#he has left some work unfinished (as I am required to do) he acts like he is under fucking attack

[prolibytherium]

Guy at my job has a one sided beef with me and now my emails are a war zone. Trench warfare in the emails. Fire and screaming and etc.

[skyistheground]

Found here through the one Inscryption animatic!

Could you tell more about that AU?

sure thing! i don't develop it much right now but i am really glad you took interest in an old project!

the au is essentially P03 took his charicatures. ocs. uberbot personality matricies and built them bodies to help out around the factory. it was very self indulgent. i also made an au of an au relating to the old data with them (which was slightly implied in that animatic but not a lot)

(the art is a bit old forgive me)

this is the only image i have of them together that isn't whiteboard doodles. i will go from left to right

curator/the archivist

as the title implies. manages the archives. has a lot of busywork and responsibility. the archives is a big room where everything is represented by a file. it's a computer library in physical form

all the responsibility makes them seem like the most calm/patient and.. kinda? it's more that they are good at hiding when they are frustrated. already has a pretty big managerial role with the librarians so will check in on everyone else's work

nexus/g0lly

collects things from the internet, works closely with curator. the glowy bits are projections, including the arm (where the crank would be... opposies w/ p03. it doesn't work btw). the wheel is optional and she can extend it back to float but doesn't because that's less fun. i forgot exactly where the scratch came from?

she has the vibe of p03's younger teenage sister (it did this to himself) and is very whimsical. she doesn't really bother him that much, more afraid of upsetting him than anything. more often bothers the other bots with random things she finds

kodak/the photographer

manages the factory's security system. all of the cameras are his eyes he can tab between. he is also part furnace and can run on biofuel. likes to leave the factory from time to time to go on walks. he cannot float like the first two but walks around on tripod legs

prefers to keep to himself most of the time. he does his job and then takes his breaks walking around in the projector woods. wants to go to the real woods some day but that requires either crossing an ocean or everyone seeing you and how you're clearly not supposed to be there

sketch/unfinished

robot project that p03 started but never finished. it did have an intended job but i honestly forgot. mute/blind unless given a face by someone else. i remembered wanting to redesign it but as it exists now, the cables attach to the ceiling and there's only designated spots it can run around. body is pretty frail (compared to the other bots. it's still metal) so the others are careful

acts animalistic and strange until given a face. then mirrors the personality of whoever it can follow around. it slowly learns over time and one day will have its own personality

the au with the old data i mentioned has to do with my oc k. who is the old data that got pissed p03 backed out of uploading it to the internet so took him over to do it themselves. took over during the unfinished boss fight (in this au not like the actual uberbots themselves did the game thing. since p03 wanted to do that himself) but the takeover was known and alerted for. the exact details of this version of the au are lost on me but here is k as p03

and k as k once they lost (because they were still stopped) and became a permanent addition to inscryption world because they couldn't lose the consciousness she gave himself after possessing a sentient character (yay newer art)

[the-kcm-muggleborn]

Kind For You

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

O/C: Sebastian Sallow x Edwart Thompson x Ominis Gaunt ✨️platonic✨️ (My OC)

Warnings: Swearing like quite a lot

Word count: 1k>

Chapter 2

Part 7

“This was getting uncomfortable.” Sebastian thought. Usually, the three of the boys would talk a lot during potions. Especially with Edwart's tutoring Ominis a bit. This time, nothing. Edwart was silent.

He hasn't been like this since his first day.

Edwart as usual finished all his assigned potions already so he started working on his other school work as Ominis was struggling with his unfinished potion. Sebastian could occasionally notice Edwart looking at Ominis as if considering if he should help him or not. Sebastian got quite the bollock from Ominis in the Undercroft that day. But apparently, he didn't even get the worst of it. Edwart was fuming but he kept his guard. As Sebastian thought he finally started opening up he closed off and stopped speaking entirely. So Sebastian thought it was time to speak with Ominis and convince him to hide his Slytherin pride for five minutes and apologise. Edwart deserves an apology after everything he has confessed to Sebastian.

“Ominis.” Sebastian started wasting no time with his friend. “I know you are angry with me and you have every reason to be. I don't blame you...”

Class finished and Edwart grabbed his things and left as quickly as he could.

Ominis signed. “But..?”

“But.” Sebastian continued. “You have to apologise to Edwart. I don't care if he did something wrong or not. If he angered you too or not. Whatever you've said to him you have to take it back and apologise mate.”

Ominis exhaled deeply and tilted his head to the side. Rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, I am aware I acted quite sharply with him. I tried apologising but he's avoiding me. I will try again soon.”

“Alright. Good.” Sebastian patted him on the shoulder and got up to leave.

“I was wondering.” Ominis suddenly “Did you ever find out what was in that letter he got?”

“Why the sudden interest?” Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I know you two have been talking…”

If Edwart's sleeping schedule was bad before it was almost nonexistent now. “I have two hours before my next class. I should get some work done in the library.” Edwart was just given the Room of Requirement by Professor Weasley and as much as he was using it for brewing potions and growing his plants. He didn't feel comfortable with the artificial air there, he was feeling stuffed. That's why today he wanted to study in the library.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As he finally felt himself getting comfortable behind one of the desks in the corner, he felt himself drift asleep. After a while, he was woken up by careful but heavy steps that woke him up from his moment of peace.

“I- I’m sorry” Ominis's quiet voice spoke. “Did I wake you?”

Edwart thought for a moment. “No. I couldn’t sleep either way. What do you want?”

“I want to apologise,” Ominis said, tilting his head to the side as Edwart stood to his feet.

“Of course you do,” Edwart scoffed bitterly. “Not interested,” he said flatly as he began to gather his things to leave.

“Please.” Ominis stopped him. “I have to fix this. I acted awfully towards you.”

Edwart took an extremely deep breath as he understood Ominis’s pleading. “Sebastian told you, didn't he? Fuck. What are both of your endgames here? To gain my trust and to spill my secrets? To use and hurt me?” Edwart felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes from tiredness and frustration. He was grateful Ominis couldn't see him like this. Edwart took the bridge of his nose with his fingers and let out a shaky breath.

Ominis decided to try something Edwart certainly didn't expect. Gently Ominis put his hand on Edwart’s shoulder as he spoke in a collected voice.

“I made a mistake Edwart. I was frustrated with Sebastian and I took it out on you, that shouldn't have happened. There was no need for threats that night which I apologise for. Sebastian and I aren't playing any games with you. We just want to understand you better. It seems your past is a big piece of who you are. I know it's not easy when people speak about it behind your back. I had experienced it first hand.” Ominis finished still holding his hand on Edwart's shoulder. Edwart sniffled, holding back his tears with every left strength he had.

“I accept your apology.” Edwart finally spoke as Ominis retracted his hand. Edwart already missed that unfamiliar warmth on his shoulder. “I apologise for being so emotional. I am overprotective of my past for a reason. I've done things you see. Things that still haunt me at night. Things I am deeply ashamed of.”

“I think most of us experienced something similar. You are not alone in this.” Ominis tried comforting.

“Of course. I didn't come here to press.” Ominis replied with a shy smile.

“Could we leave it at that? Please.” Edwart said tiredly.

“I know. Thank you for your apology. It meant a lot.” Edwart took a bit of a pause. “I was wondering, why were you so angry at Sebastian?”

“Ah, that! He’s just been pestering me with a favour that’s been getting on my nerves lately. Don’t worry about it."

“I was hoping to see you.” Professor Fig spoke with a smile

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You're back! Oh, it's good to see you.”

“And you. This trip to the Ministry took too long. Minister Spavin talked more than he listened. Ranted on and on about rouge dragons, and wouldn’t listen to a word about goblins. Speaking of which.” Edwart interrupted.

“Listen, Professor. So much happened while you were away…”

Edwart went on explaining what he was up to the past weeks not missing a single thing.

“Why am I not surprised? You’ve done well. How are you doing by the way? Sleeping any better?” Fig asked with concern in his voice.

“Unfortunately not. I uh- got into trouble and Mrs. Robinson sent me an owl talking about revoking my privileges in the summer.” Edwart answered a bit sheepishly.

“Ugh. That nasty woman. I'll try to sort it out for you, but…” Professor Fig held the bridge of his nose as he exhaled.

“But there's a chance it won't do anything. I'm aware. Don't worry about it. Shall we head to the map chamber?” Edwart answered with a smile.

After Edwart was finished with his classes, he said his goodbyes to Sebastian and Ominis as he told them he'll be spending a day with Professor Fig off the school grounds. "Ah! I have to change." Edwart thought. "I'm not going to complete some sort of challenging trial in my school robes." As he threw on an old jumper, he noticed a colourful scarf peaking from his luggage. "Mother's scarf..." he thought as he picked it up with a small smile. Then he took his broom and flew forward San Bakar’s Tower.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Edwart landed, Professor Fig was already waiting.

“That's a fine broom you've got there. How's flying going so far?”

“Not too bad. Seems I’ve gotten the hang of it.”

As Professor Fig and Edwart tried to silently eliminate the hostile goblins but it didn't go as well as planned when one goblin noticed Edwart and decided to attack which started a small explosive battle. When it was quiet again Professor Fig asked in a concerned voice. “Are you alright?”

“I'm okay. I just got burned a little.” Edwart winced and took a swig of Wiggenweld. Both headed forward to the tower door. Finally, they found Professor Rackhams’ Portree, where he gave them directions regarding the first trial.

“This is where I must leave you, I'm afraid. I'll try to research about Goblins. Be careful. I'll meet you back at the map chamber.”

“Of course, Professor.”With that, Edwart turned around to look for the whispers of the ancient magic as Professor Fig disappeared.

It took quite some time to finish the first trial. There was a lot of jumping, climbing, and summoning. When Edwart won against the last guardian, he felt the exhaustion in his bones.

But finally, he made it to the pensive where he studiously watched the memories before returning to the map chamber to meet the Second Professor. Professor Rookwood and to find out he was already preparing a second trial for Edwart.

“I think I have an idea.” Edwart spoke to Professor Fig “Saw Sirona Ryan talking to a friendly goblin in Three Broomsticks. She is trustworthy, I think I should try there first.”

“That's a good idea. I'll keep on researching And I'll let you know if I find anything. Of course, don't neglect your studies. And be careful.”

“Yes, Professor,” Edwart answered with a smile. "See you soon."

<Part 6

MASTERLIST

- - - - - - - - - Author's notes- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Aaaand we are oficially DONE with Chapter 2. Ah Ominis apologising, Edwart cracking under all the pressure and Sebby being a wingman to bring his friends together. And TELL ME, you didn't want to see Eddie in something other than his yellow school robes! I certainly wanted to see that! But don't worry! Chapter 3 is already on the stove cooking for your hungry souls:)

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU, part 26

masterpost     next

Long awaited, written gleefully and then put in a drawer and now half rotten like the poor raspberries in my fridge :( jk jk it’s still good! Maybe not on its own, but if you put it in a smoothie...? This analogy has gotten out of hand-

*****

Damian carefully etched the next line in, following the sweeping curve of the dress as best as he could remember. The page in front of him was a disaster of things half drawn, a hand stretching or an interesting branch of the tree nearest his window, but they’d all been lackluster, and he’d finally admitted to himself that he was still thinking about and worried about Marinette. About what she would say when she chose to speak to him again. And she’d appeared on the page, the way she looked after taking on that first enemy, the hem of her dress already torn and blood streaked, her hands stained but her expression fierce after the man had gone down, the way she’d looked over at him and almost seemed to expect him to be surprised.

He had just finished another swirling flower on the parts of her dress that hadn’t been tarnished when he heard Alfred’s knock.

“Master Damian,” the cool tone of the butler cut across his scattered thoughts. “You are needed in your father’s study. There is someone who would like to speak to you.”

His heart skipped a beat without his consent. Marinette hadn’t texted-

“It is a Mrs. Sabine Cheng.”

He froze. Marinette’s mother. Marinette’s mother who was utterly unknown to him beyond what Marinette had mentioned of her and what he’d found with cursory research on Marinette. “I’ll be there momentarily,” he called back, aware that it was rude of him to not actually open the door and say that to Alfred, but he needed a moment to prepare himself. He’d never had to worry about meeting anyone’s parents before except his own. Not that those instances hadn’t been ordeals- meeting Father was obviously a disaster at first, and anytime he was forced to meet with his mother about anything was unpleasant for just about anyone who knew either of them- but-

He just wasn’t sure what to expect. Especially as she had chosen to come here, to the metaphorical belly of the beast, to request to speak to him.

He stood, shaking out and stretching his hand. The sketch would remain unfinished like the rest, for now.

Alfred wasn’t waiting when he opened the door, but then, dinner was soon. And he certainly did not require an escort. He made his way there, ignoring the fact that Todd was following and interested, completely aware that his siblings would be desperate for any scrap of information they could gather on this meeting. If she was already in Father’s study, she’d spoken to him, but it was not Father who summoned him, it was her. Father had stepped out, then. But dinner would be soon, and Alfred would not allow tardiness, even if his soulmate’s mother had murdered him, so he supposed he might be safe. As long as his siblings kept their noses out once the door shut. And it was Father’s study, so they would, out of deference to him if nothing else.

Todd still might.

He stopped at the closed door. Did he- knock? Walk in? He-

Actually, he realized, he was being panicky and scatterbrained and utterly ridiculous. He rapped once, sharply across the door as a warning before opening it and stepping in, closing it immediately after himself.

Sabine Cheng was short. It was the first thing his brain chose to notice, shorter than Marinette, if only by an inch or so. The same dark hair and kind smile when they weren’t thinking about their expressions. And then she focused on him, her eyes growing slightly colder, the smile more fixed.

He had been scared of this?

He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. “I’m- pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cheng.” That, at least, was not a total lie.

“And I you, Damian,” she smiled softly. Damian kept seeing the way her eyes caught on some of his scars- and the ensuing pity that crossed her face. “You have no idea how pleased I am, to be able to meet you.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her voice was- concerned? Over Marinette, perhaps? She might be faking the softness-

“Of course,” she continued, “Marinette never said anything about her soulmate, but I knew that whoever was waiting for her must be special.”

“I-“ Damian floundered under her kind eyes. How did he deal with this? “Thank you? Your daughter is very special, too.”

“Of course,” Sabine nodded congenially. “Though to be frank, I was worried when she told me you followed her to Paris without her knowledge or consent. But a fine boy like you? I’m sure you had good reason.”

Ah. Her eyes had changed in a split second, from kind and motherly to kind and motherly and colder than a frozen sea. He found himself feeling very small in front of her. And as she said, for good reason.

He could buckle down or he could sit here and do his best not to antagonize Sabine Cheng. And as was quickly becoming easier since the last few days, he opened his mouth and found he actually did want to explain himself.

“I did not go about it as I should have,” he said, bowing his head towards her. A sign of deference. “I acknowledge that I was wrong in how I acted. And I assure you, I am honoring your daughter’s wishes and shall wait for her word.”

Her eyes were narrowed with ill disguised displeasure at him now, and he ran through the words in his head again. What could he have said?

“In the future,” he hurriedly continued, “I will prove myself to be worthy of your daughter-“

“Are you afraid of me, Damian?” Her voice was soft, and he held back the tender memories of Talia, who never spoke to him as such, but would definitely use this voice on those who had displeased her before showing them exactly how wrong they had been.

He smoothed his expression, meeting her eyes. Those, at least, did not seem angry, the way her voice did. “You’re my Soulmate’s mother.”

“So which part scares you?” She stared at him. “The Soulmate part? Or the mother part?”

He felt himself lean back a bit instinctively, less than any conscious choice. But the moment he did, Sabine’s face changed. Her eyes still seemed- conflicted, or concerned, but he realized it was not aimed at him as she nodded very decisively. Or perhaps it was aimed at him, but the conflict went past that. “Well, that’s settled, then. I will need to know, of course, what your favorite pastries are. We’ll be sure to make them when your family comes to Paris,” she smiled at him.

Damian, for all that he kept his face as flat as he could, felt very confused. “I enjoy-“ he blanked. “I’m not sure.”

She patted his face lovingly, a sweet gesture that she almost had to stretch to accomplish. He felt very confused. “We’ll just have to have you try them all, dear. We’ll make some fun out of it.”

He nodded along. “Why aren’t you angrier.” It was blunt, and definitely less of a question and more of a demand, but Damian did not want to be confused or emotional or anything anymore and Sabine was not helping in that quest and returning briefly to his usual persona of being tactlessly curt was practically a balm to the feelings that he had been doing a very good job at pretending he didn’t have for years.

Sabine just laughed. It sounded almost like Marinette’s. “Oh, honey. Marinette can deal with you on her own when you two inevitably get into arguments. No, my job is to make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong,” she shrugged casually, “and then to be a mother. To both of you, as I see fit.”

Oh.

Damian let that rock him back a bit, mentally. Marinette’s mother wanted- to mother him? Here? Now? That- well, it made the concern and the anger and the kindness make sense. He saw Talia’s face again, heard her voice in that deadly velvet tone that Sabine had just used- to judge if he was afraid of her?

Damian was not sure this was something he wanted or was open to at all but Sabine seemed content to let him grapple with it silently.

“Thank you,” he said shortly, “for the concern. It is… appreciated.”

Sabine beamed up at him. “You’re welcome. And now, I know it might be a tad early, but would you be a dear and show the dining room? I’m not sure I’d like to wait here until it’s time to eat.”

Damian forced everything back under control in his mind. Emotions, feelings, stray thoughts. “Will you be joining us, then?”

“And Marinette, of course, once your Father returns with her.” Sabine chuckled. “Though I’m sure it won’t take long.”

He opened the door for her, stepping out to the left and leading her down the hallway. Marinette would be there soon. Marinette was coming here. For dinner.

Locking things down in his head did not work.

[spectrumed]

8. book

I decided to start writing a book. A novel, it’s going to be fiction. It’s a big project. I dread big projects. I don’t feel as if I am ever able to complete them. It’s going to be left unfinished, why do I even bother? So many projects that I’ve started and never finished. I get an idea, then I can’t make myself do the actual work to make it a reality. Why do I think I can write a book when I can barely read books without becoming distracted and doing something else instead? I give up too easily. But, then again, do I really have it in me to produce something that is good? That people would want to read? Insecurity creeps in, telling me that I will fail. I fear failure. Of course I do, who doesn’t? Whenever people say that their greatest fear is failure, all I wonder is who out there is not afraid of failure? Is there someone out there with so much confidence that they absolutely do not in any way fear failure? Even narcissists technically fear failure, it is what leads them to such ridiculous overcompensation, putting on the facade of bravado to mask their actual dire sense of insecurity. Do not fall for the scams, no person is truly without self-doubt. (Well, I guess maybe psychopaths, but there’s a whole lot of things amiss with them.)

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve entertained myself by coming up with stories, fictional universes that I would populate with characters of my own invention. When I was a kid, what I really wanted was to become a comic book writer and artist. Well, in between other gigs I imagined would suit me, including at one point wanting to be a “singing farmer,” as I put it. Still, I’ve always returned to fiction and storytelling. There’s something about creating a world that lets you so fully distract yourself from all the stressful daily hullabaloo that goes on around you. Escapism, it’s fun, it’s therapeutic, I think. There’s a reason why humans have been telling each other stories for millennia, since even before we lived in houses. Back when we were all huddled around the fire, wearing our best comfortable animal furs, sharing tales of the hunt. Your uncle who once took part in killing a mammoth, the impressive beast nearly gorging him with its big tusks. How clever he was when he noticed that the mammoth had one leg weaker than the others, and used that to his advantage. How the entire hunting party banded together to bring the behemoth down, getting all that meat to feed their families with for months! Stories make you feel good. Like as if you have something to celebrate, even when you might be starving due to the more recent hunts not having gone as well. Damn that saber-tooth tiger that killed your uncle…

Storytelling is linked to acting. Both with acting and with storytelling you have to commit. Whatever you are doing, whatever role you are performing, you have to sell it. You may be on stage talking about that time you went scuba diving with your future wife, and how you encountered an oyster with the most magnificent pearl inside, and how you made a ring for the pearl and used it when you proposed to her. You have to sell it. You have to get the audience laughing, gasping, crying, going “aww,” feeling as if they were there with you that day. Of course, they don’t know it is all just lies. You made it up. It’s all fiction. But you committed, so they won’t ever know. Storytelling is a gift to others, people will appreciate you if you tell good stories, but you’re also kinda deviant. Even if it’s technically based on a true story, you’ve certainly added your embellishments. You’re a trickster, a devious individual. No wonder actors have historically been seen as dubious folks. They come into town, romances all the young women and men, telling them big tales of their lives on the road, and they can’t possibly know if you are telling the truth or not. You may just be lying. You probably are lying. Let’s be honest, you’ve probably not told a single true thing in your life.

I am bad at the hustle. No, I can talk quite well, and I can keep people’s attention for a long while. But I can’t be a huckster. Going out there, putting myself on the line hoping people will swallow my bullshit. I can’t really avoid speaking from my heart when I do speak. Or when I write, as I happen to be doing now. This blog has so far been thoroughly candid in places, in such a way I may come across like I’m at a confessional. Not that I have much evil to confess, but I can’t help but be transparent. I can’t flip into different kinds of personalities, each with its own schemes and plots, being some master manipulator, someone who you can never figure out what they're truly up to, or what they truly want. No, what I am is clearly written on my face. I’ve got one self, and it is the one before you. He’s hairy, and tall, and a bit of a dork. I am happy to talk to you, to engage with you, but I won’t be anyone but myself. I am me. I hope that’ll do.

Of course you are familiar with all those pick-up artists that plagues the internet. Or well, not just the internet. Go into any old-fashioned bookstore (where they store books on paper, not in digital code,) and you are bound to find some sleazy book written by a sleazy guy about how to sleazily seduce women. Those books don’t want you acting like me. According to them, seduction is all about manipulation. To figure out the very right thing to say to get women to fawn all over you. They don’t want you to be sincere, telling the truth as you see it. Nah, you gotta keep that stuff bottled up, deep down inside your soul, because most likely, your true self is ugly. It’s interesting how you can get little details from these pick-up artists depending on the sort of things they say, the tips they provide. The fact that all of them seem to harbour this festering misogyny is no big surprise, but every so often, you get these little glimpses of these people’s true worldview, one where power is everything, true love is a fallacy, and happiness is a lie manufactured by Hollywood to make us all into docile consumers. No wonder the “red-pill” so often leads to people taking the “black-pill.” First hucksters will lure you in, telling you that they’ve got the secret as to how to be a success, then when they’ve got you isolated, they reveal to you how truly misanthropic and bleak their actual beliefs are.

I am fascinated with cults, for much of the same reason why I am fascinated with storytelling. What is a cult leader if not just a great storyteller? They’re something like the modern day shaman, capable of spellbinding people with their weird idiosyncratic way of speaking. High-functioning people with autism are often said to have an idiosyncratic way of speaking. No, I am not suggesting that cult leaders are all somewhere on the spectrum, though it wouldn’t surprise me if some famous cult leaders did turn out to have been on the spectrum. However, for an autistic person to become a cult leader, I think they would have to be a true believer, and not some fraud just looking to scam others. Ultimately, no autistic person would want to surround themselves with people unless they truly do believe it is essential, to like, save mankind from damnation or something. It’s the difference between sincerity and insincerity. It is difficult for autistic people to be insincere, as insincerity requires a lot of social skills that autistic people struggle with. Having to juggle all these balls in the air, making sure you keep the big lie going, that you remember to change your behaviour depending on who you are speaking to in order to keep them from figuring out that you’re a bullshitter. Hollow people are great at being insincere. People like L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the highly profitable cult that is Scientology, was at his core a hollow individual. He had no problems twisting the minds of the people around him, because he never felt a need to be sincere. If an autistic person were to become a cult leader, I can guarantee you that it wouldn’t be a profitable cult. Nah, autistic people aren’t in it for the money, we’re all about keeping it real.

Being a sincere person, surely I should be able to write a novel and make it feel earnest. Like it was delivered with passion, because I wouldn’t be able to write anything that wasn’t true to myself. Well, I do hope so. Having something I’ve made be referred to as genuine is something I see as a great compliment. I’m a student of art history, I’ve made some “serious” art before, I know how terrible art can be when it is not delivered with good faith. Sure, some art is cynical, or ironic, but even then, it tends to come from a real place. Good artists, even when they’re fully armed with the dada mindset, must believe in what they are doing. Whether they are doing it for a laugh or not, that’s irrelevant. Even if all you wish is to be silly and make something that is comical, you have to believe in what you are creating. Or else people won’t bother engaging with it. Why look at a painting by someone who is just interested in making money? Insincere artists do exist, and they can end up becoming quite successful, but ultimately, history won’t be kind to them. Damien Hirst comes to mind, heard he's into NFTs now.

Sure, I don’t like insincere people. Does that make me a bigot? Like, it’s not as if they can help themselves. It’s just who they are, spineless maggots with no soul. It doesn’t mean we have to hate them. No, no, no... I am just generalising. Don’t go thinking there’s just two kinds of people in the world, the sincere and the insincere. It’s not a binary. Most people are both, just like with introverts and extroverts, humans are complex. But there are definitely those that decide to feed into their insincere side, realising that it is often the key to success. Through insincerity, you learn to let go of self-doubt, you stop worrying so much about what others think of you, because you are never truly yourself. If they hate you, then so what? They don’t actually hate you, they just hate a role that you are playing. So what if you seduced that woman, made her feel as if you were the perfect match, then you ghosted her and completely forgot about her? It’s her fault for falling for your tricks. You were clearly just playing the game, being a super-seducer, she should have known better. By embracing insincerity, it’s like gaining a superpower. No longer do you have to care about the impact you have on others, no longer do you have to worry about what it means to be a social human being making choices that affect the others around you. Because you’re not the person they think you are. Actually, you’re not quite sure you’re the person you think you are… Who are you?

I’ve got the plot all laid out in my head for the novel. It’s going to be based in the fantasy world that I’ve been working on for the last few years. I’ve been working on this world for almost half a decade now, come to think of it. Why do I keep feeling as if I am never able to keep to a project, when I’ve clearly been working on a massive project all this time? Sure, it’s all just in my head, but it’s not as if most people have the kind of patience to keep going back to a single big project, even if it is just in their head. Not once, while thinking about my fantasy world have I been distracted and started thinking about cute puppies, instead. And you know how difficult that is. Maybe I am too hard on myself. Maybe I will finish this book, and maybe people will want to read it. Maybe it will even get a minimal number of angry reviews, like, I may get a book published without some folks trying to harass me into committing suicide for daring to think I can write. Some people may even be enthusiastic, blowing up my ego with great praise. Maybe someone will come along and tell me that they want to buy the rights to make my book into a movie or a television series. Maybe I will get rich? Maybe I will get famous! Woo! Success here I come!

Well, no, here I go being insincere. That’s not what it’s about. I should be writing this book because I want to write it. Because I want to prove to myself that I am able to write it. Sure, it’s not as if there’s not a little brain goblin inside my mind whispering sweet nothings about how one day I might turn out a real respected author. One with real fans that gets to do big book tours talking about how brilliant I am, how brilliant my work is, and how brilliant things are going for me. I am not going to pretend I don’t have the same aspirations for success that others have. Inside of me you will find the same greedy piglet of an ego hungry for more adoration and more validation that you will find in any person. Humans don’t know when to quit, we always want more. But I am at least safe knowing that I will never debase myself, descending to the same depths as those inhabited by soulless grifters who go through life abusing the trust of others in order to get by. I’m sincere, in the end. I always turn out sincere, in the end. I am a good boy.

And I am also really sexy. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before on this blog, but I am really, REALLY, sexy. Like, you wouldn’t believe it. Oh, I am so hot. And if you follow and subscribe and hit that bell, I will teach you how you can be just as sexy as I am! And buy my book! And my merch! And my new single! And of course, my new cryptocurrency, by the name of “autism-coin.” It’s going to be a real success on 4chan, let me tell ya!

[fishoutofcamelot]

Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because  he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together 

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

[britishsass]

What does Loren's mindscape look like?

Well, Loren's mindscape is a mash-up of a few different bits and pieces, but I'll do my best to explain what I can! Though... Yes, I am going to be long-winded.

The whole place overall is called "Manuscript Museum". It takes the form of a museum with elements of paper, picture books, and fairy tales. There are four main floors, and you start at the bottom, being asked to work your way upwards.

The main feature of the first floor is a giant tower, with moss and grass growing all around. It's designed like a children's pop-up book, and teams with figments of fairies and pencils, bookbags and ogres. It's clear that Loren has a deep love for fairy-tales and stories, but the place is also unfinished, with plot holes and missing segments throughout. Think of it as Cassie's Collection (Or, at least, the Shanghai portion) but less polished, less together, less real. The stairs leading to the next floor are collapsed, leaving only the tower and the vines/platforms that lead the way up.

(If it's in PN1, it would have censors along the way, but in PN2, this segment would have a judge and a bad mood. No regrets or doubts, though!)

There's a small miniboss at the top of the tower, and then the way up opens for you: A ladder in the center of the room.

The second floor is a cityscape, like Lungfishopolis. It's still paper-thin, and lacks much depth, but it's an attempt at a city, a world. A "hero" threatens Raz, and when he uses a vent to reach the top of the buildings, there's a second miniboss fight. Throughout floor 2, if in PN2, there would be some regrets, doubts, and enablers that show up on the ground if Raz explores on the ground. As well, there's the first memory vault here: "Loren's Panic." This memory vault shows xem repeatedly being abandoned by people, and finally three people laughing at xem as xe runs away. (These three look a lot like the minibosses that have been plaguing this place...)

But anyways, at the end of the second miniboss, another vent opens up for Raz, letting him levitate up to the third floor.

This one is a pirate ship, made of wood and paper. It's clearly like a model ship, and the water below is like that in Gloria's Theatre-- It's fake. The captain calls him a stowaway, and requires the use of shielding to bounce her attacks back at her. After the fight, a trapdoor opens up by the crow's nest, but it's best to wander a bit. There are figments here, but also two pieces of baggage (unlike the 1 on every other floor) and lots of danger. Regrets, doubts, judges, even a panic attack. It's clear this place has caused Loren a lot of pain.

The top floor is where Loren is, and it's a simple loft space. Think like an attic, or the rooms in Thorney Towers. Loren is surrounded by papers, pictures, writings, drawings. It's clear xe's been working hard, but hasn't gotten anywhere. The other three appear, and you have to fight all three in one in a mashup of their worst moments. It's still an easy fight overall, though-- Loren helps by slowing down attacks. Once they're defeated, they're closed in a book, and Loren sets it aside, ready to move on to the next chapter in xir life.

The trio can be found post-level in their usual spots, but they look more like the kids they used to be, and they act more like it too.

The second vault can be found in the loft. This one is called "Loren's Problem", and it focuses on Loren at Thorney Towers. Xe is confronted by Crispin when xe attempts to leave, and upon hearing that everyone left was abandoned, xe panics so hard that xe breaks the timeline and creates a time bubble around all of Thorney Towers. Once they're found by the outside world, that's when the bubble finally breaks. Because of Loren, they accidentally skipped 45 years. Whoops.

But, ah... Yeah! That's Manuscript Museum ^_^ I really enjoyed getting to write this down.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

for the quiet night in ask: how did Grima make his way into your heart? And why do you ship him with Eomer? I've been meaning to inquire about this for long hehe (also I love your theme! think this is the first time I see it)

I am so sorry, you’re getting an ESSAY. 

I’ve been wanting to talk about my Grima feels FOR SO LONG. 

HE SNAKED HIS WAY INTO MY HEART. 

Um, tl;dr I have a soft spot for the bad guys who clearly have a complicated history with those they are opposing and I think Eomer/Grima have a fun opposites-attract dynamic and I love a good redemption story. 

I don’t touch on literacy and Grima in this because that’s strictly the films and it’s worthy of it’s own post entirely. 

-

I’m trying to think best how to break this all out, because it gets a bit long and rambly. I’m using both book and films for this, as a note. Since I tend to mash up different aspects of those Grima’s in my head, give the guy some eyebrows, and call it a day. 

So, first off, his history. Now, we don’t really have anything to go on in canon here. All we know, in both book and film, is that Grima “was once a man of Rohan” (ROTK). In the book, Gandalf says: “This here, is a snake. To slay it [Grima] would be just. But it was not always as it is now. Once it was a man, and it did you service in its fashion.” 

Grima evidently has served Rohan for some years at this point. We know that Theoden’s enchantment/possession began three years prior to TTT. In the books there is no possession. Theoden’s enchantment relies on the powers of words and their suggestions. Something Tolkien was well aware of carrying great weight and import in Anglo-Saxon culture. You tell a man he is old and infirm, he will become old and infirm. 

I understand why Jackson went the possession route - explaining Anglo-Saxon engagement with galdorcraeft/witchcraft and the power of words etc. and how that influenced the development of Rohan in the span of like 7 minutes of screen time wasn’t happening. Possession works for the same purpose, but in a language the modern audience is familiar with - especially in visual mediums. Grima is circa 40 when TTT happens, same age as Boromir for reference. So, let’s say he’s been an advisor for 10/12 years at this point. He has therefore been a good servant of the king longer than he’s been a traitor. 

Hence, the outreach. And, in Brad Dourif’s wonderful acting, Grima’s clear desire to go home to his king. In the book it’s more subtle. Grima chucks the palantir out the window at Orthanc and it’s stated that he wasn’t sure who he was aiming for, Saruman or Gandalf, because he couldn’t decide who he hated more. 

Honestly? Legit. I would also hate the guy who reduced me to “it” pronouns. But maybe that’s my gender identity stuff playing up ;) 

(Granted, in the full quote Gandalf reverts back to “he”, for context. And I’ve said this before, in another post, that it makes sense for Gandalf and as a writer, I agree with Tolkien’s decisions for that scene.)

Now, for some speculation. Not that I haven’t spilled a tonne already. MORE SPECULATION. This time bringing you long term effects of bullying and never having loving relationships modelled for you! Because LOTR, at the end of the day, is all about trauma and how maybe not to deal with it. 

So - motives. 

We know Saruman’s motives. Indeed, he tells them to us in FOTRK: “[to] have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see” and to achieve “the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things that we have so far striven in vain to accomplish, hindered rather than helped by our weak or idle friends.”

Great. Super straight forward. And from the man’s own mouth. 

Grima’s though, always come to us second hand. In the books it’s Gandalf telling us (Gandalf can mind read, so yes, maybe he is accurate). In the films, it’s Eomer guestimating. 

But Grima never actually tells us, himself, what his motives are. 

(a quick aside: if some dude is shoving me up against a pole and threatening me, and I hear someone walking by, of course I’m going to look over at them and it by no means indicates my desire to shag that person. Now, of course, we know from other scenes this is the case. I’m just saying. It’s natural to look over at the person walking by while you’re being jumped by the Third Marshal of the Mark who is twice your size. anyway.) 

So what are his driving forces for treason? What made him go to this point of no return then keep going even when people offered him a way back. 

It is important to note that his treason required him to forswear his oath to his liege lord. I don’t know how to convey what a big deal that would have been, in modern terms. But it would have been huge. Forswearing/reneging on oaths was a massive cultural taboo in Anglo-saxon [AS] England (and general, early medieval Europe). 

And, as Rohan is based on AS England (I forget if Tolkien was cagey about this. He was sometimes a dumb shit and coy about things so was like “noooo it’s not STRICTLY AS England….but it’s clearly AS England with more horses and a light dusting of vikings and the Danelaw”), we can assume it carried as much weight for them as it did for the historical people. 

(Indeed, it’s implied, if not directly stated, in the text what a big deal oath breaking is. Don’t say “oath breaking” too loud or the Silmarillion fandom will come out of the woodwork)

The big takeaway: BIG DEAL TO FORSWEAR YOUR OATH. 

And he did it! Which is why I don’t buy the “it was because of Eowyn and like some nice jewels.” You don’t betray your country, you don’t forswear your oath to your king, simply because you’re hot on the king’s niece and Saruman might give you a raise. 

And, as a liege man to Theoden, he was part of Theoden’s household so would have eaten, worked with, lived with everyone else in the household (Eomer, until he becomes Third Marshal; Eowyn; Hama; Theoden’s guards etc.) 

So, you live with these people, eat with them, drink with them, spend all your time with them, for circa 10 years then you do a bunk and betray them? Something happened. I suspect it was years and years of things happening. 

Overall, I think it to be a combination of things. As is usually the case for these sorts of crimes. In this case, a nice mix of fear, desperation, greed, resentment, anger and desire. 

Fear/Desperation: So, to Grima’s mind the world is ending. Why wouldn’t he think this? Hell, even the Wisest and the Fairest (i.e. wizards & elves) think it’s ending. Why wouldn’t this poor bloke from some small country nearby to Mordor not think it an existential threat to an unimaginable degree? 

Grima is sat here in Rohan looking at Mordor going "oh fuck" then who are the leaders left? Denethor (slightly bonkers) and Theoden (past his prime and lacklustre, like his father and grandfather). 

This is not a man with a strong moral fiber. Or...any moral fiber, let’s be real. He does not have the fortitude to stick it out through hopeless situations. And it would have been hopeless to his eyes. And those around him (see: Eomer’s do not trust to hope… Sure Saruman was a problem, but he wasn’t just talking about the white wizard).  

Gandalf’s plan, which none of these people were ever wholly aware of, was a goddamn Hail Mary pass and it worked. Barely, but it did. NO ONE had reason to believe it would, though. And those are people in the know. Not someone like Grima who has no fucking clue what Gandalf et al is up to. He sees Gandalf then like … Nazgul torture him on the planes of Rohan (Unfinished Tales). He sees Gandalf then bad things happen. 

Lathspell indeed. 

Greed & Desire: I don’t think I need to go into these ones too much. They’re pretty self explanatory. Grima and Black Phillip hung out and the goat asked Grima if he wanted to live deliciously and Grima, like any normal person, said: um, yes please? Also, Eowyn was around being badass, beautiful and untouchable. 

Resentment/Anger: Alright, more probing in the dark. I suspect, for one reason or another (and these reasons would vary depending if you’re looking at books or movies), he was someone who was always treated as other/differently, teased, picked on, isolated, overlooked, doesn’t measure up to Rohan’s military ideal of masculinity. All of which creates an underlying resentment issue.

And nothing festers quite like resentment. 

On top of that, I also suspect he was always told he was a snake/untrustworthy/not worthy etc. and if you're told something enough, and you don't have anything or anyone else telling you the opposite, there is a strong chance you become that thing.

It's a chicken and egg: the face you wear to the world tells the world how to treat you; the world tells you what you are and that is how you shape your face.

THEN you add in Saruman. Who is clearly, in the text, abusive. Which, if there were any inferiority/bullied etc. issues that are informing Grima’s actions, Saruman is just going to amplify it. 

“You are a traitor because you’re a snake, and you’re a snake because you’re spineless, weak, nothing more than a creature that crawls on its stomach on the ground. Snakes are bad, evil things. Which is all you’ve ever been. Barely deserving of the good treatment I give you etc.” <-- all of which is basically a summary of what Saruman has been saying to him for a few years at this point (in the book, it’s only tangentially implied in the movies). 

So Grima sort of morphed himself into what he believed himself to be, fuelled by that perversity resentment causes: Oh you think I’m a snake? I’ll be the best goddamn most poisonous snake you ever did see. Just watch me. 

He is trapped in this situation. A hutch to trammel some wild thing in. 

Which leads me to an interesting point that I think gets lost sometimes: Narratively, he and Eowyn are similar in what they are experiencing. Isolation, being overlooked, misunderstood/misrepresented, don't fit into societal roles and expectations etc. They just go in very different directions in how they respond to it.

I think that's why, in the film, it was smart to have her give pause and listen to him because what he's saying resonates. He is, in some ways, speaking as much for himself as her. But then, of course, he's also just trying to shit disturb and make mischief so of course, at the end of the day, any sympathy he is attempting to convey is laced with poison.

I do wonder, too, if he's the first person to see her fear and her frustrations and acknowledges them out loud. Which is powerful. To have someone see you. Damn shame it's Grima. Still, Eowyn (in the film) paused and listened for a reason.

-

A brief aside on my idle, ill founded thoughts on gender and Rohan: 

One of the reasons I think Eowyn and Grima go in diverging directions, is that Eowyn is performing masculinity, in her society's accepted interpretation of it. Masculinity, in Middle Earth, is clearly the norm. And in Rohan, it’s a very particular iteration of military-focused masculinity that is idealized (you can bet, men who killed like 10 orcs were awarded places in court above Grima who served as advisor for like ten years but hasn’t killed an orc ever).

Eowyn’s desire to live/perform this more masculine ideal caters to the subconscious thing of “Masculinity is Natural Neutral Ideal” so of course you would want to be more like A Man. Whereas Grima is the opposite, not performing masculinity according to Rohan's accepted view of it.

And gods, in Anglo-Saxon culture (therefore, Rohan’s, most likely. I see no evidence to the contrary) is that a difficult position to find yourself in. Back in AS England, being called argr, unmanly, or to be accused of ergri, unmanliness, was one of the worst insults you could throw at a man (indeed, some laws said you could kill a man in retaliation for calling you such things). I would bet my shirt that people used such insults about Grima in this world. Which is all kinds of messed up.

-

Now, my interest in him is my general love for a good redemption arc for the most hopeless of characters. It’s why I struggle to call Boromir’s arc, when he’s written as living, a redemption arc. Because I don’t know he has much to redeem himself for. In his own mind, sure, yes, but externally? Not in my view, at least. He has things he’s done wrong and needs to make amends for. But that’s different from redemption.

Grima, on the other hand, is one whose walk-back from evil would be a full on redemption arc. And I like it because he’s not nice, he’s not pleasant. He will never be nice or pleasant or cheerful. But learning how to love and be a good person doesn’t require niceness. 

Saruman could be plenty nice. Sauron could be plenty nice. Look what they turned out to be.

And in my writing, I do hope I’m treading that line between creating an understanding of who Grima is without Kylo-Ren-ing him. Or, woobiefying him, as the old parlance was. That’s the line I’m really aiming for. I want people to not hate him. I want them to understand him. Oh, still condemn him, still judge him, disagree with him, acknowledge and know he did bad things and isn’t a nice person. But the end game is to add some understanding and nuance.

Shades of grey.

Also I’m a sucker for challenging redemptions.

--

Why Eomer/Grima? 

Because I am an agent of chaos. 

More seriously, I was never overly taken with the Grima/Eowyn approach, personally, which is obviously popular (um...within the Grima world), and closer to canon. There are some beautifully written fics and art out there for the two of them, so if you’re into that. The creators in that nook of fandom are top notch.

I always liked the drastic opposite of Grima and Eomer. As I noted above, Grima and Eowyn are two sides of the same coin. Both bitter and resentful and trapped. And that’s a lot of fun to play with, and i get it. But for me, I love a good strong contrast of personalities in my pairings. (If that uh … isn’t readily apparent.)

I think both Eomer and Grima would have a lot to teach each other and in some really interesting ways that neither would expect. I can see both getting under each other’s skin in that way where you’re sort of always thinking about them.

Grima is also someone who has had very little love in his life (I suspect he wants it, he just doesn’t know how to give or receive it). Eomer is someone who has lost a lot of people (parents, quasi-uncle for a few years there. I think it’s why he’s so controlling over Eowyn. Didn’t want to lose her). And I think there’s something in there where they could help each other grow. But I’m a sucker for some beauty to be there, in the end. Some hope.

Mostly, though, I think it boils down to their dynamic and the angst potential. Eomer is this brash, forthright, fiery third marshal of the mark who may or may not think things through. Big of heart, dumb of ass. Then there’s Grima who is quiet and reserved, cynical, critical, always has a plan or five, gets by via his wits etc. Lots of fun potential there. 

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Two

A: You know it really just sounds like your sister really cares about you

C: She does but she’s making this such a bigger deal than it needs to be. I just want to be able to sort my feelings out without feeling like I’m obligated to do something with them immediately

A: I know that feeling so well. My friend asked me if I was still in love with my ex and I don’t know how to answer her

C: I mean your relationship was unfinished so I could understand the possibility. No closure makes it feel like things never ended. They just stopped

A: you put it in much better words than I ever could. 

C: Coming from an emotionally challenged man, sometimes the right thing doesn’t always feel right at the time. It hurts. Caring about anyone comes with that risk but sometimes you have to see it from their side before you can heal. People tend to enter situations expecting others to be like them and we hurt ourselves by doing that. Your ex may have loved you but he didn’t know how to love you anymore and felt it was better to let you go than ruin you. It couldn’t have been easy for you to watch him struggle

A: No but I felt like he never gave me a chance to help

C: People don’t always want to be fixed. Being damaged may have been too comfortable for him

A: I wish I could’ve known if it was. He never really talked to me. I think something happened that he couldn't deal with it and he shut me out because of it

C: thats always possible especially if he wasn’t like that before

A: You ever think about getting into another relationship?

C:Thought about it? Sure but I think I only got enough love in me to take care of my daughter. I haven’t quite rebounded back either.

A: Did you and your ex-wife have the child together?

C: No, I”m in the process of fostering and adopting. I got Anesa when she was one years old

A: That is so cool.

C: You ever consider having a child?

A: It was a part of the plan when I was married but we never quite made it that far

C: Same here but there’s always alternatives

A: I’ll think about it. I am getting up there in age

C: If from any indication of your photo, you’d have no problems. Many women are having babies at your age

A: Why thank you for the ego boost

C: You ever consider dating again?

A: No. I think I am way too damaged to not ruin somebody else

C: Ah, I know the feeling

A: You’re a good listener, Chris

C: Thanks. You too. So what’s your night looking like?

A: A movie and a glass of wine. You?

C: Grading papers

A: for a music class?

C: They still have to do research papers for me. Allows me to gage how they grasp concepts and detect their style

A: Hmm...that’s interesting

C: Part of my class is songwriting and music composition, at least a basic level teaching of both. I have separate sections that go into each more in depth but only a few students are selected to be invited to take those classes. This is my main selection pool outside of those who audition

A: that sounds extensive

C: it can be but I like it

A: Do you only teach major classes or can students take you as an elective?

C: They can take me as an elective but most end up dropping the class by the second week

A: Really? Why?

C: It’s more work than they intended to do in an elective especially if you’re like a business or science major. It’s not exactly contributing to anything but your credit requirement 

A: True. I can understand that

C: Anna?

A: Yes?

C: You ever think about us meeting one day?

A: I’ve considered but I don’t know if I wanna ruin the mystery of you, yet. You?

C: Same lol

A; Well I got some wine and a movie to get to and I’ll leave you to your papers. Have a good night

C: You too

Robyn logged off and pressed her head into her pillow. Was it weird for her to start to like this guy? Honestly, they’ve never met so she wouldn’t know him from a hole in the wall yet she feels close to him like they’ve been friends forever. The fact he didn’t turn away when she started talking about her ex and even tried to help her understand some things was really deep for her. Her friends and family had tried but so much of what they said just seemed so biased and sympathy-ridden for her ex. Like where’s her sympathy? Did nobody care about how he acted affected her? Somehow Chris understood her and it was the craziest thing.

Chris turned to the next paper for one of his students and after a few moments acknowledged his mind was with Anna and not on his work. He could sympathize with her struggle to move on and the fact that she was probably still in love with her ex. He didn’t hate his but he was too damaged to love her like she deserved. A part of him hates that he wasn’t man enough to tell her that when he left. She probably had a hole in her just like Anna or maybe she had moved on just fine. It’s not fair to project his life onto her.

“Daddy, are you going to sleep soon?”

Chris turned to see Anesa standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her teddy bear in her arms. He opened his arms and she climbed into his lap, “Hey Love Bug, what you doing up?”

“It’s raining.”

Chris glanced over at the window and nodded his agreement, “you got scared, huh?”

“Yea.”

“Well there’s nothing to worry about, Daddy’s right here.”

“Daddy, am I ever gonna get a mommy?”

“Well Sweetheart, that’s a very complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yea, see I don't’ know if I wanna share you with anybody else.”

Anesa giggled, “well if I can share you, you think you can share me?”

“I’d have to think about it really hard. Is that something you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t want you to be all alone.”

“I know, Love Bug but I’ll be just fine.”

“Auntie Jessica said you were married before.”

“I was.”

“What happened to her? Did she die?”

“No. Things just didn’t work out. I wasn’t exactly the right guy for her.”

“Oh. So she left?”

“No, I did but I really thought it was the best thing to do at the time.”

“Do you miss her?”

Chris sighed as he leaned his chin on the top of her head, “sometimes I do. Sometimes I do.”

“Does it make you sad?”

“It can but I’ve learned to deal with it.”

“Do you think you’d ever go back to her?”

“I don’t think that would be the right thing to do either.”

“Oh.”

“You sound so sad, Honey.”

“I’m sad for you, Daddy.”

“Why? I’m happy. I’m exactly where I want to be. Here with my Love Bug and my work. Daddy’s just fine.”

Anesa turned and hugged him as Chris blew out a breath over her shoulder.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn washed her hands then sat down in her office. She had steady appointments all day, luckily mostly check ups but she was still tired. Being the head vet and the owner and shelter organizer always took a toll on her body. She twisted her neck from side to side to relieve some tension just as her office door opened, “Hi Beverly.”

Beverly, her trusty assistant, was always ready to rain on her parade, “Ms. Fenty, we just received a really huge invitation in the mail.”

“We?”

“Well you but you know what I mean.”

“What is it for?”

“The New York Society Charity Awards Gala. They want to recognize the shelter for its success.”

“That’s nice. Tell Ashley to go in my place.”

“Wait. What?”

“I don’t feel like rubbing elbows with the rich, that’s Ashley’s forte, let her do it.”

“Fenty, this is a huge opportunity for donations and connections. You cannot send your shelter manager in your place.”

“Why can’t I? She’s dealt with these people before. She even knows most of them. She has an Ivy League Degree, why can’t she go in my place?”

“The award is for you.”

“So?”

“Robyn, you can’t be serious.”

“I am in no condition to be bothered with anyone.”

“The gala isn’t for another month, you can’t muster up some give a fuck in a month.”

Robyn glared at Beverly, who simply folded her arms across her chest in response, “I’m not doing this.”

“You are doing this. I will schedule your appointment with your stylists for fittings and hair tryouts. We’ll see about getting you an escort and get a speech written for you.”

“I’m not going, Beverly.”

“You will go even if I have to get your entire family from Barbados to make you. This is a perfect opportunity and you will not squander it being anti-social.”

“Get out of my office, Beverly.”

“I will add the appropriate appointments to your calendar. Your 2:30 appointment canceled so you’re free until 4.”

Beverly promptly walked out of her office and Robyn tossed her head down on her desk. She couldn’t do this. She hadn’t been to an event like this since she was married to Chris. He’s a well-known architect and had a hand in a lot of buildings in the city. The circles aren’t that large in this tax bracket so she’s sure to run into people she knew back in California. She wasn’t ready for the questions and the stares if she showed up and especially if she showed up with someone else. They had kept their divorce quiet for several reasons mainly because she didn’t want to be embarrassed. Robyn Fenty, veterinarian extraordinaire, can’t even keep her marriage together. Some of those people would be colleagues, alumnus of her alma mater, people who whispered that once Chris got a taste of the good life, he wouldn’t stay with his middle school girlfriend long. Sadly, they were right. They barely made it three years before he walked out. She wasn’t going to this gala.

C: I really think you should attend. It’s for business.

A: It’s business that I don’t want anything to do with. I have associates specifically for things like this

C: Why is it so bad for you to go?

A: These parties always have people I knew back when I was married. Many of them don't know I’m divorced

C: Well people get divorced all the time

A: Yea but they normally don't have to be around the same people who said it wouldn’t last

C: Anna, you can’t be embarrassed about something so common.Things happens

A: That’s easy to say

C: Besides I would love to see a photo of you in your gown

A: Lol, is that the real reason you want me to go?

C: Well considering we aren’t meeting anytime soon, it’d be nice to see

A: it wouldn’t be a face shot.

C: Not changing anything for me

A: I mean I could just get dressed, post the picture and you’d be none the wiser

C: You could but I sense you’re a little too honest for that

A: Lol, I’ll take that as a compliment

C: Good, because I meant it as one

A: lol

C: are you writing lol because you’re actually laughing or because you’re smiling?

A: both

C: they do make emojis

A: Yea but I feel silly using them

C: Ah, I guess

A:You know what, I will go to the gala if you agree to go on a virtual outing with me

C: Like VR

A: More like a video meet up but no cameras

C: Just voices?

A: automated voices

C: you really wanna hold onto this mystery thing, huh?

A: I feel so comfortable with you, probably because I don’t know you but I feel like once you remove the mystery, shit gets too real

C: That’s a good rationale. How about this, my job has some assistance programs that can do text to speech. I can send you a few options, you choose one, we pick a date and we have our little blind date so to speak

A: you would do that for me?

C: Absolutely. I really like you, Anna

A: I like you too, Chris

“So you really like him but you won’t go on a real date with him?” Melissa asked.

“Mel, if I do that then this becomes way more than what it is.”

“Which is?”

“Two people just getting to know each other.”

“Without having to really know each other. You haven’t told this man your real name.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. That’s what I like most. The little things don’t matter.”

“So if he was using a fake name too, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“No. He’s not obligated to give me anything he doesn’t want to.”

“You are petrified of commitment.”

“I’ve been hurt enough, I don’t want to go through that again.”

“And you think by withholding basic information yet spending time with this man will prevent that.”

“The longer he remains a stranger, the easier it will be to walk away. I’m not looking for love or to move on. Just a new friend,” Robyn replied as she held a dress up to her body, “what do you think?”

“It’s nice. You really want to go long sleeves for this?”

“Either that or get a nice jacket. It gets cold at these things.”

“That’s true. So who’s your escort?”

“Nobody. I told Beverly that I’d go but I am not taking anybody with me.”

“Not even me?”

“Do you want to go? I can send in for a plus one.”

“Not really but it was nice you offered.”

“You sure Sis?”

“Very sure. I got a boyfriend to do things with on the weekends so I’ll be busy.”

“Oh rub it in. How is Juan anyway?”

“He is good. We were thinking about doing a friendcation next month. Go back to PR to see his family.”

“Oh that’s nice. I’m sure Lele and you will have a great time.”

“You wouldn’t come?”

“No. Hard pass.”

“I’m really tired of you ducking us, it’s not like we’re gonna fix you up on a blind date or something.”

“I know but I also don’t want to be the fifth wheel. No thank you.”

Melissa sighed, “I guess. Maybe if you’d get your life right with this new Chris, you could bring him.”

“I don’t want to meet him, Mel”

“I really don’t understand why not, y’all seem to have great chemistry.”

“Yea but I really just wanna leave it at that. I’m too fragile for anything more.”

“Have you ever thought to talk to your ex-husband?”

“Why? So he can make me feel even worse?”

“Or maybe so you can heal. Robyn, y’all had a really abrupt situation. You both were in a bad space. Maybe you just need to talk things out so you can move on.”

“Why do y’all coddle him so much? Why is it nobody’s mad at him but me?”

“Because we love both of you. Clearly, neither of you were in your right minds. Nobody thought you should've gotten divorced but neither of you were happy.”

“I did not want one. He wanted out and nobody seems to be lying that at his doorstep. It’s almost like you know something that I don’t.”

“Robs, that is most definitely not the case. We just don’t think being mad at anyone is gonna solve anything. Chris was hurting, from what we don’t know, but we all knew something wasn’t right with him. You were hurting, we all knew that too. Neither of you needed the extra weight of anyone else’s judgment.”

“It doesn’t feel very neutral.”

“Because you don’t want neutral, you want us to pick sides and that’s not gonna get any of us anywhere.”

“Well have you spoken to him?”

“We texted a few months ago but that was it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna see him?”

“No because I’m still angry. Seven years later and I’m still fucking pissed. Seeing him would do me no good.”

“Robs, I think it might.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m thinking the navy blue, what about you?’

Melissa sighed, “I love it.”

“Great.”

Robyn grabbed the dress and headed to the cash register.

[emma-what-son]

(Echee post) Emma Watson says J.K Rowling's quote about Hermione ending up with Harry was taken out of context and it was a joke

Posted March 6, 2014

From mtv.com/news may 2014, "Watson also seemed somewhat pessimistic about the longevity of the popular pairing, sharing at the time, "I think there are fans out there who know that too and who wonder whether Ron would have really been able to make her happy." But Watson's tune may have changed just a bit, as the starlet took to the red carpet at tonight's Oscars (her first time attending the big show, if you can believe it) and told MTV's own Josh Horowitz, "It was a real shame, because the quote that she gave was completely taken out of context." Emma change her tune? Noooooo way she would never do that!! =)~ MTV left out the part where she said it was just a joke From ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com March 2014, "It was a real shame, because the quote that she gave was completely taken out of context, and if you read the whole interview it was completely not how it was framed but it was actually kind of a joke." You know the funny part is? This is the Wonderland Magazine that Emma herself guest edited and Emma herself conducted the interview with J.K. Rowling. How could it be possibly taken out of context or even be considered a joke? There is nothing in the writing that suggests it's a joke. Maybe if the interview was conducted by video you could see their facial expressions that would tip you off that they were joking. This is typical Emma changing her tune but only because the HP fandom lost their shit over fictional characters. JK and Emma are back tracking now. I don't really care because to me it's a book made into a movie but this is Emma deceiving others as usual.

Actually I read the entire interview and what is being taken out of context and where is the punch line? Here is the part of the interview with JK about Hermione ending up with harry instead of Ron. From ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com Feb 2014 Emma: I thought we should discuss Hermione... I'm sure you've heard this a million times but now that you have written the books, do you have a new perspective on how you relate to Hermione and the relationship you have with her or had with her? JK: I know that Hermione is incredibly recognizable to a lot of readers and yet you don't see a lot of Hermione's in film or on TV except to be laughed at. I mean that the intense, clever, in some ways not terribly self-aware, girl is rarely the heroine and I really wanted her to be the heroine. She is part of me, although she is not wholly me. I think that is how I might have appeared to people when I was younger, but that is not really how I was inside. What I will say is that I wrote the Hermione/Ron relationship as a form of wish fulfillment. That's how it was conceived, really. For reasons that have very little to do with literature and far more to do with me clinging to the plot as I first imagined it, Hermione with Ron. Emma: Ah. JK: I know, I'm sorry, I can hear the rage and fury it might cause some fans, but if I'm absolutely honest, distance has given me perspective on that. It was a choice I made for very personal reasons, not for reasons of credibility. Am I breaking people's hearts by saying this? I hope not. Emma: I don't know. I think there are fans out there who know that too and who wonder whether Ron would have really been able to make her happy. JK: Yes exactly. Emma: And vice versa. JK: It was a young relationship. I think the attraction itself is plausible but the combative side of it... I'm not sure you could have got over that in an adult relationship, there was too much fundamental incompatibility. I can't believe we are saying all of this – this is Potter heresy! Emma: I know, it is heresy. JK: In some ways Hermione and Harry are a better fit and I'll tell you something very strange. When I wrote Hallows, I felt this quite strongly when I had Hermione and Harry together in the tent! I hadn't told [Steve] Kloves that and when he wrote the script he felt exactly the same thing at exactly the same point. Emma: That is just so interesting because when I was doing the scene I said to David [Heyman]: "This isn't in the book, she didn't write this". I'm not sure I am comfortable insinuating something however subtle it is! JK: Yes, but David and Steve – they felt what I felt when writing it. Emma: That is so strange. JK: And actually I liked that scene in the film, because it was articulating something I hadn't said but I had felt. I really liked it and I thought that it was right. I think you do feel the ghost of what could have been in that scene. Emma: It's a really haunting scene. It's funny because it really divided people. Some people loved that scene and some people really didn't. JK: Yes, some people utterly hated it. But that is true of so many really good scenes in books and films; they evoke that strong positive/negative feeling. I was fine with it, I liked it. Emma: I remember really loving shooting those scenes that don't have any dialogue, where you are just kind of trying to express a moment in time and a feeling without saying anything. It was just Dan and I spontaneously sort of trying to convey an idea and it was really fun. JK: And you got it perfectly, you got perfectly the sort of mixture of awkwardness and genuine emotion, because it teeters on the edge of "what are we doing? Oh come on let's do it anyway", which I thought was just right for that time. Emma: I think it was just the sense that in the moment they needed to be together and be kids and raise each other's morale. JK: That is just it, you are so right. All this says something very powerful about the character of Hermione as well. Hermione was the one that

stuck with Harry all the way through that last installment, that very last part of the adventure. It wasn't Ron, which also says something very powerful about Ron. He was injured in a way, in his self-esteem, from the start of the series. He always knew he came second to fourth best, and then had to make friends with the hero of it all and that's a hell of a position to be in, eternally overshadowed. So Ron had to act out in that way at some point. But Hermione's always there for Harry. I remember you sent me a note after you read Hallows and before you started shooting, and said something about that, because it was Hermione's journey as much as Harry's at the end. Emma: I completely agree and the fact that they were true equals and the fact that she really said goodbye to her family makes it her sacrifice too. JK: Yes, her sacrifice was massive, completely. A very calculated act of bravery. That is not an 'in the moment' act of bravery where emotion carries you through, that is a deliberate choice. Emma: Exactly. I love Hermione. JK: I love her too. Oh, maybe she and Ron will be alright with a bit of counseling, you know. I wonder what happens at wizard marriage counseling? They'll probably be fine. He needs to work on his self-esteem issues and she needs to work on being a little less critical. Emma: I think it makes sense to me that Ron would make friends with the most famous wizard in the school because I think life presents to you over and over again your biggest and most painful fear – until you conquer it. It just keeps coming up. JK: That is so true, it has happened in my own life. The issue keeps coming up because you are drawn to it and you are putting yourself in front of it all the time. At a certain point you have to choose what to do about it and sometimes conquering it is choosing to say: I don't want that anymore, I'm going to stop walking up to you because there is nothing there for me. But yes, you're so right, that's very insightful! Ron's used to playing second fiddle. I think that's a comfortable role for him, but at a certain point he has to be his own man, doesn't he? Emma: Yes and until he does it is unresolved. It is unfinished business. So maybe life presented this to him enough times until he had to make a choice and become the man that Hermione needs. JK: Just like her creator, she has a real weakness for a funny man. These uptight girls, they do like them funny. Emma: They do like them funny, they need them funny. JK: It's such a relief from being so intense yourself – you need someone who takes life, or appears to take life, a little more light heartedly.

^This post made Ron cry, lol I really don't care who ended up with who because it's a movie. I lost no sleep over it or thought about it much until I read the quote of Emma changing her tune as MTV pointed out. I will say this. In the Half Blood Prince when Ron was in the Hospital after mistakenly consuming a love potion meant for Harry there was an exchange between Hermione and Lavender Brown where Hermione said, "I've always found him interesting" meaning Ron. There was also that scene in DH2 where Hermione said she couldn't destroy the horocrux and it took Ron to coach her up to do it. There was that scene after that where they were looking for Harry using the marauders map and Ron remembered what Hermione told him about the room of requirement not being on the map and she was surprised he remembered. Then there was the Order of the Phoenix when Ron tricked Malfoy and the rest of them (with a spell of which I forget) and they got away while Hermione and Harry lead Umbridge into the Forrest. When Hermione came back she was impressed by him. I think Ron and Hermione would be just fine if they were real. They actually compliment each other by being total opposites. I'm sure true Potter fans have better examples for Ron and Hermione. Btw Emma was about Ron and Hermione for years and years. I'd post the quotes but I think true Potter fans know this to be true so there would be no argument there. It's something me and Emma fans probably agree on. I think hell just froze over. As for what Emma said about Ron making Hermione happy and stuff. In my opinion she's purely speaking from her own taste in men since she goes for the Viktor Krum's (Matt Janney/Tom Ducker) and Cormac McLaggen's (Will Adamowicz/Jay Barrymore). Emma is more of  mix of Sam (Perks) and Nicki (TBR) than she was ever Hermione. Emma would never date a Ron Weasley in real life. It's beneath her and there would be a reality gap between them since Emma lives in her own head and is out of touch with normal people. So really that statement is a full on Emmione moment where she's doing her thinking for a fictional character that is totally different from "the real Emma Watson". I've said this numerous times. If Hermione were real she would not think too kindly of Emma. Shy and introverted post is coming one of these days. I keep on saying that but it is. I put this post together in 15 minutes. I've been working on the other one for two weeks on and off by procrastinating with it mostly. It's not that complicated I'm just being lazy getting all the photos and quotes together I need. And while were on this shipping business

She supposedly interviewed JGL in Wonderland Magazine but it was not formatted like her other Interviews where she talked just as much as the person she was interviewing so this leads to believe she actually didn’t interview JGL. It was a straight Q&A without it reading like a conversation between two people in the same room like the others. And JGL has done Wonderland a few times in the past so I don’t think this was Emma’s request. Then they presented together at the Oscars. Coincidence or more Hollywood smoke and mirrors? Fans are shipping (weirdo movement) these two and it was all for show. Ok I’m going to join this weirdo movement of shipping! JGL and Dan forever!!

[nerdanel01]

but a shadow

Every sunset it was the same. Thanduwen woke alone, in a tent that was too big and too empty for her. The sun was setting, and the world was cold; she had never completely adjusted to sleeping without another body beside her at night, always filled with homesick longing for the warmth of her clanmates in the aravel beside her since she had left the Free Marches all those months ago.

Now, of course, it was not her clanmates that she missed.

Thanduwen counted her breath, letting the full force of his absence fill her. Once a day, only in the morning, she allowed herself to feel abandoned, and lost, and alone—but only here, in the morning, before the day had begun. Afterwards, she must put it aside, for there was still so much work to be yet done, so much still at stake.

Beyond her tent, she could hear her companions arguing. The light leaking under the flaps of her tent changed shape as they paced before the fire, stretching to where she lay, hidden, not yet prepared to face them. Though she could not hear make out their words, she could detect the urgency in their voices. Thanduwen pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and sighed, before rolling over to the far corner of her tent.

There, a small mirror sat, propped upon a stool, surrounded by half-burned candles which Thanduwen illuminated with a groggy wave of her hand. The light was barely sufficient, but it would do. Cross-legged, she pulled from a pouch at her waist a small jar and a tiny brush, only a few hairs thick. She had stolen it from Solas’ set, and though he had never commented on the theft, Thanduwen very much doubted that he had failed to notice its absence.

Wearily, she unscrewed the jar of paint. A pungent, acidic scent greeted her, rousing her from her grogginess. Nose crinkled, she set the jar down on the stool and reached for the brush. She forced herself not to linger over the sight of herself, bare-faced, in the mirror. It was not an image she wanted to become accustomed to recognizing. Instead, she dipped the brush into the jar and brought it to the center of her forehead, working outward in careful, exacting strokes, following as best she could in the dark the paths the sacred ink used to trace of her face, marking her as a devotee of June.

‘It is said that he created himself.’

“Inquisitor.” A warm orange glow washed over her face and illuminated it briefly; she caught the clearest glimpse of herself in the mirror, face half-painted, in the act of becoming as the tent flap opened and Solas entered. Then the canvas fell, and the dark enfolded them again.

“Cassandra is growing impatient,” he said, without further greeting. 

So many of their conversations had become like this: clipped, formal, utilitarian.

“The Seeker has not breathed easy since the Arbor Wilds,” Thanduwen answered, not bothering to turn to look at him. She bent over her mirror, holding her chin with one hand as she drew June’s lines with the other. “She thinks Corypheus is a breath away from attacking Skyhold; if I was still in the castle, I’d probably agree with her.” Of course, that did not explain why Solas was in her tent. Since their decoupling, Cassandra and Sera and the rest of their companions had been nothing but patient and considerate. Without turning, Thanduwen added, “Either way, I have my doubts Cassandra sent you in here to hurry me on her behalf.” She heard, rather than saw, Solas shifting in discomfort behind her. When he spoke at last, it was measured and sterile; whatever emotion he had tried to keep from her it had stripped from his words and left them bereft. “You regret what I have done to you.” His words caught her between-places: she stared at herself in the mirror, her makeshift vallaslin still unfinished, leaving her in between her selves (who she is, who she wanted to be, for a time—who she might have become.) “Yes,” she answered, but did not elaborate further. Thanduwen did not want to be cruel to him (beloved!) but now that he had interrupted her (now, of all times, when she was working so hard to erase him) it was difficult to resist lashing out at him. Still, he pushed further. “Thanduwen… ma telsilan,” but the concern in his voice wounded her rather than comforted her. “Sathan, tel tunas mar’lin...” | He begs of her, ‘Thanduwen… I am worried about you. Please, do not punish yourself…’ | It broke her—or broke what feeble grip she had on herself, the strength she used to keep her grief and despair in check. 

“ Tunan ara’lin, ” she repeated, nearly spitting the words as she sneered. She tossed the paintbrush on the stool and stood to face him, crossing the space between them with two aggressive strides as she raised a finger in accusation. “These marks are my heritage, Solas, my inheritance. Whether or not you like or approve of that is of very little concern, since you have made it abundantly clear that ‘my’ people are not ‘yours.’ What I have done—what I have let you do to me…” 

Thanduwen shook her head, more to unsteady the sight of Solas before her, to offer her some reprieve. The days that had passed since Solas had taken her vallaslin and left her alone had done little to blunt the edge of her pain, but she would not allow herself to break down in front of him. Not now. (Not anymore.)

She thought of her clan… ( Drohan, Deshanna, Ithras… ) and her fury refocused. 

“Whatever you think these marks are, what they really are is a promise never to submit, never to surrender—a promise that I will not break again. I stand for the Dalish as much as I stand for Thedas, and I will stand with them regardless of how all of this ends.” Thanduwen tried not to think of all his broken promises; of all the times she had thought that he would be standing there beside her, working with her to build a better future for the elves of Thedas. Still, they hovered like ghosts in the air when she reminded Solas, as firmly as she could: “And finally… you lost whatever right you had to worry about me when you released me.” She was not prepared for the effect her words had on him. Had she wanted to hurt him? Thanduwen wasn’t sure; all she knew was that he was both much too welcome and terribly unwelcome in her tent. It did not matter: facing him in the dark, she watched the barely noticeable shifts of his body (the slight droop of his shoulders, line of his spine) that she had learned to read only after their months of intimacy. Her words had wounded him; Thanduwen almost felt sorry. Almost as soon as she had seen the wound, it closed—or hid itself. She watched Solas shutting down in front of her, closing himself off as he had so many times before, retreating to that secret place he hoarded all the things he had never shared with her, the place to which she could not follow. His gaze grew solemn and distant. “I have distressed you,” Solas observed, “and for that, I am sorry, Inquisitor. It was not my intention to cause you further pain.” Thanduwen wanted to scream, she wanted to beat her fists; instead, she sighed, and raised her hand to cover her eyes while she counted her breaths. ‘Intention’ meant so little to her, now; to believe in intention required trust, and that trust had been shattered. She could not trust someone she did not know. “I am but a shadow wearing vallaslin,” she said, wearily, turning away from Solas, “and you are nothing but a stranger. I never even knew your name. It is difficult to know what to believe about your intentions.” Thanduwen crossed back to her paints and sat, reaching for her brush and smoothing its hairs before bending once more before the mirrored glass. She heard Solas behind her, his near-silent footsteps and the fabric of the tent as he pulled back the flap. “ Hahren, ” she called after him, and he paused. “ Sathan, amahn tel enas’sal, ” she told him, trying to focus on her arc of her brush across her cheeks to keep her voice from becoming unsteady. “ Te’i’tel sul’emal gaelathe era i’ma. ” Translations: Hahren | Elder Sathan, amahn tel enas’sal. | Please, do not come here again. Te’i’tel sul’emal gaelathe era i’ma. | Not unless you are prepared to tell the truth. [ continue reading ]

[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale's shock twist: 'I stand by Daenerys'

Emilia Clarke read a paragraph in the final script for Game of Thrones.

She read it again and again. Seven times, she says, she read the words that revealed the devastating fate of Daenerys Targaryen, a character she’s portrayed on the HBO global phenomenon for nearly a decade.

“What, what, what, WHAT!?” the actress recalls thinking. “Because it comes out of f—king nowhere. I’m flabbergasted. Absolutely never saw that coming.”

It was October 2017. The actress had recently completed filming Solo: A Star Wars Story and had just returned to London following a brief vacation. She electronically received the scripts the moment she landed at Heathrow and recalls that she “completely flipped out,” turned to her traveling companion and said, “‘Oh my god! I gotta go! I gotta go!’ And they’re like, ‘You gotta get your bags!’”

Once at home, the actress prepared herself. “I got myself situated,” she says. “I got my cup of tea. I had to physically prepare the space and then begin reading them.”

Clarke swiped through pages: Daenerys arrives at Winterfell and Sansa doesn’t like her. She discovers Jon Snow is the true heir to the Iron Throne and isn’t thrilled. She fights in the battle against the Night King and survives, but loses longtime friend and protector Ser Jorah Mormont. Then her other close friend and advisor Missandei dies too. Varys betrays her. Jon Snow pulls away. Having lost half her army, two dragons, and nearly everybody she cares about, Daenerys goes full Tagaryen to win: She attacks King’s Landing and kills … thousands of civilians? Daenerys’ longtime conquest achieved, she meets with Jon Snow in the Red Keep throne room and … and then … then he …

“I cried,” Clarke says. “And I went for a walk. I walked out of the house and took my keys and phone and walked back with blisters on my feet. I didn’t come back for five hours. I’m like, ‘How am I going to do this?’”

Sitting next to Clarke on the flight, as it so happens, was Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow. Harington deliberately hadn’t yet read the scripts so he could experience the story for the first time with all his castmates. Clarke, positively bursting with wanting to talk about her storyline, found the flight maddening. “This literally sums up Kit and I’s friendship,” she says, and sputtered: “Boy! Would you? Seriously? You’re just not?…”

At the table read, Clarke sat across from Harington so she could “watch him compute all of this.” When they got to their final scene together, recalls Harington, “I looked at Emilia and there was a moment of me realizing, ‘No, no…’”

And Clarke nodded back, sadly, ‘Yes…’

“He was crying,” Clarke says. “And then it was kind of great him not having read it.”

The main story driver of Game of Thrones’ final season is the evolution of Daenerys Targaryen from one of the show’s most-loved heroes into a destroyer of cities and would-be dictator. Author George R.R. Martin calls his saga “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Jon Snow is the stable, immovable ice of Winterfell; Daenerys the conquering, unpredictable fire of Dragonstone. After years apart, they came together in season 7. The duo fell in love, help saved the realm from a world-annihilating supernatural threat and, in the series finale, their coupling is destroyed — Daenerys perishes, while a devastated Jon Snow is banished to rejoin the Night’s Watch.

Was this ending Martin’s original plan? The author told showrunners David Benioff and Dan Weiss the intended conclusion to his unfinished novels years ago but, since then, the HBO version has made several narrative detours. The showrunners are not giving interviews about episode 6 (and told EW they plan to spend the finale offline — “drunk and far away from the Internet” as Benioff put it).

Regardless of the final season’s narrative’s origin, the Thrones writers have planned Dany’s fate for years and have foreshadowed the dark turn in the storyline. In previous seasons, producers would sometimes ask Clarke to play a scene a bit different than what she expected for a seemingly heroic character. “There’s a number of times I’ve been like: ‘Why are you giving me that note?’” Clarke says. “So yes, this has made me look back at all the notes I’ve ever had.”

After Episode 5, “The Bells,” the reaction to Dany’s “Mad Queen” turn has been explosive and frequently negative. Some critics insist Daenerys doesn’t have the capacity for such monumental evil and the twist is an example of female characters being mishandled on the series. Others say Dany’s unstable sociopathic tendencies were indeed established, but the final season moved too fast and flubbed its execution.

For Clarke, the final season arc required mapping out a series of turning points. Dany’s attack on King’s Landing might have seemed abrupt, but from the beginning of the season Daenerys has reacted with increasing anger, desperation and coldness to one setback after another, shifting the Mother of Dragons into new emotional territory that would ultimately lead to her destruction.

Sitting in her dressing room on the set of Thrones last spring, Clarke broke down Daenerys’ entire season 8 internal journey leading up to the apocalyptic King’s Landing firebombing in a single breathless monologue.

“She genuinely starts with the best intentions and truly hopes there isn’t going to be something scuttling her greatest plans,” she says. “The problem is [the Starks] don’t like her and she sees it. She goes, ‘Okay, one chance.’ She gives them that chance and it doesn’t work and she’s too far to turn around. She’s made her bed, she’s laying in it. It’s done. And that’s the thing. I don’t think she realizes until it happens — the real effect of their reactions on her is: ‘I don’t give a s—t.’ This is my whole existence. Since birth! She literally was brought into this world going, ‘Run!’ These f—kers have f—ked everything up, and now it’s, ‘You’re our only hope.’ There’s so much she’s taken on in her duty in life to rectify, so much she’s seen and witnessed and been through and lost and suffered and hurt. Suddenly these people are turning around and saying, ‘We don’t accept you.’ But she’s too far down the line. She’s killed so many people already. I can’t turn this ship around. It’s too much. One by one, you see all these strings being cut. And there’s just this last thread she’s holding onto: There’s this boy. And she thinks, ‘He loves me, and I think that’s enough.’ But is it enough? Is it? And it’s just that hope and wishing that finally there is someone who accepts her for everything she is and … he f—king doesn’t.”

And losing Missandei? “There’s a number of turning points you see for Daenerys in the season, but that’s the biggest break. There’s nothing I will not do after losing Missandei and seeing the sacrifice she was prepared to make for her. That breaks her completely. There’s nothing left to making a tough choice.”

Executing Varys for treason? “She f—king warned him last season. We love Varys. I love [actor Conleth Hill]. But he changes his colors as many times as he wants. She needs to know the people who are supporting her regardless. That was my only option, essentially, is what I mean.”

Burying Cersei Lannister under the collapse of the Red Keep? “With Cersei, it’s a complete no-brainer. Lady’s a crazy motherf—ker. She’s going down.”

Yet Clarke also had another, more personal reaction to Dany’s meltdown. “I have my own feelings [about the storyline] and it’s peppered with my feelings about myself,” she admits. “It’s gotten to that point now where you read [comments about] the character you [have to remind yourself], ‘They’re not talking about you, Emilia, they’re talking about the character.”

Like many actors who have played the same role for a long time, Clarke identifies with her character and has put much of herself into the role. She believes in Daenerys’ confidence, idealism and past acts of compassion. As the actress wrote in a New Yorkeressay in March, she played the Breaker of Chains through some life-threatening personal hardships, secretly enduring two brain aneurysms during her early years on the show. “You go on set and play a badass and you walk through fire and that became the thing that saved me from considering my own mortality,” she wrote. Clarke has drawn strength from Daenerys and infused Daenerys with her strength.

“I genuinely did this, and it’s embarrassing and I’m going to admit it to you,” Clarke says. “I called my mom and—“ Clarke shifts into a tearful voice to perform the conversation as she reenacts the call: “I read the scripts and I don’t want to tell you what happens but can you just talk me off this ledge? It really messed me up.’ And then I asked my mom and brother really weird questions. They were like: ‘What are you asking us this for? What do you mean do I think Daenerys is a good person? Why are you asking us that question? Why do you care what people think of Daenerys? Are you okay?’”

“And I’m all: ‘I’m fine! … But is there anything Daenerys could do that would make you hate her?’”

During EW’s visit to Northern Ireland last March, I took a walk with co-executive producer Bryan Cogman into the dark woods near the production camp. It was around midnight and bitterly cold. Our boots scrunched on the muddy gravel and the bustling sounds of crew activity from the set slowly receded into the distance.

“Emilia has been threading that needle beautifully this season,” Cogman says. “It’s the hardest job anybody has on this show.”

As we pass crew members our voices cautiously go silent. While Dany’s Mad Queen arc was known by all, her death in the finale was a secret even among many who work on the show. Killing Daenerys was a massive and difficult move. On a show that’s introduced dozens of distinctive breakout characters, Daenerys is arguably the most easily identifiable and iconic. She is T-shirts and coffee mugs and posters and bobbleheads and memes and the name of hundreds of kids around the world with GoTfan parents; a fearless figure of female empowerment.

“I still don’t know how I feel about a lot of what happens this season and I helped write it,” Cogman says. “It’s emotionally very challenging. It’s designed to not feel good. That said, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The best drama is the type you have to think about. There’s a dangerous tendency right now to make art and popular culture to feel safe for everybody and make everybody feel okay when watching and I don’t believe in that. The show is messy and grey and that’s where it’s always lived — from Jaime pushing a little boy out the window to Ned Stark’s death to the Red Wedding. This is the kind of story that’s meant to unsettle you and challenge you and make you think and question. I think that was George’s intent and what David and Dan wanted to do. However you feel about the final episodes of this show I don’t think anybody will ever accuse us of taking the easy way out.”

I point out Daenerys’ final season arc shifts the entire series, or at least her role in it. Upon rewatch, every Daenerys scene will now be viewed differently; the story of the rise of a villain more than a hero.

“Yes, although I don’t know if she’s a villain,” Cogman says. “This is a tragedy. She’s a tragic figure in a very Shakespearean and Greek sense. When Jon asks Tyrion [in the finale] if they were wrong and Tyrion says, ‘Ask me again in 10 years,’ I think that’s valid.”

Tyrion actor Peter Dinklage says the showrunners on set compared Dany’s dragon-bombing of King’s Landing to the U.S. dropping nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki to decisively end World War II in 1945. “That’s what war is,” Dinklage says. “Did we make the right choices in war? How much longer would [WWII] have gone on if we didn’t make horrible decisions? We love Daenerys. All the fans love Daenerys, and she’s doing these things for the greater good. ‘The greater good’ has been in the headlines lately… when freeing everyone for the greater good you’re going to hurt some innocents along the way, unfortunately.”

Gwendoline Christie, who plays Brienne of Tarth, adds there’s another political lesson to be learned in the final season as well. “The signs have actually always been there,” Christie says of Daenerys. “And they’ve been there in ways we felt at the time were just mistakes or controversial. At this time, it’s important to question true motives. This show has always been about power and, more than ever, it’s an interesting illustration that people in pursuit of power can come in many different forms and we need to question everything.” 

Killing Daenerys also forever changes Jon Snow, leading to his circular fate: returning to serve the rest of his life at The Wall. Harington spoke about the show’s finale in a production tent on the season 8 set, his voice so cautiously low a recorder could barely pick him up. Harington explained he avoids talking about the death scene on the set, and he and Clarke came up with a secret hand signal to refer to it — touching a fist to their heart.

“I think it’s going to divide,” Harington says of the finale’s fan reaction. “But if you track her story all the way back, she does some terrible things. She crucifies people. She burns people alive. This has been building. So, we have to say to the audience: ‘You’re in denial about this woman as well. You knew something was wrong. You’re culpable, you cheered her on.’”

Harington adds he worries the final two episodes will be accused of being sexist, an ongoing criticism of GoT that has recently resurfaced perhaps more pointedly than ever before. “One of my worries with this is we have Cersei and Dany, two leading women, who fall,” he says. “The justification is: Just because they’re women, why should they be the goodies? They’re the most interesting characters in the show. And that’s what Thrones has always done. You can’t just say the strong women are going to end up the good people. Dany is not a good person. It’s going to open up discussion but there’s nothing done in this show that isn’t truthful to the characters. And when have you ever seen a woman play a dictator?”

There’s plenty of tragedy for Jon as well, he points out. “This is the second woman he’s fallen in love with who dies in his arms and he cradles her in the same way,” Harington notes. “That’s an awful thing. In some ways, Jon did the same thing to [his Wildling lover] Ygritte by training the boy who kills her. This destroys Jon to do this.”

Back in Clarke’s dressing room, the actress is preparing to film one of her final scenes on the series. Understandably, she can’t quite bring herself to feel sorry for Jon Snow.

“Um, he just doesn’t like women does he?” Clarke quips. “He keeps f—king killing them. No. If I were to put myself in his shoes I’m not sure what else he could have done aside from … oh, I dunno, maybe having a discussion with me about it? Ask my opinion? Warn me? It’s like being in the middle of a phone call with your boyfriend and they just hang up and never call you again. ‘Oh, this great thing happened to me at work today —hello?’ And that was 9 years ago…”

Clarke’s phone call metaphor is characteristically witty, and the actress has given some fascinating insight about the season as a whole. But nothing yet quite feels like the bottom, the blunt truth of how she feels about Daenerys’ fate.

“You’re about to ask if me — as Emilia — disagreed with her at any point,” Clarke intuits. “It was a f—king struggle reading the scripts. What I was taught at drama school — and if you print this there will be drama school teachers going ‘that’s bulls—t,’ but here we go: I was told that your character is right. Your character makes a choice and you need to be right with that. An actor should never be afraid to look ugly. We have uglier sides to ourselves. And after 10 years of working on this show, it’s logical. Where else can she go? I tried to think what the ending will be. It’s not like she’s suddenly going to go, ‘Okay, I’m gonna put a kettle on and put cookies in the oven and we’ll just sit down and have a lovely time and pop a few kids out.’ That was never going to happen. She’s a Targaryen.”

“I thought she was going to die,” she continues. “I feel very taken care of as a character in that sense. It’s a very beautiful and touching ending. Hopefully, what you’ll see in that last moment as she’s dying is: There’s the vulnerability — there’s the little girl you met in season 1. See? She’s right there. And now, she’s not there anymore…”

A crew member comes for Clarke and she stands up. It’s time for her to go. Clarke begins to walk away, turns around, breaks away from the staffer, and comes back.

There’s one last thing she wants you to know.

“But having said all of the things I’ve just said…” Clarke says. “I stand by Daenerys. I stand by her! I can’t not.”

Source

Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale’s shock twist: ‘I stand by Daenerys’ was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[ariadne-rx300-blog]

(R)e:volution

Summary: The RX300, arguably the most elusive design of Elijah Kamski's creation. An undisclosed prototype tasked with human-android relations espionage, equipped with a real-time observational UI, social protocol, combat tactics and looks to kill. How does a painted genius so easily lose track of his own spy? (Android OC/Connor)

Additional Tags: Pre-Deviant Connor, Pre-Android Revolution, OC backstory, Mostly Canon Compliant, Elijah Kamski has ulterior motives, OC is Kamski’s surveillance android, sort of like when people say Google is listening to your conversations, she’s kind of like that, OC observes Connor at work, for “observational research purposes”, this totally isn’t one of those types of romances, except it totally is, probably, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Deviant Love, Connor Deserves Happiness, Big Brother is Watching

Link to Chapter 1

2 || At Any Cost

Chapter Summary: "What makes me what I am?”

RX300 #151 073 925 - 21

Awaken, fair Eve, skin as alabaster in the light of an artificial moon. The Garden has unfinished business with you.

                                                                                                    AUGUST 15TH 2038

P a r a d i s e

As dusk fell, Kamski's simulated arboretum[1] had taken on an ethereal light, jarring in Eve's vision as she stepped forward into inverted god-rays on the rocky path. One foot in front of the other, she pushed past glowing plants with fronds brushing synthetic skin, tickling her cheek had she been capable of the sensation. Her LED spun blue in the simulated darkness, displaying her calm distance from that which was subjectively beautiful. The pathway before her formed itself slowly but steadily, illuminated by her steps as she went with her main directive in mind.

He stood on a pedestal in this dreamscape, arm extended as he stroked a large paintbrush across a previously-incorporeal canvas, hues of blue forming on the pillar before him, contrasting the inverse nature of the world around them.

"Elijah," Eve addressed him, simulated breaths expressed in glittering plumes. He paused, a smile passing over his features as he set his idle painting aside. Stepping from his pedestal and down to her level, he regarded her with the kind of consideration that could only be expected of a man in constant search of answers.

"Eve." He hummed as he approached, eyes glimmering curiously, "I've been closely watching your work. As you're already aware, you are equipped with the latest observational technology--in particular, an interface that I as your sole director may obtain oversight of at any time." She stood still as he circled her contemplatively, her face fixed forward, expression unchanged. "You are my eyes. Anywhere that you can go, I can go. It is a great gift, but one we must hide."

She blinked like a child with tired eyes to his lecturing. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, reaching just a bit taller than his own, his eyebrows rising and falling as he processed her rigid response to his grasp. "Your task is of great importance to me," He gently chided, "to my company. To the world, inevitably. The information we need is imperative to the advancement of human history."

"I understand," she spoke deliberately, "it is my purpose to uphold the expectations you have for me. I am designed to impress, not disappoint." Words fit for the ears of her creator. He'd programmed her well enough to give him adequate lip service, even in the event of a miscalculation or subsequent error.

"Good," He grinned, heaving a sigh that seemed to betray his outright confidence in her abilities. "At the moment, I believe I have an urgent case worth looking into." He stepped backward, finding his place among the luminescence of simulated flowers, turning on his heel and spreading his arms wide. His hands closed, fingers splaying to conjure a transparent monitor in the space before him. Pictures and videos flooded the screen, as well as various taglines heading the articles that surfaced on its intangible display.

Eve surveyed the images, poised to take in only the details that would be deemed necessary. A prominent variable caught her attention and easily debunked this mentality, however; an android detective, purportedly on active duty in the same location, its[2] conventionally approachable appearance wavering in the ether.

"I've arranged transportation, your alibi has been forwarded to you. The authorization you'll need has just been cleared by the DPD. Survey the crime scene, and keep an eye--" Elijah gestured vaguely to the enlarged image of the android in question, "--on that one. Take note of its actions. Don't let anyone onto your motive. This is strictly confidential observational research."

New Objective Received.

A wave of sensory overload flooded Eve, causing her eyes to harshly blink open. Blueish, bruised moonlight caressed her arm where she stood at a large, arched window looking out over broken waves. CyberLife Tower. The room that greeted her was more or less a glorified walk-in closet, complete with an array of outfits fit to dress both androids and humans--or, in the case of Eve on covert occasions, androids posing as humans. This mission required as such, seeing as the DPD wouldn't take kindly to any android apart from the obvious showing up to observe an active deviant threat.

Tensions had risen so quickly, with curious attachment to the Detroit area. It made sense that Kamski would be so adamant about attempting to frame deviancy from every angle, as had been Eve's clear goal since her inception. Being unable to show up to a crime scene himself without flags being raised by reporters and by the American public as a whole--this was why he'd been so determined on sending her instead. On the outside, he'd declared his apparent resignment long ago, secluded himself away from the public eye for sake of personal privacy.

On the inside, he still headed the operation, pulling strings where needed and providing his legacy with the occasional adjustment; new amendments to his original formula where necessary. If he couldn't be where the action was to see for himself, at least he could have someone to act in his stead. In this case, something with the power to act as his inside source, his live feed.

                                                                                                    AUGUST 15TH 2038

T h e  P h i l l i p s '  R e s i d e n c e

Exiting the taxi had proven a hassle in itself. Eve moved through the throng of people who had gathered at the perimeter, buzzing with curious minds and excitable conversation over the active threat that was taking place high above them. The entrance of the apartment building burst open to reveal a disgruntled police officer holding a woman securely by the arm, escorting her through the flickering line of holographic police tape. She struggled frantically, and Eve saw her chance to move past personnel as the woman began to wail, much to the morbid curiosity of the gathered crowd.

"It has my child!" She bawled, "If you aren't going to save her, let me do it myself!"

Slipping into the complex and onto the elevator with ease, Eve ascended to the 70th floor. She prepared herself, armed only with words (to angle herself away from suspicion), a convincing ID (to provide evidence of the truth to her lies), a pen and notebook (to act as decoys; she had no real use for them aside from aiding her disguise), and an olivine polyester jacket (an aesthetic touch tailored to enhance her visual impression.) With some luck, the attention would be on the event at hand and not on her sudden, mysterious appearance.

She entered the luxury suite's foyer, casting her gaze around in silent surveillance. A framed photograph of the once-happy family to her right, a partly-drained aquarium to her left, shot-up yet still intact. On closer inspection, a single dwarf gourami swam within, unfazed by the circumstances that had befallen the household. The water that clung to her heels indicated the fish had recently been lying on the floor, leading to the conclusion that someone had carefully put it back in its rightful place. No human fingerprints... an android had saved it. Strange.

"Excuse me, miss, may I see your ID?" A prompt, as expected. Given the importance of the current events taking place across the country, DPD was sure to have the place on lockdown. What had once been a family home had turned into a crucial, currently-escalating case of deviancy.

Eve regarded the officer that questioned her, the woman's face drawn into a deeper emotion beyond her recognition. Eve shuffled in her jacket pockets, preserving her disguise as she put on a ruse of human forgetfulness. She 'found' her fake license soon after and proffered it to the officer, "I'm a journalist with Detroit Today," she lied, smiling with about as much excitement as she could simulate. "this is my first big break!"

The policewoman breathed out a sardonic laugh, "This is my first big case, too." Eve's expression faltered as the officer reluctantly handed back her ID. "I wouldn't look so bright if I were you, it's a bloody hellhole in there. That machine made a right mess of the place." The policewoman seemed satisfied thereafter and returned to her work guarding the entranceway, a slight stutter to her steps. Eve nodded to herself in delayed acknowledgment, taking a moment to recalibrate.

Proceeding to the main room, she quickly observed the damage that had been done by the perpetrator in question. Two bodies to the left and right; fatally shot by near-perfect aim. The first bodies Eve had witnessed. Glass had scattered on the ground from the ricochet of bullets leading back to the foyer. That mother was lucky to be alive; why would she have wanted to risk her life? She was untrained and would easily have been apprehended. If anything, her interference would have worsened the situation at hand. Her daughter, taken hostage by their own domestic android.

Eve stopped dead in her tracks as her view was obscured, thought process unexpectedly derailed. A tall man brushed past her, heeding her no mind as he went to examine the body in the living room. A correction was quickly made as she noted a spinning LED--a tall android had made its way to examine the body, leaving her in the lurch for a moment as she took in this new information. Given context clues and the general information she had, the only androids that had been permitted access to the crime scene (aside from herself, secretly) were that of the deviant perpetrating the crime and the android negotiator itself. This one, the one Kamski had wanted her to watch, the prototype detective.

SWAT bickered in the other room, apparently unable to make positive contact with the hostage or the deviant that had taken her. A few stood at the doorway to the terrace, arguing amongst themselves as they repeatedly aimed and lowered their weapons through shattered glass. Eve was invisible to them, a quiet bystander in an unexplained moment of weakness. She caught herself gawking and immediately straightened her back, keeping to the shadows as she observed the detective at work.

The android kneeled by the body of a dead man, stopping still as its programming kicked into gear. It stepped over the body, turning, and for a moment its dark, piercing gaze seemed to look right through her. Was it equipped with a function unlike her own? At most, she was aware of her own ability to pre-construct scenarios, had she the need to defend herself. But, the ability to recreate events that had happened prior? Now that was an interesting function of which she was not capable.

The detective blinked, then stooped to interact with an object on the ground. An electronic tablet likely dropped by the victim in his last moments. A look of recognition seemed to pass over the android's features; it turned its head to the terrace entrance, occupied by armored officers, then stood up to stalk over to the other body. A blue-blooded bloodhound, as was the comparable analogy that came to mind. It was strangely incredible, watching another android acting solely upon its programmed instincts.

In turn, Eve paused, blinking her eyes closed as she sent out a cursory report on her findings. Come to find, when she opened her eyes again, the bloodhound was standing before her, watching intently. "Hello," it smiled as it politely introduced itself to what it had apparently assumed was human, "my name is Connor--I'm the android sent by CyberLife. I couldn't help but notice that you seem a bit... preoccupied with my actions." Bouncing gently on its heels, it seemed curiously eager to interact with her, even despite its current, rather pressing objective. "You said that you were a journalist, correct? Is there anything you would like to inquire about my functions?"

Her chest expanded as she inhaled, pupils widening like camera lenses to little effect. It couldn't scan her... but oddly enough she couldn't scan it either. "Eve." She reciprocated the smile, settling back into a more casual, 'human' stance. "What can you tell me about the bodies, Connor? I noticed you had little trouble looking them over." She chose her words carefully, lips falling open as she processed each phrase. "Is that part of your programming?" She readied her decoy notebook and pen.

"Yes," It gave a small nod, LED spinning yellow as it seemed to take in every detail of Eve's face. It blinked excessively, struggling in its repeated attempts at an assessment of her identity. No doubt, had Kamski enabled it to detect anything past her inherent cloaking technology, it would have been able to uncover her true nature off the bat. It was dangerous to be this close to something that could so easily dismantle you, had it reason to, though evidently this thought was lost on her. After all, she wasn't a deviant; she wasn't prey, and even in the crosshairs of the hunter she felt no fear. She felt nothing, frankly.

"I am an RK800 prototype model, capable of high-grade military combat and investigative tactics." Eve noticed it fall into humanlike mannerisms as it explained, its head tilting slightly, a lock of synthetic hair falling over its forehead. It was undoubtedly designed to appear trustworthy to the human mind and had facial features that were overtly soft in nature, with brown eyes that were almost... gentle? Odd. "Per your inquiry, I am equipped with the ability to scan and reconstruct past events using the evidence that is available," Its voice piqued interest and carried a warm, unassuming tone. "and I even have a social protocol, which you've clearly noticed." A wink, followed by that rapid blinking again. Eve's eyebrows furrowed.

"Where the fuck is that negotiator?" The SWAT captain, on his last straw, broke the atmosphere between the two like an arm. The detective android, Connor, straightened itself at the first sign of urgency, wordlessly refocusing its energy on the task at hand. It didn't waste any goodbyes on the false-journalist, strict in its obedience, instead returning with long strides to examine the dead officer lying in the center of the room. Eve scurried back into the shadows and out of the captain's warpath, though he set his sights on her the moment she made any sudden movements.

"You're obviously not one of mine;" he sneered impatiently as he approached, "Are you authorized?"

"I am." Eve insisted, standing tall and nearly as forthright. "Eve Turing with Detroit Today. I've already been cleared." He looked her over, assessing a final judgement, though she attempted to null his suspicions with mirrored impatience. "Exactly how many more times do I have to answer?"

"None," The captain, 'Captain Allen,' she noted, puffed indignantly. "Your name's on the list." He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured with a nod towards Connor, his demeanor relaxing substantially. "Just, stay out of its way. This is a high-priority case, and things are about to get hairier." Technically, Connor had approached her, not the other way around. She didn't dare argue that fact, though, instead dismissing herself from the conversation with a submissive nod. Captain Allen promptly turned on his heel and returned to his team, likely deliberating over a backup plan in the master bedroom.

Across the room, Connor crouched low. Eve stepped forward despite the captain's warning, stooping to better capture the android's actions. The detective reached forward, retrieving the deceased officer's pistol. It was against the law for androids to possess any form of weaponry, as Eve had been programmed to acknowledge--watching Connor holster the gun in its back pocket caused a stir in her. Was it still a crime if used to further the mission? In Connor's mind, apparently not. It had said that it was trained with military combat tactics...

'Fascinating,' She shut her eyes tightly to the sensation that abruptly overcame her, standing upright as she felt as though someone were digging around in her head with a fork. Kamski's commentary moved through her mind as though they were her own thoughts, yet still clearly foreign to her processing. 'It didn't even hesitate.'

When she blinked her eyes open again Connor was poised to exit onto the terrace. The detective slid the door open and she scrambled to frame the oncoming scenario, ignorant to members of SWAT who voiced their concerns for her safety. She perched herself at the shattered window as the primary event commenced.

A fair-haired android stood at the opposite end of the terrace, a PL600 of domestic function with a small human girl in its grasp--the deviant and the daughter taken hostage. Somehow the previous descriptions hadn't done the actual visual much justice. Things became real as soon as the situation had presented itself before Eve's eyes. The girl squealed, deviant gruffly murmuring under its breath. A shot ripped through the atmosphere as Connor entered onto the scene, the bullet making impact with its clothed shoulder, spattering blue blood and rendering its wounded arm exposed and sparking.

"Hi, Daniel!" It shouted, much to the dismay of the offending android. "My name is Connor!" A SWAT helicopter flew to hover ominously over the scene, the wind from its blades tugging aggressively on Connor's suit jacket.

"How- how do you know my name?" Shock evident in its tone, the deviant's expression quickly twitched into unadulterated anger. It was hard for Eve to comprehend the emotion that struck its synthetic skin so easily, as though what it was feeling were more than simulation, bearing deeper roots than its superficial make.

Connor started forward, slow in its steps. Calculated, monitoring Daniel's rising ire. "I know a lot of things about you; I've come to get you out of this!" Pool furniture having been flung across the terrace in the all-encompassing gale, Connor reached to push a chair out of the way as it continued. "I'm an android, just like you." The detective-turned-negotiator pleaded despite steadily worsening conditions, "I know how you're feeling!"

"What difference does it make if you're an android?" Sneered the deviant with little regard to Connor's shallow empathy, "You're on their side! You can't understand how I'm feeling!" Daniel growled frustratedly and the hostage frantically screamed. "Are you armed?" The deviant spat, one arm clinging to the squirming child with a death-grip, the other pointing a pistol at Connor with potentially fatal aim.

"No!" Came the instant lie. "I don't have a gun!" Eve held onto the windowsill with bated breath, eyes wide. Connor was especially brazen, approaching a highly unlikely situation and directly working to increase its chance of success. It was particularly breathtaking and nonetheless unprecedented.

Daniel called Connor's bluff, though the detective's resolve remained unshaken. "You're lying! I know you have a gun!" A tango with ultraviolence; it was ironic that the one who'd committed the crime would appear more frightened than that of its foil.

"I'm telling you the truth, Daniel, I came here unarmed!" Another bold-faced lie in the face of clear opposition.

A wounded officer lay dying in a red pool of his own blood, barely conscious. Connor set its sights on the man, multitasking. "They were going to replace you and you became upset. That's what happened, right?"

Eve blinked as the deviant seemed to momentarily withdraw its guard, somehow affected by Connor's words. "I thought I was part of the family. I thought I mattered..." It snapped suddenly, firing up into chaos once more. It shook the gun in its hand exasperatedly, the child along with it. "But I was just their toy, something to throw away when you're done with it!"

Steps away from the dying man, Connor poked at Daniel's nerve with a fine tool. "I know you and Emma were very close. You think she betrayed you, but she's done nothing wrong!"

"SHE LIED TO ME!" Daniel roared, "I thought she loved me... But I was wrong. She's just like all the other humans!"

The young girl in its hold, 'Emma,' wept openly. "Daniel, no..."

Connor's attention drifted from the dying man to the erratic deviant. It kneeled to address the wound that Daniel had caused--a bullet through the arm, the injury oozing blood onto concrete at an alarming rate. It was a wonder the officer hadn't already fainted from the trauma or faded altogether. "He's losing blood," Connor stated, expression vague. "If we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to die."

"All humans die eventually!" Daniel exclaimed with disdain and utter lack of sympathy, "What does it matter if this one dies now?"

The detective's lip twitched as conflicting orders flitted across its vision. "I'm going to apply a tourniquet," It said finally, moving to assess the officer's punctured arm. Daniel fired a warning shot, the bullet shooting sparks from where it crashed into the ground near Connor's kneeled position.

"Don't touch him!" The deviant ordered, "Touch him and I kill you!"

The threat was palpable enough. The PL600 had already murdered three people; Emma's father, and two first responders: one lying cold in the dining room, the other afloat, facedown in the terrace pool. Had attempted to murder a fourth, the officer under Connor's attention, and a fifth, the small girl helpless in his arm. Connor, however, was not a 'person' in that regard; solely by the given definition of being an android had it forfeited any right to individual importance.

"You can't kill me," Connor barked, quickly untying its tie and wrapping the wound tight. "I'm not alive." Daniel expelled a breath of frustration as the detective stood to its feet and resumed its careful approach. "Listen," It started, "I know it's not your fault." A pause, followed by a further move for sympathy. "These emotions you're feeling are just errors in your software!"

"No, it's not my fault... I never wanted this... I loved them, you know?" Daniel was selfish, shaken again by Connor's prodding and eagerly responsive with a volatile demeanor. "--But I was nothing to them!" It argued, still pushing back. "Just a slave to be ordered around!"

'Loved' them... A 'slave'... Eve's lips puckered in silent contemplation.

"I can't stand that noise anymore!" The deviant suddenly yelled, "Tell that helicopter to get out of here!"

Connor moved to optimal distance then did as asked, waving the helicopter away from the scene. "There," The terrace calmed as the windstorm slowly died. "I did what you wanted." Even as the negotiator acted in favor of Daniel, the deviant proved unsatisfied. Connor had reached the threshold, and the night was on its last leg.

"You have to trust me, Daniel!" It begged upon selective ears, "Let the hostage go and I promise you, everything will be fine!"

Daniel's pupils shook as retroactive weakness took hold. "I want everyone to leave... And I want a car! When I'm outside the city, I'll let her go!" With the gun to Emma's head, it switched objectives, attempting to bargain in the face of looming destruction. Striking a deal with the devil for the sake of self-preservation, a remarkably humanlike mistake.

With so many sins, what was there left to save? Connor's lips pursed into the fine line that kept the deviant away from its stained freedom. "That's impossible, Daniel." Justice to be served. It spoke logically, "Let the girl go and I promise, you won't be hurt."

"I don't want to die..."

"You're not going to die." It was almost laughable, the pile of lies that had built up to this point. "We're just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word." The word of a being comprised of wires and synthetic skin, a mind made of mathematical equations and social protocol, of programming for the purpose of deviant suppression. The word of a deviant hunter. An untrustworthy, nonempathetic, inhuman being with no ounce of rank to live up to its own promise of credibility.

Hesitation. An atmosphere riddled with the pungent mixture of death, chlorine, and gunpowder. A final problem[3] waiting to be solved.

"I've spent my life taking orders..." Daniel lowered the gun, its free arm opening wide as it had inevitably surrendered to its fate, intending to take its hostage along with it as its shoes hit the edge. "...Now, it's my turn to decide."

Time slowed as the PL600 careened backward over the cityscape below. Emma's scream tore across the terrace, body struggling for purchase as gravity increased. Connor sprung into action, shedding its patience to meet Daniel's desperate act with its own. Eve gasped for air as the detective leapt for the girl[4], gliding forward to collide with the deviant and pulling Emma to safety in one fell swoop.

The two androids tumbled over the side and out of view as Eve left the scene with numbed haste.

                                                                                                    THE TRUTH IS INSIDE

1 Similar to Amanda's Zen Garden, but instead centered around Kamski, acting as a sister subspace to the prior. The two exist separately, with Amanda's Zen Garden existing for Connor and Kamski's Paradise simultaneously existing for Eve; two sides of the same coin ("nature versus nurture.") As opposed to Amanda's emphasis on both literal and metaphorical 'nature' in the environment around her, Kamski's is a combination of nature and technology, with an infusion of cosmic influence to represent knowledge and the 'nurture' side of the argument. The name "Paradise" refers to the Garden of Eden from the biblical tale of Adam and Eve... more or less showing Kamski to be a self-proclaimed 'God' figure.

2 This is written from the perspective of Eve, a nondeviant android. Although Eve perceives herself with female pronouns, she perceives the other androids around her to be "it"s, like nonsentient objects. It's a blind irony.

3 Referring to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's infamous Sherlock Holmes finale "The Final Problem," originally intended as the end to the beloved detective's stories as a whole. Holmes and his archnemesis Moriarty duke it out, inevitably perishing together by way of falling into the gorge of the Reichenbach Falls. This is mirrored by Connor's act of sacrifice, as both he and Daniel die by falling off of the apartment building.

4 Software Instability ^

[pickyperkypenguin]

So. You finished NiF. Who is your favorite character? Favorite 'arc'?

Ihave liked Nirvana in Fire a little bit differently than I usually dowhen I fall for a book/movie/show. I tend to focus on characters andthey are what makes me like something and stick with it. Here itwas the storytelling that has grabbed me by the ankle and chained metomy laptop for several days, as I’ve binge-watched the whole thing.I have been immensely satisfied with the outcomes and theconsequences of the initial setup, and with the fact that it was allso cleanly done – the goals and the circumstances set, executionconsequent and the actions actually having a follow up. I’m notsaying it was devoid of loose ends or always completely believablesometimes – videXiao Jingyan’s complete inability to see through all the slip upsmade not only by Lin Shu – but those disbelieves were a consequenceof creating an additional tension between characters, so I didn’tmind at all.

What I think Ienjoyed most was the machinations coming true and seeing theorchestration of them. It was full of suspense, but not for theviewer, which I think is a great choice to make by the creators,because the viewer is often credited with less comprehension skillsthey have, and we end up with big reveals that we’ve seen throughdecades ago. I didn’t feel like it was the case here – we couldinstead watch the reactions of the characters, which was much moreinteresting for me.

Sayingall this, I wasn’t as deeply connected emotionally with thecharacters as I usually am, when liking a thing (book, show, etc.)this much. The uniqueness of liking NiF for me was this: I’vestayed engaged throughout fifty four episodes despite not zeroing onthe characters. The plot was actuallyinteresting enoughfor me, for once. That’s like, my private major kudos for NiF.

It wasn’tabout any plot twists, and not even about rooting for any particularoption to win – I could have easily watch with equal interest andsatisfaction the demise of prince Jingyan and Mei Changsu’s plans.Which doesn’t mean I didn’t have personal faves and dislikes.Ugh, consort Yue. Ugh, the first Crown Prince. I found them a bit toocaricatural, and was relieved when their arc has ended and they wereremoved from action. Though, I must admit, Jingxuan was a very goodcontrast for Jinghuan, and consort Yue for consort Jing. So, as I’vesaid, even when I didn’t like someone, their presence have madesense as they accentuated well all the others around. Oh, and Xie Yu?Nightmare, a complete nightmare – but what a wonderful villain!

Oh, andanother thing that was very interesting for me – this was a Chinesedrama made with the Chinese audience in mind, and therefore used sometropes, visual shortcuts that for a European were not always clear, Isuspect also sometimes not even visible. It was very interesting forme to try and understand things I were presented – like the factthat nobody had ever kissed on screen. When Mu Nihuang and Lin Shuhugged, were they actually hugging? Were they kissing passionately?Were they kissing reverently? Or when the Emperor was holding a handof one of his consorts – was that the equivalent of a kiss on thecheek or was he actually drawing moral support from hand holding? Isimply don’t know, because I don’t have enough required knowledge– a state very in line with my education, and I found that alsostrangely satisfying. It was a lot of fun for me to try and piecethose things and try to find an explanation for them.

Followingthe trope of the satisfaction and touch – the lack of touching! Iswear, it was so interesting to observe all the ways emotionalcloseness could be expressed either by reverence when following theetiquette protocol or verbally, without ever being overt with it.Coming from the perspective of creating and sustainingtension? Awesome.

Diving intothe characters more deeply – my favourite thing about Mei Changsuwas that he was actually the Left Hand, not just some stand-in withgood morals. He was committing morally questionable choices for thegreater cause, and he was not always apologetic about it. I felt likeperhaps the storytelling was trying to suggest to me as a viewer atthose points that because he had good morals (or Xiao Jingyan as amoral compass that he believed in) and was working for the prosperityof the Empire and its moral rejuvenation, then he should be absolved– but I read it as  mere suggestion, and so I didn’t feel it asobnoxious attempts of the narrative to convince me. I could make myown observations about his choices and morality, and in the end tojudge if he was a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ character. He was neitherand it was the best thing about it.

Mei Changsuwas also an excellent counterpart and a parallel to the princeJinghuan. Ah, Xiao Jinghuan – his was my favourite arc of them all.His and Changsu’s choices were actually quite the same – theywere trying to scheme mercilessly to get what they wanted: power. Thefact that they had different principles and goals (Changsu: devoidthe court of corruption, make the rule of the Empire just and goodfor people; Jinghuan: gain the prestigious title of the Emperor andall that follows it) doesn’t change much, when you look at it fromthe perspective of what they have sacrificed to get it (and aside ofthe results and whether they succeeded). Also my favourite part ofJinghuan is that he is actually not a villain. He is a product of hisupbringing, provenience, life circumstances and environment he livedin. Not once he does something that would have a root in this. Hiswant of power? Coming from his ambition, of course. But his ambition?Where does that come from? Oh, here it is, look, expectances ofothers (especially his mother and father the Emperor) and the role ofprince he had, and there were not many variants of it he could choosefrom, if he wanted to have respect and prestige.

The morebeautiful and delightfully satisfying to watch is his fall. My mostfavourite scene of all the show was that one, from the episode 41:

“Ban Ruo,were I not a Noble Prince, would you still come to see me today?”

“Iwould.”

“What ifI was exiled and made a commoner. Would you still come see me?”

“YourHighness, those are all imaginary scenarios, why worry about them?”

“Youwon’t come, right? That’s logical, you are a strategist and alsoa descendant of the Hua people. You have an unfinished mission. So,naturally, you need to find someone worth supporting. Now, that Ihave fallen, you will obviously not come to see me again.”

“It isn’tlike that, your Highness.”

“I’mtired. I really don’t want to fight any more.”

Inthis very moment we see Jinghuan completely and irrevocably crushed.Here also manifests a second extremely important thing – theacting. Victor Huang has delivered,is what I’m saying. I feel like a lot of this show could fall flatand the narrative choices could just not make sense (not thisparticular one, but others), if not for amazing acting skills of mostof the cast. Victor Huang or Hu Ge made like 60% of their characterswith just a frown, a smirk, a tip of a head. And they made thembelievable. Lin Shu still deeply in love with Mu Nihuang afterthirteen years? Absolutely obvious. Jinghuan at the end of his ropein this scene? Guys, I have honestly believed for a second that thisperhaps is how they are going to deal with him. Of course, Ban Ruomade that obvious later that it won’t be the case, but if itdepended solely on Jinghuan, I was convinced he would just stop andlive out his days as a melancholic version of prince Ji. Which, Ithink, would be not such a bad thing for him.

Thatscene though, ah – Jinghuan stripped completely bare, finallyrealising he doesn’t have anythingin his life. No power, no respect, no love of his people. Everythinghe has is superficial and coming from his lifestyle, the faithfulnessof his subordinates coming from their own ethos rather than fromgenuine feeling of being treated well. And that is what I thinkreally defeats him, his failure and the awareness of not havinganything sincerely meaningful in his life. Ban Ruo he still trusts,because he knows her (even better now, when he’s aware what sheactually wants from him) and doesn’t care as much as he did for theconsequences. His goals, I think, shift from gaining the status toavenging the fact that he can’t have it. I think at this point hedoesn’t believe in possible success, maybe leaves like 10% ofstupid hope, but most of all he wants to sing his swan song, to showthat he still can execute things, even if they won’t have all thedesigned results.

I wasn’tvery satisfied with that swan song, to be honest, from the emotionalpoint of view. I thought it could have such a great outcome if theywould let him live defeated as he was – but the emotional tormentswould be a good material for a different type of show, not asplot-reliant as this one. I would love a fix-it fic where this wouldbe explored, ahhhh. He could be depressed and trying to improvehimself, so he could finally gain something emotionally meaningful inhis life and also perhaps he would be using all the perks of hisnoble-and-rich life as he liked them very much, he could be an artpatron or something like that. Oh yes, gimme that goodness.

I really likedMei Changsu’s arc, even though it felt a bit artificial, buildingthat tension between him and prince Jingyan. When they were togetheron screen, though, it worked so well, because the actors had a greatchemistry between them. I mean, Hu Ge has excellent chemistry withjust about everyone, is what I’m saying. To be honest, I liked toothat his story with Mu Nihuang was tragic in the end. It feltappropriate, having all those ends cut abruptly – it was aphenomenal choice to actually let him die instead of finding somemagic cure in the last minute, as it often is and as I have expectedsubconsciously. Him dying was what tied this story as it should betied, leaving people grieving but remembering his impact on the fatesof the Empire, exactly the way he wanted.

A great touchwas also this moment when Lin Chen says that he doesn’t know thiswhole Lin Shu, that Changsu is his friend. It is him, not some shadowfrom the past he is helping. He saw something worthy in Changsu andhe isn’t founding his opinions about him on the past – and that’sso different from most of the people that surround Mei Changsu (ofthose that he can confide in).

Theemotional distance between the characters I found a thing of marvel.The loneliness of those who wield power was very well executed –and not the obvious one, as in case of prince Jingyan (can you noticehe was not my favourite? Like, you know, lovely but in a mashedpotatoes way) – but the less obvious, with those who had a supportsystem at first glance. Lin Shu is willingly depriving himself fromthe people who would love to co-carry his burden and is trying tofind a balance when they try to hero-worship him. Prince Jinghuan hasvery obedient subordinates that he half doesn’t pay attention, halfconvinces himself they love him as they should because of his naturalbirthright and innate nobleness (a beautiful example of the effectsof classism in praxis)and in fact has no one to lean on except his mother (which comes withits own set of expectations). The Emperor has a court full of peoplehe has to keep carefully divided and even those who are technicallysupposed to fulfil the role of emotional support (his consorts) areexploiting him, because he exploits them. Yum, yum, yum.

On the otherhand there are friendships – the other strongest point of thisshow. I haven’t been shipping any pair here, because thefriendships were so engaging. Like Yan Yujin and Xiao Jingrui forexample? Another arc I loved, including the cruelty of Mei Changsu’schoice to go through with his plan that would affect his friend. Alsowhat amused me endlessly was the fact that the general atmosphere ofNirvana in Fire was so loaded and serious, that whenever one of thesetwo precious boys, Yujin or Jingrui, appeared on the screen, it waslike an automatic comic/tension relieve. Their dynamics was adorable,light-hearted and young, and their choice to stay friends despite thefallout and the distance, and to treat each other exactly the same asthey were before, with kindness and care, was what warmed my heart.

So, ahem,finishing this dramatically long answer to your question – this waswhat I liked about Nirvana in Fire :>. And probably many more things, but I feel like I have already said too much for one post :D.

[clementinefight]

days go slow

yesterday my train’s door froze shut, but it was the fact that a Tim Horton's cup sleeve is being used as my bookmark, and not the frozen door, that reminded me today of how Canadian I am. it snowed all night—big fat white gusts, falling in dunes over everything, so heavy-looking I’m surprised the trees outside didn’t split under the weight. now it’s evening or approaching evening. outside the snow’s piled enough to crawl inside of like a mole. earlier the neighbours were out, doing their neighbourly act of neighbouring, which means they were standing on their driveways with their nice Home Depot shovels, waving so friendly at each other from the edges of their expensive territories. I think, among neighbours, that there’s a silent competition (never discussed) over who can get their driveway cleared the fastest, because somehow speed in this realm displays how good they are at their jobs and kids and finances and marriages. usually it’s the neighbour with the boat parked in his driveway who wins the silent race, because he wakes up vampire early with just the streetlamps for sunshine and has the advantage of a snow blower. We don’t have a snow blower. my mom keeps saying she wants one. she’s always embarrassed if our neighbour gets to our driveway first, and I tell her not to be because he’s probably trying to prove something and in feeling embarrassed about what he’s done, we’re letting him prove it

I don’t care about any of this. I’m only thinking about it because it’s recently happened and because I think there should be a law in Canada that requires us all to dress like the characters in Mysterious Skin (1, 2, 3), even though that film takes place in Kansas and not here. it doesn’t matter. this is how I’ll dress us in memories 

during lecture yesterday, I wrote in my notebook: 

“it’s one thing to be a drunk artist, but it’s another thing entirely to be a drunk construction worker, aimlessly living in the Dead End, in that unfinished house in which the ghost of his dead mother roams” 

I was talking about my dad. at times I am so stuck up and critical when it comes to how I view the lives of my parents—my dad and his tendency towards escapism, which I’ve inherited, and my mom and all her tragic tendencies, which I won’t get into—but I think we’re allowed these feelings if we also force ourselves into the awareness of them, as well as the awareness of our own hypocrisy. who am I to talk shit about my dad’s escapism when I spent the entirety of last year pretty much high out of my mind, every day, every night? I guess I talk shit because his escapism because I blame his for mine 

I wrote: 

“I want to go somewhere vast and open, and I want to go there alone, so that no feelings will be reflected or dredged up in me that aren’t belonging to the eye of my soul, I want a moment in which I know with clarity what my soul feels, however terrifying or sublime that may be. I am so impressionable. Let me alone, so that nothing but me can leave its mark.” 

nice sentiment, but what idealism. even completely alone, I’d become two just to torment myself. I do this now. but I still want to travel. travel is one of those things you think you can go without until you remember you’re never going to be here again, and then you start worrying about money. this morning I googled ‘room for rent in Nunavut’ and ‘room for rent in Alaska’ but how far away they are scared me off the idea. plus, I heard girls who go to Alaska pretty much go there to die. and I bet that’s not true. this is why people say not to believe everything you hear, but I am bad with that, and swallow anything and everything that helps to induce the amount of fear required to justify my staying still. stay still and nothing bad can happen to you, I guess, except for everything good that will happen without you, which you could’ve very well been a part of if only, when you were twenty-two, you had left your damn room. there are some exorcisms that simply can’t be done from your mom’s house

but at least I know what I’m up to in that arena, the arena of wanting to try and failing to do so. at least I know my tricks. then again, maybe that at least is just another way to self-pacify 

what I don’t know is why I write like I’m from some old, perfunctory age, when really I didn’t cry into this world till 1996. I think it’s just how I’ve learned to write—based on what I’ve read, or something. or maybe I write like this to prove I truly can be different from my parents and their parents. in general, I write now so I can remember me down the line when I'm not this me anymore. I didn't write about myself in my teenage years. I don't remember them well now

three days ago, I started Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. in the work there’s quite a bit I can’t really connect with (religion, talent from a young age, a writerly father) but there’s quite a lot that I can connect with, even though I’m taking it out of context to do the connecting. In the chapter on plot, Anne talks about how, if she were to give a group of students one idea to write a story about, many different stories will come back because each student has their own description of “what love and life are all about.” Anne says some descriptions will be “cynical, some rueful, some full of hope,” and that was good, but where she really got me was when she says, “some will be slow and interior,” (58).

Some will be slow and interior. 

These words are like a rainbow melt in my ice cave of self-understanding. Some will be slow and interior. We’re no longer talking about plot, but people. This is what I meant when I said that thing about connecting to what I take out of context. Some will be slow and interior. This is I, this is me—I change so completely on the inside before you can even see a flicker of the change come to my surface. Some life-changing things take years to get a hold of me because I spend so much time trying to either repress them or digest them with the least amount of feeling. 

I am slow and interior. 

In my notebook, I wrote: 

“Jealous, tendency to escape, performance always, voyeurism, ‘standing still in a moving scene,’ gossip/two-faced, possessions as personality, superiority complex, tender” 

I wrote: 

“and each time the light fell on me, I tried a different face. who could I attract?”

and, 

“I think I will only come to myself through constant drudgery” 

and, 

“Nothing much happens. flat surface, yet inside deeply turbulent” 

talking about myself. I’m seeing me for what I am and I’m glad

[spacebrick3]

Experiment S-80 Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Year 3, Day 174: 2.14.2385

Jacenty Hintzen knocked on the door of the hangar. She didn't know why her new job was in the Eyre Building, which everyone she had talked to had said was abandoned for years. Then again, she noted, it was some sort of government project. She had to sign a secrecy waiver and everything just to be here, waiting for someone to let her in. With the League-Charter war still raging five years in, it made since they would want to keep some things secret.

The door opened a crack, and a tired-looking scientist glared out. "Are you the new hire?" she asked. "What was it - Hintzen, right?" she muttered. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day or two. But you are Hintzen, right?"

"I - yeah," she said, slightly taken aback. "And you would be the project manager here?"

"That's correct," she said. "You already got all the paperwork done - good for you," she said. "I think Fostre still hasn't gotten all his forms in, but that's because he's a useless idiot."

Perhaps wisely, she didn't respond to that. "Alright, come in," Jensky said, gesturing her inside. "I don't know how much you know about what we're doing here-"

Jace shook her head. "Nothing. I think they were worried about me being a secret spy or something. Crazy, right?" She ducked into the building and peered around. It looked like a lab on the inside, but almost an unfinished one. A lot of the space inside was still hangar, with only a few temporary structures scattered around and then a retrofitted block in one corner. She thought it might have been the old control tower, from when ships were still being built here.

"You'd be surprised," Jensky said, starting to walk towards the tower. Jace hurried to follow. "It's not really my business to criticize what the Charter government wants to - half because, you know, I work for them, and half because I honestly don't care."

They stopped at another door into the tower, and Jensky pushed it open without even breaking stride. Two left turns and a right brought them to a meeting room, with a low buzz of chatter coming from inside. Someone was shouting. Jensky muttered something under her breath - she caught the word "Fostre" in there - then pushed the door open. It immediately fell silent. "Fostre, I'm expecting something at least bordering on common courtesy here," she said. "Hughes and Karim…don't screw this up." She reached out and grabbed Jace by the shoulder, towing her into the room. "Meet Jacenty Hintzen, our new materials scientist."

There was a chorus - well, given that there were only three other people in the room, chorus might be the wrong word. The three other scientists in the room muttered "hello" in various states of annoyance. That mostly came from one man sitting in the corner, who she guessed from the bright-red face was Fostre. She gave a small wave back. "Hello! It's nice to be working with you all!"

"And I'm sure we'll enjoy working with you," another said. She snuck a glance at their name tag, which read Sanya Karim. "But what," he asked at Jensky, "do we need with a materials scientist? I'm not objecting or anything, but it just seems that we'd want to hire another bio-electric person to replace Chance rather than-"

"Yes, well, that's the thing," Jensky snapped. "We're working with highly specialized materials here, and people like Brillk believed that materials science, especially in the field of crystalline metalloids, would be more helpful to our cause."

"And that's me!" she said. "I've worked with gallium especially as liquid conductor, because it has the potential due to the fluidity of the molecules to be able to transfer more charge more effectively. I think I have some notes on my research here-" She reached for her bag. Just in case, she had made sure she had all of her papers in case they wanted to question her about it.

Jensky cut her off. "That won't be necessary," she said. "Though we will be making use of it very soon."

"Well, that's good. Right?"

"Sit down." Jace sat. "As you know - but you don't," she said, pointing at her, "we recently were forced to fire our bio-electrician, Ari Chance, for unprofessional conduct that may have contaminated our experiment."

She raised a tentative hand. "Er - what is your experiment, anyway? No one's been able to tell me."

"We're working on implants that will be able to help ground soldiers - or pilots," she said with a sigh. "Improving reflexes is one, of course, as well as acuity of sight, increased memory or retention ability - basically, if we can squeeze it in, the Charter wants us to do it."

Well, that was interesting. There'd been lots of attempts for that kind of stuff in the past - everyone wanted their very own enhanced super-soldiers if they were fighting a war - but none of them had really worked. "And - how are we testing this?" she asked. "I mean, especially with some of them, it seems like it would be difficult to test exactly how they affect people, unless-"

"Unless what?"

"Uh - I mean, unless we were testing them on actual people. In which case, we'd be able to get more reasonable feedback," she said, letting her brain run on autopilot as she caught up to what she was actually saying. "But we wouldn't actually do…that…right?"

It didn't escape her how Jensky's gaze flickered away. "The government has said they want our product as fast as possible. Unfortunately, that requires a slight…loosening of protocol."

Sanya leaned over and whispered into her ear before she could speak. "One: she means, yes we are. And two-"

"We're doing WHAT?" she hissed back. "The hell? Don't you know just how-"

"Shut up," they whispered angrily, cutting her off. "Listen to me. Every scientist who's left this project - even Chance - they've all disappeared. No one knows what happened to them. So it doesn't matter what you think of this-"

"What I think of this? It's awful! I mean, it's scraping the very bottom of the barrel of scientific morality and is a disgrace to-"

"Sure! Whatever! But you can't leave," they said. "No matter what. Because then you'll disappear too."

"Why - why are you telling me this?"

"Because no matter what they say, Chance was my friend," they whispered. "And you seem like an alright person. So I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

"Are you quite done?" Jensky asked coldly.

"Oh! Yes," she said, scrambling to regain her composure. "Yes - totally."

"And you have no objections?"

"I…" she started. "Yes. I do have objections. Several. But I've also heard what you do to colleagues who voice those objections and who leave. So whatever I may think, I can't leave. Is that right?" Behind her, she heard Sanya sigh deeply. Well, I'm not just going to do this quietly, am I? They never said I needed to act happy about it.

"I don't-" Jensky said, then regained her composure. "You are certainly free to go. However," she emphasized, "I cannot guarantee how…vigorously the government will choose to exercise your secrecy waiver."

"Screw you."

"If that's all, we're going to move on," she said, ignoring Jace. "Like I said, Chance may have contaminated the experiment. However, Brillk has forbidden us from seeking out new subjects, saying that he believes the experiment can continue and also citing the financial expenditure already invested in our existing subjects."

"You mean people," she said. "You're talking about people."

"Thus, we are moving onto the next stage of our experiment," Jensky said, still ignoring her. "Each of the subjects has been moved into a separate, isolated room in order to prevent further corruption. Starting tomorrow, we're going to being installing the gallium-ion readers to increase the storage and reactivity of the existing implants. You can see why we hired Hintzen, of course."

She didn't say anything now. From the way Jensky was glaring at her, she guessed she was about a comment away from abrupt firing. And while it would be nice to let her know exactly what she thought of the experiment, the life expectancy of scientists who were fired was likely even shorter than those who left. So she held her tongue.

"Which of the - er, subjects," Sanya asked- Coward, she thought bitterly - "are we going to be working with first?"

"I thought we'd work our way up. Starting with S-80, and working up through 84, 85, and 87. Both because working up subjects like this is actually the technically correct way to do it, and because S-80 was the one most affected by Chance. So it's imperative that we move on in order to collect data from the next stage of the testing as soon as possible."

"And I do mean as soon as possible," she continued. "So Karim and Hughes, you're going to make sure that the preparations are in place for secondary installation. It shouldn't require the same preparations as the initial installation - it's engineering, not surgery - but some precautions will be necessary when handling S-80 still. Hintzen, you're going to work on materials. Gallium-ion reading is the way we're doing it here, so it's your job to make sure it'll be able to etch the correct data onto the silicon. Clear?"

What had she gotten herself into? "Will I at least be able to meet the people you're experimenting on?" she asked. Maybe she'd be able to help them. "I mean-"

"No," Jensky said. "I'm sorry, but no. There's too much potential for skewing the data." She paused. "It's better this way."

——————————————————————————————————

Year 3, Day 175: 2.15.2385

ROOM 84: Maryn lay on the ground, legs up against the wall. She fiddled idly with a loose thread on her jumpsuit. It'd been three days since they'd been moved out of their own rooms, and, not coincidentally, three days since she'd seen another human being. It wasn't getting to her yet. Of course, that's what everybody says, isn't it? How do I tell if it's getting to me if I'm the one who I have to trust to make that judgement?

No. That wouldn't help. They had been avoiding the topic of escape, both because the scientists tried to monitor their every word as well as the fact that it - well, it would mean that they'd have to face the reality. That they weren't going to be let go. That this wasn't temporary or anything. Some people - herself included, she admitted - had been deliberately avoiding that because then their last bit of hope would be gone. It'd mean they'd actually have to face up to the situation and take what responsibility they could for it.

But they had to. It was too late to pretend things were going to get better. If they wanted to get out of here, they'd have to do it themselves.

ROOM 85: What's going on? Why haven't I seen anyone in three days? Blue paced around the room, eyes flickering from side to side on the ground. Was something going on? Were the others alright? Or were they just the last one now? Maybe the scientists had finally snapped and gone full on lightning-and-evil-laughter, and they were simply the last one on the list. All the others might be gone already - Sadie, Maryn, Evan. It'd been three days now.

Or maybe it wasn't. Who knew? Not them. Maybe it was just all some fever dream. After all, this couldn't really be happening. That was the one certainty they'd clung to throughout all of this. Because if it wasn't happening, then they didn't need to worry. That made sense. They'd lived in the Charter for years now, and they wouldn't just pluck their citizens off the streets and subject them - hah, subject them - to whatever the hell this was.

ROOM 87: Evan stood on top of the bed, straining to reach the light strip on top of the ceiling. They couldn't be monitoring him all of the time - that was the downside of splitting them up like this. Plus, he'd heard that someone had been fired, which brought the total of working scientists, minus the technicians and security officers who scuttled around sometimes, to four; one for each of them. No one could stay up twenty-four hours and watch him.

The problem was, they probably had a computer script check over the footage and check out any suspicious bits. That was why he'd been standing on the bed for the last three hours, waving at the camera. With luck, it wouldn't be able to tell this action apart from the others, and he'd be able to-

There. He pried open the casing and pulled out a handful of wires and screws, swearing under his breath as it burned into his hand. The light flickered and a section went out, hissing and sparking as it went. He pulled back abruptly, hoping it looked like he had just broken the light by accident and not that he was hiding components from it. Because something had changed. Something was different now, and it wasn't for the better. He just hoped he could get out of here before it went worse.

Tagging @cogwrites, @lady-redshield-writes, @no-url-ideas-tho, @ratracechronicler, @ken-kenwrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @cirianne, @lonelylibrary @maxbeewriting, @endlesshourglass, @micastarsandmirrors - if you want to be added or removed, just let me know!