years

Note

Since the ask box is open, do you have any fun trivia to share about some of your ocs, perhaps? Thank you, and have a wonderful day!

Yeah!!!!! I’ll give some to some of my ocs who I don’t really talk about that much (because they’re in dev otl). Drill can take a breather for this one :D

Scotta

A little bit of oc lore - Scotta is from Nebulos, but she’s a hybrid of a Nebulan and a mysterious alien species. Pure blooded Nebulans are bald and bleed green-hazel blood, but she has hair and red-pink blood, which are inherited from her other species. Because of this, she was treated as an outcast during her time on Nebulos, before she met the Autobots. Because of this, “hairy,” “odd-blooded,” and especially “freak” are very derogatory for her.

She sounds like Sadie from Halo ODST.

Despite wearing purple, her favorite color is pink!

She loves entomology, astronomy, and botany, and she’s highly knowledgeable in all three fields. Her favorite bug is the butterfly, her favorite celestial feature is the nebula, and her favorite earth fruit is the strawberry! On an unrelated note, she’s allergic to coffee beans.

Glare

He and Scotta know each other, and are very close. He tries to be like a father figure to her.

His design is inspired by the nekomata of Japanese folklore: they are intelligent yet malevolent cat Yokai with two tails, who use the powers of pyromancy, necromancy, and shapeshifting to torment and/or kill humans. Cat wise, his appearance bears somewhat of a resemblance to a lynx.

His voice box will often emit a crackling or rumbling sound after certain sentences he says. This is because his voice box is slightly ruptured, causing his voice to sound less natural than normal.

While he might look big and scary, he’s got a soft spark underneath. He spends much of his time drawing and painting.

He’s a little over 50 feet tall.

Vix

They own two soundboards, which they can use one servo to play on.

Their real name is Deadbeat. On a similar note, they take heavy inspiration from the likes of Daft Punk, Shawn Wasabi, and Dedf1sh (splatoon 2).

They implanted a feature that allows them to tweak their voice box to sound differently, depending on if they want a more natural or artificial voice, a masculine or feminine voice, or anything in between. They primarily use this feature for voice samples that they put into their songs.

Whereas Drillburst’s musical themes are about pain and healing, Vix’s music tends to have a running theme of mind control, psychedelics, and hypnotism. This is inspired by the nigh-brainwashing actions done by the Senate during the golden age, as well as the phrase “you are being deceived.” As a follower of Decepticonism, these themes speak to them above all else.

Vix and Drillburst hang out often, and work on songs together. They’re probably his love interest. :)

Melody (FOWAU)

I don’t talk about her much!

Her real name isn’t Melody, but Sharon.

Before becoming Megan’s campaign manager, she was an assistant manager at a law firm, an assistant professor of civics at a university, a sales consultant, a librarian, and had a brief stint as a waitress, just to name a few. She’s been all over the place, and isn’t sure if she’s done with it yet.

She has an ex-husband who she will not stop thinking about, even though she knows it’s not good for her.

Knife throwing, axe throwing, gun practice… she’s surprisingly good at all three of them. She just can’t do it when she has a kid running around!

Melody was supposed to be a one shot one off character from the earliest fowau comic I drew, without a name or personality or backstory. However life finds a way XD

#cjj ocs #pimpernel & scotta #glare #vix #melody winters #cjj askbox

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years

Text

So I hear that the symptoms of coronavirus include interest in making virtual visits of museums, apparently. Here are some museum websites that can fulfill your thirst for virtually-visitable art. The asterisk means I have been there. This is by no means an exhaustive list. I don’t even know why I am doing this.

- Pinacoteca di Brera - Milan *

Brera is the art academy of Milan and the most iconic museum, which contains Italian artworks from the renaissance to modernity including various masterpieces. I also recommend visiting it in person because the neighborhood of Brera is the art district of Milan and it’s really pretty although having lunch there in slightly overpriced, but then what isn’t (really if you are in Milan skip the touristy food places, have Chinese or Japanese, trust me). There’s also a lovely little botanical garden tended to by the botany students. Long story short when you come to Italy visit Milan instead of overcrowding Venice.

- Museo del Novecento - Milan *

This is a stunning exhibition and you also should go there (it’s in Piazza Duomo you can’t miss it) but in the meanwhile visit the website, that contains a selection of masterpieces. They opened a few years ago and it was free to visit for a while as a gift to Italian people, which was really nice of them. It’s not expensive now either and it contains a lot of works by very important artists of the XX century so it’s very worth it.

- Museo Poldi Pezzoli - Milan

Can you believe I’ve never been there? But there’s a lot of stuff in there. The website is not complete yet apparently, but there’s already some interesting things already, including little Japanese sculptures that now I want to go and see.

- Pinacoteca Ambrosiana - Milan

Leonardo, Botticelli, Caravaggio, Raffaello, Tiziano... they’re also digitalizing ancient manuscripts, and there’s also a fuckton of drawings and manuscripts by Leonardo. [Everybody liked that.] I fucking need to go there.

- MAUTO (Museo dell’Automobile) - Turin *

Guys. This is so fucking cool. “But I don’t like cars” you might say. Yeah, me neither. But the ancient cars are so fascinating. If I remember correctly there are also things such as the driving license of the first ever woman in Italy to get a driving license. Visiting the real place is better because the halls are very well done so if you happen to be in Turin drop by.

- Museo Egizio - Turin *

Listen this is the biggest Egyptian museum outside of Egypt and it’s awesome, although the site is sort of confusing but I’m pretty sure there are digitalized resources so if you’re into ancient Egypt try it. Right now the museum contains a temporary exhibition called Archeologia Invisibile (invisible archaeology) and it’s possible to make a virtual tour of the exhibition which is really cool. It focuses on methods and techniques used to study mummies and other kinds of artifacts. Just click on the link and you’re yeeted inside the exhibition.

- Musei Reali - Turin

Actually a group of museums, there’s an online catalogue. There’s a museum of antiquity, modern paintings, even the royal armory (armeria reale). Yeah there’s swords. You can study the blade now.

- Palazzo Madama - Turin

An array of Italian art through centuries.

- GAM - Turin

The gallery of modern art. Weird stuff. Memeable.

- MAO - Turin

Sick of Italian art? Yeah, understandable. Then it’s time for the museum of Asian art! Stuff from all around Asia, from the Middle East to Southeastern Asia. I want to go there. Let me go there, virus.

(Palazzo Madama, GAO and MAO also offer virtual tours with Google Arts and Culture but idk how that works. Links here, under “scopri”.)

- Galleria degli Uffizi - Florence *

The Uffizi Gallery is the quintessential Italian art museum and you really want to check it out. If you visit it in person, make a booking, queues are infinite. (People with disabilities skip the queues in all these museums though, if you are disabled and intimidated by these places with superqueues don’t be, just approach the personnel and you have the right to just get in.)

- Galleria dell’Accademia - Florence *

You might have heard of a lil statue called David by Michelangelo. Yeah, it’s there. But there’s also other things, although since the David is so famous no one really cares about those. Give them some love.

- Actually there’s an online catalogue of most museums in Florence, several of which sound super interesting, but it says they’re having technical problems and the picture don’t load. Maybe save the link, forget about it, and then after some time discover it again, idk. Or consider visiting Florence in person after the coronavirus goes away, I guess. Do yourself a favor and save up and get a real Florentine steak.

- Gallerie dell’Accademia - Venice

I have been in Venice for half a day and just a little tip: you (or someone that travels with you) are in a wheelchair? Consider making a plan for visiting Venice that includes this: go in fact somewhere else. In the meanwhile visit this site, although I can’t figure out how to turn it into English, but I’m sure you can handle a little Italian.

- MUVE - Venice

Actually it’s possible to make a virtual tour of various museums/palaces in Venice with the Google Arts and Culture project, which sounds great. You figure out how it works, the link should explain. I’ll do it myself one of these days.

- Peggy Guggenheim - Venice

XX century artworks, including some by the most famous artists like Picasso, Magritte, Dalí, Kandinsky etc etc.

- Musei Vaticani - Rome *

Did I call the Uffizi the quintessential Italian art museum? I stand by it, but. I mean. The Vatican Museums, you know? It’s a place you should visit at least once in your life. All of Rome actually. They say it’s too big and chaotic but don’t listen to them, listen to me, you must visit Rome when you can. Ask someone for tips on where to eat that is not a tourist trap, and you’re fine.

- Musei Capitolini and all the civic museums - Rome (at the top of the page, click on “all the museums” and you see a whole list, for each museum you can visit the collection)

All collections online, by rooms or subject. The Musei Capitolini is the main museum in Rome except the Vatican, but I also recommend the Centrale Montemartini which is a collection of ancient artifacts located in a repurposed thermoelectric center, which must be fascinating to see in person. I’m planning on visiting it the next time I’m in Rome. (I’ve only been twice, briefly, okay.)

- Museo Ebraico - Rome

It’s located by the Tempio Maggiore, in the neighborhood that was the Jewish ghetto in Rome. There are many other Jewish museums in Italy but I have been right outside this one. It was closed though.

- Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea - Rome

Apparently the largest gallery of contemporary art in the galaxy or something. Worth checking out I think.

- Galleria Nazionale Barberini Corsini - Rome

This contains some super famous paintings, by Caravaggio and others.

(There’s like 285375 museums in Rome I can’t check all the websites but I’m pretty sure I checked the major art ones.)

- Museo della Resistenza - Bologna

Feeling like nurturing your antifascist spirit today? Good.

- Museo Archeologico Nazionale - Naples

Good pictures, very interesting stuff. Statues, mosaics, epigraphs, and so on.

- Museo di Capodimonte - Naples

Very interesting although I don’t think you can browse the site in English. Then again it’s mostly pictures, so.

There’s literally a billion museums in this country and some have very confusing websites which are giving me a headache so I’ll stop here.

A few outside of Italy I can recommend:

- Archaeological Museum - Athens *

I was there and we had a slightly eccentric guide and it was very interesting.

- Museo del Prado - Madrid *

Physically, it’s huge and the halls are numbered in a confusing way that forces you to back and forth and by the end we were exhausted. Maybe online it’s less vexing...

- Museo Thyssen - Madrid *

I loved this museum. Loads of famous artists and interesting stuff.

- Museo Reina Sofía - Madrid *

Yeah we had a lot of time to visit museums in Madrid. This is where the Guernica painting is, you might have heard of it.

- Musée d’Orsay - Paris *

Awesome museum, they have those in Paris, what can you do. I haven’t visited the Louvre because we didn’t have the time, but it also offers an online tour.

- National Gallery - London *

Lots of Italian artworks, actually, and more.

- British Museum - London *

Well, there’s everything from everywhere, because of reasons.

Okay I mean there’s plenty of hyper-famous museums with online resources and you can find them just as much as I can find them, so. Have fun.

#museums #art #italy #blabbering me #idek

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