In all honesty I wasn’t really a big fan of Vikare, and as nice as it was that he seemed like such a cinnamon roll, I was a little concerned since we both have the same zodiac, and especially with the title of “the revealer,” but I thought more about him, wondering well, why would he even have this strong desire to fly in the first place? Especially since they already have spacecraft….
in the end I realized that he must’ve seen someone fly seen someone most likely with the mutation of wings and wanted to fly himself, and that realization right there led me to honestly adore this boy, I’ve gotten really attached to him and am proud to say we share a sign.
In other news this is going to be my entry this week for the hiveswap comic contest, and whether or not I win anything I’m proud to have done this comic, as the background on the last page is one of my best backgrounds so far, and I’m glad to have gotten connected to this troll even if this isn’t cannon.
There’s something really beautiful about the way Griffin set up the planar system – about where he put us. Bear with me here as I try to articulate it, because—
See, the story takes place on the Prime Material Plane. This plane has magic, because there’s a Plane of Magic that influences the Prime Material Plane. This plane has divine power coursing through it, because there’s a Plane of Gods that influences the Prime Material Plane. It’s got elemental powers in nature and stuff, because there’s an Elemental Plane sending out its energy into the void between planes, influencing the Prime Material Plane. You get the gist.
The Prime Material Plane is at the center, it’s the focus, and so in a way the point of the Plane of Magic is to provide magic, to be magical, to send its magical energy down to the Prime Material. The point of the Elemental Plane is to provide… strength to the elemental forces on the Prime Material, or whatever it is DnD has to say about elemental stuff. The Plane of Gods has actual people living there who are cognizant of the whole system, and from what we’re given to understand, their point is also to influence, by divine intervention, the Prime Material Plane.
I’m sure the gods have their own lives going on in their plane, just as I’m sure the elemental spirits have their own stuff happening and the beings of pure magic or whatever there is on the Plane of Magic have lives of their own. It’s even quite plausible that, other than the gods, they’re generally unaware of the Prime Material Plane – that these elemental beings live their rich and complex lives without ever once being aware that their existence, that the bonds of elemental energy that they create just by being, is what’s powering the elemental forces on the Prime Material Plane.
And that brings us to our plane. Because Griffin put us in there, our world with its elevators and internet, with its complete lack of magic missiles or gods that grant you blossoming wooden arms. Our plane is the Plane of Reason, which is the plane of rational thought and creativity. Our influence, our contribution, is the power of the mind: logic and imagination.
It’s implied (or stated? I don’t remember for sure) that most of the impressive technological advancements we see in the show are from the Millers, who got their ideas from watching our world. It’s implied, too, that just as the existence and influence of the Plane of Magic is what makes it possible to do magic on the Prime Material, the influence of the Plane of Reason is what makes it possible for people on the Prime Material to use logic and imagination.
So what that boils down to is this: The purpose of our world, the whole point of our world, is creation. Our ability to make technological marvels and incredible works of art, our ability to constantly be thinking up new things – that’s what makes us special, that’s our distinguishing feature, that’s what we contribute. We imagine, we invent, we bring ever more new wonders into the world. Every single thing we make, from rocket ships to symphonies to the jokes we come up with to tell our friends – that’s what we’re here to do. That’s the gift we bear, and it’s on a level with magic and nature and the gods themselves. We’re here to create.
just write a diary, it has helped me sooo much and i dare say it has been the most developing thing i’ve done while learning french, nothing else compares
1. you’re exposed to the language daily
2. you quickly see which words are missing from your vocabulary
3. you learn to write about the things you think about a lot
4. learning to actually think in your target language
5. having to look up words and when reading the entry back a couple of days later you can’t even remember which words you didn’t know
6. going back to the earlier entries and seeing all the mistakes and knowing how much better you’ve become
7. when you’ve been writing for a few months and your target language becomes a natural way for expressing yourself
8. when you’ve been writing for a few months and you start seeing the diary writing as a way of self-expression and stressrelief, and the language learning aspect becomes natural and secondary
9. filling out a whole book using only your target language and physically seeing how much you’ve accomplished
it’s all you americans talk about… liminal space this… cryptid that
america is big, we got.,.,.,. its a lot happening here
It’s at least 3,000 miles just from the East Coast to the West, depending on where you start.
If I try to drive from here in Maine to New Mexico, it’s 2,400 miles.
From here to Oregon, 800 miles from my current residence to my relatives in NJ, then another 3,000 miles after that.
A brisk 8 day drive that meanders through mountains, forests, corn fields, dry, flat, empty plains, more mountains, and then a temperate rain forest in Oregon.
The land has some seriously creepy stuff, even just right outside our doors.
There is often barking sounds on the other side of our back door.
At 3 am.
When no one would let their dog out.
It’s a consensus not to even look out the fucking windows at night.
Especially during the winter months.
Nothing chills your heart faster than sitting in front of a window and hearing footsteps breaking through the snow behind you, only to look and not see anything.
I live in a tiny town whose distance from larger cities ranges from 30 miles, to 70 miles. What is in between?
Giant stretches of forests, swamps, pockets of civilization, more trees, farms, wildlife, and winding roads. All of which gives the feeling of nature merely tolerating humans, and that we are one frost heave away from our houses being destroyed, one stretch of undergrowth away from our roads being pulled back into the earth.
And almost every night, we have to convince ourselves that the popping, echoing gunshot sounds are really fireworks, because we have no idea what they might be shooting at.
There’s a reason Stephen King sets almost all his stories in Maine.
New Mexico, stuck under Colorado, next to Texas, and uncomfortably close to Arizona. I grew up there. The air is so dry your skin splits and doesn’t bleed. Coyotes sing at night. It starts off in the distance, but the response comes from all around. The sky, my gods, the sky. In the day it is vast and unfeeling. At night the stars show how little you truly are.
This is the gentle stuff. I’m not going to talk about the whispered tales from those that live on, or close, to the reservations. I’m not going to go on about the years of drought, or how the ground gives way once the rain falls. The frost in the winter stays in the shadows, you can see the line where the sun stops. It will stay there until spring. People don’t tell you about the elevation, or how thin the air truly is. The stretches of empty road with only husks of houses to dot the side of the horizon. There’s no one around for miles except those three houses. How do they live out here? The closest town is half an hour away and it’s just a gas station with a laundry attached.
No one wants to be there. They’re just stuck. It has a talent for pulling people back to it. I’ve been across the country for years, but part of me is still there. The few that do get out don’t return. A visit to family turns into an extended stay. Car troubles, a missed flight, and then suddenly there’s a health scare. Can’t leave Aunt/Uncle/Grandparent alone in their time of need. It’s got you.
Roswell is a joke. A failed National Inquirer article slapped with bumperstickers and half-assed tourist junk. The places that really run that chill down the spine are in the spaces between the sprawling mesas and hidden arroyos. Stand at the top of the Carlsbad Caverns trail. Look a mile down into the darkness. Don’t step off the path. just don’t.
The Land of Entrapment
here in minnesota we’re making jokes about how bad is the limescale in your sink
pretending we don’t know we’re sitting on top of limestone caverns filled with icy water
pretending we don’t suspect something lives down there
dammit jesse now I want to read about the things that live down there
meanwhile in maryland the summer is killing-hot, the air made of wet flannel, white heat-haze glazing the horizon, and the endless cicadas shrilling in every single tree sound like a vast engine revving and falling off, revving and falling off, slow and repeated, and everything is so green, lush poison-green, and you could swear you can hear the things growing, hear the fibrous creak and swell of tendrils flexing
and sometimes in the old places, the oldest places, where the salt-odor of woodsmoke and tobacco never quite go away, there is unexplained music in the night, and you should not try to find out where it’s coming from.
The intense and permanent haunting of a land upon which countess horrors have been visited, and that is too large and wild for us to really comprehend is probably the most intense and universal American feeling.
Personally, I don’t really see anything wrong with giving Luke to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. What else was Obi-Wan gonna do? (He pretty much raised Anakin and look how that turned out, he’s not gonna risk Round 2.) (He could have given both kiddos to Bail and Breha Organa, actually. Luke and Leia Organa is a cool as heck AU.)
I like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. As much as people like to say Luke really is Padme’s son, he didn’t get those morals from her. (Keeping in mind I have read no comics or novelizations, and not seen the Clone Wars TV show) It’s pretty clear that Luke’s iron spine and goodness and refusal to abandon his friends come from his upbringing. Owen and Beru Lars are kinda the Ma and Pa Kent of the Star Wars universe.
And they are Luke’s family. Owen is Shmi’s stepson. Owen and Beru probably knew Anakin’s mother for years. It’s a neat circle, and in some ways it has the feelings of an apology, for Obi-Wan to bring Luke back to his family on Tatooine in the same way that Qui-Gon took Anakin. Obi-Wan can’t undo what’s been done, and he can’t start over, but he can give Luke what the Jedi denied Anakin: a loving family and normal upbringing.
Tatooine is Darth Vader’s home planet? Yeah, sure, but did Anakin ever go back to Tatooine? (Probably once or twice, I’m guessing, in the comics at least.) Darth Vader hates that place. Bad memories. Damn sand would fuck up his suit. He’d burn it all down and then the Hutts are gonna be pissed. And how many people actually know that Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker? Like, about five? (Bail, Obi-Wan, Yoda, R2-D2, and Ahsoka?) Dude is not exactly getting invites to school reunions and the weddings of childhood friends, is all I’m saying.
Even if Darth Vader ever went back to Tatooine, Tatooine is a big place. The Lars Farm is in the middle of nowhere and Obi-Wan is hanging out left of the funky rock five miles past nowhere. Anakin met his stepbrother once in the entire film trilogy and idk if they even exchanged words, much less space e-mail addresses. I kind of doubt that Uncle Owen and Darth Vader are sending each other Life Day e-cards. (That’s really funny, actually.)
Anyway, the point of this rant is that I want you to imagine new parents Owen and Beru Lars caring for toddler Luke, it’s just after Life Day, and someone rings the doorbell. Owen Lars opens up to Darth Vader holding a fruit basket, because he didn’t know what else to do for Life Day and spontaneously decided to visit distant family rather than mope in his Evil Castle again.
(Everything Obi-Wan hoped would never happen, just… happening.)
Owen, after introductions, panicking, “Uh… the suit is… new.”
He has to invite Vader in, because it’s Life Day and how exactly do you tell Darth Vader to fuck off? Then Owen and Beru have a hushed argument in the kitchen while Darth Vader is sitting awkwardly in their living room with a drink that he can’t actually drink but took to be polite. When they come out, they introduce Luke as Luke Whitesun, Beru’s late brother’s kid, which they guess makes Luke… Darth Vader’s… nephew. (They can’t hide him, Vader’s already seen this 2-3 yr old Luke and the house is COVERED in baby and kid stuff.)
And Darth Vader just… fucking falls for it.
And the Lars family has to spend the holidays with Uncle Darth Vader who is super keen to have a step-nephew-in-law. Beru is showing off her cross-stitching to Darth fucking Vader as Luke plays at their feet. Owen is in the kitchen sending a desperate space text to Obi-Wan, who basically has a heart attack on the spot when Owen sends a shitty stealth-pic of Darth Vader on their couch.
Bonus points if the Lars’ don’t even move after this, because Vader left without issue and Uncle Owen afterwards was like, “It turned out fine. I don’t want to move, that’s too much hassle.” So, every major holiday, Luke gets a visit from his Uncle Darth Vader, which works out fine so long as they instigate a “Don’t Talk About Politics” rule when Luke starts getting excited about Rebellions and starts bad-mouthing the Empire (Vader making small talk at a Star Destroyer water cooler to his terrified staff: “Ugh, I’m going to have to debate my liberal 13-yr-old nephew at the dinner table again.”), and Vader even helps with the dishes and stuff, and every time Obi-Wan ages an extra year from stress.
Guys, please, the way this continues is that the general events of the Star Wars universe continue as normal (Leia, having literally just left a space battle: “Darth Vader, the AUDACITY of attacking an innocent diplomatic vessel!”) UNTIL the stormtroopers show up at the Lars Farm. (Luke is desperately chasing down the droids he lost and properly meeting Obi-Wan Kenobi.)
At first, it’s business as usual, y’know? Stormtroopers break down the door and interrogate the occupants and start prepping to burn the place down, and the leader is in the middle of shouting, “TELL US WHERE THE DROIDS A-” when he pauses and just… stares… at the mantlepiece.
Because on the Lars family mantlepiece and walls are, like, a hundred family photos and roughly half of them have Darth Vader in them. There’s Darth Vader wearing a Life Day party hat at a dinner table. There’s Darth Vader holding a toddler and playing with model ships. There’s Darth Vader and a pimply thirteen year old in the stands at the Boonta Eve Classic. There is a cross-stitched pillow on the couch that says OUR FAMILY on it, consisting of a man, a woman, a boy, and Darth fucking Vader.
Stormtrooper Grunt #1: “What… what… what the fuck.”
Aunt Beru, who has HAD it with these guys wrecking her house, already angrily jabbing at their space phone: “I am calling Mr. Vader RIGHT NOW about this.”
Darth Vader, excusing himself from the bridge of his Star Destroyer to take a call from his stepsister-in-law: “Beru. This isn’t a good time-”
Beru: “Well, MAKE TIME, because your stormtroopers broke down our door and tracked SAND all over my nice clean floors and they won’t stop yelling about the droids we just bought! You better have a good explanation for this!”
Darth Vader does not, actually, have a good explanation for this. The stormtroopers can feel his wrath from across the galaxy. It’s a work thing and he’s very sorry and he’ll make the stormtroopers fix their door, but he does really need those droids and could they hand them over, please? He’ll have the Empire compensate them. Yes, he’ll pay them back and send new droids. Yes, kicking doors down is very rude, Beru, you’re absolutely right.
So Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru promise to pick up Luke and the droids, and hop in the spare Landspeeder to go looking for them. Owen is Not Happy to find that Obi-Wan’s given Luke a lightsaber, and Aunt Beru is Not Happy to find out that the Empire’s made some superweapon. Of course they have to get these plans to the Rebellion! Yes, she promised Vader, but he should have told her it was for such a terrible thing! Yes, Owen, they’re all going to Alderaan.
So the Lars family runs away to Mos Eisley and get on the Millennium Falcon to Alderaan, while the stormtroopers are standing around like, “Are they… coming… back???” And Han Solo does not know what the hell is going on or what to do about the Weird Old Wizard talking about “universe-penetrating magic”, or the Grumpy Farmer who keeps trying to fix his “piece of junk” ship that excuse you does not need fixing, or the Sunny Farm Boy waving a light sword around, or the kindly old woman who is currently cross-stitching in his back seat and gossiping with Chewie like he’s not even there.
Later, after the Death Star’s been destroyed, Owen and Beru Lars are now a part of the Rebellion with Luke. Beru sends Darth Vader a piece of fabric in the Space Mail, and it’s the little cross-stitched Vader from her OUR FAMILY pillow who’s been cut out because she’s mad at him. (Except her note says DISAPPOINTED and that’s worse.) Darth Vader is more upset about this than the Emperor being mad at him for the destruction of the Death Star.
just moving along like everyone else 