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Connor gestured to a pair of robots that were wandering around the room. "These two made a decently grand entrance, which turned rather anticlimactic as it looks like they wanted to DJ but couldn't. I also overheard something brief about someone who showed up without a costume." He shrugged. "Standard party stuff."

-Twistey

Phobos messed it up by pulling the same old stunts. This is not resolved.

I use Duolingo, so that might be a great way to help them out. Let me see what ideas I can come up with.

-Twistey

I haven't decided if I'm doing just one or both, though - hopefully I'll be at home for a long enough stretch of time for the second idea!

(Disclaimer and warning: the Italian is swearing. So be prepared for that if you decide to translate it.)

Ce’rana of Borune yelped as another tense shift rocked the ground, throwing her out of the tree she’d been perched in. She didn’t quite land on her feet properly and lurched to the right, barely catching herself before she cracked her skull on the uneven ground.

Alexander Hawke had also been tossed to the ground, but he landed awkwardly when the shift sent him into the tree Ce’rana had been sitting in from his place near the roots. There was a clearly-audible crack when he connected, like the splintering of bark.

Ce’rana looked over, expecting to see the damaged bark crumbling off the tree and preparing herself to make sure it would be alright; instead, she discovered that Alex had gained a second elbow. In the opposite direction and in the middle of his forearm. How odd, she thought in the moments time seemed to slow to a crawl. It almost looks as though Alex is hurt. But he never gets hurt.

Alex looked at her, his eyes following the direction of her gaze until he spotted his double-bent arm. “Huh. I wonder why it doesn’t hurt?” He tried to move his arm, then doubled over as the break decided that now was the time to start hurting. Thanks ever so, IO. “Figlio di puttana!”

Ce’rana immediately bolted over to her partner, trying to grab the RA as she went and failing. “Alright, that is definitely a bad thing,” she muttered as she tried to look the break over without hurting him more.

“Cazzo! Of course it’s a bad thing. My arm’s broken.” Despite the swearing Alex seemed relatively calm.

“Yes, I know that. That would be why it’s bad,” Ce’rana snapped, glaring up at him for a moment for his lack of care. “Especially since I wasn’t sure that your bones even could break with how much pressure you seem to shrug off every other mission.”

Alex bit back a reply about enough things snapping already without her tone adding to the list, then looked down at his arm. “You don’t know how to do a splint, do you?”

The Dryad shook her head. “I was a scribe, not a doctor. Beyond that, I was the firstborn of a noble, and a female at that. Even further beyond, a Dryad. At no point was I given the chance to learn that, even if I had the inclination to do so.”

“Rana… What part of ‘my arm is broken’ sounds like ‘give me a genealogy lesson?’ Because I don’t think this is the best time.”

She bit her lip and glanced away. “Of course. My apologies. The point is, no, I do not know how to make a splint.”

Alex frowned. “First, get a pair of relatively straight sticks…”

One impromptu lesson later, Alex’s arm was at least not in danger of breaking further. Ce’rana smiled ever-so-slightly at the fact that she’d managed to do something practical and useful, even if she’d needed to be talked through every single step, occasionally more than once. “Alright. Now, where did the RA go…”

Alex shook his head. “We still have a mission to do.”

She fixed him with a Look, now trying to find the RA in her bag by touch alone. “Alex, I am not going to allow you to continue without spending a few minutes in Medical to get that fixed. I have lasted on missions without you for longer, and there is nothing of particular danger coming up save for further tense shifts and timeskips, which we both know I can handle.” The tiny agent chose to ignore the fact that her stomach very much could not. “I will be fine, and you will go to Medical for a very short while, and we will continue our mission from there.”

He sighed. “I’m coming right back, you know that right?”

She smiled at him and patted his unbroken arm. “Of course you are. Just as soon as your arm is fixed.”

Alex shook his head and reached into her pack, trying to help her find the RA. “Not like this is the worst break I’ve ever had.”

Ce’rana blinked. “I suppose I should not be surprised at that,” she admitted as she turned back to the search in full, “but I am.”

He chuckled. “What about you?”

She shook her head. “No, I never broke anything. Not for lack of trying on my brothers’ parts, though - and Korus was the only one who ever came away with any serious injuries. Even then, it was… more than rare.”

“Sounds like you were lucky.” Alex pulled out the RA, then held it out to her. “Can’t really use it one handed.”

The tiny agent nodded, took it, and punched in the coordinates for Medical. “Dryads do not fall from trees easily,” she said with a small smile once the portal had opened, “and my brothers never did figure out how to hold onto me when I wanted to get away. Now go get your arm fixed. You know how to find me in this place.”

Since my birthday's tomorrow (the 31st), would anyone mind playing CAHQ?

Or I could start up a GoogleDoc and we could joint-spork some old fics I've had my eye on...

Hope y'all are doing well, wherever you are!

If this is what happens when I miss out on things, I need to ride transatlantic planes more often.

(Or just make my own eidolon... nah. Doesn't feel as rewarding, somehow.)

Dinosaurs, Romans, AND aliens all in one intervention! I get the feeling the combination's more common than it rightly should be.

(And, assuming I am out of reach of the comment preview... MAMVISH. I am so glad you included her. So, so glad.)

Natural History

This is my report on what really happened at the London Gathering last year. Frankly, with four wizards more-or-less in attendance, it's pretty much what you'd expect (ie, hijinks).

hS

But I do have long, wavy, luxurious red hair. I've gotten a lot of compliments on it from random strangers. Also, neither of my parents are redheads (Okay, mom was a redhead, but her hair has since gone blonde, much to her frustration as now nobody can tell I got the gene from her).

One wonders where in Cyrodiil the lilac grows.

... though I cannot say I have been there." His work as a freelance DMS agent had brought him to most of the popular continua, but never that one. He knew very little about it.

"I was a bit character recruited from a Lord of the Rings suefic," he said. "Needless to say, my people are not doing well. That is why our job is so important, though."

June 2010, joint mission, Agents Dawn McKenna and T'Zar (DOGA) with Agent Abaddon. Dawn is seventeen:


"You're joking," Abaddon said. "You've been an agent for how long, now?"

Dawn glared at him. She'd liked him well enough the first few times they'd met. Right now, though, she could only think sourly that she wished he'd stayed far away from T'Zar after the Vulcan was repartnered with her. "Three years."

"Three years, and you've never broken a bone!" Abaddon laughed. He even looked stupid, Dawn decided, with his stupid punk look and his stupid floppy hair and the stupid little braid in his floppy hair. "How does it feel?"

Forget everything: Dawn picked up the nearest object and threw it at him. "It hurts, you moron! What do you think?" She was tearing up again, half from frustration. Why wasn't T'Zar back yet? Abaddon had managed to find the regular strength painkillers, but neither of them knew how to set a broken bone in anything more than theory. Which left Dawn stuck leaning against the wall with a broken leg supported by their packs, and only a stupid, laughing nineteen-year-old boy for company.

"Sorry, sorry," Abaddon said. He'd managed to catch the notebook she'd thrown; now he set it aside and cautiously moved to sit next to her. "I'm a prat sometimes."

Dawn looked away, trying to blink back tears. It didn't work. "You are."

"I really am," Abaddon agreed. Quite awkwardly, he put an arm around her shoulders. "T'Zar should be back soon. She'll know what to do--and she's got the RA."

Dawn sniffled, and could barely bring herself to hate that she'd done it. "The painkillers aren't working."

Abaddon winced. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I laughed before--it's just, I broke my first bone before I even became an agent, so it's..." He glanced at her. "Not funny, not at all, just different--"

Dawn closed her eyes, and tried to pretend she wasn't leaning into him. She didn't even like him anymore: he was just T'Zar's annoying ex-partner, who looked and sometimes sounded a bit too much like the latest Doctor for his own good (which...made absolutely no sense, come to think of it. He'd said something about fancasting, when she'd idly commented that he was really kind of the new Doctor in blond and black, but had anyone even known Matt Smith before this role? Well, some people must have, she thought. Just because she hadn't heard of him didn't mean no one had.)

"Go on," she said dully. She needed a distraction from wondering how much longer T'Zar would be, and she now knew from experience that Abaddon could talk forever if no one stopped him. "What's the story there?"

"Oh, well." Abaddon shrugged and pulled one knee up, resting his free arm on it. "I was a kid--only about eleven, I think--and we were visiting my uncle. He's brilliant, my uncle--have I ever--? No? Another time. Anyway, my mum and dad were being boring with him, so I thought I'd go exploring. Clambered over everything, like some sort of ibex--or, you know, like a young idiot." He shifted, rolling his shoulder. "I fell, obviously. My balance wasn't as good as I thought it was back then." He glanced at Dawn. "Rolled down a hill, hit a tree, and then just lay there screaming for a bit. I thought I'd broken my neck, but it was really just my collarbone."

Dawn made a face, eyes opening again. "That sounds awful." Uri had been eleven not too long ago; it was a little hard not to picture her little brother in Abaddon's place, especially since he did like to climb things when the family went camping. He'd never broken anything doing it, but there had been some close calls...

"Oh, it was," Abaddon said. "Dad found me, though. Always seems to, really...anyway, he and Mum and my uncle sorted me out. Never even reached a hospital. But I didn't get to climb anything for the rest of the trip." He paused. "I...I must've scared them, really. They didn't say it in that many words, but Dad barely let me out of his sight for the rest of the day--and he usually says he doesn't actually need his eyes to keep an eye on me."

There was a brief silence before Dawn spoke again. "What do your parents do, anyway? I told you about mine earlier, but you never--"

"Dawn?" T'Zar was back, a tiny frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. "Why are you crying?"

"She broke her leg," Abaddon said quickly. "You know how to help with that, right? Neither of us have ever done it. Oh! I gave her painkillers, but they're too weak to do anything." He stood up, hovering while T'Zar put down her bags and knelt to examine Dawn's leg. When she finished, Dawn was crying outright.

"I will portal you to Medical," T'Zar told her. She hesitated, then put a hand on Dawn's shoulder. She'd told Dawn, on multiple occasions, that she did not understand both the human need for comfort and the idea that touch alone could give it, but here she was doing it anyway. Dawn wanted to hug her. "They will have stronger painkillers, and the ability to repair the broken bone. Abaddon and I will finish the mission and meet you there."

Dawn wiped her cheeks and nodded. "O-okay. Okay."

"Okay," T'Zar repeated, in the dry tone that Dawn was really starting to think meant she was teasing. "I have broken bones as well, Dawn. The statistical probability that you would--"

"Oh, stuff the statistical probability," Abaddon said cheerfully. "Your partner's in pain. Open a portal to Medical so she can get out of it, yeah?"

T'Zar raised an eyebrow, and pulled out the remote activator to input coordinates. "I was about to do so."

"'Course," Abaddon said. He leaned down to pat Dawn's shoulder. "You'll be alright. Hey, maybe we'll find you a souvenir from here! You like chips, right? They have a weirdly awful scene in a chip shop later--"

Dawn barely had time to say that, yes, she did like 'chips,' only they were called French fries where she was from, before the portal opened underneath her and deposited her on a bed in Medical with barely a centimetre's discrepancy. T'Zar followed via a second portal, and stayed long enough to catch the eye of one of the Medical staff and give strict instructions regarding Dawn before disappearing through a third portal.

The staff member in question smiled down at Dawn. "Don't worry, honey, we'll have you fixed up in no time. First broken bone? I don't remember seeing you in here for one before."

"Let me guess," Dawn said. She knew this woman, if not very well. With a bit of effort, she managed a strained smile. "Do you have a story about the first broken bone you ever got?"

The woman laughed. "Me? Oh, no." She smiled at Dawn, and turned to pick up the nearby scanner. "I've never broken a bone in my life!"

I picked it up again on the 25th, actually. It's still a good book. ^_^

Currently pressing towards the end of Thief of Time. I'm not sure where I'll go after that... might reread some of the later books, since everything from Thud! onward is a bit of a blur.

hS

More specifically: start with Guards! Guards!, as the first City Watch book. It introduces the city of Ankh-Morpork, which will become more and more the centre of the series as you get further in.

After that... well, you can jump straight to Men at Arms, that shouldn't cause any problems. But you could also side-step to one of the other sets of characters, by moving to Wyrd Sisters (for the Witches), Mort (for Death), or Sourcery (for the Wizards). The further you get in the series, the more interlinked they get; I'd recommend shuffling the order of everything up to Men at Arms (book 15) according to taste and desire, but making sure you've read all* of those first 15 before picking up Soul Music and carrying on in publication order.

*'All' doesn't really need to include The Colour of Magic, The Light Fantastic, or Equal Rites, which have a rather different feel than the rest of the series. You can also skip Eric, which was originally written to be a shorter, illustrated book. It's not bad, but it's not a very strong story, and it doesn't add anything much.

So the sub-series to keep 'in order' before book 16 are:

The Watch: Guards! Guards! - Men at Arms
The Witches: Wyrd Sisters - Witches Abroad - Lords and Ladies
The Wizards: Sourcery - (Eric) - Moving Pictures
Death: Mort - Reaper Man
Standalones: Pyramids - Small Gods

You can mix between the serieseseses as much as you please, though (though reading Moving Pictures before Lords and Ladies is probably valuable.)

Oh, and for much further down the line: somewhere between The Last Continent and Unseen Academicals you should work in at least the fiction halves of the four Science of Discworld books. They're also excellent popular science books, particularly the first one, but the fiction halves are part of the main storyline. ^_^

hS

The High Radman stood in the Place of Command on the appointed day. He had put on the ancient holy garments. The buttons were almost falling off by now, and the coat, decorated with many raised pieces of cloth and medals, was certainly meant for a taller man. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to perform the ceremony, which had been enacted each year for the one hundred and seventy five years since the Great Burning.

He inspected the hallowed device placed on a sturdy wooded table near the side of the place, checking the cable to ensure it was snug and intact, as the Radman before him had always done. After doing this, he made the customary three sweeps of the room with a demon-finder, which, as always, revealed nothing.

"Check." announced the Keeper of Lists, who was the second in precedence among the Radmen.

With a careful motion, the priest pressed a small button at the top-left of the device, being careful to avoid touching any of the other ones. An amber late began to shine from the glass in the top of the device. "Confirm power on." he said to the Keeper, who was observing the rite with the other Radmen.

Turning to the crowds behind a clear wall in the back, he held up his closed right fist with his thumb pointing to the sky and proclaimed "Blessed are we, the Remnant Men, for we may still pray for aid!".

"Set frequency to 2-1-8-2 kilohertz"

The priest looked at the display and announced each number in turn "Frequency is set to 2-1-8-2." The number was called out loudly, and he, along with the other Radmen and (with a delay) the crowds, clasped their hands at their chests briefly, for this was the Number of Distress.

"Connect the Key."

The Key of the Heavens, a metal lever with a precisely-made black button on one end, was near the left end of the altar. A wire extended from the wooden base the lever sat on to right below a small hole on the device. He took the cable and placed it in the hole, which was helpfully labeled "Key". "Check."

"Select long-wave antenna and confirm connectivity."

The Radman inspected a different cable, checking its black exterior for any sign of wear or corruption. This cable led to a switch on a wall, which had pointed to "long-wave" as long as anyone could remember. "Check."

"Send a continuous tone to test the transmitter."

The Key was pressed down, generating a long, mournful sound that could be heard in the room and the hallway. The Radman observed a dial on the device, ensuring it stayed near 1. "Check." he announced, releasing the button.

"Send an SOS distress signal" announced the Keeper.

The High Radman looked at the crowds again, raising his hands and bringing them to his chest. "Let us call the gads, that they may hear our prayers!" A group of children began playing a pattern on flutes, there short notes, three long notes, and three short ones, followed by a pause. The High Radman replaced this pattern on the Key.

This portion of the rite continued for several minutes, while the crowd listened to the flutes and joined their prayers to the call. Eventually, the flutes and the key fell silent. "Check." whispered the Radman to the Keeper on the way to the door.

"Let us pray." announced the Radman, closing the door in front of him, so that no one would disturb this portion of the rite. As the Checklist dictated, he disconnected the key. Then, following tradition, he paced around the room one more time with a demon-finder, chanting "Let this place be protected from the all-consuming fire and its demons." as he walked around.

"Ensure the microphone is connected." was the next step in the right, performed once the High Radman stood before the device again. He picked up the black prism attached to the front of the device, and ensured it remained attached.

Then, the Keeper of Lists stood up, and read the next item "Recite the distress message." bowing his head.

The Radman held up the prism to his face, with the indented side facing him, pressed the button merged into the side, and called out "Calling humanity — humanity — if anyone can hear us, please respond. We are the Remnant Force of Cheyenne Mountain in the United States. Calling Humanity — Humanity — anyone."

All the Radmen gathered together listened to the rush of noise from the device, hoping that maybe this time someone would answer them and confirm they were not alone. After counting a minute, the second prayer began.

"Calling the Diverwing of the Youesnavy. Calling the Diverwing of the Youesnavy. If you find us worthy, hear our prayer and restore the world. Return to us from the depths of the waters. Return to us, the Remnant Men of Cheyenne Mountain in the United States. Calling the Diverwing — Humanity — Humanity — Diverting of the Youesnavy — anyone — hear us."

Again, the Radmen stood and listened for a minute.

Again, nothing was heard from the noise.

They repeated the sequence of prayers five times, pausing between each one, hoping that maybe this year they would be found acceptable to the gods and that the world outside the mountain would be made safe.

No replies came.

"Power off." intoned the Keeper, disappointment in his voice.

"Check." replied an equally somber voice.

The High Radman stood and opened the door. "We are not yet worthy." he said to the silent crowds outside. "We must keep the Lists and Regulations, so we may be found pleasing next year."

The crowds dispersed, and the Radmen filed out of the Place of Command, leaving only the High Radman behind. He removed the holy garments, returning to the clothes that normally showed his power to search for and bless against the demons of the fire.

He sat in a large chair in the front and center of the Place, watching his people. Maybe next year. he thought. Maybe next year.

(( Note, this hasn't seen any editing and was tossed together rather late at night. - Tomash ))

Agent Alleb stopped outside the door, preparing herself. Every time she came back to the RC, she always walked in on her partner in the midst of some unexplainable, and often embarrassing, shenanigan. Last time he had been dancing. The time before that, he'd been in a shouting match with the microwave. And the time before that, he'd somehow managed to stick himself to the ceiling using the "tape of ducks" one of the RC's previous occupants had left behind in a drawer.

Mithe, her fire-lizard, gave a questioning chirrup from her perch on Alleb's shoulders, the blue swirl in her eyes slowing slightly.

"Just wondering what unexpected happenstance I will find today, girl," Alleb said, reaching up to give the fire-lizard a scratch."Might as well get it over with." Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and swung the door open, revealing--

Jesse McKines, sitting at the table, gazing thoughtfully into a half-full tumbler of whiskey.

"Oh," Alleb said, forgetting to come in. That certainly was unexpected.

"What?" Jesse asked, looking up. His brown eyes, beneath a thatch of blond hair (it was far too long and therefore far too unruly to be without a hat, Alleb decided) looked quiet and faraway. "Find what you were looking for?"

"What?" Alleb repeated, then looked down at the burlap sack in her hands. "Oh, yes. My apologies, Sir Jesse. I am used to finding in you in far--well, nevermind. Yes. I found the 'grocery store' Agent Yarwick spoke of, and also the 'hum-moose' that Lord Virneleski recommended," she said, pulling out a circular carton of beige paste.

"I think it's pronounced 'hummus,'" Jesse said. He looked back down at his drink, his eyes still seeing something she could not.

Frowning, Alleb thumped her grocery sack onto the kitchen counter, then walked over to the table and pulled up a chair beside her partner. "Sir Jesse," she began, "is something troubling you?" Mithe leapt off her shoulders and landed next to the sack, sniffing at the opening.

Jesse took a breath, coming back to himself a little. "Hm? Trouble? Aw, nah, Alleb. Just... thinkin'."

Alleb blinked. "Forgive me, Sir Jesse," she said, as gently as she could, "but you do not often do that."

It was Jesse's turn to blink. "Ouch."

Alleb gave him a look. "You do not often brood," she clarified. "What is it in your drink that you find so interesting?"

Jesse stared down at his whiskey again, and Alleb suddenly wondered if he'd gotten some sort of ill news while she was away. "Mike Green, down the hall, told me it was some sorta holiday on World One today. At least, for how time moves for his folks. He called it 'Memorial Day.'"

Alleb frowned. "A rather somber name for a holiday. What does it celebrate?"

Jesse didn't answer for a moment. Alleb began to think he had not heard, but then he asked, "You're a soldier, ain't you?"

A few details clicked into place. "I fought in King Eliam's army, yes," she replied. "And you fought for the Union, during your country's Civil War, did you not?"

"Yep," Jesse said, nodding. "After the Civil War, we called it Decoration Day. Come May, some folks'd go out and put flowers on all the soldiers' graves. Wasn't made official till after one 'a them big 'World Wars' I keep hearin' about." He hadn't looked up from his whiskey the entire time he was talking.

And now it all made sense. Alleb laid a bone-colored hand on Jesse's shoulder, and gave it a hard squeeze. He winced, and she lessened the pressure slightly. "I have also lost comrades, Sir Jesse," she said. "It is good that your country sets aside a day to honor the fallen. Alleble does the same, in its own way. We who are left can only trust in King Eliam, and in His ultimate plan."

Jesse's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to give his usual half-smile, but didn't have the energy. "Yeah," he said. "Guess so."

"In the meantime," Alleb said, getting up and fetching another glass from the cabinet, "may I join you?"

This time, he did manage a small smile. "You bet," he said, unhooking his flask from his belt and pouring her a half-glass.

Alleb raised her tumbler. "To the honored dead. May their memories live on in glory."

Jesse raised his glass as well. "To the lost," he said.

They drank together, while Mithe crooned a lilting almost-song from the counter.

---

Happy Memorial Day, everyone! Feels good to get back to Jesse and Alleb. I haven't written them in forever!

-Alleb

Just saw this with my brother! Oh boy, was this fun! I seriously don't understand all the internet hate I've seen in YouTube titles this past week, because this movie was so Star Wars-y.

Spoiler warnings for Solo, Rogue One, and a bit of the prequels and Return of the Jedi.

These sorts of prequel-ish films are always tricky for the film-makers, because of audience expectations going in. We know that Han, Chewbacca and Lando are going to survive, and pretty much any other newly introduced characters are . . . kind of up in the air; after all, they don't all need to be killed off, as happened in Rogue One. But knowing that certain characters can't die doesn't mean the story will be unexciting, and with the Star Wars universe, there's still plenty of unexplored points in the timeline in which we can glean new details about the setting. Even though we essentially know who Han is going in, I think the movie did a great job of "introducing" him in his first moments on screen. The actor was excellent, as he felt like a less experienced and jaded version of Harrison's Ford's portrayals. I liked Chewie's introduction, too. I was honestly fooled into thinking we were about to see a rancor, which makes it even funnier that Chewie appeared instead. (My brother just informed me he saw Chewie coming.)

My absolute favorite thing was the early scenes where Han is in the Imperial military. (There's probably a fancy name for that, but I don't know it.) Because they finally gave me something I've been wondering about forever, and was whining about in . . . one of my past SW reviews recently, and that is hearing a bit of the perspective of the Empire's grunts on the ground, and why they go along with the Empire's overt fascism. It was only a couple lines from a minor officer, but those lines about installing a regime loyal to the Emperor and bringing peace and order, but it's basically all I needed to string together the answer: it's simple fear. There's a great big galaxy out there, and the folks closer to the Empire and its military feel safer if everything is under that same umbrella. It also makes a nice transition from the prequel trilogy towards Rogue One and the original trilogy. Most of the cultures we saw in the prequels were in pretty good shape. Tatooine had a slave trade, but we're told directly that it's ongoing because Tatooine was only on the fringe of the Senate's influence. All the other planets that felt sketchy are the ones the Sith was influencing as part of their plans, like Geonosis and Naboo. By the time of RO and the originals, Tatooine has an entire city that's basically dominated by crime, and the Empire is incarcerating orphans like Jyn Erso. Right now, Solo is the earliest point we've seen after Revenge of the Sith, and I at least felt like I got an idea of the early cultural backsliding that occurred after the Empire seized power. Corellia seems like it's still fairly open and well-run, but Stormtroopers are scattered around different areas, and that worm lady was basically space!Fagin, with a whole team of orphans stealing crap for her.

Han's Love Interest Whose Name I've Already Forgotten Even Though It Was A Normal English Name . . . I think I need to start this sentence over. Han's love interest was also an interesting fake out. Early on, she seemed like a standard, off-screen source of motivation for the hero character; when she unexpectedly reappeared, even though she and other characters kept hinting there was something darker there, I (like Han) didn't guess where her character was going at all. I thought the brand on her arm, and her hesitation at the prospect of rejoining Han permanently, were hinting at Scarred Bad Guy Who Isn't An Android holding something over her that would prevent her from leaving his company. (My brother's more concrete prediction was that the tattoo on her arm represented some explosive device implanted there, which Scarred Bad Guy could detonate if she attempted to escape. He thought that after Han left and the door closed between them, that we were about to see the symbol light up and watch her explode, revealing her killing of Scarred Bad Guy to be a sacrifice she made for Han's sake.) But the revelation that she is actually idealistically dedicated to, um, Crimson Dawn (thanks to my brother for reminding me of that name—I had originally written "Sunset-Themed Crime Syndicate") is . . . interesting? And maybe a little odd? I mean, we know Han will end up with Leia way down the line, so I didn't necessarily expect them to get together at the end, but having her turn out to be an overt bad guy seems weird. I'm not really sure what to think of that right now; I presume we'll be seeing more of her in future "Star Wars Stories," so I'll have to see where her character goes from there.

The last thing I want to talk about is Darth Maul, or maybe just Maul now? Thaaaaaat really did come out of left field. I know from a discussion we had on the Board sometime in the past year that one of the SW cartoons had revealed Maul to survive The Phantom Menace. I just . . . don't entirely understand why he's now the leader or some crime syndicate? And why Palpatine hasn't sensed his activity and sent Vader to take out the potentially threatening Dark Sider who may want revenge on Palpatine for not rescuing him after he was bisected? It's the one thing in the film that doesn't feel like it fits in with everything currently surrounding the film. But like Love Interest, I may just need to wait and see what they're setting up in future films.

So overall, I liked and enjoyed this SW. It was fun! Time to go dive in to video essays on YouTube and find out what has everyone so upset.

—doctorlit is annoyed that we apparently can't use html in the subject line any more, because that means he is obligated to present titles incorrectly [You're welcome. -NA]

"I've got a really spoiler feeling about this." "I've got a really spoiler feeling about this." "I've got a really spoiler feeling about this." "I've got a really spoiler feeling about this."

For those who were on tumblr/twitter/I can't remember all the sites DD plugged it on when she was releasing addendums to How Lovely Are Thy Branches (incidentally, if you've ever wanted to read about an alien Christmas tree dissecting the mystery of Santa Claus, read this book):

They're their own ebook, now!

Please use this new topheader to discuss YW fics, MST ideas... or just whatever silliness comes to mind.

Terry Pratchett was a massive fan of The Elder Scrolls, especially Oblivion (and perhaps later Skyrim). He was fascinated by the modding scenes of the games, and even made writing contributions to some mods he liked (namely, Vilja and her Skyrim varient).

Figured that was worth sharing.

Harris had been drinking coffee, ever since it was invented. He goddamn loved coffee. Not for the flavor, no. For the sweet caffeine that did wonders to his permanently waking brain. He loved coffee so much so that when the first automatic coffee machines came into production, he bought one of every brand. He tested and tried each and every one of them, to find out what made the best coffee. As more and more machines were produced, he eventually settled into a particularly fancy dispenser. Every morning, he would place his #1 Dad mug underneath (despite his lack of children, partner, or desires for alternate progeny) and warm, dark roast coffee would be poured into his cup. Like magic.

Recently, his favorite coffee machine had been stuttering, spitting coffee, rather than pouring it. It came in bursts, rather than a smooth stream of caffeine water. He had been using this particular machine for centuries, and oh, it just might be nearing the end of its life. However, Harris routinely magically enchanted the hunk of junk to make sure this never was the case. So, if not the machine, it must be the power supply.

Harris was lazy and irresponsible. He very much did not like paying taxes or bills or reading whatever mail the government happened to send him. And so, he decided to switch off his water and electricity and open portals to other dimensions to supply his own needs. For his water, a portal at the bottom of an untouched ocean, completely devoid of life. For his gas stove, a portal to a brightly burning star. For his footstool trashcan, a portal to his local recycling plant.

For his energy, he'd went into a nightmare dimension full of eldritch abominations and monstrosities. He'd found the biggest baddie he could find, chained it up, and stabbed some cables into it, and ran them all the way back to the portal, to his house, to his coffee machine.

As Harris began strolling to his portal room, and as he passed through the endless void between dimensions, he wondered how much of that critter was left. Following the thick cables, some electrocuted entities lining the sides (thanks to a neat little charm he had learned in Pre-K) he approached the end of the cable. There was no hulking terror left, only a very, very small toothed worm. Like a leech, except smaller, and more vicious. He supposed that this was what remained of his cash cow, or as he put it, his voltage Varuh'tynyopai.

Harris pulled the cable out of the critter, and it seemingly faded into dust in his hands. He removed the magical bonds, and began his search anew, to find the second-biggest baddie that this dimension held. Harris just couldn't go without his coffee.