Toast trades away her Wife whites the first chance she gets. Within the first week of the New Citadel she’s wearing a patched and greasy shirt, swapped with a wide-eyed kitchen worker for the flimsy white linen, a pair of War Boy trousers, and the leather moccasins Eves had been carrying tucked in her storage bags since there was no one left alive among the Vuvalini with small enough feet to fit them. She puts tools in her pockets and her gun in a holster and accumulates enough belts that they seem to be spawning amongst themselves.
Capable keeps her cloth, fashions a practical blouse with long sleeves to keep her skin from burning in the sun. She makes underwear and a wrap for her breasts and a scarf to keep the sand out of her mouth or her hair tied back while she works in the infirmary. The remainder gets turned into bandages.
Dag makes a clever wrapped dress out of a Vuvalini shawl, turns scraps into pockets that are full of seeds and pebbles. She twines lizard bones into her hair, and when her daughter is born, her whites get shredded for nappies and burping cloths.
Cheedo, born Wretched, saves everything. But on top of her whites that flow like morning fog she adds a red-and-ochre scarf and a leather vest stamped with leaves and flowers. (Janey tells her the names, and how they used to grow in the Green Place, and which ones might be among the newest seedlings Dag is planting up above.) She lets the old women show her ten different ways to braid her hair up, and when she starts writing history, not on her skin but in bound sheafs of hemp-paper, she is rarely without a pen behind her ear and a bottle of ink in her pocket.
Furiosa takes off the sigil and chains, hands them over to be melted down into something useful without a second thought. She mostly doesn’t wear the grease, except when she thinks it will tip the situation in her favor. She changes nothing else.
“Oh, this was Mellie’s, it would fit you, child,” says Eves, extracting a linen tunic from the depths of a bag during an evening of sock-darning and hair-braiding.
“I don’t need anything,” Furiosa says. Her once-white wrapped top stopped being anything more than a shirt to her long ago, and she’s practiced in tugging it off and pulling it on with one hand. Changing her clothes won’t change the past.
“If you decided to grow your hair out…” Janey muses another night, smoothing a fine woven headband across her knee.
“It’s practical this way.” Nothing to get caught in a fight or an engine.
The Vuvalini give gifts. It’s an honor to receive a gift when no one has anything, a sign of connection to the tribe. The Wives and the Milkers and eventually a War Boy or two end up with tokens passed down from mother to daughter, reclaimed from a fallen sister when it was time to return her body to the earth. Even Max accepts a pair of hand-knitted socks with a surprised grunt and a slight flush in his cheeks.
Furiosa is aware that she’s taken nothing. Even the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders that night on the edge of the salt was packed into Janey’s motorcycle bag the next morning.
I am one of the Vuvalini, of the Many Mothers. My initiate mother was Katie Concannon. I am the daughter of Mary JoBassa. My clan was Swaddle Dog.
How many times had she whispered it to herself, in the Vault or the War Boy bunks, reciting her lineage like an invocation? When had she stopped?
She had been Vuvalini, and then she had been Joe’s, and now…
When Janey takes the rifle strap out of a hidden pocket Furiosa recognizes it instantly, the cloth woven with a repeating pattern of leaves, faded and sun-bleached but still reliable and strong after all these years.
“It was Katie’s,” Janey says.
Furiosa swallows. “I remember.” She had learned to shoot with it over her shoulder, the weight of Katie’s ancient Winchester heavy in her ten-year-old hands.
“She would have loved to see you,” Janey says with a wistful smile, and she holds out the strap in the flickering light of the terrace campfire. And Furiosa cannot say that she is sure of that at all, not with thousands of days of Imperator blood on her hands. But she takes the piece of cloth and tucks it into a pocket.
Reblog if you’re part of the ‘I read a lot of fan fiction and now I have a bizarrely accurate judgement of how long it takes me to read a particular number of words’ squad
People: This book is 500 pages long.
Me: I have no idea what that means. What’s the wordcount?
What if the words on your skin aren’t the first thing that your soulmate says to you, but the first thing they say that no one else has said to you before?
Minerva McGonagall huffed out a breath, collapsing into her armchair heavily, throwing her feet up onto the ottoman as she sank into the cushions. Last day of the year, farewell to the seventh years – all in all, she’d been on her feet for far too many hours to count, and her bones were full of opinions on the whole of this ‘getting old’ business. She didn’t like the feel of those opinions.
“Welcome home. Long day?” a smooth voice asked, sympathetic but smiling warmly.
“Long year,” Minerva scowled. “Finally rid of the Marauders, though. They’ve served out their seven years’ time, and all my best to them – may they never show their faces here again.”
“Don’t look now, one of them may yet come back to teach,” came the gleeful parry.
Minerva all but groaned, “Oh, gods forbid. Their children will be bad enough.”
“Indeed. ‘Vera, have a glass of brandy, or maybe butterbeer, why don’t you?”
Professor McGonagall’s head shot up, revealing a challenging gleam in her eye. “Are you about to tell me I look tired?”
The portrait laughed – a dark, warm, delightful alto, as the woman threw back her head, wrinkling her nose a little. “Pfft, how rude. I’d have said tense, or maybe punch-drunk.”
Minerva inclined her head to one side gently. “Acceptable,” she conceded, pushing herself out of her slump and onto her feet. Shuffling over to the cabinet she reached up above her head, vertebrae popping pleasantly.
OH GOD NO BUT THAT WOULD BE PERFECT. how did the jedi not think of that?
what is anakin’s biggest weakness? attachments.
you know who needs lots of attachment? babies. small children.
anakin should not have been made to study murder: he should have been put in charge of Small Things. He would have bonded with all of them instantly, and it would have given his life Meaning and Purpose.
He’d bond with the kids, but he’d be able to move on because they are Bigger now and they have to go to the Big Kid Class but he still sees them around all the time, and it finally teaches him how to let go of his attachments??? He’d find a kid that he’s particularly fond of and go to Obi-Wan and say “I have found your newest padawan.”
this could have fixed so. many. things. ;_____;
Heh, and Anakin would keep picking Obi-Wan’s padawans for him, and it would be annoying but damn if he wasn’t right every single time.
BUT CAN YOU
JUST IMAGINE HOW ANNOYED PALPATINE WOULD BE his life would be never-ending
string of trying to get a hold of Anakin (I mean, would Anakin give him a time of day if he can spend it with small kids who absolutely adore him instead?)
he keeps
comming over the years, but it’s always like
BEEP
“Anakin, my
boy, we haven’t seen each other in a while—“
“I’m sorry,
Chancellor, now’s not the best time. I’m tutoring a class.”
BEEP
“My dear
boy, I wonder if we could meet for a chat—“
“Well, it
can’t be this week, we’re going to Ilum, but maybe later…”
BEEP
“Anakin,
I’d like to—“
“I’m
terribly sorry, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan Kenobi answers. The apologetic tone might
be just a tad exaggerated. “Anakin is on a trip with younglings, he
must’ve left his comlink behind accidentally.”
BEEP
“You’ve
reached Anakin Skywalker’s private comlink. Leave the message after the tone.”
BEEP
“It’s such
a shame that Council doesn’t consider sending you on this campaign, considering
the lightsaber skills you demonstrated when I was last visiting the Temple,
Anakin.”
“Thank you,
Chancellor, but this is precisely why I need to stay behind. In fact just the
last week, the Masters decided I should take over some advanced lightsaber
classes, considering senior Padawans accompanying their Masters on the frontlines
need the training. I might take the Bear Clan along, make it a learning
opportunity for the young ones—“
Palpatine
closes his eyes slowly. He knows this from experience; Anakin won’t let himself
be budged from the topic of little monsters for at least another half an hour.
BEEP
“Ah,
Chancellor Palpatine. Anakin left his comlink behind again, he’s in class—“
BEEP
“Anakin, I
hoped you—“
“Oh! Chancellor,”
the voice on the other end is distinctly female, and Palpatine recognizes it after
a second. Kenobi’s second Padawan. He barely restrains the urge to gnash his
teeth. “Um, Skyg—I mean, Master Skywalker can’t pick up now. I can tell him you
called? It’s just that he was helping me with forms, and he forgot his comlink,
and he’s probably already in crèche…”
BEEP
Then there’s
that one time when an actual youngling picks up the call. The less said about his
reaction to that incident, the better.
BEEP
“—fortunately,
they were all right in the end. But in my opinion, this should never happened
in the first place, Chancellor.”
Palpatine
snaps awake. Was that… was that anger? Finally, the hours of listening to
worthless drivel about Jedi younglings paid off.
“My boy, I
absolutely agree,” he begins slyly, but before he can continue, Anakin steamrolls
on.
“I think Jedi
Order is too deeply entwined in the conflict! I honestly don’t think even
senior Padawans should be anywhere near battles, not to mention in command of
GAR, but now even younglings are acceptable targets for Separatists and pirates!
Master Yoda and I were talking about this lately, and—“
Palpatine
swallows a scream of rage with some difficulty.
BEEP
“Forgot his
comlink again, Master Skywalker has. With younglings, he is.”
Slaughtering
younglings moved to the top on the list of things Darth Sidious will do after
taking over galaxy some time ago.
this post keeps getting better and better
Since this post is back on my dash, let me add something I was thinking about lately, which is this Anakin & Obi-Wan #1 page:
More specifically, the last four panels.
Stars
above, just look at this smarmy smile. Mace Windu might be saying “Of
course, Chancellor”, but he’s hard-pressed to think of something he’d like to
agree with less.
“The
Jedi are under the Senate’s judistriction.”
It’s
completely innocent, unremarkable, one hundred percent factually true statement.
It’s also said in the most blandly obnoxious tone one can imagine. A tone which
upon being heard is guaranteed to have blood pressure of the recipient going through
the roof.
(You could
find Master Windu in the Room of Thousand Fountains a few hours later. (“The
Jedi are under the Senate’s judistriction.”) You wouldn’t know it by
looking at him, but he’d be meditating away a very un-Jedi-like urge to rip a
certain graying head off.)
A few weeks
pass. Mace manages to put this unfortunate conversation out of his mind almost entirely.
He’s sitting together with Yoda, discussing everyday Order matters.
“Visit us
again, Chancellor will,” Yoda notes after they schedule a joint training
exercise for Padawans for tomorrow.
(“The
Jedi are under the Senate’s judistriction.”)
(”Send
him to me.”)
Windu
stares at his flimsiplast with unseeing eyes for a moment, carefully releasing
sudden spike of annoyance into the Force, before turning to the
Grandmaster.
“There are
still few mission to assign,” he remarks noncommittally.
(The next
day, Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker are on a transport to some swampy
planet in Mid-Rim. They both privately wonder why Master Windu is pissed off at
them; they both for once finding their consciences clear; they both arrive at
the inevitable conclusion that the other must be at fault; and they both decide
magnanimously to not embarrass their companion by asking what the hell they did.)
Mace Windu
absolutely does not let this petty act of revenge completely justified assignment
buoy his mood during next meeting with Chancellor (and several after that).
A month
passes, then another.
One sunny
afternoon, strolling through the Temple halls, Mace Windu happens upon
unwelcome visage of Chancellor Palpatine.
“Chancellor,”
he stops to greet the politician. His voice has just the right amount of polite
inquiry in it, and no one would know that somewhere deep in his soul, a more punctuated
question echoes. What the kriff are you doing here.
“Master
Windu,” the Chancellor replies, and no one knows this either, but he’s not
stopping just to make small talk with the Jedi. The rules of propriety and
social niceties are last thing on his mind, because a vanishingly rare
opportunity for someone in his position just presented itself.
It’s the
opportunity to gloat.
It’s a
little thing, really, but it counts.
“I’m just
on my way to meet Anakin,” he smiles. “Since my schedule isn’t full for once.”
A Jedi Master
of Mace Windu’s caliber has too much poise to let his eye twitch.
“Isn’t he
in class?” Mace inquires. Wouldn’t it just be wonderful, if Skywalker was busy right this minute.
“I wouldn’t
presume to interrupt him then! No, I commed ahead and Anakin told me his
afternoon is free.”
Jedi accept
both victory and defeat with the same serene dignity, for reveling in either is
not their way. Thus Master Windu inclines his head slightly, says “I see,” and
bids the Chancellor a good afternoon.
(“The
Jedi are under the Senate’s judistriction.”)
Those words
most definitely did not haunt Mace Windu, for he did not lay awake this night,
did not curse Anakin Skywalker for handing out his private comm number to
politicians, and did not wonder what other activities beside gossiping with
Chancellor of the Republic he could assign to arrogant Padawans with far, far
too much time on their hands (he checked Skywalker’s schedule; the boy indeed ought
have been in afternoon class, if not for the fact that he tested out of it).
Well,
alright, maybe he did. But only for a few moments, before letting the Force
carry away the irritation, trusting that the cosmic energy would help him to
realize how incredibly unimportant is his dislike of Chancellor Palpatine’s
overbearing need to poke his nose into Jedi matters in general and training of
Anakin Skywalker in particular.
His trust
is rewarded the very next day.
It is well
known fact that Master Yoda is fond of younglings. Crechemasters have the
unspoken permission to bother him at any time of they with matters concerning
the little ones. Request for advice, reports about Yoda’s favorites, inquires
about Knights and Padawans who might be free to help out—it’s a background
noise whenever Mace accompanies the Grandmaster, which is most of the time.
“…they were
delighted with Padawan Secura, it’s a shame she and Master Vos had to leave so
urgently. Perhaps we can repeat this sometime later.”
“Oh?” Mace
interrupts the Crechemaster unexpectedly. “Why not have one of other Padawans
currently in Temple do it?”
“Do you
have someone in mind, Master Windu?”
It’s the
Will of the Force.
Master
Windu knows this, because it sings triumphantly around him as he discovers that
serendipitously known to him schedule of a particular Padawan—who tragically
missed out on the magic of crèche experience due to his unusual circumstances—complements
the Crechemaster’s plans perfectly in a way that leaves no time for visits from
entitled politicians.
“Yes. Yes,
I do,” Mace replies and puts Anakin Skywalker down for youngling-sitting duty
for the foreseeable future with a sense of job well-done.
This AU idea came from a conversation with @tcf-dendral in which I said that Obi-Wan is always randomly finding things of massive import (who happens to discover an already-paid-for clone army of 3 million and then stumbles into a droid army hiding in the Outer Rim? seriously) that if he hadn’t been on Tatooine with Qui-Gon and Padme, they probably wouldn’t have found Anakin at all. And then Dendral said that he didn’t play any particularly important role while on Tatooine, anyway, and I was like, well, Qui-Gon couldn’t very well just leave him on Naboo, he’s his Padawan.
…BUT WHAT IF HE DID?
So, TPM AU where instead of going with Qui-Gon and the Queen to Coruscant, Obi-Wan stays behind on Naboo, to provide support for the people in any way he can while they’re under siege. He ends up, of course, stumbling into the underground resistance movement and joins them. (Qui-Gon is Not Impressed when he finds out later. “You led another resistance movement?”
“I didn’t!” Obi-Wan protests, quickly re-holstering the blaster he had been using in lieu of his lightsaber because they couldn’t let the Trade Federation know that there was a Jedi there helping out the Naboo people.
“Like all the other times you “didn’t” lead a resistance movement or fight in a war?”
“I didn’t do those either! Didn’t you read my reports on those incidents that I submitted to the Council, Master?”
Qui-Gon sighs.)
Meanwhile, since magnet-for-trouble Obi-Wan isn’t with Qui-Gon and the Queen, they actually have a smooth trip back to Coruscant. She presents her suit to the Senate, they decline to help her, and she returns to Naboo determined to use military force to break the blockade.
Maul is still goes to confront Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan but since there’s no tension between them, they’re able to work together and defeat him. Qui-Gon doesn’t die. Obi-Wan still gets Knighted.
On his first solo mission, Obi-Wan’s ship crash lands on Tatooine.
I LOVE THESE TAGS. You have made my whole week with these tags. YES TO ALL OF THIS.
I’m grinning so hugely, you have no idea. This would happen lol – Obi-Wan is just a magnet for trouble in every form. And Anakin absOLUTELY has a tendency to fixate on the individuals he is infatuated with/cares about and become unhealthily jealous of their every interaction with other beings. At least in this scenario, he has a more stable childhood and still has his mother both for emotional support and to help keep him in line.
#ANAKIN HATES THE SITH THEY MAKE HIS BOND WITH OBI-WAN ALL JANGLY (@themikeymonster) – OK, but tell me that’s how they find out Palpatine’s a Sith, y/y? Palpatine doesn’t know Anakin’s Force sensitive since he never became a Jedi or got called the Chosen One + Anakin has incredible shielding after spending all those years on it (look, he was trying to impress Obi-Wan, OK?!!), so when Anakin ends up alone in the same room with Palpatine by accident, Palpatine doesn’t bother shielding too hard. And Anakin, what with his ridiculous force strength, immediately recognizes that there’s something off with his bond with Obi-Wan. Which obviously means Sith. Again.
Cue him asking Obi-Wan via their Super Strong Force Bond™, “What’s happened, are you OK, do I need to come rescue you again? Just say the word and I’ll –”
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and cuts off his friend’s frantic babbling. “I’m fine, Anakin. I’m sitting in my quarters at the Temple drinking a cup of tea.”
“But then why…?”
And that’s when the proverbial lightbulb comes on.
Anakin was also motivated to perfect his shielding because Obi-Wan used to sneak up on him all the time to pour glasses of water/sand over his head or just shout and startle the life out of Anakin and then laugh himself silly. Anakin could never reciprocate because Obi-Wan always sensed him coming. Until one day he finally perfected his shielding to the point that Obi-Wan didn’t feel him sneaking up on him and Anakin splashed a bucket of water at his back and cackled when Obi-Wan yelped. (This was before Anakin grew to be taller than Obi-Wan. And he’s come a long way to be able waste water like that and not feel like someone was going to die because of it.) That was the only time he could pull off that prank. But he’ll always remember Obi-Wan smiling at him, hair and robes soaked and dripping with water. “Alright, you got me good, Anakin. Now keep up that shielding.”
Anyway, but yes, that is totally how they find out about Palpatine. Obi-Wan tells Anakin to get out of there “and don’t let on that you know about him.” The Jedi and certain trusted Senators work together to figure out Palpatine’s scheme and plan a surgical strike to take him out. (It’s successful, the war ends, and everyone gets to work on rebuilding and detangling the mess that Palpatine mired them in.)
I like things neatly wrapping up as much as anyone, but I’m also thinking like … This is Anakin we’re talking about here. Even an Anakin who is a fairly well adjusted civilian is … still Anakin. This Anakin has never had any personal run-ins with the Sith, and more importantly, has probably never realized entirely how dangerous Obi-Wan’s lifestyle is.
I’m thinking Anakin realizing that Palps is a Sith and being like
(ง’̀-‘́)ง
I can take him
No Ani, no you can not just take him. Get away from there.
Anakin just constantly demanding to be let in on the plans to get Palps like let me help, I can do it! He’s always been in a bad mood over the fact that Obi-Wan spends so much time in danger, but having come so close to the instigator of all that trouble, he’s just constantly let me at ‘em!
can’t fight every politician
You bring up some really good points! Anakin totally would go off half-cocked when he realizes who Palpatine is. His head may not have been filled with all that Chosen One prophecy nonsense but he’s still protective of those he loves and would take on anyone for them. But here, Anakin’s never been trained to use the Force offensively so it’s not what he automatically turns to in a fight. Instead, I’m imagining Anakin trying to throw himself physically at the Chancellor on impulse. The guards get to him before he makes contact and arrests him, then throws him in prison overnight. The Chancellor thinks he’s just one of the anti-war protesters who managed to get into the Senate building somehow so he doesn’t pay him any mind. Dex and Shmi have to come bail him out and he’s banned from the Senate building. (And he’s probably gonna have to go to trial for it because trying to attack the Chancellor, even with just fists, would be considered a pretty big crime.)
He goes to the Temple and crashes one of the strategy meetings. Most of the Jedi there are like ‘wtf, how did you get into this war room? it’s locked with the Force and only a Jedi can open it.’ and Obi-Wan’s just like ‘uh, this is a friend of mine. he’s Force sensitive but untrained. we may have Force bonded.’
More on the topic of Anakin+water under the cut because this is getting long.
I love this. But what has Qui Gon Jinn being doing this whole time? Apart of missing Obi Wan like ALL THE TIME. He would just be in a diplomacy mission, that is going flawlessly well for the first time in a DECADE and just, turn his head to the left to tell Obi wan to be prepared bc all is probably going to go to shit and- there’s no one there. So he concentrates to the mission and ignores the hole in his chest and ALL IS GOING WELL LIKE THERE’S NOT SECRET PLOT, NO SECRET ARMY, NO PREBUSCENT BOYS RECRUITING HIS PADAWAN and Qui Gon just- ‘Uh, this is what normal feeled like’ And at the end of the mission he’s reporting for the council feeling so unsatisfied that it couldn’t be shielded so the council ask and Qui Gon responds ‘It was just to prefect. It’s highly suspicious’ And Master Windu just can’t with that guy.
LMAO and YES TO ALL OF THIS. I love it. I’ve been sitting here cackling like you have no idea. This is the best. Qui-Gon all perplexed like “is this what missions used to be like? is this what missions are like for other Jedi? they…actually…turn out fine?” There are no more “helpless” creatures finding him and following him, no more being chased through jungles or getting into planetary wars (which in a way is good because he is getting older but he’s also so so bored). Obi-Wan meanwhile is traveling the galaxy getting adopted by wild creatures left and right, starting and putting out literal and metaphorical fires, getting his missions done but also getting side-tracked and taking care of a bunch of random things along the way. He keeps bringing lifeforms he’s found back to Coruscant and the Temple.
Years later, when the clone wars start, absolutely no one is surprised to learn that Obi-Wan was the one to discover both armies. Oh, and at some point, Obi-Wan somehow encounters Boga and she adopts him and follows him home because I love her and need her to be in in this world in some way. But how will she and Ri-Lara get along??? Where will all of them live???
Well at one point The jedi council will just go ‘The hell With it, this place is pretty big and these weird EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND LOVESICK creatures just keep coming in, let’s just give The guy a wing. Or sth
And of course Oboga wan happens. Their relationship is just to precious to not to. And she and Ri-Lara would be that pair of old ladies that bitches about everyone (more anakin than anybody bc hating him is just a must if Obi Wan adopts you. Like that Assaj. She still hasn’t join them, but they have time) and knew each other since diapers
Also, meanwhile everyone is frEAKING about Obi wan’s terrible luck he is obvious. Just doing extraordinary things everyday like a normal thing to do, you know? Sure that two days of secret-planet-with-secret-clone-army-and-grandmaster-turncloack was a little intense, but he’s pretty sure he started a cult in Tatooine somehow and Jawa The Hutt still comns him to curse him un huttese (Anakin didn’t aprove, so he insulted back- The argument lasted five hours. There were even breaks) sometimes so, yes, he just basically tales everything in stride (He swears The rest just like to exagerate. Really. It’s sweet that they worry about him that much though) Oh. And there’s The sith. Somehow -and no, he can’t figure out why- every darksider he mets ends up slighty obsessed With him. Just because. (And then there’s Anakin Skywalker and Qui Con Jinn ‘let’s go to al missions together. Like a team’ Obi Wan loves them, really, but don’t they realize that they’re both a giant, glowing, DANGER MAGNET!??)
Oooh, yes, I like the idea of Obi-Wan getting a whole wing of the Temple to himself. I was thinking he’d have to move to a planet with a more natural environment for for Boga and Ri-Lara. But a whole wing, probably on the same floor as the gardens, would work quite nicely. That whole area becomes a playground for those two; soon, all the Jedi start avoiding it and they get used to hear roars and crashes coming from there during the day. And sometimes pitiful wailing when Obi-Wan’s gone for too long on a mission. Those are somehow the worst.
Anakin’s going to have to strike up a truce with them if he wants to marry Obi-Wan (and he still does). He adds a phase to his plan: Befriend the Terrors.
And haha, one day Ventress shows up at the Temple and Jedi are scrambling for their lightsabers and then Mace notices that she hasn’t lit hers. She’s just calmly standing there, arms crossed and one brow raised and Mace sighs and is like “let me guess, you’re looking for Kenobi?” She gives a short nod and he has her escorted to Obi-Wan’s wing, secretly hoping that one of Obi-Wan’s feral pets will eat her. (They don’t, they quite like her.)
Someone else on tumblr pointed out that PASSENGERS might have been a more
meaningful movie if it was about just THE ONE person dealing with being
alone on the ship for the rest of their life. And if, to cope, they go
through and make it a point to learn everything they can about all of the other
people on the ship.
And I just keep thinking about this idea.
There are
4999 other people on that ship and what if the protagonist spent the
remainder of their life (and they do live their full life) learning about each of them.
They took an
interest in their hobbies so that they could have some sort of
connection to them.
As their sanity flexed in an effort to cope, they could have had these really involved
imaginary conversations with the crew about their interests. And by the end
of their natural life they will have known everything they could have ever known
about these other 4999 people.
…
AND THEN THE REST OF THEM WAKE UP. And they have some
90 odd years of security footage of this one crew member talking to each of them in turn. And it goes far beyond ‘I have figured out how to cook that one dish you were struggling with’ or ‘I have readTHE SILMARILLION at your suggestion and Jesus Christ I have thoughts about it.’
They actually start making connections between all of the crew.
Like ‘You like bugs! You should totally talk to Cindy! She’s an entomologist!’
Or ‘Did you know that you and Said’s grandfathers were both in the same infantry?’
Or ‘You and Jamie are both avid bee keepers and I think you need to meet.’
Or ‘I know you’re really struggling with this, but Aneesha said she went the exact same thing and I think talking to her can help.’
And because all of these crew members are watching the videos that have been individually addressed to them (Because why not? They’re colonizing. There’s not a lot yet available by way of entertainment) they sort of start talking to each other at the Protagonist’s suggestion. And within a year they are THE MOST unified interconnected colony of any of the colonies because this one crew member broke the ice for them a lifetime ago.
Several of them are engaged.
Two are about to have children named after the Protagonist.
…
AND BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS EVERYONE NOW they notice when one week a crew member isn’t out and about and no one can get in touch with them. So finally somebody goes to check and they find them huddled in a ball and mourning.
Because Protagonist is dead.
And the other people are like: ‘Yes. We know. This is literally the first thing we knew about them.’
But Mourner is like: ‘You don’t understand. I got to the end.’
And then everyone realizes that the mourner has basically been BURNING through all of the videos Protagonist has addressed to them and got to the last one they made to them before they died. And Protagonist left a final message for each of them.
Suddenly everyone’s having a real frank conversation with themselves about how fast they’re going through their videos and if they’re prepared to keep going at that rate and get to the end, or if they should put it off indefinitely.
And one by one, in time, each of them realizes they can’t put it off. Not only are they invested in the end, but they care enough about Protagonist to really acknowledge their death.
Each crew member does this at their own pace. It becomes a rite of passage of sorts. And Protagonist is given some sort of proper memorial so the colonists all have a place to go when their time comes to grieve.
…
BUT BEFORE EVERYONE GETS TO THE END, someone has started noticing how Protagonist treated the robots on the ship over the years. And surprise, surprise, Protagonist named all the robots too and treated them like individuals depending on their quirks. So now someone has finally solved the mystery of why droid 808 insists on being called ‘Bob,’ and why 239 knows ASL, and why the auxiliary robots are so salty about nobody ever being able to tell them apart.
Not only that, but security logs shows that the robots were about 19% more efficient when Protagonist was alive than they are now. And THE VERY SECOND the rest of the crew starts observing the same habits Protagonist used in treating these robots ALL OF THAT EFFICIENCY COMES RIGHT BACK.
Because they missed Protagonist too.
…
And things settle. Everyone thinks they’ve reached the end of Protagonist’s surprises.
…
THEN THEY ARE FINALLY ABLE TO START TRANSPORTATION BETWEEN THEMSELVES AND THE OTHER COLONIES.
And a visiting party shows up.
The visitors are surprised to see HOW WELL everyone on this colony is getting along, because, wow, people are civil where they come from but GODDAMN.
And one of these visiting members is really excited to see their sibling.
And ‘Oh, that’s so nice! Who is it?’
And then the visiting member says a name every single person on this colony knows.
The colonists have to tell them what happened to their sibling, Protagonist.
But they also HAVE to tell the sibling what knowing Protagonist MEANT to them. And what Protagonist knowing THEM, meant to them.
And it’s sad.
The colony pretty much wholesale adopts Protagonist’s sibling as a part of their family because they don’t know what else they can do to fill that void. But just in case, they give the Protagonist’s sibling THE ENTIRETY of Protagonist’s security footage. Because there is 90 years of it and that way they can carry their sibling with them for the rest of their life even if only in video.
And then the colonists think:
‘This. This was the end of Protagonist’s story. And this was a good a proper way to observe it.’
…
AND THEN ONE DAY A SHIP SHOWS UP THAT IS NOT LIKE ANY SHIP THE COLONISTS HAVE EVER SEEN.
And the people driving it aren’t human.
They speak English and passable French. They can chicken scratch Urdu, Mandarin, and Swahili.
Everyone is stunned and wants to know ‘why…?’ and ‘how…?’
And the aliens are just, like, ‘Oh. Protagonist. We ran into them while you were in space. They told us you’d be settling here and asked that we check up on you whenever we were rolling by this quadrant next.’
‘They were really nice. Taught us English. Gave us the files on a couple of your other popular languages as well just to be safe. How’s the colonizing going anyway?’
And everyone thinks back to THAT ONE MONTH of security footage where Protagonist was NIGH IMPOSSIBLE to find. And when they finally did come back to their normal routine they were really quiet and thoughtful for about a week before really getting back to themselves.
The linguists all suddenly remember that IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THAT REALLY WEIRD MONTH, Protagonist had a new coded language saved to their personal affects and was very insistent that they LEARN IT. ‘FOR REASONS.’
And very quietly, the entire colony makes peace with the fact that Protagonist established a very successful first contact while they were all asleep.
My favorite thing ever is how Ron just sent Charlie a random letter like “hey yo there’s an illegal dragon at hogwarts, could you come and smuggle it out of here, please?” and Charlie was just like “yeah sure, I’ll trespass into the castle and steal a dangerous magical creature, of course, lemme just hit up my friends”
It’s better if you imagine Charlie and co as a group of Grad Students trying to avoid their other responsibilities.
Charlie is drunkenly revising the third draft of his thesis on proper care and feeding of greenhorns when his family owl slams into the window.
Three of his friends jump and look around. Glinda doesn’t raise her head from her folded arms; only groans, “Is that Baines coming to do me in?”
Charlie totters to the window and fetches Errol from the window pane. “No such luck,” he says. “You’re still going to have to take the exam.” After some consideration, Charlie lays him on a clear patch of floor to recover. “Do owls take firewhiskey?” he asks the room at large.
“It’s not fair,” Glinda wails into the tabletop. “I swear he didn’t say anything about Bridgewort’s handling practices when we did the review in class.”
“Oh, Merlin,” says Ali, freezing over their notes like a Medusa wyvern had bitten them. “Oh, Merlin’s sweet saggy socks. Is he covering Bridgewort?”
“That’s what he said when I went to his office hours.” Glinda sits up. “You know his lapdragon singed my new sweater?!”
Charlie decides not to give Errol a nip of whiskey. Flying under the influence is really not done. He unties the letter from Errol’s leg. Ron’s childish spiky handwriting spells out Charlie’s name on the front. Inside is a hastily scrawled message.
“Yes, we know it ruined your sweater,” snaps Ysabelle. “You told us twenty times. Why didn’t you tell us Baines told you we’re going to be tested on Bridgewort?”
“I meant to,” says Glinda. “Sorry.” She flicks her pile of notes. “I was lost in the miasma of gloom and desperation.”
Ali puts their head back and groans. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna say ‘fuck it’ and just fucking walk into a dragon’s mouth so I don’t have to do this.”
“Hey,” says Charlie. They don’t hear him.
“How much is this worth again?” Glinda asks her bottle of butterbeer.
“Twenty-five percent,” Ali and Ysabelle chorus. Ysabelle adds, “and the thesis is fifty percent of our total grade.”
“Hey!” Charlie repeats. They look at him. He waves Ron’s letter. “My littlest brother at Hogwarts has an illegal dragon he needs to get off campus. Anybody up for a midnight flight?”
Ali slams their hands down on the table and stands up. “Fuck yes,” they say decisively. “Maybe I’ll fly into the Whomping Willow and die a quick death.”
*wades cautiously into the wank-infested waters of Fan Discourse, pulls out megaphone*
AS FANFIC IS PRODUCED FOR FREE, IT’S KIND OF SHITTY TO COMPLAIN ABOUT ITS LITERARY QUALITY OR THE FREQUENCY OF UPDATES. THESE ARE COMMERCIAL EXPECTATIONS THAT CAN’T BE FAIRLY APPLIED TO WORKS CREATED AT AND FOR NO COST.
THAT BEING SAID:
AS FANFIC IS PUBLISHED FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION, IT’S KIND OF DISINGENUOUS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT READERS HAVING CRITICAL REACTIONS TO THE CONTENT. CRITICISM IS A LITERARY REACTION THAT CAN’T BE FAIRLY DENIED ON THE BASIS OF WHETHER OR NOT THE WORK COST MONEY.
THAT BEING SAID:
REGARDLESS OF WHETHER A WORK IS COMMERCIAL OR FANNISH, GOING OUT OF YOUR WAY TO SEND HATE OR CRITICISM DIRECTLY TO THE AUTHOR IS A DICK MOVE. YOU CAN DISCUSS THE CONTENT, MERITS AND/OR FAILINGS OF A GIVEN WORK WITHOUT THE NEED TO MAKE THEM AWARE OF YOUR FEELINGS. EVEN WHEN A WORK IS CREATED COMMERCIALLY, CREATORS ARE NOT BEHOLDEN TO THE PREFERENCES OF INDIVIDUAL FANS, NOT LEAST OF ALL BECAUSE THIS IS A PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE STANDARD FOR ANYONE TO MEET. SOME WRITERS ARE HAPPY TO BE MADE AWARE OF CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IN WHATEVER FORM, BUT MANY EXPRESS A PREFERENCE NOT TO SEE ANY, OR PREFER TO DO SO ONLY AT CERTAIN TIMES. IF YOU’RE NOT SURE, ASK FIRST. THIS IS BASIC COURTESY, BOTH PERSONALLY AND PROFESSIONALLY.
THAT BEING SAID:
SOME INTERACTIVE ONLINE SPACES – SUCH AS AO3, GOODREADS AND TUMBLR – ARE FAIRLY USED AND INHABITED BY BOTH CREATORS AND READERS. AS THESE SITES ENCOURAGE READER RESPONSES AND COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT VIA COMMENTS, REVIEWS AND REBLOGS AS A BASIC FUNCTION, IT’S GROSSLY UNREALISTIC FOR CREATORS POSTING IN THESE SPACES TO EXPECT TO ENCOUNTER ZERO CRITICISM EVER. SOMEONE EXPRESSING ABUSE OR UNWANTED COMMENTARY DIRECTLY TO A CREATORIS NOT THE SAME AS READER/READER ENGAGEMENT TAKING PLACE WHERE THE CREATOR CAN SEE IT. YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY AS TO WHERE THAT LINE EVENTUALLY BLURS, BUT THE POINT IS THAT IT DOES BLUR AS A MATTER OF COURSE, AND THAT THIS IS A FEATURE RATHER THAN A BUG – ONE THAT WE ALL HAVE TO LEARN TO NAVIGATE.
THAT BEING SAID:
THE FACT THAT SOMEONE HAS WRITTEN SOMETHING THAT YOU FIND QUESTIONABLE, IMMORAL OR OTHERWISE AWFUL DOESN’T MEAN THE CREATOR SHOULD LOSE THE RIGHT TO CREATE MORE THINGS, OR THAT SUCH WORKS OUGHT TO BE ILLEGAL. YOU ARE WITHIN YOUR RIGHTS TO OFFER UP CRITICISM OF THE WORK ITSELF, THE TROPES IT EMPLOYS AND THE CONTEXT OF THEIR USAGE, BUT THE PROBLEM WITH ADVOCATING FOR THE TOTAL BAN OF PARTICULAR TYPES OF CONTENT IS THAT FICTION IS INHERENTLY LIMINAL. GIVEN THAT DEPICTION DOES NOT EQUAL ENDORSEMENT AND THE FACT THAT THE IMPACT OF A NARRATIVE IS ULTIMATELY DETERMINED BY THE INDIVIDUAL READER, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BAN ALL STORIES WHICH USE “IMMORAL” DEVICES UNCRITICALLY WITHOUT SIMULTANEOUSLY BANNING STORIES WHICH EXAMINE AND ACKNOWLEDGE THEM IN DIFFERENT WAYS, AND THAT’S BEFORE YOU TRY TO GET A ROOMFUL OF PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT COUNTRIES, CULTURES AND BACKGROUNDS TO AGREE ON WHAT “IMMORAL” MEANS IN FICTIONAL CONTEXTS IN THE FIRST PLACE, WHICH DEFINITION IS NEVER GOING TO OVERLAP PERFECTLY WITH WHAT “IMMORAL” MEANS TO THE SAME PEOPLE IRL.
THAT BEING SAID:
THE FACT THAT FANFIC IS FREQUENTLY WRITTEN IN THE SPIRIT OF NARRATIVE COUNTERCULTURE DOESN’T STOP IT FROM CONTRIBUTING TO THE SPREAD OF TOXIC TROPES OR STEREOTYPES THAT ARE ALSO PRESENT IN MAINSTREAM CULTURE AND/OR COMMERCIAL MEDIA. DEPICTION IS NOT ENDORSEMENT, BUT IT IS PERPETUATION, AND THE FACT THAT SOMETHING WAS WRITTEN FOR FREE DOES NOT MAGICALLY BALANCE ITS POTENTIAL NEGATIVE IMPACT AT EITHER AN INDIVIDUAL OR COLLECTIVE LEVEL. WRITING FIC IS OFTEN DESCRIBED AS A HOBBY, BUT AS IT IS LARGELY A SHARED ACTIVITY UNDERTAKEN WITHIN A DEDICATED COMMUNITY, IT IS A PUBLIC HOBBY, AND CAN THEREFORE POTENTIALLY IMPACT MORE PEOPLE THAN JUST THE INDIVIDUAL WRITER. KNITTING IS ALSO A HOBBY IN WHICH INDIVIDUALS CAN INVEST A GREAT DEAL OF TIME AND FEELING – AND, INDEED, MONEY – BUT IF SOMEONE IN YOUR KNITTING CIRCLE STARTED BRINGING IN SWEATERS THEY’D MADE EMBLAZONED WITH RACIST SLOGANS, THE IMPACT OF THIS ACT ON OTHER GROUP MEMBERS WOULD NOT BE AMELIORATED BY THE REMINDER THAT ‘IT’S A HOBBY’. IF THIS IS A VIABLE DEFENCE, IT IS A DEFENCE THAT CAN BE USED EQUALLY BY THOSE WHO WANT TO ACT WITHOUT CONSIDERATION FOR OTHERS IN THEIR COMMUNITY AND THOSE WHO WISH TO ENJOY THAT COMMUNITY WITHOUT FEAR OF BEING PERSONALLY DISPARAGED, AND IS THEREFORE LESS A DEFENCE IN EITHER CASE THAN A STATEMENT OF FACT WITH NO ACTUAL BEARING ON HOW TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM.
IN CONCLUSION:
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN GOOD MANNERS, PERSONAL POLITICS AND FREEDOM OF SPEECH IS A COMPLEX ONE. IN THE WHOLE OF HUMAN HISTORY, NOBODY HAS YET SOLVED IT TO THE PERFECT SATISFACTION OF ANYONE OTHER THAN THEMSELVES, AND WHILE THAT DOESN’T MEAN THERE ISN’T A BETTER SOLUTION TO BE HAD IN THE FUTURE, I GUARANTEE THAT NEITHER CREATIVE ISOLATIONISM NOR BLANKET CENSORSHIP WILL GET US THERE, BECAUSE THE ONE THING BOTH THOSE POSITIONS SHARE IS FEAR OF CRITICAL ENGAGEMENT WITH A PERSON WHO DISAGREES WITH YOU, WHICH IS THE ONE THING YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED IN ORDER TO PROGRESS A DISCUSSION PAST WHATEVER STALLED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE.
*flings megaphone into the distance, dons portable sharkcage, wades irritably back to dry land*
I have these Native American reenactments in the summer, okay. We dress in authentic Native garb and go teach about our culture and whatnot at historical events. There’s this one on a weekend that housed all reenactors from Ancient Greece to World War II–you can walk through a timeline of living history. It’s cool.
So there are these guys in a tent on the far hill called the Scottish Highlanders. They bring about two to five people to their thing per year. They do all the good medieval Scottish jazz. Kilts, weapons, challenging you to fights.
But theres this one guy that is there every time. I always go visit to hear him give in depth talks about Scottish Reavers and their malitia and weaponry and stuff. He’s fun, so I go talk to him and he’s asking about what school I’m going to, what I want to do, etc.
So I tell him I want to be a history teacher and I like to write. He asks me if I have anything published, and I say no, thinking he means an actual book. But he waves me off and asks, “No, online. Have you ever heard of Fanfiction.net?”
Let me explain a thing. This guy. Is well over six feet. His biceps are bigger than my head, he’s about 45 years old, he has the thickest Scottish accent you’ve ever witnessed, he can wave two axes around like nobody’s business, he usually resolves friendly arguments with full on battle in armor with real weaponry with the scars to prove it, and he kind of has a biker gang.
And this guy starts telling me about the 700 page Doctor Who fanfiction that he’s been writing for six years and still running.
Shamelessly continues to explain how he gets together with his badass biker buddies and they ride to his house with bottles of Jack Daniels and talk about the next fanfiction that they’re going to write together. (More Doctor Who, Xena Warrior Princess, Agents of Shield, Lord of the Rings…) They dare each other to write crossovers for interesting character interaction. This guy raves with excitement over character development and analysis.
I cried.
By the way
Here he is. Mike. In his Scottish glory.
Here he is with his buddy, Bear.
Here he is with his buddy Bear and me.
And here he is holding an ax to my throat.
I LOVE THIS. The perils of a site like Tumblr which is dominated by people under 30 (not on my dash, though, but that’s what demographics insist is true) is they genuinely don’t think anyone older has any interests in common with them. I feel like Livejournal was more varied in this regard, though again, my flist on LJ had all ages on it, so maybe it was just me. The only over 40s they know are the adults in positions of authority like parents and teachers, and surely Mom and Mr. W the Chem teacher have never heard of fan fiction or have the least interest in anything on the interwebs. A kid at work (I work at a university) who I jokingly called a meme lord once told me I needed to stop learning such things from my kid – who is 11 and basically uses the internet to watch Minecraft videos on YouTube, but of course she must be the one teaching me all these modernfangled intertoob things!
I admit though that I have fallen into the stereotype that fandom is all women, because that’s been my experience by far; I think the number of male-identified people I’ve come across in my various fandoms wouldn’t pass the single digits. But that’s probably due to the nature of my reading and the way I curate my dash. Where’s a big ol’ 40 something biker dude who writes Stucky?? Point him out to me and I’ll add him to my dash!
Mike the Doctor Who Scottish badass fills me with hope and love. ❤
okay but what’s his username I want to read a 700 page Doctor Who fan fiction
Steel Phoenix Studios 