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cosmic-navel-gazin · 2 years

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Compassionate aliens, Crime lords and Cat cafés

There’s this one scene in Hard to be a God... this one small, easily overlooked little scene... I’ll never forget about it for as long as I live.

It’s not like it’s THE most important scene plotwise, or that it sets up this big reveal later on, or anything like that. I just... I love it tremendously, I kiss its forehead tenderly and tuck it in every night, so I wanted to write down some thoughts on it.

@razielim I’m gonna talk about the beginning of Chapter 3, I go beast mode on this one and I can’t even tell anymore if it’s too spoilery for you so I’m hiding this under the ‘keep reading’ for your sake, you can try and dip in if you want

Let me just set the stage first in case someone is reading and has no idea what I’m talking about:

In the novel Hard to be a God, our main character Don Rumata (real name Anton), is a man from a future spacefaring utopian Earth. He is one of several people who have been sent as undercover operatives of the Institute of Experimental History, to an alien planet similar to Earth during the middle ages. He's been living there incognito for the last 5 years, masquerading as one of the feudal lords of a medieval-europe-like nation. Ethical dilemmas ensue on the moral responsibility to do good and how these earthlings should intervene in the development of alien civilizations and It's *chef's kiss* muah! it’s good shit. It might very well be my favourite take on the "Who Watches the Watchers" type of story, but that’s its own 1.000+ page essay, not what I wanna focus on right now.

Okay so, It's the very beginning of Chapter 3, and it starts with our boy Rumata daydreaming about kidnapping this Waga the Wheel character, a man infamously known as the uncontested head of all the local criminal forces, and bring him to Earth for observation. The goal? Well, Rumata hopes that this radical change in environment could lead the old man to hopefully turn over a new leaf. Without his complex web of murderers and thugs under his guidance, and really no need for it on the peaceful post-scarcity idyllic Earth, what would this “spider” do there? Maybe... maybe he could dedicate himself to the noble art of cat caretaking!

Yes! This is real! Here it is for your viewing pleasure:

I just, I'm not exactly sure I can explain why I love this passage so much. I want to try and do it justice without just going:

Come look at this! Can you believe it? The alien man, Don "i could fix him" Rumata, wants to kidnap the ruthless cold-blooded criminal mastermind and take him to his home planet so the aforementioned monster can focus on playing with cat instead of doing evil!!!

It's more than that, although, that is amazing in and of itself...

Like, this isn’t the only neat instance of daydreaming about kidnapping people and taking them to Earth either (I love the other ones too). And I also don’t just love it because it shows that my boy believes in The Healing Therapeutic Power of Cat.

I mean all those things help, but I think this stuck with me because in addition to all of that, it’s such a good early nugget that encapsulates the growing schism in Rumata’s psyche in an unexpected endearing yet sad way.

So, first of all I feel it’s important to really look at the person this daydreaming scenario is referring to, because of what it masterfully says about our main character without pulling attention to it.

So, in the previous chapter Rumata explains how much contempt he feels towards this Waga lad, saying that he

“inspired an extreme disgust in him but was occasionally immensely useful—literally irreplaceable”

, someone who interested him “as a scientific specimen”,

“a most curious exhibit in his collection of medieval monsters”.

In this chapter, while the hypothetical kidnapping bit starts out as just a curious thought experiment, he then starts saying things like:

“You know, the old man might sicken. He’d probably even waste away.”,

and

“After all, it can’t be the case that he doesn’t have a single small, harmless hobby—which only gets in his way here, but there could become the meaning of his life. I think he likes cats. ”

And I’m over here just- god damn it if this isn’t a great showcase of our boy trying to hold on to his humanist ideals and identity while simultaneously growing hateful by having to interact some of the most detestable of people. He can’t help but care about this old man’s well-being. while simultaneously despising him. And he can’t help feeling that especially because he has always been accutely aware of how environmental factors influence people: that had Waga and the people around him in general been born on Earth instead, that they would’ve turned out quite different.

On Rumata struggling in balancing his love and hatred we get another shift in personality in the scene that comes right after the hypothetical kidnapping. It’s great too because it adds, I want to say, the last piece of the magnificent triad that makes up the growing fragmented psyche of our boy. We’ve seen in these segments:

the level-headed historian;

the compassionate humanist;

and now we’re going to get the haughty noble bastard.

So after the meeting with Waga and thinking about kidnapping him, Rumata suddenly realises that his coin purse has disappeared. He’s there, in the middle of the street in distress, fiddling around in his pockets, when two lads start poking fun at him:

I mean, it’s right there:

“ The employee of the Institute couldn’t care less, but the noble Don Rumata of Estor went berserk. For a second he lost control of himself.”

He then realizes in horror that he would’ve cut them down into pieces if they hadn’t cleared out, that:

“They would have been lying here like pig carcasses, and I’d be standing here with a sword in my hand and wouldn’t have known what to do. Some god! Turning into a savage …”

This is the very next page after the whole cat thing I mean....arghhh it pisses me off it’s so good! You are never left with just one of these personas for too long a stretch of time (it helps build the growing feeling of uneasiness the book’s going for too). One is always coming right after the other in a very organic way, so much so that it makes the authors look like professional court jesters (affectionate), juggling all these disparate personalities without breaking a sweat. There are moments later on when you start to feel like you can't even tell where one begins and the other ends, as they become more and more dilluted. The historian, the humanist and the noble bastard, are all on the cockpit, fighting for control of the mecha man-god who wants to intervene but doesn't know how and is afraid of what happens when he does.

Honestly it's something I want to focus on more when I do a second reading: this rythm to Rumata’s train of thought and how his mind is always being pulled in different directions.

I see you *points at the Strugatsky brothers*. I see you planting the seeds for all the great rants and mental breakdowns coming later in the book. I see them slowly blooming beautifully later on when Rumata starts to grow more and more self-aware and desperate at the conflicting emotions taking hold of him, and the deep self-hatred pours out because he realizes he’s grown to truly hate the people he came there to help. All of that the result of having been put in the impossible position of trying to be tolerant of the intolerant, forgiving of the unforgivable, and just overall trying to act and right some wrongs without imposing force/his own will.

Just... the wonderful evolution from the cat rehab thing for Waga to this quote I’m going to link to here... it breaks my poor heart.

So in summary, here’s the conclusions I arrived at on thinking about the beginning of Chapter 3:

it’s great as just an alien who dreams about kidnapping a crimelord and have him play with cats instead of engaging in crime and murder;

it’s great because it advocates for the therapeutic power of cat, something I wholeheartedly believe in;

it’s great for the main character’s characterization and inner conflict;

it’s especially great for those last two things when you look at the scenes that came before and after, and how they work together to allude to the larger dillemmas at play;

it just makes the tragedy hit harder later on man...

I was going to say that, in my most humble opinion, these books (at least Roadside Picnic and Hard to be a God, which are the two I’ve read), are just as much about the big philosophical ideas as the little tender moments, and that together they make the book greater than the sum of its parts because even the smaller funny little scenes aren’t distractions disconnected from the main story, they all have winks and nudges of what the larger thread is about.

And I don’t know man, I guess I totally get what Ursula K. le Guin said about Roadside Picnic, and i think it fits this book too:

“ Most of the characters are tough people leading degrading, discouraging lives, presented without sentimentality and without cynicism. Humanity is not flattered, but it’s not cheapened. The authors’ touch is tender, aware of vulnerability.“

And last but not least, here! Have a complimentary crazy straw you crazy bastard, for somehow making it to the end of this rant. It will make its way to you in 24h or less!

I’ll be real this cat scene lives rent free in my head as does my HTBAG AU where Waga is kidnapped and taken to Earth, possibly Japan, where he opens his little cat café. This whole rant was just an excuse to disguise that as an intellectual exercise.

#my ramblings #OH BOY did this get outta hand #I think that title could be a good band name #I know what the gentle reader is thinking after reading this:#'Cosmic!' I hear you shouting 'Be real now you just want to be kidnapped by aliens and taken to their homeworld-#so you can spend the rest of your life petting cats (and doing art)! ' and ...I mean... YOU'RE NOT WRONG!#Hard to be a God #Трудно быть богом #Strugatsky Brothers #science fiction #russian literature #books #the compassionate humanist aspect of the earthlings; how it's the backbone of their identities...#...and how it is challenged in this new environment is something that worries me about the film adaptations...#...because I get this gut-feeling that it'll be at best: downplayed; and at worst: completely done away with #*sigh* I'll still watch them tho and try and keep an open mind

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idiopath-fic-smile · 3 years

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hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that I’d been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesn’t map onto any kind of an AU so I guess it’s original fiction? enjoy?

Cityton Chronicles, part 1

The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.

Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, “You'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will pay” and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)

Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.

Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.

Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? “I'm more of a big-picture person.” Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.

Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.

The parameters were clear enough: full moon—check. Chalk for pentagrams—check. One hundred lit candles—check. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...

This was where things got dicey.

The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.

Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.

“It looked pretty dark online,” Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.

“Pretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?” said Edmund. “Did it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?” Carl stuck out his chin. “It's almost black.”

“Yes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,” Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, “but fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.”

Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.

He sighed. “Carl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.” Carl frowned. “Is there time?”

Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. “Hurry. And save the receipt.”

Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warm—or not—a single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.

He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.

“Boss,” said a hesitant voice behind him.

“What is it, Stephanie,” said Edmund.

Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.

“Is that thing about bananas really true?”

“Yeah,” said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. “Where's Donna?”

“You should call her,” said Stephanie. “Donna never answers her texts.”

Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.

Donna answered on the fourth ring. “What?” She sounded groggy.

“Did you,” said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, “forget what night the Ritual was?”

“Oh shit,” mumbled Donna. “Are you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.”

“At night,” said Edmund. “Twelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.”

Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. “Can you hold, Donna,” he hissed.

“Hey boss,” said Carl, “the bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?”

“HOLD,” Edmund shouted, switching calls again. “Donna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?”

“Like a bathrobe?” said Donna, sounding lost.

Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.

“Uh, boss?” Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.

“One second, Donna,” said Edmund.

“How much longer is this gonna be?” said Leroy. “Because I was gonna catch the late show tonight—”

“Watch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!” Edmund snapped. “Donna—”

“I can be there by 12:40,” said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. “There's some errands I wanna run first.”

“It's the middle of the night, what errands!” said Edmund. “Donna, hold—” He switched back to Carl. “Listen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?”

“White or green only,” Carl affirmed. “Some of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?”

“Boss,” said Frank from the other side of the roof, “we lost the chalk?”

“Hold on, Carl,” said Edmund. “What?”

“It was here a second ago!” “Did you secure the chalk against the wind?”

“What?” said Frank.

“The chalk, it's cylindrical!” Edmund managed to shout. “Did you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?”

Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.

Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.

“Uh boss,” said Stephanie. “It's 12:01.”

Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.

“Alright,” said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. “Pack it in, we'll try again next full moon.”

“Phew,” said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. “It's cold out.”

“I FOUND A BLUE ONE!” Carl shouted from the speaker. “IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

Edmund turned his phone off.

Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.

It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.

Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme.

“Hey man,” said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. “I saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.”

They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. “Sweater candles? What, like burning wool?” he said.

Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.

“Maybe burning wool smells phenomenal,” said Edmund instead, rocking forward. “There's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your whole—” he waved his hands vaguely “—moral compass.”

“Word travels fast,” said Dragonfly gravely. “I am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.”

Edmund squared his shoulders. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. “Doing what?”

“Fighting,” said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Ah,” said Dragonfly after a pause. “Oh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?” He steepled his fingers. “You seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.” Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, “Or, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.”

“I am here,” said Edmund firmly, “to perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summon—”

“Yeah?” said Dragonfly. “Where's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?”

“So,” said Edmund blankly, “what now?” He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.

“I give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,” said Dragonfly. “I hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” “Fuck off,” Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.

Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. “Fair enough.” He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. “Uh, do you have a way down?”

“Obviously,” said Edmund.

“Yeah,” said Dragonfly. “Uh, okay.” They regarded each other. “What is it?” said Dragonfly after a few seconds.

Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.

Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, “I could carry you down?”

“How,” said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.

Dragonfly took a step closer. “Fireman or bridal?”

Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. “Is that a meme?” he settled on finally.

“Do you,” said Dragonfly, “have a preference on how I carry you.”

“We haven't even established that you're going to,” Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.

Dragonfly sighed. “I can't leave you up here,” he said. “One, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.”

“So I don't have a choice,” Edmund spat.

“You totally have a choice,” said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. “Hell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.”

This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.

“Mum's the word?” Edmund echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

“I'm an old fucking soul, dude,” said Dragonfly. “Point being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?”

This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.

“What if you drop me?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. “Don't you think that might go against my whole—” he gestured with both hands “moral compass?”

Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.

“I don't care,” Edmund said at last.

“What?” said Dragonfly.

“Bridal or fireman's carry,” said Edmund. “I don't care.”

Dragonfly nodded sagely. “Let's get this over with, then,” he said. “Hey, d’you want help with your candles?”

Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.

“Fine,” said Edmund.

“Huh,” said Dragonfly several minutes later. “This one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.”

Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.

“Rain and ocean are two completely different things,” said Edmund. “The surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.”

“The vibe, I grant you,” said Dragonfly. “But salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?”

“The ocean has a smell,” Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year before—well. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You've got me there,” he said. “Never been.” Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.

Edmund blew out another few tapers.

“This one's just called Singing Carols,” Dragonfly announced. “Guess what it smells like, I dare you.”

And so on.

In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmer—or at least slightly less freezing—on street-level.

Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time to—again—flitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.

His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.

“Thank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,” Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.

Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.

“Right,” said Dragonfly. “Right. Well then. Happy trails.” He seemed to consider this. “Or you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?”

“Why,” said Edmund flatly.

Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.

“For your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?”

As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.

“I'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,” growled Edmund.

“Yikes,” said Dragonfly easily. “Well, I'm off.” And with that, he took to the sky.

Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.

#original fiction #cityton chronicles #I'm sure that in some obscure way the fact that I'm thinking about this now is due to mainlining The Untamed #but this is definitely. not that.#warning for an extremely brief mention of transphobia that the main character condemns #also apparently there is a dragonfly-themed superhero in a 2008 superhero spoof movie?#let's say that movie exists in this world too and Dragonfly has taken a lot of shit for it #that sounds about right

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pharaohsparklefists · 6 years

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Episode 103, part 1: you know what’s a fun subject for a show about card games? The physical and mental abuse of orphaned children!

Kaiba and Mokuba are traipsing merrily through a bucolic forest (incidentally, bucolic is top of my personal list for Words That Don’t Sound Like What They Mean) and happen upon a charming cottage and, since they’re looking for “a door”, they open this one, even though...

AND IT IS, it’s a trap that dumps them right into their first day at Kaiba Mansion and once again, I would like to question how Gozaburo was legally allowed to adopt these children

but soon other questions arise to take my mind off it, such as, HOW MUCH FOOD ARE THESE ORPHANS EXPECTED TO EAT??

like holy SHIT any ONE of these meat dishes - a whole fish, a whole lobster, a whole chicken or roast beef - would be enough for THREE PEOPLE, even aside from the SIX LOAVES OF BREAD, the salad, the soup, the fruit bowl, etc.

Anyway. Gozaburo asks what Seto will do when he inherits KaibaCorp and Mokuba is only too happy to answer!

Gozaburo is like, “lol losers”

and tiny!Seto, in the best traditions of Seto fucking Kaiba, loses his fucking SHIT and dramatically declaims his extremely strongly-held and passionately-felt opinions about games

you tell him, sweetie

... um. sure, why not?

Then Gozaburo tells him to stop being utterly ridiculous (tiny!Seto, probably: “I WILL NEVER STOP BEING UTTERLY RIDICULOUS HOW DARE YOU SIR!”) and reveals his ambition for his adopted son

... um. sure. ... why not?

I guess, as evil corporate executives go, at least he’s honest?

Correctly suspecting that, for some reason, games and Mokuba are the two thin, straining threads holding Seto to emotional wellbeing, Gozaburo imposes a new rule on his adoptive children...

#worst

What’s even worse?

That’s literally ALL THEY HAD. Probably a couple of changes of clothes, and that shoebox of little toys. I wonder if they ever got those toys back? I wonder if the toys were from the orphanage or if their birth parents had given them to them?

And this raging asshole thinks it’s fucking funny and pitiful. He doesn’t get mentioned by name in this episode, and if he has one, I forget it. So, since he looks like what you’d get if you ineptly created a bobblehead based on Santiago Segura’s character The Wizened Man from Guillermo del Toro’s blockbuster classic Pacific Rim, and then the bobblehead melted a little, I’m going to call him Super Fucking Creepy Face Guy.

It seems like Seto and Mokuba are not allowed to spend much time together, because Mokuba has to rely on Super Fucking Creepy Face Guy to pass his message to Seto, hidden in a textbook

And I would just like to point out that Seto doesn’t defy Gozaburo’s orders here. Seto actually mostly plays within Gozaburo’s rules, he just tries to outplay him. But Mokuba? Mokuba straight up steals Seto’s cards back, carves a fucking hole in a textbook, and lies to Super Fucking Creepy Face Guy’s face! Mokuba doesn’t give a single shit about Gozaburo’s rules, except he doesn’t want to get Seto into trouble. He’s seven years old (I think. fuck YGO timelines) and he’s got a core of steel.

All to send this message to his big brother...

And faced with this show of bravery and loyalty and ingenuity? Filled with the certainty of his brother’s devotion and love? Holding in his hands the one connection to the past he misses and the future he hopes for, his one personal possession, the cards that his brother risked so much to smuggle to him to make him happy? What does Seto say?

...

SETO FUCKING KAIBA, everyone.

Along with the real (but “trashy”) cards, Mokuba included an aspirational drawing...

tiny!Seto, probably: “This is inaccurate and the lettering is shoddy. Tch, it’s like a kid did it!”

(The lettering IS in hiragana, which is weird. The actual card, irl and as shown in the anime, has kanji lettering with furigana in katakana ブルーアイズ etc, but here Mokuba’s written the same sounds in hiragana ぶるうあいず etc, even though katakana is used for foreign words, like “blue” and “eyes”. Would a seven year old not have done katakana in school yet? Or would there be a reason for him to use hiragana?)

Anyway, the slightly-older Kaiba brothers watch tiny!Seto make a pledge, holding his home-made Blue Eyes card...

tiny!Seto, probably: “Then I’ll get two more, so as to most effectively use them in a dragon-themed deck. Then I’ll get the last one, through whatever means necessary, up to and including kidnapping, threatening, robbing, and hospitalising a pensioner. Then I’ll just fucking rip that last one up, out of spite, entitlement, and jealous greed. AhahahaHAHAHAHA!”

As this virtually-recreated memory fades, the brothers finally come face to face with the “mastermind” behind all this, and he divulges his sinister motive...

tall!Seto, probably: “Oh, is that all? Here, I have a Favourite Memories: Patricide scrapbook you can flick through. Actually, last year I sold the rights of the story of how I drove my father to his death to a major production company to turn it into a Broadway musical. I fund those, you know, for some fucking reason.”

#sparklefists watches ygo #episode 103 #Yu-Gi-Oh!#seto kaiba #gozaburo kaiba #Mokuba #Noah

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fae-fucker · 6 years

Text

Shatter Me: Chapter 18-19

Chapter 18

My heart must be bleeding out of my chest.

I look down and can’t understand why there’s no blood on my dress, why this pain in my heart feels so real.

Why does this book act as if witnessing murder and feeling bad about it somehow makes you some sort of pure-hearted saint?

“You killed him,” I manage to whisper. “You just killed him—”

“You’re very astute.”

I hate Warner Bros. but I live for him pointing out that that Juliette is being a dumbass, because #mood honestly.

Juliette goes all Rambo and slams Warner Bros. up against a wall.

“You disgust me.” I stare hard into his crystal-cold eyes. “You disgust me—”

“You’re willing to kill and torture people for intimidation, willing to torture Adam to make me obey, but now you’ve proven that you’re also willing to kill people for disobeying and for intimidation! YOU DISGUST ME!!”

All the chapters since Juliette left whatever facility she was in before have only been there to show how brutal and edgy Warner Bros. is. That’s literally it. There’s been no other plot progression, we still don’t know what he wants with Juliette, it’s just Warner Bros. taking her from scene to scene, sometimes literally holding her arm/hand, showing off how hardcore he is, and then putting her back into her room.

And every time Juliette acts surprised, even though every chapter ends with her realizing how evil Warner Bros. is and how she’ll never work for him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He twists me around, pinning me against the door where I just held him. He cups my face in his gloved hands, holding my eyes in place. The same hands he just used to kill a man.

I’m trapped.

Transfixed.

Slightly terrified. His thumb brushes my cheek.

“Life is a bleak place,” he whispers. “Sometimes you have to learn how to shoot first.”

1) “Slightly” terrified? Bitch, what?

2) Tahereh, my girl, why the fuck do you do this? You spend chapters upon chapters building this guy up as some sort of sexy evil mastermind, only to undo it all by having Juliette cream herself over him the moment he’s acting even a little bit intimate. If we ignore the absolutely disgusting message, your protagonist’s reaction to these things will influence the reader’s view of the character.

If she’s so quick to get “transfixed” right after that brutal display, why the fuck did you write that shit in the first place? You’re undoing your own goddamn work.

3) You’ve also been painting Juliette as this saint who cares about the people and will never work for the Reestablishment for some reason, someone who’s super stubborn and sensitive to displays of violence, yet she’s so quick to forget that murdered guy who’s still bleeding out not too far from where they are?

None of this makes any goddamn sense. Do writers not think about what they write? I guess why should they, since readers don’t think about what they read?

They return Juliette to Juliette’s room because that’s enough story for now, and Juliette asks about Adam. Warner Bros. asks why she cares.

I’ve cared about Adam Kent since I was in third grade.

1) There was no mention of Adam before he showed up.

2) Why didn’t you recognize him when you first saw him?

3) You said that nobody had ever been nice to you. I’m assuming he has, or else you wouldn’t have liked him (unless he was cute, but I doubt Juliette would get away with having such a “”””trivial”””” reason), so why didn’t you mention him before?

This is all extremely stupid.

“I only kill people if I need to.”

“Generous.”

“More than most.”

So you’re telling me that Warner Bros. is nice compared to the other commanders or whatever his title is? You’re telling me that other people in his position kill soldiers randomly?

God this is so edgy and so, so profoundly stupid.

Warner says some shit about how they’re alike, Juliette says not to compare her disease to his insanity (nice ableism there, asshole), and Warner gets all pissy at her for daring to not call her ability a gift.

“Disease?” He rushes forward, abruptly impassioned, and I struggle to hold my ground. “You think you have a disease?” he shouts. “You have a gift! You have an extraordinary ability that you don’t care to understand! Your potential—”

“I have no potential!”

“You’re wrong.” He’s glaring at me. There’s no other way to describe it. I could almost say he hates me in this moment. Hates me for hating myself.

Are you shitting me? This is some “you don’t know you’re beautiful” shit, right here. I hate this.

At the end of the chapter, we get the most hilarious exchange:

His smile is laced with dynamite. “Go to sleep.”

“Go to hell.”

He works his jaw. Walks to the door. “I’m working on it.”

I’m crying. This is supposed to be deep and show how troubled and sad he is.

GUYS THIS IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING THING.

We’re 18 chapters in and I still don’t know what the plot is.

Chapter 19

Juliette has edgy nightmares (that are justified, for once) and then Adam just shows up in the middle of the night, I guess.

“Juliette?” He doesn’t move an inch. His gaze is fixed on me: calm, unflappable; 2 buckets of river water at midnight.

THERE YOU GO AGAIN WITH THE BUCKETS TAHEREH.

I’d like to cry into his eyes.

What in the whole fuck.

That is a disgusting image, thanks Juliette.

Adam grabs the pillows and blankets off her bed and tells her to lie down, which gets Juliette all hot and bothered and she wants him to say those words to her “all day every day forever”. Jesus. This got weirdly graphic now all of a sudden.

She ogles his half-naked body some more because she saw a man get killed and this is on her list of priorities right now.

Every breath in my body escapes me.

... Is this her way of saying that she farted?

Because how else am I supposed to interpret that?

I curl my fingers around the possibility of Adam in my hand and sleep more soundly than I have in my life.

Does she ... fall asleep thinking of the comfort of wanking Adam’s dick?

I’m ... Either I’m reaching for anything entertaining about this book at this point, or this all just got weirdly sexual. I’m assuming it’s the former but you never know.

Anyway, morning comes but Adam doesn’t.

I decide to wash my face. The idea exhilarates me and I’m a little ashamed.

One moment this stupid bitch is ashamed of washing her face, the other she forgets about the corpse bleeding out below her so she can get all soaked up for Warner.

She notices that Adam is all covered in bruises, which I guess she didn’t see before in the night despite noticing his muscles, but whatever.

My legs feel broken.

No they fucking don’t.

Juliette shows Adam the crumpled paper and he seems relieved, which makes her conclude that he’s super trustworthy and didn’t betray her.

I step forward and close the door.

I open my mouth to speak.

“No!”

My jaw falls off.

Look at this writing. The only good thing about is is that it makes me feel like I’m William fucking Shakespeare.

Adam turns on the showed because there could still be microphones in the bathroom.

So ... are you telling me that there’s people listening to Juliette or Adam taking a huge dump just to make sure they’re not talking about anything important?

I’m giggling.

Anyway, obviously this is all just so Adam and Juliette can stand in the hot water together. Juliette will now get wet on every possible level.

“I can touch you,” he says, and I wonder why there are hummingbirds in my heart. “I didn’t understand until the other night,” he murmurs, and I’m too drunk to digest the weight of anything but his body hovering so close to mine.

How convenient that the only other hot guy can touch you, innit?

And she’s not freaking out or anything, she’s just so turned on by him that even this completely fucking life-changing fact flies straight over her head. She doesn’t even react much to the fact that she’s standing in the shower with this guy.

Hey, who needs a consistent personality or realistic reactions when there’s a man in the scene?

His body presses closer and I realize I’m paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in my lungs.

*sigh* What?

Adam is touching Juliette all over because he can (no that’s literally the reason he gives her) and she’s all about it even though she hasn’t given any consent, because that’s something we want to reinforce.

His fingertips are 10 points of electricity killing me with something I’ve never known before. Something I’ve always wanted to feel.

Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

Turns out that Adam has known he can touch her for a while now, because he tried to wake her up earlier in their cell when she was screaming.

Anyway, Adam blue-balls them both a bit more by taking his shirt off, because of course he does:

I follow the line of his jaw down his neck to the peak of his collarbone; I memorize the sculpted hills and valleys of his arms, the perfection of his torso. The bird on his chest.

The bird on his chest.

A tattoo.

A white bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It’s flying.

How ... convenient that it matches with her symbolic daydreams. I’m assuming it will be explained.

“I’ll find a way to talk to you,” he says, and his hands are reeling me in and my face is pressed against his chest and the world is suddenly brighter, bigger, beautiful. The world suddenly means something to me, the possibility of humanity means something to me, the entire universe stops in place and spins in the other direction and I’m the bird.

I’m the bird and I’m flying away.

So here we have confirmation that Juliette doesn’t care much about the world or humanity, yet she still somehow clings to her morals and refuses to work with the Reestablishment? What kind of sense does that make?

Oh, sorry. I forgot that there’s a Man in this room and that men both make everything better and give meaning to a woman’s world, my bad.

So ... there are cameras in her room, correct? Doesn’t Adam think that it’ll be suspicious that he’s clothed and wet, just like she is? If they see them together like this, won’t they realize that he touched her and survived?

This shit better have consequences or else there’s no point to those cameras.

#eff reads: shatter me #book rants

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throwingideasatthewall · 3 years

Text

The Clone Wars Duchess of Mandalore

Season 2 Episode 14

......

You know I want to believe this is going to be an episode focusing on Duchess’s actual character . . . . But the track record of writing female characters (Never mind blam ing trauma for their personality )

Doesn’t leave much Good Faith Or trust . . (especially how often their Characterization gets to Ret-conned. to fit the episode,)

(Padme turned into a nag, Ahsoka In unchildlike abomination that goes with a plot needs her to)

Duchess;

From Relat iv-ely Reas On Able Leader . . . Turned exquisite and Ex- - cess -ive (Pe tty)

Con trast- With Semi- Constant Smart “laziness” avoidant Obi-wan And “Do It Sky wal -ker-

I don’t expect this to stick

(Al-ways the female characters,”

Any. Way

And war, truth is the first casualty,

[It’s actually accountability but good try]

Deluding them selves of the goodness usually comes after the bad action

Any way.

The terribly designed ship

(I’m sorry but that thing doesn’t even look even slightly aerodynamic)

(The shark ship at least had that)

[it was one apparent smoke bomb and she wasn’t allowed to do anything to try and fix it,]

But sure... let’s go with that . Allies

[Never got a feel for that and one dude was always snarking at her,] No shit

everyone can see that

And it was one dude

[They haven’t heard of this yet]

[This plot- isn’t very good]

Right - ok now they’re im-portant-

Sit and and wait

As Duchess makes her case that this is just one splinter group that she can handle

Some thing you wouldn’t think would need a trial

[Only becoming a problem when it affects other people]

[suffering from the Luminara problem, where if she doesn’t meet up to high unreasonable standards. In an unreasonable amount of time (Little) Instantly lambasted by her colleagues. With the nar-rative showing no signs of painting this is wrong Or the fact of the male characters can feck around screw everything up, And that isn’t considered serious

[Narrative’s a Cheater. .)

How long

These are actual good evil minions

(No this could actually be good with them becoming something like the clone troopers to the, Darkside

Making up for a lack of human faces in the ranks up to this point,

Establishing that while they may be the instigator of tox, Actions are about ~now~ Less abhorrent than the Empire’s / Coun- cil-

‘the Plot,’

Completely irrelevant

(And stupid)

Relying on everyone being a complete un- accountable- Idiot.

Great plan you got there Dooku,

How’s Duchess’s explaining that’s-not-at-all-what-happened-and-we-don’t need a foot hold and all security, going?

Like you think he’d be more mad Considering what seems like the only plot, Intercepting the vehicle in transit, Failed horribly,

Unless, the guys didn’t tell him - And he still thinks they have Duchess -which would make sense...because of course they sent troops for the lost foreign leader

(Would’ve been a good episode for both of them)

(Not sure that would cause a riot though-)

(-Which would make sense if Obi-Wan was the last one they saw around here- Thinking, that a Jedi captured their leader,

]

But I’m getting ahead of myself let’s focus on the actual plot. .

Whoa rows

To Coursant

I thought you just said to . . .sit still and leave.

What? ...

What

Oh so we’re focusing on another cliché plot instead of the actual characters

(*Note; Cliché As in a badly established already done plot . . . There’s nothing wrong with doing repeat plot so long as you do them well

What you bring into it is the fun part (Ideally)

Aight?

How?

They’re just there

Also yeah you already know that there there you already know what they’re doing you still haven’t done anything about it

So?

[I was about to say where is the courier guy but he’s dead]

R.I.P shortly lived villain Killed off for a shitty written romance-

-He deserved better

Whatever

Why

[i’ve seen that image multiple times but I never realized the city was in the ball

[also how is this the palace where several important officials meet And the nice forest is supposed to be this mining hell hole

The environments- They’re-

So yeah we know it’s there, but like last time we’re not going to do anything about it

[like I said Saltine did get back at some point and everyone’s logic was just ok let’s go complain to the council for no reason,]

[I dislike this logic)

Why?

Just...? Why

Also yeah who’s in charge while she’s away?

I mean we’ve already got like a lot of senators’ sus

What?

Things Happen Ing

Also yeah palace right back to the way it was,

I guess it was a smoke bomb. .

Right?

You left the Boomer in control?

Also, so yeah I’m surprised he didn’t run out to be a mastermind either

Like, yeah That can happen

But given the “legacy and proud of everything thing,”

You’d think he’d be the main target

[Makes a lot more sense than Random Sen ator #4

And he was the only one in that hallway with Obi-Wan-

During their argu- ment-

Prime Minister- It Makes Sense -

You found the deathwatch armies - isn’t hard - It was like five guys last time

Now just like them, you have allowed, the situation to get worse

Good job smart guys.

Battle

Really because they seem like the same group of nerds

What?

??...

Deathwatch will never be strong enough

Yeah, no shit

Guess you shouldn’t do anything stupid

[how long until something stupid happens?]

Beyond the normal . . .

Here

Seriously how does this plan make any sense?

Jedi- come here - everyone- Loses their shit

How? - like I know it be unpleasant to have some guys stomp into Your House

But there’s literally no need for that..

Considering the situation isn’t out of control

And Satine should be fully capable of handling the situation

- And telling the Senate to feck off

- And don’t tell me he’s doing this because she’s passive because he’s been everything but passive in defending her passive beliefs,

[Something not really elaborated on]

Stop

NOT BE AN IDIOT!

Also,

[I really don’t like this plot it makes no sense,”. ]

Whelp-

Fuck-

That Got Dark-

[but possibly make sense if this is how she sees members of the republic, As a dark brooding force that will hurt everyone if she’s not careful,

Significant deadly threat

How?

They- smoke bombed one building

[That’s juvenile]

[The situation is not out of control]

In the narrative’s attempt to over blow this isn’t done ,correctly

You need to have self aware ness.

Bumper cars

Good

[Also you had to come to the Senate to say that]

(This could’ve been an email)

Or a photo op/ State -ment-

Duchess why did you come here you knew they were going to pull this shit

Like this helped nothing

And the narrative,

What was a good situation that was supposed to come out of this?

You stand before a council of people who decided to fight, saying I don’t fight

[ and these are toxic people mind you]

There was no way this is going to end up good;

And I don’t.. know what the narrative?

Padme?

Also what is with the weird bumper car rules?

Because it seems like anyone can come up at any time and ask any question?

[Like, how is that not chaos?]

Wo rking under toxic assumed authority. .

“People-

‘ I call to the stand Obi-Wan (Kenobi) and Anakin Of the Jedi order, to provide testament,”

That’s all that had to be said..

On top of;

“My government will submit to peace keepers actual peace keepers - Un-armed- For Eval -uation,’

That would make sense

And work off Satine’s Ad- vers Ion- To Obi-Wan, and the Jedi Council,

True

Dick,

-Jedi

Yeah, she didn’t reject, she allowed the Jedi to do a full investigation,

Also as brutal as the scene is, it is a good show of you reap what you sow and enablers turning on a enablers

Even though Satine should’ve known better than to argue peace with a war council...

Obi-won says nothing . . .

Fuck You (Good)

Bad Ass

Lots of politicians speaking,

Wait-

Dick-

Appro priate-

Ser-iously touching someone without their consent?

Dick entitled move.

Spec. Ifically.

After he stood by and watched that happened - Senate - Yeah cause you were there and you did nothing

Better;

Saltine calls Obi-Wan as a witness (Both Obi-Wan and the others. (Anakin) standing watch over her home planet

They failed to respond due to being in the middle of some thing

Or just distracted

This makes looks Satine Look extremely bad, That Jedi are not Re-sponding On her home planet

The vote gets passed

Satine is more than distressed

When Obi-Wan Coms her In

They argue, Satine Sni,pping. A. Bro-ken Promise

“You said you’d be there for me (This Time)]

“You’re never there when I need you,”

“You’re never there when it matters most,”

With that, the conversation ends

Satine possibly getting ready to defend herself against the republic

Coming to invade her home

Im-bittered Sweet

Didn’t help at all but okay,

We’re friends

Good

[To be fair the romance was so forced, that friendship is honestly best,]

Ah, Lady, You just got a friendship last block,

No need to act surprised.

Nothing More

Good because there was no chemistry between you up to this point,

State of mind

....

What?

What state of mind?

...

She’s fine!

Yeah she over reacted to the dude

But - got everything together when it mattered-

THANK YOU!

That was an asinine statement

Hysterical

No they wouldn’t be

That isn’t a compliment.

That’s Invalidation.

Dick Obi-Wan

Point!

So much

point in this!

I am so

pleased..

(Though

regular,”

I only -

Gas-

lighting

“I’m-

Yes!

Mhm

This is some

Bomb ass tea

De-licious

(I just realized my phrasing of words I’m so-)

It’s good is the point

(Doesn’t it make up what happened in the previous episodes,

But, Makes it easier to forget . . .

Accoun- tability - Is the word you’re looking for (The character, not the writer,”) They’re doing good . ... You live with a child groomer (Are One)

Does make sense. Obi-won closest to the problem (Groomed specifically in benefit of it) Still sad that they just gave up

Even if he does have a point That Two generations have essentially grown up Anakin and their time as the present is over

Bit too late to have a regrets

(Only when it screws you over..

Not the future generations)

And...

My sympathy is officially gone (Not the storytelling’s fault, I think they work -ed this conversation pretty well - Just the facts to narcs arguing - Still made me think about what exactly what was wrong - That’s good (narc)Con versation,

Any way,

I love this song

Obi-Wan gets roasted for all his bad behavior 2.0...

It’s nice

Crusade

This Convo was good

(It made me feel better about all the times the writers used cheating tactics)

*Not for giv-ed

just- better

[That expression- was concerning]

There

Aight

That- Was-

Chilling

[You just spent the whole time getting yelled out for his deeds, just continued on, emotion less]

The “respectable” kind (Approp-riate for an adult)

Aight

[Oh- no are they going to have the Obi-won rescue her and that proves that all her opinions are wrong?

Not actually; she made some really good points

But in the narrative treating?

(I don’t want to see that)

Okay, whelp,

Coursant has the worst security ever,

How?

Damn Frick

Is a bad day for her,

Filed

Some random dude hijacked your car

Who are you going to sue?

Bitch

Queenie, dude’s obviously an asshole

Leave

Also if there was no proof then why aren’t you charging her for vandalism terrorism, etc?

(See his logic is bullshit,)

also this is a good example of obstructive bureaucrat . . .

Or avoidant

Because how do three people nearly dying not constitute as proof?

[Like if she died.]

Also, what’s the plan if she did?

Like; Oh yeah deathwatch is such a threat that they killed a senator

Those dudes don’t care

They only pissed at her because she’s a pacifist coming into a Offensive summit

Accident

[she accidentally drove her car. [Yelling at the villain]

Not what she said

This dude could give Obi-Wan a run for his gas lighting,

Whelp

Fuck Off

Oh yeah the council of war mongers will really respect the pa- cifist

No bias here

None whatsoever

Satine

Hey at least this time he had the common decency not to grab her-

dick

Oh yeah defender of the gaslight-ing committee she’ll definitely help

Worry You

Don’t give into the gaslight-

Also guilt tripping

“ i’m afraid on that account,”

No,

Dick

Valid re-ac- tions

Shit-

“Victim blaming” (Toxic blaming)

Pretty sure they’re all enablers at this point

Tox-

Ma’am

Leave the ball of tox known as Obi-Wan

Man has turned from a garbage fire to a gas fire,

Coursant

Yeah, you should leave,

Also, That Moment,

You are one of them.

You’re not backing down

👉 This Not,

Con

Don’t listen to Obi-Wan He sucks

Also none of the guards are going to zap him for touching their queen unannounced? - - - Friends

You’re not her friends

You’ve been nothing but a dick

Gas lighting

Nope

Tox.

[like listen to that ag-gressive tone, How he’s holding her

Tox

[Still good on the animators who did that scene, Very good work,]

Occ-upation

Shit

Happen

Oh Shit-

Obi-won distracted her?

Aight

Meeting

What

How-

Hm,

Wait- Huh

[this is some kangaroo Court logic

It’s Good.]

Before

“Relying on the Republic is a mistake,”

Yesssss

More Acc- Toxic initiative (Since there’s no to little way they end this) Based on circumstance only (No different sources)

Any-way Um

Okay

Right Just Vibin’g

Aight Whelp,

Am I?

Oh is that the Senator guy?

Death watch?

Also- okay

Al- right.

Wait What?

Hm?

Green

We know two greens And one changeling That should be in custody-

Wait- ?

What?

? ? ?

EXPLAIN

Who-

What

At-

This was a pretty a’ight episode

(Trust me I wish I could give it higher praise)

However the unfortunate clankiness of the introduction

Keeps it stubbornly between a decent and good

With that being said;

That does not take away from the fact that is a ____ whatever it is

-it has good characterization for Satine

- it handles heavy morals like enabling, tox, abuse and pro- blems With Assumed Autho rity- Includ Ing Police Bru- tality And Fram -ing Very Well

(With the appro- priate dignity it deserves,

[there’s a small bit of better done romance/ fond-ness, near the End]

*Villain was neat

[More of sidious and on the [Main] villains

There were few Moments that Made Me Go Wtf (Obi Wan’s Abuse Of The Word “Saw You,” The Insist Ence That Death Watch Was In Tim i- dating

As For Fix -ing;

Episode; Instead of to defend, Wise Saltine is called To ident ify a Death Watch Member- Or Re New Her Neu- Trality Pledge In Person (Due to Change ling (Over Lap) Attack

Episode Pro Gress Es

Arc Fixes;

Obi- won delivers news, that he’s supposed to escort her Pers On Ally, Saltine expects everything to go over swimmingly after all she hasn’t done anything wrong, Quickly find out otherwise, Loyalty over her vs the government

Leads to a small break (Episode continues as normally)

(Death watch- if want)

Fix Arc Continue; (Note no offense to the author meant I just started some thing and I should finish it as an accountable writer)

Satine Is Forced Into Either Defend Ing Or Leaving Anakin To Her Irate People, Soon After Obi-won’s In- Cid ent Pri med

Hope Spot Or Depres. Further. Push Ing Ana -kin’s Dec- Ision To Snap) End

[Generally I thought this was a pretty ____ episode, the animation and set design will really good/ On par and it seems to have made up. (Corrected) A majority of flaws I had with previous episodes . . . Moving On...

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