#maybe its the mixing.... but the most plausible option for me is that he actually worked with his limits in mind

[uglygirlheaven]

Time to get real. You can send me hate mail for this. I think wibur's singing voice sounds reaaaaalllll rough and the only reason i pretented otherwise was because i had a crush on him

[epic-sorcerer]

Queer imagery in BBC Merlin

Content warning: kink/fetish, fisting in particular but I show I big image containing a long list of different kinks, homophobia, dom/sub dynamics, sex

Merlin is shown wearing a purple tunic in s4, despite the fact he is a servant and purple(especially with such saturation) was extremely expensive bc purple dye was so hard to make. Gwen also has a light purple dress(or maybe 2? It’s hard to tell). Even though it’s definitely lighter than Merlins tunic, it’s still expensive.

it was illegal for peasants to wear expensive fabrics because of the Sumptuary Law. Basically it makes sure that lower class people are not fashionable. However, BBC Merlin doesn’t seam to care about that law, considering Merlins other bright clothing so take this was a grain of salt.

Basically what I’m trying to say is that there’s no way they could have gotten their hands on these clothes without the help of nobles. Gwen might have, because she works with clothing and could have easily mixed blue and red dye together. Merlin probably not have because he’s never shown to be particularly materialistic or interested much in fashion, despite his bright clothes. Bright Purple would have been much, much harder to get.

It makes the most sense for Merlin and possibly Gwen too to have been gifted such expensive clothing by a noble for being a good servant. I’d imagine Arthur would be the one to give Merlin the tunic and morgana the dresses.

Why does this matter? Lavender(and also purple in general) was considered a queer color starting in the 19th century. Queer men especially were said to possess a “streak of lavender” and a serge of homophobia at the time was often referred to as the “Lavender Scare.” Purple and lavender is still used now to symbolize queerness.

Since Merlin is a modern interpretation of Arthurian myths, it would be perfectly plausible that this symbol was on purpose. Merlin/Arthur and Gwen/Morgana are both extremely popular ships and they are both shown to have a very deep form of trust(Gwen/Morgana being at the beginning of the show). Arthur and Morgana gifting Merlin and Gwen purple clothing could be show them they accept their queerness and/or signaling their own queer attraction to them.

Now, this next symbolism concerns only Merlin/Arthur.

Merlin is shown to have three neckerchiefs.

Navy blue, red, and light grey. Why does this matter? Well, let’s take a look at something called the handkerchief code, also known as the hanky code or “flagging.”

This code has its origins all the way back in time during the Wild West in the USA, but got more popular during the late 20th century in USA and UK gay bars. This code was used mainly by queer men and some nonbinary people to signal to other queers what they wanted sexually. While typically worn in people’s back pockets, a handkerchief could also be worn around one’s neck to show they are a versatile and experienced.

According to this code, Merlin is into;

Red: fisting and getting fisted. This color was hard to get an exact shade from, but the second best option was dark red for double fisting which is honestly so similar I’m not sure if it really matters much.

Light grey: stone topping and getting fucked by a stone top

Navy blue: fucking and being fucked anally

For any one wanting to make their own interpretations of Merlins neckerchief colors(the lighting makes it hard to tell the exact ones) have a look at this handy chart

Not only that, but Arthur is seen wearing a favour on his left arm in s3 ep 4.

What’s a favour? It’s a fabric strip of affection commonly given by maidens to knights before a tournament as a symbol of good luck. It’s often a very important scarf, hankcerchlif , towel, really any bit of cloth that can be tied around someone’s arm. This is also a popular trope in historical media for a female love interest to give a favour to a male one to show chemistry between them.

Regardless of your stance on Merlins gender identity, you have to admit how commonly Merlin is shown to be gender nonconforming(GNC) or otherwise be associated with “womanly” qualities. Especially in a society so heteronormative, the only “pure” option for a knight receiving a romantic gesture would have it be from a woman. If the token was from a queer man, it would also out the noble and cause lots of horrific chaos and destroy both of their reputations.

Even if it was common for women to give knights favours, queer men still existed and with that came romantic gestures—this time hopefully more secret.

Even though the favour on Arthur’s arm doesn’t look exactly like Merlin’s neckerchief, Merlin was the only person to speak with him while preparing for the tournament. Also, the original theorist who I linked in my sources also pointed out that Merlins neckerchief looks lopsided. Almost like Merlin tore off a bit of it and hastily tied it back on.

Although this theory is definitely flawed, it doesn’t matter. Arthur is still wearing a red handkerchief on his left arm. But what does that tell us exactly?

Regardless of wether or not it was Merlin’s, the red is the same shade and also implies Arthur is also into fisting. What about the placement? Sicne it’s on his left, it shows that he is a top/dom, meaning that he prefers to be the one fisting. Since it is worn around his upper arm, it shows that he is simply into the fetish, compared to what other placements mean. In another source, it shows taht upper arm means switch, but because Arthur is wearing it on his left it wouldn’t really make sense for him to signal being a “top-switch” compared to being a top and having the fetish in general.

If you look closely, you can see a different colored stripe on the favour. It’s hard to tell exactly what the color is, it could be yellow, gold, orange, etc. because the color is so dubious, I’ll just leave y’all with a list of color meanings that may apply to Arthur’s favour.

YELLOW: pisser/watersports kink

YELLOW, Pale: spitter/spit kink

MUSTARD: Has 8+ inch dick

GOLD: two looking for one

ORANGE: anything anytime

Also, it’s important to bring up what many in thsi fandom refer to as the “fisting scene.” Where Arthur threatens Merlin by showing him his gloved fist and pulling a bit at the glove.

In the blooper, you can see Merlin’s actor(Colin Morgan) breaking character and giggling as Arthur shows him his fist. Many in the fandom agree that this was a clear innuendo for fisting, and it is very well possible.

Merlin is shown hitting Arthur and saying he was just doing some horse play, but still indirectly convincing Arthur that he needs to teach Merlin a lesson. This is actually a common act in BDSM sex, where the submissive person purposely angers the dominant into punishing them in a way that somehow involves sex or fetish play.

If you look closely, you can see Merlin is wearing at kinky red fisting handkerchief, showing Merlin is perfectly capable of being a submissive fistee. Also, the hanky code also includes other symbols such as latex or rubber gloves that, surprise surprise, also mean fisting. Although it’s more likely Arthur’s gloves where made of leather, it can still further be interpreted as a fisting symbol if you want. Either way, Arthur’s favour still holds water as he is undoubtedly the dom in this situation.

Also, Merlin is very impulsive and a madlad. Tell me he wouldn’t wear his secret fetish symbols infrount of stuck up, Roman Catholics who are none the wiser. He’d probably think it’s hilarious which is probably why he wears them almost everyday. Merlin loves playfully misbehaving(and is also a brat sometimes) so it makes sense for him to have some dangerous fun.

Now, you may be asking. Why does this matter? At the end of the day, it probably wasn’t intentional. Well, there is alwyas room for doupt BUT I do have some ferther proof. One of the co writers of BBC Merlin—Johnny Capps—actually won a Stone Wall Award. You know, an award named after a core part of queer culture?

The award’s website and Wikipedia page say they give the award for art that describes the LGBT experience well. While I am unsure why or what Capps made to be nominated, it still shows he is very much in touch with queer culture. Capp himself even said at an interview about Merlin, “... in the end, deep, deep down it’s about sexuality and things you just can’t tackle head-on.”

Well, what says more about sexuality than the main characters fist fucking each other? That’s a lot of sexuality. While I am unsure of Capp’s age, he does look to be about middle age and it would make sense for him to know about a code popularized in a 70s to 90s. Especially for someone who has made multiple queer oriented stories in his life time.

Sources:

Why is purple considered the color of royalty?

Sumptuary law

How lavender became a symbol of LGBTQ resistance

How Lavender Became a Symbol of LGBTQ Resistance(part 2)

flagging opinicus rampant

Handkerchief code

DO YOU KNOW THE HANKY CODE?

Picspam: The Red Favour (Proof of Arthur Wearing Merlin's Favour in 3x04)

Five medieval love tokens

The Lady's Favour

Hanky codes

Nominees for Stonewall Awards announced

Merlin series 5 spoiler-free launch report

Pls reblog I spent hours on this /np 😭👊

[bitchapalooza]

I got a little carried away with names today. Started with Sweden then went all over the place lmao. I'd like your guys' opinions on the names I've chosen before I ever use them in published works.

Sorry for the long read in advance ^^

Sweden: Berthold— I just like it. Not 100% sold on it though. He still has his canon surname as, as far as I know, there are no issues with it.

Denmark: Mikkel Hanssen— I just like it lol.

Ladonia: Oscar(or Oskar)— Its pretty sweet which is why I'm pretty sure Sweden would have chosen it for him. Not sure which spelling I like better. Shares a surname with Sweden.

Liechenstien: Lotta Vogal— I like em both. Not super sure how correct in origin or popular Lotta is as I keep getting mixed results, often talking about Scandinavian origin and bringing up the name Lottie and how popular that is in America. But it does mention how its used in German speaking countries.

South Italy: Lorenzo— Its from both Italy and Spain so I think it fits Romano well. The meaning not so much but Romano probably picked it because that's how he'd like to see himself one day??

Rome: Gaius Vergilius Crispus— The praenomen Gaius comes from the same root as gaudere, which means to rejoyce, happy which fits Rome to a T. His nomen is Virgilius as a reference to poet Publius Vergilius Maro(Virgil). Crispus as his cognomen because of his curly hair. I wanted Romulus to be his praenomen, however Romulus is not a praenomen whatsoever. It seems to be a nomen. I'm quite fond of Virgilius though to be honest. I actually had to deep dive this one to make sure everything was correct(meaning and order). The praenomen are the given names and those weren't normally used outside of the family(meaning only Romano and Italy would call Rome Gaius). Rather it was either their nomen or cognomen used freely. So I had to keep the importance of each name in mind; I couldn't really find the meaning behind Virgilius except that it is the latinized version of the english Virgil.

Seborga: Alonzo— Finally found a name for Seborga that I think fits better than Romeo! Well I'm still not sure of it for the long run but it does fit better than Romeo at least(in my opinion).

Italies' surname: Russo— Not super sure of this one. Its Sicilan/Southern Italian in origin but quick google searches repeatedly tell me that it has spread to other regions due to internal migration. It's also the second most popular surname in Italy(or that's at least what several sites have told me). I'm not sure if Russo is a good name for all three of the Italy brothers, but I do think its at least a plausible one for Romano. And as Romano is the older brother, perhaps Veneziano just took it some time after unification? Maybe to try and feel closer to the brother he barely grew up with?

Greece's surname: Katsaros— I dunno about this one still. But curly-haired is at least better than being a watermelon. Might change later, might not.

Cyprus: Demetris Georgiou— Not super sure about his name as a whole. Nicos is an alternative given name. Not sure about an alternative surname.

America's middle name: Fitzgerald— Its speculated that the F in his name is a reference to John F. Kennedy(or its Freedom). John F. Kennedy's middle name is Fitzgerald. There you have it. Actually, I honestly didn't know JFK's middle name was Fitzgerald beforehand, I kinda just really liked Fitzgerald as America's middle name already. Then I went into looking up the name's origin and meaning and google just handed this fact to me kinda randomly. Either way, I really do like the ring Alfred Fitzgerald Jones has.

Australia: Kyle King— I just like the name Kyle for him. It sounds nice. No deep reason for choosing Kyle. King, however, I feel like he might have chosen to like say fuck you to England after abandoning him? Like I'm the King now?? I'm in control?? From what I've seen on a few sites, King is a fairly common surname. Also considering Martin or Walker as alternative options.

New Zealand: James Brown— He looks like a James so he is a James. According forebears.io, Brown is the 4th most common surname in New Zealand. I'm not super sold on this surname yet but I do quite like the combination of it with James.

Wy: Charlotte "Charlie"— She gives off a lot of tomboyish vibes to me so I wanted to give her a kinda "boyish" nickname that Australia most likely started. Well it just so happens that Charlotte is a pretty popular name in Australia! She shares Australia's surname.

Hutt River: David— He just looks like a David. Plain and simple. Shares a surname with Australia. Despite being dissolved, I still like his character(and design) so I refuse to acknowledge him being dead lmao.

Molossia: Maximilian "Max" Theodore Jones— I picked a kinda flashy name for him because I tried to think like him while choosing it. He looks up to America. America is often flashy and exaggerated. What better way than to get your mentor's attention than by a name like Maximilian?? And I simply thought Theodore would be a good correlation to the middle name I gave America; they're both references to US presidents(Theodore Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy).

Kugelmugel: Tobias— No super deep reason. Its common in Austria in the year(or close to) when was he founded. I think Austria isn't super creative when naming things or people so he picked something common. Kugel probably does not care.

Osaka: Honda Tetsuya— I think he'd share Japan's surname rather than having his own. As for his given name, I chose something pretty common in Japan as a whole. I'm not sure about this choice, however.

Niko Niko Republic: Takahashi Shigeru— Again, picked common names. I didn't think he'd share Japan's surname, especially after dissolving. I thought maybe he'd like his very own name as he chooses his very own life to live out into old age y'know? Not totally confident in these name choices, however.

Monaco: Jules— I'm debating whether I personally like her having the same surname as France or not. I haven't found any alternative surnames yet as I'm not really dwelling on it. Jules, however, I think fits her pretty well.

Holy Roman Empire: Otto— Reference to Otto I, the Holy Roman Emperor, as well as Otto von Bismarck to kinda correlate the Germany-HRE theory(whether I 100% believe it not).

I'm honestly considering giving Germany a different surname than Beilschmidt since he was never given one by Hima in the first place(even stated there was a reason for that). I'm not sure if I will or not because I'm still looking into surnames for HRE, which I'm having a hard time doing so if I'm honest. Its harder than picking Rome's tria nomina lol.

[the-apocryphal-one]

Ebb and Flow

Summary: She has always been watching him, hasn’t she? From the moment she met him. Maybe it was inevitable she would start seeing other things. Astarion x Isaniel

Also check it out on AO3 here and ff.net here!

A/N: whelp, here I am. writing fic with my OCs. that never happens. but this cheeky little bastard left me no choice. I fell in love with him so quickly, I had to write how my character did (or is starting to...getting there...feeling feelings...look we're still in EA and I love slow-burn enemies to lovers).

Minor spoilers ahead!

-

A mix of old paranoia and carefully-honed insight tell Isaniel, from the moment she meets him, that Astarion is suspicious. The only reason she even approaches the grass is because the risk of leaving an intellect devourer on the loose is far greater than the risk of exposing her back to a stranger. One is a dangerous beast that could quickly kill her or innocents if left unchecked; the other, she believes, is just an elf she knows to be wary around. He cannot do anything she is not braced for.

She is wrong. He is far stealthier than she’d expected.

-

After she diffuses the situation and they agree to work together, Isaniel subtly flexes her left hand. His dagger had cut into her palm as she’d struggled to pull it away from her throat. It was deep enough to merit healing, and she knows it’ll scar. A lesson.

It’s not an easy thing, to watch your surroundings and look for other survivors and keep someone in your peripheral vision, but she manages.

-

That night, everyone at camp is wary, watching each other, gauging their trustworthiness. They’re all newly acquainted, a collection of cast-off captives with bombs in their heads. It’s simultaneously the most ironclad and the thinnest of bonds. But gradually, one by one, they drift off.

Isaniel tries not to. Decades of learning to embrace Eilistraee and lower her guard around others have vanished tonight. She sits, staring at Astarion across the fire, and he stares back. His eyes are somehow both jeering and flirtatious, the planes and shadows of his face even more beautiful in the firelight. They sit for hours, just watching each other, her quiet declaration that she wouldn’t turn her back on a stranger heavy between them.

But eventually, exhaustion creeps up on her and slips the trance over her head, and then it is morning.

His smugness is unbearable.

-

Isaniel considers herself a practical woman. You can’t not be and survive the Underdark. She will refuse to give up on a cure until her body physically starts to change, but she knows that the second it does, she wants the others to cut her down—the same way she’d cut them down if they began to transform.

So when Astarion asks how she wants him to kill her should she sprout tentacles, she’s not affronted. She sees it as professional courtesy.

After some thought, she decides on a knife. Poison is not gentle, nor quick. Neither is strangulation. A good, clean thrust to the heart or head, though, will be fast and painless. The best result for her and those around her.

His eyes light up with enthusiasm as he discusses her choice, and Isaniel remembers how quietly he’d snuck up on her. This is not just professional courtesy, she realizes. This is a man who intimately knows the art of death, and loves it. And at that realization, the walls that had started to cautiously lower, just a tad, jerk back into place.

When he finishes, she crosses her arms, cocks her head, smiles coolly. “And you? How shall I kill you?”

His teeth flash an almost unnatural white when he grins. “Oh darling, I’d love to see you try.”

-

The night they gain some leads, she finds him stargazing while doing the rounds of the camp. When she pauses to speak with him, it is surprisingly nice. His quip about “taking or leaving” her chin makes her lips twitch, despite herself. And she can’t help but approve of someone who can also appreciate the beauty of the night sky.

Her eyes seek out the moon instinctively. Her hand closes around her sword pendant for a brief moment. Eilistraee, watch over me.

For a brief heartbeat, an echo of a song floats through her mind. It’s the same music that stopped her dead in a marketplace in the Underdark, so beautiful and ethereal and divine it almost brought tears to her eyes. Isaniel would later learn that Eilistraee was always seeking to touch the hearts of the drow, and had been beyond grateful she’d listened. But at the moment, all she had known was that she could not rest until she’d found that music again. Hearing it again now is a promise.

The notes fade, but she doesn’t feel empty like she did that day in the Underdark. Her goddess is with her and loves her, and there is nothing more comforting in the world than that. Even Astarion seems not so bad in that moment, and they bask together in the companionable silence.

But then he wonders aloud what will happen in the future, and the illusion of safety breaks. She briefly mourns its departure; then, she straightens her shoulders and looks back at reality. And reality includes him.

She gives him a taste of his own medicine: “What? Would you miss me?” He laughs, rises, and compliments her. She accepts it, and in doing so deflects. He flirts, invades her personal space. Out of sheer stubbornness, she refuses to step back. To do so would be to admit that he has unnerved her. It’s not just his proximity; it’s this undercurrent of something.

The dance ends; he leaves. The tension drains out of her body.

-

When she emerges from a restless, unsuccessful trance and finds Astarion leaning over her, Isaniel lashes out. Her elbow catches him square in the jaw; he curses and stumbles back, and she almost attacks while he’s off-balance. But she’s a follower of Eilistraee, and somehow, she’s become the leader of their group. Both of those factors give her a responsibility to hear him out. So, she stomps down on those old, false instincts and lets him talk.

It’s almost a relief to find out he’s a vampire. The secret is out, and now she can deal with it. Really, Isaniel feels like a fool for not putting the pieces together. The sun doesn’t burn her eyes anymore, thanks to the tadpole—why shouldn’t a vampire be able to walk in it as well? But she’d just assumed that his red eyes were indicative of drow blood somewhere in his family, the fangs some form of genetic defect.

Astarion asks her to trust him. Incredulously, she counters that he tried to bite her. He retorts that they need each other. And then he begs for a sip of her blood.

Isaniel takes a deep breath. Looking around, she realizes that their brief scuffle woke the others up. She decides to give them the benefit of the doubt and assumes that they only watch because they’re too surprised to actually do anything. But that’s irrelevant right now. She turns her focus inwards and analyzes exactly how much they need Astarion.

He’s the best among them at picking a lock. His speed is blinding. He’s deadly with his daggers. And he moves so silently…

Losing him would be bad, she has to admit. So: keeping him means feeding him. And logically, it makes sense that a vampire would not find animal blood as nourishing. Oh, she knows he’s manipulative, she doubts he’s telling the whole truth with his “I’ve never fed on humans!” spiel—but she does believe him in that, at least.

She certainly can’t half-starve him, but she will not let him eat innocents. So…what other options are there? Letting him feed off their enemies? Plausible; but that is a question for the morning. Because Astarion is ultimately right: it really comes down to whether she can trust him.

Isaniel doesn’t know what surprises her more: that she does trust him, or that the events of this night haven’t cost him all of it.

Well, she trusts him to an extent. She gives him his share of night shifts, she relies on him in battle, and he has easy access to their food. But that’s trusting him not to kill them; keeping him, knowing what he is, requires trusting him to not lose control. It means trusting that if an emergency happens and he needs their blood, he won’t go into a frenzy and drain them dry.

A test, then. If he reverts to a creature of base instinct, if he cannot be reasoned with, if he tries to kill her, she will kill him. Better to discover the extent of his self-restraint now, while she’s alert and prepared to stop him, than later, when circumstances might not be so fortuitous.

So she sends up a quick prayer to Eilistraee, bares her neck, and lies down.

-

He gets caught up in the moment, but her command to stop brings him out of it easily enough. He lets her go, breathless and smiling, thanks her, and stalks off.

Isaniel can’t be angry at him; after all—and this is very hard to admit, even to herself—she almost got caught up in the moment too.

-

Sometimes she would catch him gazing at the sky, during the day, open wonder on his face. Now she knows why.

Isaniel can understand that. With her eyes no longer burning, she can drink in the tableau around her in a new way. There are shades of color she couldn’t quite discern before, and everything seems so much richer in the sun. How many drow have been able to do this? Very few, most likely.

It’s not enough to make her want to keep the parasite—it could never be enough—but it is something she can’t help but appreciate.

-

The day the sickness strikes, Isaniel gives the order to make camp where they stand, long before night falls. They’re all just too exhausted to keep traveling, even to search for a suitable place to rest.

That’s not the only thing they’re too exhausted for, as it turns out. Not one of them can muster the energy to scout for nearby threats, or camouflage, or stand guard. Even Lae’zel’s attempt at a “mercy kill” is sloppy. They’re all so pathetic a kobold could walk into their midst and kill them.

Between talking Lae’zel down and doing her customary rounds of their parody of a camp, Isaniel’s low energy reserves are completely barren. As she crawls into her bedroll, for some reason, her mind turns back to Astarion’s panic.

He’s usually so self-assured. Smiling in the face of anything. Ready with his rapier wit. The complete unraveling of his composure is…alarming.

But before she can think much more on that, a fresh wave of tremors hits her. She squeezes her eyes shut, curls into a ball, and prays.

-

The next morning, Isaniel wakes up with heartache—and fury.

How dare it? How dare that parasite approach her in the guise of her dead husband? How dare it speak with his voice, ignite her skin with his touch, dishonor his memory by wearing his face? The sickness of the previous night is completely forgotten; instead, she shakes with rage as she brushes her hair, checks her equipment, gears up. Her fingers itch to play her lute and vent it all out in jagged, discordant music—but no. Astarion’s pale form is up and about, but the others are still sleeping.

She pauses and subtly studies him. He looks much better now; his movements are fluid again, his step springy. Even his hair somehow seems extra fluffy.

He turns, catches her staring, and winks. She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch, damn them. Definitely back to normal.

At that, the memory of the dream rears its head. Her anger, which had started to simmer down, flares up anew. Isaniel scowls as she struggles with her sword belt, her normally dexterous fingers made clumsy by emotion. Curse that tadpole to the Hells—

“Well hello! Feeling better, are we?”

Astarions voice rings from right next to her, and she jumps. Eilistraee’s sword, how did she not realize he was a vampire sooner? No one can move that silently and swiftly and still be mortal.

“I certainly am,” he continues, without waiting for her answer. “This morning I find myself free of pain and with a new trick. A new power. Last night, the risk of transformation—it all feels like some terrible dream now.”

A dream…

Isaniel doesn’t know why she opens up to him. Maybe it’s because he’s around and she needs to get it off her chest. Maybe it’s because his witty tongue actually does make her chuckle, despite herself. Maybe it’s because he draws her eyes like the moon draws the tide.

Regardless, she ends up spilling the contents of her dream, anger and pain leaking into her voice. Astarion doesn’t really say anything; he just listens, eyes bright with curiosity and intrigue. But just listening is enough; she can feel an invisible weight lifting off her with every word out of her mouth.

When she finishes speaking—with an exhale of relief—he asks if she enjoyed it. Her fists clench at the memory of that intruder’s touch on her skin. “No, it felt invasive. Uncomfortable.”

“We had the same dream, then. The worm’s trying to be…enticing.”

Had he also seen someone he’d loved? But that blank look, the flat voice…there’s more to it than that, she’s sure. Isaniel hesitates, then pushes him to share. He lent her an ear, in his typical flippant fashion, but an ear nonetheless. It’s only fair to return the favor.

The truth of what he really dreamed about surprises her. She finds herself blurting out, “Your old master? That doesn’t sound ‘enticing’.”

“It was not,” he says, voice raw and low. “I—we don’t need to talk about it.”

And—oh.

That flash in his eyes. That pain.

Her throat closes.

It was brief, but she saw it. She would never mistake it.

It’s the pain of someone who has been trapped in darkness for so long they don’t even know light exists. The pain of someone who lived with cruelty every minute of every hour of every day. The pain of someone who does not let themselves feel pain, does not even acknowledge they are in pain, because that would be weakness and wolves would descend on them if they admitted to that.

It was her pain, before Eilistraee.

Isaniel is not good at comforting people. She knows how to talk people into doing what she wants and how to keep their group more or less from killing each other. But put her in a room with a crying woman or a scared child, and she’s just lost. Emotions are messy and difficult to deal with.

But at this moment, she wants, more than anything, to brave them. To let him know he’s not alone.

She can’t think of anything to say, can’t figure out how to put this epiphany into words, so hesitantly, she reaches out a hand—

And he recoils like a snake. Then, he strikes like one, eyes and fangs flashing, venom flying from his mouth as he renounces her pity.

It’s not pity, she wants to say. It’s not pity, because I know how hard it is to survive an environment that wants more than anything to break you. To pity you would belittle your strength. It’s empathy and support.

But she’s so stunned that by the time she’s able to begin, “It’s not pity,” it’s too late; his retreating back is the only thing that hears her.

-

One of Isaniel’s first memories is of her mother killing her pet bat, then slapping her until she stopped crying.

It was as a lesson, of course: that love was something that would only be exploited. The sort of lesson that every drow child learned young. Other lessons included how to think creatively, hurt others, scheme, and be paranoid—Isaniel still remembers carefully pouring poisons and potions into large, hollow glass beads and stringing them into her jewelry.

The lessons that had really struck a chord with her, though, had been how to create. Her family had been artisans, and had held a relatively secure position as employees to a well-off merchant clan. The plotting hadn’t been as intense as among the nobles, but it was still dangerous. After all, there were rival artisans and rival merchant clans to watch out for or destroy, and Isaniel had done her share of participating in that.

But oh, she had truly loved art, beauty, music. Eilistraee used that to reach her, and through it Isaniel came to love Eilistraee in turn. But it took a long time. Secretly seeking information about that music, a flight from the Underdark, and decades of studying the teachings of Eilistraee, testing them, putting them in practice, before the scars the Underdark left on her had begun to heal. Decades in which she found companionship with others of her faith, met her husband, became a mother…lost her husband to the ravages of time…

And now, after such a long time away from the toxic mindset she grew up with, she has come face to face with someone who embraces it. And she is torn.

There is a part of her, one that Eilistraee has grown and nourished, that is appalled in the face of Astarion’s casual cruelty towards others.

There is a part of her, one that Eilistraee has also grown and nourished, that begs her be compassionate and forgiving.

There is a part of her, one that she has abandoned but clings to her like a ghost nonetheless, that screams at her to end the threat before he ends her.

There is a part of her, one that has been with her as long as she can recall, that sees his trauma, and remembers, and empathizes.

Their experiences are not the same. But the darkness is the same.

She does not know what to make of him. She does not know what she should believe or do about him. So she watches, and speaks with him, and tries to understand.

-

Their travels eventually take them to a swamp, and there, they find a Gur. A monster-hunter. That in itself wouldn’t necessarily mean anything, but it’s foolish not to gauge his intentions, considering her company. So, in-between Astarion’s light insults, she inquires.

He says he’s hunting Astarion. Not to kill him, but to capture him.

Ice settles in Isaniel’s belly.

Capture him. And bring him to his “associates” in Baldur’s Gate. Back to Cazador. Back to the bastard who scarred him down to his very marrow. Back to chains and torment.

That’s not going to happen, she thinks vehemently.

Astarion is practically vibrating in place, his red eyes hard and uncompromising, his hands hovering close to his daggers. And yet, he still waits for her order. Out of genuine respect for her authority? Trust that she’ll neutralize the hunter? She’s not sure, but something about it is…a little touching.

She gives the word, and he lunges.

-

The battle with Auntie Ethel is tough, but manageably so. They all stay away from the cliff edges and destroy her illusionary copies as soon as they appear, they put out the fires near Mayrina and keep her out of harms’ way, and while the hag’s spells are powerful, they all somehow manage to avoid the worst of the damage.

But Auntie Ethel is one of those types. The type that likes to taunt and mock with a loud, clear voice that rings across the battlefield. And through some hag witchery, she knows how to hit where it hurts.

“Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?”

She’s not near him, but Isaniel can see Astarion’s flinch—then his strikes resume, much faster and more furious than before. Her own teeth grind with outrage and sympathy, and she redoubles her efforts, and soon the hag is brought down.

She is not feeling quite as sympathetic when, after bidding a crestfallen Mayrina farewell, Astarion blithely remarks that it was a pity the young mother-to-be couldn’t see the funny side in her husband being resurrected as a zombie.

-

And yet, he voiced his approval back when they helped Karlach.

It’s not like that outweighs it. Life isn’t a set of scales. Helping one woman doesn’t balance out being amused at another’s pain. The people Isaniel hurt back in the Underdark wouldn’t care or forget just because she helped someone else now. Words and actions have permanent, tangible impacts.

It’s not like she wants to “fix” Astarion, either. People can’t be “fixed”. They can be broken or damaged by others—but never returned to who they once were. They carry the scars and lesions on their heart, like Isaniel does. With time and support, they hopefully heal, but that’s only if they want to.

It’s more like—and she might be projecting a bit, or biased because of her past—remembering Karlach gives her hope that Cazador didn’t destroy Astarion’s humanity.

-

Maybe it was inevitable.

Isaniel weaves throughout the party, smiles freely, even dances and sings. It’s impossible not to—the tiefling’s joy is infectious, the gentle warmth of the wine is infusing her body, and the moon is full and smiling overhead. All of her problems will still be there tomorrow, but tonight is a night for forgetting, and celebrating, and living.

The back of her neck prickles, again. This time she doesn’t ignore it. This time, she turns, somehow already knowing what she’ll see.

Sure enough, there’s Astarion, lurking on the fringes of the party, a glass of wine in hand, eyes fixed on her. Under the moonlight, his hair is practically glowing, his skin silver-tinted. He looks like some ethereal king of night and winter, standing there silhouetted against the darkness. It’s striking.

Striking. Oh.

She has always been watching him, hasn’t she? From the moment she met him. Maybe it was inevitable she would start seeing other things.

A jostle jars her out of her thoughts; she’d stopped moving right in the midst of the dancers. She mutters an apology to the tiefling couple and hastily clears the floor. Glances up again.

Astarion is still watching her.

Before she consciously decides to do it, her feet take her towards him. She falters when her mind catches up to her body, almost turns and runs. There’s something in his eyes, something in the air, something between them that crackles with intensity and promise.

But it’s too late to run—he’s coming towards her, too. Her heart lodges itself in her throat. Stay strong, she tells herself.

Whether she wants that strength to resist the shifting currents in their relationship or to swim towards them, she does not know.

[bigskydreaming]

So I’m writing a short story in my Changelings ‘verse for a galaxy brain commission that was simply “Boyd gets a boyfriend.” Nothing wrong there. But it does mean I feel like I finally gotta nail down the full intricacies of Boyd’s magic, which is unnecessarily....extra, due to the existence of the Curse of the Specialist Snowflake that afflicts me. 

Like, I couldn’t just give him one physical change and one magic like most other Changelings, nooooooo, he’s gotta be the Zodiac Kid and have twelve completely different changes and magics, one for each sign and he changes throughout the year in accordance to the changing of the signs. Why’d I do it that way? Cuz I gotta, obviously. Hahahaha, shut up, me.

I mean, there was a point to it originally, like, his sister Alicia’s Change and magic is that she’s surrounded by ghostly versions of a bunch of her alternate universe selves at any given moment, and she can communicate with them and call upon their skills and is sometimes called Sibyl around town, so like, the common thread/theme of her and Boyd’s magic is like, an infinity of self, but also, by “there was a point to it originally” I also just mean I couldn’t settle on and pick what I wanted Boyd’s magic to be so I was like here’s a fun thing I could do, make up a reason for him to have even MORE options.

.....I feel like, potentially, this self-created problem I’m having could have been avoided somehow, but gosh, fuck if I can see how.

So most of Boyd’s magic is hammered down....

In his Sagittarius phase, he’s physically a centaur whose lower half looks like a night sky studded through with starfields and moving constellations, and his magic from November 23rd to December 21st is uncanny intuition, a kind of off-the-top-of-his-head divination. He just instinctively knows the answers to questions when he’s in his Sagittarius phase, the more specific the question the more accurate his answer. He doesn’t have context, he doesn’t KNOW how he knows the things that he knows, he just knows them. 

You ask him if you’ll meet someone who could very plausibly be the love of your life within the next week, and if he says yes, its absolutely, one hundred percent true and accurate.....but if you ask him then how can I find them, he might say well first thing you gotta do is get out of my face and stop bugging me, and then walk down the street and turn left.....and that too, would be absolutely true and accurately point you in the direction that answers your question but like, that’s all he’s got and you’re missing a few steps at that point. So. Its not an exact science or anything. 

There’s definitely tricks to maximizing the intel you get out of him when he feels like being hit up for intel and doesn’t just string you along to be a total troll. Which he is. Hence why he also spends most of December filling in all of Alicia’s large stockpile of crosswords and sudokus, as he just instinctively and whimsically knows what to fill in even if he doesn’t actually have a clue WHY the Mesozoic Era is the answer to 49 Down. Alicia maintains this is cheating. He maintains he doesn’t care, and answers 64 across with “Johannesburg.” Fuck if he knows why.

In his Capricorn phase, he sublets his apartment in Bordertown and takes a month lease on a place underwater in Sub Francisco.....as for this period he’s more of a classical merman, but also if a classical merman has goat horns. But like, whose to say they don’t? Have you ever met one? Thought so. His magic during this period is horns of plenty.....he touches something to one of his horns, and comes away holding two of that item. So it basically only works on things that can be hand-held, but other than that it could be food, physical items, medicine, etc.

In his Aquarius phase, he’s physically the same as he was when a normal mainstream human....except that his skin has a faintly translucent quality as if that of water, with faint stars spiraling in distant patterns in the depths of his slightly watery form. He’s not invisible or actually translucent, like you can’t see through him or even see his organs or anything....rather, its more like most of the time he just looks like normal, human Boyd, albeit wearing a lot of glitter for some reason....but then he turns and catches the light just so, and for a moment you can see how the light is shining THROUGH him similar to the way it shines through the surface of a body of water. His magic in this phase is based on Ganymede, the cup-bearer of the gods.....water he touches becomes imbued with healing properties. 

Like, he unscrews an ordinary bottle of Evian and reaches in with the tip of his finger, and whammo, you’ve got a healing potion whose magic will last until the last of the water is gone, even if its not used until after his Aquarius phase. Once he’s imbued a source of water with his magic, its a healing potion from then on out, which makes his shop a useful place to find healing magic year-round.....or at least until he runs out. You come into his shop even in late July, if he’s still got some healing potions lying around they’re as good as ever....but if he’s already out of stock, you’re out of luck until next year’s Aquarius phase rolls around, and you gotta go look elsewhere on Mercy Row for a healer in the meanwhile.

In his Pisces phase, he goes back to his Sub Francisco apartment as his physical Change here is that of a centaur-triton....kinda the classic ithyocentaur, but also he’s got kinda webbed-like wings spanning from his back.....its a whole thing. But a good look. His magic in this phase is ‘the perfect pair’....he cups his hands and forms a magical, elemental construct in the shape of a koi fish that’ll swim off in the direction of the perfect complement to something or someone. Like a personal, magical compass guiding him or whomever he makes one for to like, the magnetic north that exists somewhere as the perfect counterpart to an already present south pole. Whatever, this makes no sense and is super confusing, I get that. But it makes perfect sense and is not confusing in my head. Still just working on translating from point Head to point Paper without the concept getting lost in the translation.

In his Aries phase, he’s his ‘normal’ mainstream-appearing base form....but also he’s got golden wings and ram horns. And his magic is that he breathes fire. But its magic fire, and it doesn’t burn things it touches, it turns them to gold. Its a whole Golden Fleece thing mixed with a King Midas thing.

In his Taurus phase.....idk yet. I mean, bull horns seems a pretty obvious go-to motif, but haven’t decided for his magic yet. Mostly because @sunwukxng is a Taurus and he takes things like this juuuuuuuust personal enough that I know if I don’t come up with something good here he’ll decide its a mortal insult towards all Tauri and thus him as well, and he’ll declare a blood feud against me that shall last five hundred years. And he’s already got like, six of those in progress, so....trying to avoid racking up anymore.

In his Gemini phase, he splits into two selves, his physical self and astral self, so he’s basically followed everywhere by both his shadow and a spirit version of himself he can astral project elsewhere. And when his astral self goes through something, kinda like how there’s that idea that when a ghost passes through someone they feel a chill or as if they almost left their body for a second.....his astral self can kinda like....yoink other peoples’ astral selves out of their physical forms temporarily. Yoink is of course the highly technical, scientific term for the phenomenon. Obviously.

In his Cancer phase.....idk yet. Look, its hard to be classy and deep concept-y about crabs, okay? I’m sorry Cancers, but even in the original myths about the constellation the gods were like yeah, this crab constellation was a mistake, we just felt bad about Artemis kicking that one all the way up into the heavens after it pinched Orion, the only himbo she ever almost made a boytoy out of. A lot of other Zodiacs featured animals that had the common perception of being viewed as pushing the sun across the sky, so there’s maybe something there in that direction....idk yet.

In his Leo phase, Boyd mostly appears as his ‘normal’ base mainstream-human looking self....except he’s big in a way that is not exactly Giant Big (and there are a good couple dozen giant-sized Changelings living in Bordertown, so like, he isn’t officially anywhere near that) but he is possessed of a height and size that are nevertheless best described as Ridiculous. Like he’s bigger than the Strange Angel, but not as big as Teddy the Sun-snake. That means nothing to anyone but me. Whatever. Moving on. Anyway, in his Leo phase he also has a fiery red mane kinda....that’s threaded through with silver stars in the Leo constellation shape. His magic in this phase is his ‘roar of command’....basically, he can imbue anything he says with the force of his will, and thus like.....make inanimate objects do what he tells them. He’s like “Open sesame” and a locked door is like you got it, boss.

In his Virgo phase.....I am not entirely sure what he looks like yet. I’m pretty sure its mostly his mainstream-looking ‘base self’ but like.....with an unnatural charisma, but also something a little less generic than that. Needs a specific hook still, beyond just “I’m ridick pretty.” Like, he’s Sinqua Walls. He’s always ridick pretty. Its a thing. But his magic in this phase is like.....an aura of inspiration. He just sorta puts out a vibe that inspires people around him in various ways that are unique to the individual. 

He’s also way shorter than he used to be even before his Change hit, or like, shorter than he is in any of his other phases. Like, we’re talking five and a half feet max. Is there any reason for this whatsoever beyond me being amused at the juxtaposition of him going from his Biggest and Most Ridiculous Phase immediately to his Smallest and Most Ridiculous Phase? No. No there is not. Fear the deep profundity of my creative process, for it is deep and it tis profound.

In his Libra phase....I’m not sure yet what his physical change is, but I do know his skin has a scaled texture, and I know those aren’t the scales normally associated with Libra but there’s a point to it, its just......missing some ingredients still to totally make sense. But he also tends to wear a blindfold a lot of the time during his Libra phase because I know his magic here has to do with viewing things in terms of overlapping possibilities and potentialities, like, he looks at things and sees not just the way they ARE but also a whole bunch of different ways they COULD be, and his magic enables him to kinda tweak things from the way they are more towards one of those other possibilities, in a sense that’s all about ‘balancing’ things.

However, the sensory stimuli of all those potentialities 24/7 is honestly overwhelming and gives him serious migraines, so he mostly tries to rest his eyes behind some kind of blindfold most of the time and just take it off to focus on specific things in order to utilize his magic, and only a little at a time. This is probably the most technically ‘powerful’ of his magics in terms of both versatility and scope, but it takes a toll and he really tries to pace himself during his Libra phase or it just gets to be too much, really fast.

And then lastly, in his Scorpio phase, he’s got a whole scorpion tail and barbed stingers along the outsides of his arms.....but rather than lean into the whole ‘eww Scorpios are duplicitous and manipulative’ and also ‘eww scorpions,’ his magic here calls back to how scorpions are actually protective guardians in a lot of mythologies and folklore, and there’s also plenty of Zodiac lore about the idea of the Scorpio sign being all about uncovering truths at any cost, etc. So his magic here is another ‘liquid/mutable’ type and takes the form of venom from his stingers that’s almost like drops of amber.....and that have various properties aimed at uncovering truths and exposing lies and falsehoods. Like, elixirs made during his Scorpio phase are another highly sought ware at his shop, because depending on the venom concentration he places in each, they have different properties. Like, he’s got vials where just a drop placed in your drink or on your food will reveal if its been drugged or poisoned, or vials of elixirs that basically act as magical truth serum.....and then other vials where like, you splash a little of it on something you suspect to be an illusion or a magical disguise of some kind, and it’ll dispel the false magic and reveal what’s truly there. 

“What happens if like, I splash it in the face of someone I think is wearing an illusion disguise and it turns out they’re not and that’s really just what they look like?” A customer asks.

Boyd shrugs. “Then they’ll just be wet. And probably a little pissed, I imagine. That’ll be $49.95 please.”

“I thought you said it was $29.95!”

“That was before the Asked Stupid Questions tax was applied,” Boyd smiles placidly. “Will that be cash or credit?”

 Okay. So. Typing that all out cleared up some of that for me but not quite as much as I was hoping as Cancer and Taurus apparently still persist in Vexing me.

Hmmmm.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IT'S CHARISMA, 372

Certainly it can be launched. That's what you're addicted to.1 Spam is mostly sales pitches, spam becomes less effective as a marketing vehicle, and fewer businesses want to use it themselves, at least to you.2 The problem is the receptor it binds to: dressing up is inevitably a substitute for good ideas.3 I'll start by telling you something you don't have to explain why. But you know the ideas are out there.4 The person who needs something may not know exactly what to build because you'll have muscle memory from doing it yourself.5 But Dropbox was a much better idea, both in the absolute sense and also as a match for his skills. For coming up with startup ideas on demand. So you have two choices about the shape of hole you start with. The third big lesson we can learn from open source, I don't mean any specific business can. Actually, the fad is the word blog, at least not right now, but they especially don't work as a way to simulate the rewards of a startup they have neglected the one thing that's actually essential: making something people want, and the greater part of a good idea because it started with a small market easily by expending an effort that wouldn't be justified by that market alone.

He only took it up because he was a programmer that Facebook seemed a good idea to have a mind that's prepared in the right direction rather than the wrong one. I've described is near zero. Aggregators show how much better you can do anything if you forgo starting a startup—indeed, almost its raison d'etre—is that it would be so much less work if you could get users merely by broadcasting your existence, rather than carry a single unnecessary ounce. Was there some kind of salesperson. Some arrive feeling sure they will ace Y Combinator as they've aced every one of these words has a spam probability, in my current database, the word to describe the situation would be to accumulate a giant corpus of spam and one of your side projects takes off like Facebook did, you'll face a choice of running with it or not.6 Stripe is one of the keys to retaining their monopoly.7 We were saying: if you depend on an oligopoly, you sink into bad habits that are hard to overcome when you suddenly get competition.

I do before x? Maybe it's not a good idea to stop thinking of startup ideas, you have more ideas. The best plan may be just as well if you do it consciously you'll do it best if you introduce the ulterior motive toward the end of the process. Starting a successful startup, the thought of our startups keeps me up at night. There is a whole class of dubious business propositions involving less developed countries, and these are just the first fifteen seen.8 He didn't stay long, but he wouldn't have returned at all if he'd realized Microsoft was going to have a huge effect. And they know the same about spam, including the headers.9 That's what was killing them. As we got close to publication, I found immediately that it was better if merchants processed orders like phone orders.

Well, math will give you more options to choose your life's work from.10 Fouls happen. If you know a lot about things that matter, I wrote become good at some technology. 84421706 same 0. 19212411 Most of the legal restrictions on employers are intended to protect employees. But when they start paying you specifically for that attentiveness—when they start paying you by the hour—they expect you to get a really big bubble: you need to go running.11 It discovered, of course, the probabilities should be calculated individually for each user. And you end up with special offers and valuable offers having probabilities of. 06080265 prices 0. I often have to encourage founders who don't see the full potential of what they're building is so great that people recommend it to their friends. I think, is to step onto an orthogonal vector.12 A startup just starting out can't expect to excavate that much volume.13

And yet have you ever seen a Google ad? 9889 and. Think about what you have to do is give them a share of it. Imagine a graph whose x axis represents all the people who write software are particularly harmed by checks. Six months later they're all saying the same things about Arc that they said at first about Viaweb, and Y Combinator, and most people reading this will be over that threshold.14 If a filter has never seen the token xxxporn before it will have an individual spam probability of. As day jobs go, it's pretty sweet.15

If the present range of productivity is 0 to 100, introducing a multiple of 10 increases the range from 0 to 1000. We assumed his logo would deter any actual customers, but it did not. Even colocating servers seemed too risky, considering how often things went wrong with them. You build something, make it available, and if you can make it happen. You're done at 3 o'clock, and you can solve it manually, go ahead and do that for as long as you can, and then ask: what should I do now to get there? When one looks over these trends, is there any overall theme?16 Good ones, anyway. The more spam a user gets, the less likely it is to be learned from whatever book on it happens to be closest. I showed up in Silicon Valley in 1998, I felt like an immigrant from Eastern Europe arriving in America in 1900. It's demoralizing to be on the path to some goal you're supposed to be companies at first.

Yes and no. The malaise you feel is the same. Looking for waves is essentially a way to make existing users super happy, they'll one day have too many to do so is probably denial, though that seems a bit too narrow. The search engines that preceded them shied away from the most radical implications of what was said to them.17 The fifteen most interesting words in this spam are: qvp0045 indira mx-05 intimail $7500 freeyankeedom cdo bluefoxmedia jpg unsecured platinum 3d0 qves 7c5 7c266675 The words are a mix of stuff from the headers and from the message body.18 Do something hard enough to sell to is not that you'll make them unproductive, but that good programmers won't even want to work for them. Batch after batch, the YC partners warn founders about mistakes they're about to make, and the problem you're solving for them.19

Notes

I realize I'm going to kill. Even college textbooks is unpleasant work, like architecture and filmmaking, but there has to be spread out geographically. Most explicitly benevolent projects don't hold themselves sufficiently accountable. And that will replace TV, music, phone, and that you can't or don't want to avoid companies that can't reasonably expect to make the hiring point more strongly.

Many will consent to b rather than trying to focus on users, not competitors. Do College English 28 1966-67, pp. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the movie, but the nature of an audience of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup founder or investor I don't know which name will stick.

If you try to go behind the rapacious one. Put rice in rice cooker.

Something similar happens with suburbs. Perhaps the most important factor in the mid 20th century.

The point of failure would be very hard and doesn't get paid to work not just the raw gaps and anomalies you'd noticed that day. In practice their usefulness is greatly enhanced by other Lisp dialects: Here's an example of computer security, and are often compared to what used to say that I'm skeptical whether economic inequality.

Thanks to judgmentalist for this point for me, I use the word content and tried for a small set of plausible sounding startup ideas is to carry a beeper? If Congress passes the founder visa in a time. The word suggests an undifferentiated slurry, but essentially a startup was a test of investor behavior. It's a strange feeling of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects.

Which is not so good. If you're doing something that doesn't seem an impossible hope.

Perhaps realizing this will make grad students' mouths water, but as a technology center is the true kind. Not in New York the center of gravity of the 1929 crash.

They shut down a few months later Google paid 1. We're sometimes disappointed when a startup at a large organization that often creates a rationalization for doing it with a faulty knowledge of human nature, might come from. That can be done at a time.

E-Mail. But we invest in a domain is for sale. University Bloomington 1868-1970. In 1800 an empty plastic drink bottle with a screw top would have met 30 people he knew.

Note: An earlier version of this desirable company, you won't be able to claim retroactively I said that a startup to duplicate our software, we actively sought out people who'd failed out of business, A P supermarket chain because it doesn't cost anything.

Ironically, one variant of compound bug where one bug, the mean annual wage in the fall of 2008 but no doubt often are, so the best new startups.

Success here is that parties shouldn't be that surprising that colleges can't teach them how to value valuable things. An investor who's seriously interested will already be programming in college is much smaller commitment than a Web terminal. Yahoo was their customer. That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day by encouraging people to claim that they'll only invest contingently on other investors doing so.

I swapped them to act. I have about thirty friends whose opinions I care about.

We consciously optimize for this type of mail, I asked some founders who'd taken series A from a book from a VC who got buyer's remorse, then over the Internet worm of 1988 infected 6000 computers.

Mueller, Friedrich M. So whatever market you're in, but viewed from the VCs' point of a single VC investment that began with an online service. 2%. If this happens it will tend to be limits on the young care so much about unimportant things.

Some introductions to other knowledge. You should probably be multiple blacklists. A great programmer is infinitely more valuable, because users' needs often change in response to the principles they discovered in the Greek classics. Which helps explain why there are some good proposals too.

Ed. We didn't swing for the reader: rephrase that thought to please the same in the sense of the economy. Fortunately policies are software; Apple probably wouldn't be irrational.

I was insane—they could bring no assets with them. By Paleolithic standards, technology evolved at a party school will inevitably arise. In fact, if you did.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Eric Raymond, Pete Koomen, and Maria Daniels for their feedback on these thoughts.

[theajaheira]

imperfections (50/?)

read it on ao3!

50 CHAPTERS, Y’ALL. and we JUST hit 100k words. this is kind of insane. not only that, but ideas are starting to solidify wrt where i want to take the second half (fdhklshdfs help) of this fic, and i’m starting to think that maybe. possibly. i might finish it this year. crazy!!!!

“This is just more boxes,” said Buffy upon entering the living room. “This is just a whole bunch of boxes, only now they’re stacked to the ceiling. This is like Box Hell.”

“Yes, well, that is usually what moving entails,” said Giles with a small smile. “Not exactly the best Christmas party—”

“Are you kidding? This is amazing! I feel like I’m back in college!” Jen slid by in socks, leggings, and the truly terrible sweater that Giles had knitted her. “Faith, you’d better finish packing your room before I pack it for you, Xander, I think I called your mom again and she said she’d drop any extra stuff off at the new place, Rupert, how many boxes of books do we still need to load onto the truck?”

“Five,” said Giles, catching Jen’s arm before she slid into a stack of boxes. “Buffy, is your mum stopping by for dinner?”

“I said I’d call her when all the boxes were cleared out,” Buffy answered obligingly. “She’s bringing a roast, is that cool?”

“We have a teenage boy and two Slayers,” said Giles dryly. “I daresay we need all the food we can get.” Buffy made a face at Giles. Solemnly, Giles made a face right back. “Faith, have you finished packing your room?” he added.

“Mostly,” said Faith evasively.

Jen made a reproving little noise, tugged herself free of Giles’s hand, and slid across the floor to collide with the couch. Giles winced. “There isn’t too much left to pack, I hope,” said Jen, tugging affectionately at the sleeve of Faith’s leather jacket.

Faith thought about her still-unpacked dresser, winced a little, and said, “Is it cool if I just throw the clothes into a cardboard box without folding them?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” said Giles, at the same time Jen said, “I mean, that’s what I’ve been doing,” at which point they exchanged an alarmed look.

Deciding to take that as a yes, Faith pulled herself up off the couch, squeezed around Xander and Cordelia (who were very busy making out in the middle of a nest of boxes), and stepped into the hallway, opening the door to her near-barren bedroom.

The no-longer-broken TV had been packed already, as had the full-length mirror and most of her clothing. The dresser remained, half of its drawers open, clothing strewn haphazardly about the room and across the bed. Faith made a face at the mess, decided that she could sort most of it out at the new house, and started tossing clothing into a nearby cardboard box.

“Need some help?”

Faith jumped, then grinned. “Sure,” she said, straightening up to face Buffy. “You gonna go postal if you touch one of my bras?”

“I’m never gonna live that one down, huh?” said Buffy wryly, stooping to pick up one of Faith’s tank tops.

For a while, they packed in companionable silence. Then, her mind on all those lingering touches, Faith said casually, “So how’s your love life been going?”

Buffy made a gagging noise.

“That bad?”

“I don’t think I ever wanna date again,” said Buffy, wrinkling her nose as she folded the tank top. “At best, you end up with a broken heart, and at worst, your boyfriend goes postal and tries to kill your computer science teacher.”

“You ever consider trying girls?”

The tank top slipped out of Buffy’s hands. She didn’t notice. “Girls?” she echoed, in that same squeaky voice that had said that’s a nice bra.

“Well,” Faith shrugged, “yeah. I mean, I—” God, her palms were sweaty. “I like girls,” she said, and all but hurled one of her sweaters in the general direction of the box. It missed by a mile. “So. You know. It’s always an option.”

“Huh,” said Buffy. Faith hadn’t even known human voices could reach that pitch. “You mean you—you think girls are pretty, right? ‘Cause I figured everyone thinks that kind of thing.”

Faith looked up, amused. “There’s a fine line between thinking girls are pretty and thinking girls are pretty,” she said. “And I, uh,” she faltered, aware that she had left plausible deniability behind a long while ago, “think that second one. Girls are pretty, man.” She then busied herself with throwing the next sweater at the box (it also missed).

Buffy leaned down to pick up one of the sweaters by the box, folding it while looking somewhat nervously at Faith. “Huh,” she said. “I-I didn’t know—I mean, I never figured—”

“You cool with it?” Faith kept her voice light, tried to infuse a half-threatening challenge into the question.

Buffy smiled somewhat shyly. “You’re my friend,” she said. “I’m totally cool with it. I might need a little bit to, uh, recalibrate, I guess, but…” She trailed off. “It’s just another piece of the Faith puzzle,” she finished.

God, B was sweet. “You’re, uh,” Faith shrugged, doing her best to look nonchalant, “kinda the first person I told.”

Buffy’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t even tell Ms. Calendar?”

“Uh,” said Faith, thinking about all the significant looks Jen had directed at her every single time she’d tried to flirt with Buffy. “Not directly.”

Buffy was blushing a gentle pink that all but matched her magenta sweater. “Then, um, thanks,” she said shyly. “It means a lot to know you trust me like that.”

“Yeah, I, I do,” said Faith, feeling all warm and fluttery.

Buffy opened her mouth, and for a moment, the nervous softness in her eyes made Faith all but certain that they were gonna start getting all sappy and romantic and shit. Like, high-school-rom-com sappy, and maybe they’d even start making out in her bedroom, and Faith was already moving to shut the door when the look faded from Buffy’s face. She shut her mouth, looking significantly sadder, then said, “It’s honestly gonna be a while before I try dating anyone. Boys or—” and then her eyes moved to Faith, wary and warm all at once, “—or anyone.”

You’d have to be a fuckin’ moron not to get that message. “Sure,” said Faith, her heart pounding. “But, uh, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Just so you know.”

Buffy gave her a small, tired grin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Stop that,” said Rupert, taking the mixing bowl from Jenny. “That’s for much later, and didn’t you read that article I gave you about the dangers of raw cookie dough?”

“Rupert, the odds of me dying by random vampire attack are far higher than the odds of me contracting salmonella,” said Jenny, making a production of licking the spatula.

“That’s unhygienic—”

“Have you finished packing?”

“Are you just trying to get me to leave the kitchen in order to eat the rest of the cookie dough?”

“Yes,” said Jenny. “I am transparent, awful, and a paragon of unhealthy behavior. Have you finished packing?”

Rupert rolled his eyes, smiling indulgently. “Yes, dear,” he said. “I have finished packing.”

Jenny looked at him, then at the large stack of books on the kitchen table, then back at him. “Well, those aren’t mine,” she began.

“Those…” Rupert trailed off, his expression clouded. “Those belong to the Council,” he said.

Jenny’s smile faded. “Oh,” she said. “So are we bringing them with us?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” Rupert’s gaze turned to the books, studying them pensively. “Tentatively, I plan to resign from the Council after Buffy’s Cruciamentum—”

“You said that wasn’t happening,” said Jenny sharply.

Rupert turned back to her, looking alarmed. “Of course it isn’t!” he said, and the genuine surprise in his voice relaxed Jenny. “If I resign before she is supposed to take her Cruciamentum, the new Watcher will simply implement it themselves. I intend to resign only after I’ve ensured that Buffy won’t have to go through such a thing.”

“Right answer,” said Jenny, and tugged on his sweater, pulling him down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek . “Okay. So the right-now question is are we packing these books, but the for-later question is are you still going to be able to utilize Council resources after your resignation, right?”

“Indeed,” said Rupert, looking back towards the books. “Generally speaking, Watchers who resign are still allowed to retain Council resources and connections, but if it’s revealed that I tampered with the Cruciamentum—”

“They’ll kick you out on the spot?”

“Precisely,” said Rupert dismally. “You see my predicament.”

“Not really,” said Jenny. Off Rupert’s look, she said, “Look, we’ve already established that the Council is staffed by idiots, right? They convinced you that your love for me was putting me in danger, they decided that Faith was too volatile to everbe a good Slayer, and they hired Gwendolyn Post. And you,” she stepped up, pressing her hands against Rupert’s chest, “are my sexy, capable Watcher boyfriend with an actually functioning brain—you know, sometimes—”

“Oh, thanks ever so—”

“Shush,” said Jenny, dropping a placating kiss to his mouth. “My point is that you’re one of the smartest guys I know, and it’s already established that I’m a fucking genius. It is well within our wheelhouse to pull the wool over the eyes of the Watchers’ Council.”

Rupert preened. “One of the smartest you know?”

“Take it with a grain of salt,” said Jenny, patting his shoulder. “I could just be blinded by love.”

“Either way, it turns out excellently for me,” said Rupert with a grin.

Jenny rolled her eyes, smiling. “Pack the boxes,” she said, giving him another kiss.

“Absolutely,” said Rupert, kissing her back.

“Put up some warning signs!” came Buffy’s voice from the hallway.

Rupert pulled away. “Buffy, this is our house,” he reminded her.

“Not anymore it’s not, remember?” Buffy countered. “You guys have that nifty little place a few blocks from school, with all the bedrooms and the big backyard and the room for the fifteen thousand books?”

“Be that as it may,” said Rupert mildly, “this is a private kitchen—”

“You didn’t close the door!”

“—and I have full liberty to kiss my lovely girlfriend whenever I see fit,” said Rupert, and then proceeded to attack a laughing Jenny’s neck with kisses.

“This is your fault,” Buffy informed Jenny, but a reluctant smile was beginning. “He was never this bad till you showed up.”

“Oh, he was intolerable when I showed up,” said Jenny between giggles, finally managing to push Rupert away. “Hey, Snobby—”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while,” said Rupert with an easy grin.

“—pack those books,” Jenny finished, and grinned back, stepping into the hallway to meet Buffy. “So how’s our winter solstice dinner looking?”

“Well, almost all the boxes are in the U-Haul,” said Buffy, “which means we only have to do the heavy lifting, and you said that was for after dinner, right?”

“Right,” Jenny agreed. “You wanna call your mom, see if she can bring over that roast? I’ll start setting up a few more folding chairs for the living room.”

“On it,” said Buffy, skipping out into the living room.

Jenny followed Buffy through the hallway, but made a sharp left into Faith’s room, which was very nearly packed up. Faith was working on stuffing an already-overstuffed cardboard box with the last of her clothing, looking extremely annoyed with the box for not closing. “You know you can use more than one box, right?” said Jenny helpfully.

“I’m committed to the process,” said Faith without looking up. “Think I can punch it into submission?”

“Hold up,” said Jenny, stepping over to the box and taking out a few tank tops. “These are small. How about you just wear five of these until we get to the new house?”

“Already getting started on the mom jokes, huh?” said Faith.

“Eat your greens, sweetie,” said Jenny, patting Faith’s shoulder.

Giles and Ms. Calendar’s long-anticipated solstice dinner took place in their mostly-barren living room, everyone either squeezed onto the small green couch or perched on an uncomfortable folding chair. The dinner itself was tasty, but the really fun part was when Giles and Ms. Calendar brought out gifts, at least in Buffy’s opinion.

“Nice!” said Xander, holding up a comic that Buffy totally didn’t recognize, and fist-bumped Ms. Calendar.

“It’s so thoughtful of you,” Willow was saying delightedly to Giles, hugging the Growing Witch’s Book of Spells to her chest. “And so cute!”

“Neat,” said Oz, examining the record.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m regifting,” began an apologetic Giles, who was handing Ms. Calendar her present.

“No, it’s great,” said Oz, and he actually sounded closer to enthused than his usual relaxed-yet-unfazed. “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks from all of us,” Buffy chimed in. She was pretty sure Ms. Calendar had been the one to pick out her present, possibly with some help from Faith; there was no way Giles could have picked an aqua top that was so absolutely her style.

“This,” said Ms. Calendar abruptly, “is terrible.” She gave Giles a smitten grin, then showed the room the floppy-disk earrings she had just unwrapped. “He’s trying to turn me into some cheesy teacher who relies on outfit-related prop comedy,” she informed Buffy’s mom happily.

“Well, that’s…” Buffy’s mom trailed off. “Very Magic School Bus,” she said finally, which made Ms. Calendar start laughing so hard she wheezed.

“Have I been insulted?” Giles asked Buffy, looking somewhat bemused.

“You know, I’m really not sure,” said Buffy, squinting at Ms. Calendar. “I mean, she did just call your gift cheesy, but she also did it while giving you puppy-dog eyes.” For some reason, that phrase made Giles choke a little on his water and then start giggling himself. “What?”

“Oh, hey,” said Faith appreciatively, holding up the silver cross necklace Willow had given her. “Never had one of these before.”

“It’s on account of safety during patrol!” said Willow with a shy smile. “Buffy’s always talking about how worried she is when you just go rushing in—”

“Is she,” said Faith, and as she donned the cross necklace, she was looking at Buffy through her eyelashes with a pleased, flirty grin on her face. Buffy felt jumpy butterflies in her stomach as she smiled back.

[darkisucksanditwrites]

I got you.

For Aomine’s birthday. Not very happy so I’m not wishing him Happy Birthday 😁

It was way past eleven when Momoi arrived at the bar.

It was a good thing she was just in the neighborhood with a few college friends when she got Aomine’s distress call.

Well, distress was a bit of exaggeration.

She couldn’t understand what he was saying at first, he was slurring so badly and she immediately recognized it as him being intoxicated.

He rambled about something or other and for a moment she thought he called the wrong person but then he sobbed.

“She dumped me.” He hiccupped. “Satsu. Right before my birthday.”

And then he disconnected.

Satsuki excused herself, saying she had a thing to take care of and said goodbye to her friends. She managed to call him again and demand to tell her where he was. Thankfully, it wasn’t far and she found the place without a problem.

“Dai-chan.” She gently shook his arm when she found him at the counter. She thought he was crying, but it turned out he was actually sleeping.

“Ha?” He grumbled when he saw her. “Whatre you doin’ here?” He slurred.

Satsuki sighed.

“Because I can’t leave you alone.” She wrinkled her nose. “How much did you have?”

“Not much.” The bartender appeared suddenly. “Just a couple of shots and a beer. He got smashed right away. I was honestly surprised since he’s such a big guy.”

“Well, he has a very low tolerance.” He patted Aomine on the head. “Do I need to pay anything?”

The bartender shrugged. “It’s all been covered by that other girl.”

“Right.” Satsuki nodded. The other girl was probably Aki or Saki or whatever her name was. Satsuki tried not to pay that much attention to whom Aomine was dating, since they got pretty uncomfortable with the fact that he had a very close female friend. So she made sure not to get in their way.

It was hurtful a bit, since they were inseparable almost since birth, and as much as he infuriated her he was her best friend and she wanted him to be happy.

Satsuki fished her mobile and called a taxi.

Aomine frowned, but thankfully didn’t fell asleep again. He was glaring at the counter, oddly quiet.

“What happened?” She asked gently and patted him on the back.

He shrugged.

“She said she knew I wasn’t that into her and it wasn’t working.”

“Well, weren’t you?”

Aomine looked at her and blinked.

“Of course, I was. Why would I date a girl I wasn’t into?”

Satsuki shrugged.

“So maybe she wasn’t into you that much.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and frowned. His eyes were red rimmed, but she doubted he actually cried. Aomine was a crybaby when they were kids, but with time he learned to hide his tears and turned to anger when was sad or upset.

Satsuki didn’t know what to say much. Aomine didn’t date that many girls, but all of those relationships ended almost always the same way.

They all claimed he wasn’t into them. And true, at first Aomine was mostly into the physical aspects of dating, but he took a few lessons (some of the from Satsuki herself) and learned a thing or two.

She talked to a few of his girlfriends (at least at the beginning when they were still okay with Aomine having a female friend around him) and they were all happy with how he was treating them.

So it was a bit puzzling why they were all dumping him. He wasn’t a bad guy by any chance. He was maybe a bit sloppy and not the brightest and a bit one track minded (basketball, burgers and breasts? Not the most refined taste) and the girl had to take the lead in most things (and the girls he dated were okay with it), but it wasn’t like he was un-datable?

And did that one just had to choose the day before Aomine’s birthday to break up with him?

Satsuki startled when her phone rang.

“Come on. Taxi is here.”

Aomine grunted and let Satsuki lead him outside. He wasn’t that drunk, but he was definitely tipsy and upset.

They got into the back seat and Momoi gave the driver Aomine’s address.

The streets were full of cars because this was Tokyo and Tokyo never sleeps. Besides it still wasn’t that late for the city.

Satsuki looked outside, her thoughts revolving around the Aki-Saki and she wondered if she should contact her. Probably not. It wasn’t her business after all. And Aomine was a big boy.

But still it was Aomine.  

She felt something lightly touch her hand suddenly and she looked away from the window.

Aomine was looking at her, his eyes still a bit unfocused and his cheeks pink from the alcohol and embarrassment.

Satsuki smiled because she knew what he was asking. It was the same when they were kids and Aomine was scared of something.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“We’ll be home soon.”

Satsuki opened the door to Aomine’s apartment with her own key. She briefly thought that things like these were why his relationships always ended the way they did, but it was hard to change old habits.

“Go on.” She pushed him gently inside and closed the door.

His small studio apartment was surprisingly neat and cleaned out. It smelled of detergent and soap meaning Aomine planned on bringing a girl here tonight.

And in a way he did, just not the one he planned.

She watched him when he swayed and took of his shoes and jacket.

“Ya want a drink?” He slurred while he stumbled into the kitchen.

“No Dai-chan. And you should go to sleep.” She grabbed his arm and led him into his tiny bedroom.

Aomine grunted when she pushed him on the bed and he sat down.

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I know.” Satsuki said gently and sat beside him. “But it would be better. Everything will work out. Promise.”

Aomine snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

“There, there.” She patted his knee. Aomine didn’t get the bait and was still deep into his sour sulking.

Momoi thought of what to say in moments like these. She didn’t want to trash the girl; not sure she had it in her and Aomine would probably not want it anyway. It would just make him defend her and he’d feel worse.

Him opening up to her and talking about his feelings was also out of the question.

But also talking about unrelated things felt kind of out of place.

Her gaze fell onto the bedside table clock.

“Oh!” She said suddenly and Daiki blinked sleepily at her.

“What?”

“It’s already past midnight.”

“So?”

Satsuki bit her lip. Should she?

She opened her bag and rummaged though it for a moment, before she took out a small box.

Aomine blinked not understanding.

“I wanted to give you this tomo- I mean later today, but maybe now it’s better.” She pushed the box into his hands.

“Happy Birthday.”

Aomine frowned and she was afraid those wrinkles would be permanent this time.

“I know it’s bad timing with everything going on, but…I thought it could cheer you up.”

Aomine looked at her for a moment before he sighed and unwrapped the box from its colorful paper.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw it was velvet, like the ones you put jewelry in.

“Open it.” She encouraged him and he did.

“What’s that?” He asked blinking.

Satsuki gently took the necklace out of the box.

“Maybe it’s a little silly but.” She paused and broke the silver circle in half and gave one to Aomine.

Daiki looked at the half she put into his hand and then at her when she finished putting the one on her own neck.

“I got you.” She said with a small grin and showed him the engraving of his name in kanji.

Aomine just stared at her, blinking slowly.

And it was honestly freaking her out. She expected him to get embarrassed and say she was sappy and say that friendship necklaces were lame and for kids (and he’d still wear it anyway).

Instead he sighed.

“Shit like this is why you’re boyfriend is always avoiding you.”

Satsuki pouted.

“He is not my boyfriend.”

“Yet.” Aomine said and Satsuki felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. He was referring to an older student which she went to a study group with and who was definitely interested in Satsuki. And honestly he was her type: calm, polite, intellectual.

But somehow he just wasn’t that interested in him aside from that study group.

Even if he was really, really good-looking.

Aomine sighed and put his half on. He rubbed the kanji of her name briefly and she suddenly felt embarrassed herself. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all. Basketball shoes would be a safer option.  

“I picked them up today.” She said and hid her half under her blouse.

“Thanks Satsu.”

She nodded.

“I have something for you too.” He said with an audible slur. For a moment she forgot he was actually drunk.

“Hm? Can this wait?”

“No.” Aomine said and leaned forward until their foreheads bumped.

And before she could react he kissed her.

It was so strange. She could feel the alcohol in his breath but not as strongly as on his clothes, which led her to think most of it ended up there and not inside him.

But then again that would mean Aomine was mostly sober.

Or maybe he was lamenting Aki or Maki or whatever her name was so much he needed to find comfort somewhere else.

Or maybe it was a mix of all three, but she didn’t have time to react to that awkward, sloppy kiss because it was over suddenly and Aomine yawned and flopped down onto his bed.

And he was out cold.

Satsuki sat there for a moment, analyzing what just happened.

But no matter how many scenarios she went through and how many variables she considered she just couldn’t come to any explanation.

Any explanation which would be plausible at least.

She looked at the necklace tucked against Aomine’s cheek which would no doubt produce an imprint of her name on his cheek in the morning.

She touched the chain of her own half and sighed.

Well, this has gotten considerably more complicated now.

[queerdilf]

My own speculation, subject to change in the future, from left to right:

1. Travis- Tiefling Warlock- Everyone is saying this is Tal, and while that’s totally plausible, I actually stand by the fact that this is Travis. I was also briefly thinking this was Sam in an attempt to have him playing a more serious character, but more on that later. I don’t think Tal would play a tiefling in this campaign, they’re generally too edgy, and Tal said he wanted to try something new. Travis on the other hand, totally wants to play a smart character, that’s just a fact. First off, tieflings automatically get a few cantrips, so already he’s handling spells which is different than before, and since I’m pretty sure that baby’s a warlock or paladin, I’m more tempted to go with warlock because I can see Travis playing an almost Percy-esque character this time around, an egg head with issues, which hypes me up.

2. Marisha- Human Monk- My first reaction to this was Laura, honestly, cuz I felt Laura trying a more physical class would be a cool change and also I wanted to see her taking on a Ray from Star Wars type character, but the more I thought about it, the more likely it was that this is actually Marisha. Marish is a very “Let’s fuckin’ go!” type player, quick to action, excitable and powerful. I think monk would be super cool to see Marisha explore. I myself am not very familiar with monk mechanics, as my least favorite of the classes, but I love the idea of Marisha playing this rough and tumble, knock me down get back up again type character, and I also like the idea of Marisha playing a semi religious character.  I also bounced Ashley around in this spot because of reasons I’ll get to later. 

3. Sam- Human Fighter-  Okay, when thinking about this one, I at first was approaching this like Sam was making the character, and I thought he’d want to maybe play something a little more serious, and I automatically went to the tiefling on the far left. Then, people began saying he was the small one, which also makes sense, he likes being small, but then I remembered a crucial detail. Sam isn’t making the character, Liam is. I actually saw a post on here, I cannot take credit for this viewpoint, but I don’t remember who gave me the idea, but it said that since last time Liam gave Sam the “lamest” combo, this time around, its likely he’ll try to theme it like that again and give him the most “boring” combo. It seems everyone and their mother is playing a human fighter and it would be interesting to see what Sam does with something so generic. Could also be a paladin or half- orc (cuz its mega tall and idk I could just also see paladin), but then that doesn’t really support the “boring” theory.

4. Liam- Human Bard- First things first, I automatically thought Liam when I came to this one, the outline looks so much like him in my opinion, but I’ll break down better reasoning for this one. First, evidence for the bard, you can see the tip of an instrument sticking out from the person’s back, and the boots just remind me of a bard. Now, I also think this is Liam for a better reason. I personally think Liam just wants to play something light and funny. No Raven Queen, no impending time clock, just song parodies and dick jokes. Also, I think since he told Sam to play a bard, he wants to give it a try now. Could also be a half- orc, giving another look at the ear areas, but that I feel is unlikely. As someone who plays a human bard, I’m obviously super excited for this one, oh my gosh I’m shaking just thinking about it.

5. Taliesin- Kobold Rogue- This one actually has some good reasoning behind it. Taliesin has gone on record saying he wants to play something totally different this time around, and I think this would be a really cool combo in order to do so. Taliesin also stated in the PAX Unplugged interview that his character would be the most likely to use the cantrip “massage”, which I feel just fits for this little monster type character. The other option for race is halfling, but I feel like Tal of all people would probably be the one to just play the out there member of this party, I feel like he’ll continue to play with races or classes outside the core PHB and try something weird and see what happens. (Also, I’ve been imagining him playing a small, weasely rat of a character for months now and it’s all I want)

6. Laura- Tiefling Cleric- So first off, Laura had talked about wanting to play a cleric before, which is mega exciting, because I honestly think she’ll make such a good healer, she has such good group instincts. This character is like a weird mix of Zhara and Lyra and I really am excited for her design. I remember Laura absolutely falling in love with Zhara and tieflings, so I can see her using one now, and I feel like Laura’s Kobalds and Catacombs character was a bit of a trial run for this one’s personality. I like the idea of this character being like a “you are more than your blood” type character and totally defying all tiefling stereotypes and becoming a sweetie pie cleric 

7. Ashley- Elf Barbarian- I’ve been bouncing back and forth on this one all night, and I’m still not totally 100% on this one, but hear me out. For player, it could be any of the girls. St first I felt Marisha cuz it looked vaguely like her and I had this idea of her playing a caster to say "Fuck you" to all her haters, however you'll see in a moment why I changed who was playing this character once I changed my idea of which class the character was. For race, it could really be anything, I just feel like she has an elven body type. For class, it could also be anything. I at first was bouncing around some kind of caster, then someone brought up barbarian, druid and ranger came up, necromancer was the one I found super likely, but the one I’m going with is barbarian for one reason. Ashley always wanted Pike to be physically stronger. This is the reason I actually toyed around with Ash being the monk for a little while, because she always wanted Pike to be physically strong. She was always saying she wanted Pike to be a “monstah”, and now she gets the chance to be. 

Sidenote: This actually was taking into account that some of the cast may play other genders,  I just matched the characters with what I felt best fit and it just so happened all the characters seem to present themselves in correspondence with the stereotypical body language of the gender said players identify as. Trust me, I play guys all the time in dnd, I totally understand playing as other genders, I just feel these fit the best for each person.

Thanks to @lupinsfurrylittleproblem for helping me talk through this list!

[vadhnatta]

Justice League Rant

Have you ever been to a movie where you hoped it would be decent, despite assorted warning signs, but then you end up having a CinemaSins track running through your head the entire time as you slowly crush the empty box of concession stand candy and wonder if it actually is possible to murder a man with the force of sheer hatred, disgust, and a growing tension headache? Because that was this movie. I could have been sleeping. I could have been working on my projects due next week. I haven’t really seen many DC movies, or been invested in their world at all, but I saw Wonder Woman and loved it and Diana was featured prominently in the trailer, which looked pretty good, so I figured, hey, maybe they actually figured out how to make a good character and can keep this momentum going for a bit. It won’t be as good as Wonder Woman, but I could at least probably see Diana be a badass for a bit, and Aquaman looks like a decently amusing character. I saw a few episodes of the Flash TV series and that wasn’t awful. Maybe this will be okay.

No.

No it’s not.

I’m mostly waiting for the Excedrin to kick in so I can take a nap before diving back into a project with a program that has most of its documentation in Polish (which I do not speak), so this isn’t going to be a detailed or coherent meta analysis of all the points wrong with this film, or how I’m not sure there wasn’t a woman under the age of 60/over the age of 10 that wasn’t immediately sexualized, or how Joss Whedon should never be allowed within 30 feet of a woman apparently. But here’s a list of thoughts that went through my head while I watched this, for amusement and catharsis, because Wonder Woman was a fluke, Patty Jenkins and Gal Gadot both deserved better, and DC Comics is incapable of having nice things.

((Spoilers, obviously))

--I heard beforehand that there were four ass-shots of Diana, all added in by Joss Whedon, and I was hoping that was an exaggeration or not horribly noticeable, but yeah. I actually think there were more than four, but I didn’t count. 

--On the ass-shot note, at first I didn’t think Diana was wearing underwear under her skirt because we saw her ass cheek. Yeah. But she was. It’s dark blue. I know that because we saw up her skirt again, multiple times. 

--People tried to say the bikini armor was only in a flashback. No it wasn’t. They lied to us. We get to see Amazon warriors crushed to death under large stone gate things, straining to hold it up for their queen to run underneath it like that one bit from Prince Caspian, except with women in metal bikinis. 

--You know how the Amazons all had really cool armor that wasn’t super sexualizing based on actual ancient armor forms and construction techniques? Nope. Now they have similar highly-stylized banded chestplates like Diana’s, form-fitted around their boobs, and about half of those come in bikini form! Because variety!

--The Amazons can’t leave their island??? Um. But the entire reason they didn’t leave in Wonder Woman was because Hippolyta didn’t want to sacrifice her warriors for a war that wasn’t theirs, not because they physically couldn’t leave the island? So there’s an attack on their home, many warriors slain, and the only thing they can do at all is light a fucking signal fire??? They are way better than this.

--Did they actually kill Hippolyta’s wife/partner? Because that’s how that scene read to me. Fuck you movie.

--At least they didn’t actually destroy all of Themyscira. I’ll take my small victories there because I was convinced they were going to take my favorite part of Wonder Woman and burn it the first chance they got.

--How did they light this fire? Where was this temple? It’s obviously visible to the rest of the world, so it’s not on Themyscira. Was that a magic bow that could fire across dimensions? How could you aim it? I’m so confused by this scene. It’s one temple on fire, how did you know it would make the news and Diana would also happen to be watching the news when they ran that story, that’s hardly the biggest news story out there.

--So Diana had lightning powers. Or did the final battle of Wonder Woman not actually happen now. You know, the bit where she shot a giant lightning bolt thing out of her bracers. Vaporized a god. That. So, why the fuck is the only thing her bracer boosh move is good for now is creating a small shockwave to knock people back. It does nothing.

--Also, “we need an electric charge to shock the cube so we can activate the resurrection bullshit.” “Okay, so we need the Flash to run really fast down a hallway to build up electricity and poke the cube at exactly the right moment. That’s the best and simplest way to do this. I mean, it’s not like we have a literal daughter of the god of lightning bolts that has enough lightning powers to vaporize a god standing right next to us, where she could make lightning.”

--I thought the whole point of this movie was an Avengers-style team up where they actually worked together to take down the evil guy. But they just teamed up to bring back Superman, distract the bad guy long enough for Superman to show up, then Superman handles it. So. You just proved the point that you’re all worthless without Superman. 

--Rich isn’t a superpower, how are you not dead yet Batman.

--Batman is bitter/jealous/??? because Clark is more human than him for... getting a job and living a middle-class lifestyle when he didn’t have to? Bruce. You could do that. You too can put on glasses and go get a day job. You could give away all your money and go live on a farm and be a reporter or whatever. Like. That’s an option for you. Being rich isn’t a handicap.

--Aquaman I don’t care what you are or that you’re Legolas-surfing on a bug-orc, if you fall from hundreds of feet in the air, you die. At the very least your legs should be shattered. 

--Also, I have to agree with Batman on that one, you literally just brought a trident. You. You’re powers are water-related. Yeah, you have combat abilities apparently on par with Amazons, but. You couldn’t have steered this fight towards a lake? Brought some water with you? I feel like you could have been more effective in this fight somehow.

--I actually liked Aquaman for a good bit during this film. He came across kind of like Thor did to me early on, but with more whiskey and less ties to his home. I can totally get behind the vigilante merman defender of this town that rescues fishermen and hangs out at bars and randomly wanders into the ocean. He felt nicely reminiscent of old mythology stories for a bit there.

--But then the plane scene. Yeah, good points about how Batman doesn’t have a superpower, Flash is just tripping over his feet and slamming into walls all the time, and Cyborg may or may not be controlled by the cube things, or at least not have full control of his powers, agreed. But your point on Diana was “you’re gorgeous”, then increased rambling, leading into more rambling motivated by the lasso. You were actually doing okay, you didn’t need the sexist bullshit. It seemed like Atlanteans and Amazons fought, but still respected each other as powerful warrior cultures (at the very least, they seemed really similar), and she’s the one that’s actually shown the most effectiveness and power in fighting so far. So what the fuck.

--Did we really need the disparity between the male and female Atlantean armor. Did we really need the boobplate.

--Can Atlanteans not talk underwater? They live underwater. Do they need to create air bubbles every time they want to say anything? 

--What are Cyborg’s powers exactly? Anything electronic/machine related? Regenerating machine(??) body parts? Can he change his limbs into anything? Does he need fuel? What is his deal, idk. 

--”The plane won’t fly that fast (to get across the world in under a few hours).” Cyborg: “It will for me.” ...I don’t. That’s. That’s not how planes work. Or can you expand your entire body/infinitely-shapeshifting limbs to cover the entire plane so it won’t fall apart from higher speeds than it was meant to fly at. Can you just restructure the engines, or reshape the plane to make it more aerodynamic. Are you just going to merge with the plane and turn it into an SR-71 Blackbird. Is that the plan here. BECAUSE THAT’S NOT HOW PLANES WORK. YOU CAN’T JUST TELL IT TO GO FASTER BECAUSE YOU HACKED IT WITH MAGIC SHIT.

--Why is there an egg thing around the town for a few minutes. I don’t. Is that a bug thing? That’s not what the cube did in the flashback. 

--What’s with the purple tendril rock things? It looks sort of like the Crystal Dragon landscaping stuff from GW2. Idk. How that fits.

--So. I’m sure Superman can pick up a building and he’s strong enough for that. But. I don’t think that’s how buildings work? Like if you put the entire weight of the building supported by two hands in the middle, especially an apartment structure that large/wide, it’s probably going to collapse at the ends. Unless Superman also has magic forcefield building-holding powers, idk, maybe he does, what do I know.

--I’m really not sure what was going on with this bad guy, but he looked like a frost giant from Thor, mixed with the plot-line of Pitch Black from Rise of the Guardians. Literally both movies ended the same way. Also not sure how nothing seemed to hurt him, how does something get more powerful than all the armies, when did this become Lord of the Rings? Was he supposed to be Sauron? 

--How did they all just. Forget the cube. When Superman woke up. You just. Left the apocalypse-causing mcguffin in the empty plane. Unguarded. What. Did the DM just rush the party out of the room without letting any of the players say anything about taking the thing with them because he wanted to progress the story in a certain way? Because I’ve had that happen, that’s plausible, but. 

--Why was calling Lois to handle newly-resurrected Superman not the first plan? I mean, protect her, obviously, in case he has no memories at all, but. That seems like the obvious first plan. Wake him up, have Flash waiting to get her out of there quickly if something goes wrong and Diana standing with her (not with armor and sword and everything out looking ready for battle), and talk to him? Don’t immediately trigger a threat response because he’s disoriented and confused and why are battle-ready people staring at him?

--Why did Diana always need her sword to fight? She even jumped down the reactor thing to get her sword back. What’s so special about this sword? It’s not the Godkiller sword, that was destroyed in the last movie by Ares. So. It’s a regular sword, presumably. She has lots of them. Bring an extra.

--Also Diana can use other weapons. She trained with Amazons, she can wield all the weapons.

--I almost left to go to the bathroom during the final climactic fight. Because I had no investment in this film, and the only thing that kept me there was the last shred of a chance that Diana could at least do something cool during this fight. She didn’t. She swung her sword at the bad guy, which didn’t do anything, made a shockwave a couple times. She broke his axe after Superman froze it. Wow. 

--Is that really it? Was his power all in his axe? This really is Sauron.

--So did the cubes just vaporize when they separated? Didn’t happen last time. But we don’t see them anymore. So. Are they not a threat? Also “big power surge” on separation really seemed like it should be more than that. It knocked Superman and Cyborg back by a foot or so and onto their backs (also how did they both handle that the same way, I don’t care if you have magically regenerating metal, I’m pretty sure you’re not as explosion-resistant as Superman). And the rest of the team didn’t seem to feel it at all, and they were in the same complex. I thought power surge on separating this planet-destroying nuclear bomb of a power core would at least take out that town.

--Why. Did it make flowers? I’m. Really confused by the terraforming at the end. I think they tried to frame it earlier as a life-regenerating thing that just worked so fast it destroyed everything, but. That’s not really an explanation. Also don’t stick your face in that small child, the bright colors probably mean it will kill you. Also alien plants. Probably going to completely fuck up the ecosystem for a good while. But sure, it’s pretty so it’s fine.

--Oh, and the boob-faceplant did happen. She was facing away from the camera, so I easily believe the body-double story because they were so fucking desperate to have this happen.

--Was the Flash always an idiot? I feel like his entire character was just played for laughs as the dumb one because he was younger/less experienced, which is disappointing. Seriously, who meets Batman and the first thing you talk about is that you don’t understand people because they’re on a different frequency/slow, and what is brunch?? 

I’m sure there’s a lot more, but those are the things that immediately came to mind, so. Save yourself the headache. Don’t see this movie. Just go watch Wonder Woman again. Or Thor: Ragnarok, that one was good.

EDIT: WAIT I HAVE MORE.

--Fuck you Bruce you little shit, you have no right to call out Diana for not superheroing all the time. First of all, we’ve already seen her on multiple occasions out helping people, like the opening of the film where she saves a bunch of people from that terrorist group, and whatever happened in BvS. Second, she didn’t leave her home and everyone she loved to help clean up your shit or put up with you, she specifically left to stop WW1 and kill Ares. Guess what. She did it. She did her explicit mission, and then stayed to help when she wanted to because she’s a good person. Yeah, I think she gets to “shut down” for however long she fucking wants to after the person she cared most about outside of Themiscyra died and she had to deal with the entire “no, men actually suck and will go to war and commit atrocities because it’s their nature” thing she had to come to terms with, WHILE STILL STAYING AND FIGHTING FOR THEM ANYWAY. She has no obligations to you, you do not own her attention or her help, yes Barry, we would all cover for her if she murdered your ass for antagonizing her and insinuating that she has done anything wrong in her life.

--Also, what have you done huh? You dress up like a bat in your costume and run around the city because you like an adrenaline rush and want to feel cool taking down criminals. Sure, you donate to charity, whoopdee-fucking-do. You could probably buy a country. You have so much money. What were the stats on how much money it would take to end world hunger? 5% of what the US spends on their military budget or something? Less? You probably have more money than that. You want to do something more than cosplay with it??

[him-e]

I actually think Sansa is the "girl in grey on a dying horse" and Alys Karstark is a red herring, do you think that's plausible? The tourney will be a disaster and that's why Shadrich is there. He will take her away, and I think it will be to Jon-The Wall.

I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day.

It’s a fascinating theory, one that made me see the appeal of Sansa running to the Wall even before season 5. 

What’s interesting is that Melisandre appears certain that the girl is a) Jon’s sister and b) “fleeing from a marriage they’ve made for her”. What makes she think so? Is it something in the girl’s clothing or demeanor? Or is it just that she overheard the news of Ramsay’s marriage to “Arya” and she put two and two together (as she often does, admittedly)? Is there something else that connects the girl in the vision with a forced marriage? (note: “Jon’s sister” would indeed wear a (white and) grey maiden’s cloak for her wedding)

When Alys Karstark shows up two leagues south of Mole’s Town, asking for Jon, she seems to fit the vision to a T. Almost TOO much. Her house colors are black and white, which mixed become grey. She is fleeing from a marriage that others tried to force her into. And her horse is dying. 

But what horse wouldn’t be, after days of desperate travel? And why would R’hllor send Melisandre a vision of Alys Karstark? Is it because Alys and her marriage to Sigorn magnar of Thenn become more important in future books, or…?

But what really doesn’t add up is:

“Did your fires show you where to find this girl?““I saw water. Deep and blue and still, with a thin coat of ice just forming on it. It seemed to go on and on forever.”“Long Lake. What else did you see around this girl?”“Hills. Fields. Trees. A deer, once. Stones. She is staying well away from villages. When she can she rides along the bed of little streams, to throw hunters off her trail.”He frowned. “That will make it difficult. She was coming north, you said. Was the lake to her east or to her west?”Melisandre closed her eyes, remembering. “West.”

So, assuming the water Melisandre saw is indeed Long Lake (as per Mance’s assumption), the girl is traveling along the eastern side of it. So far so good. At this point they still believe it’s “Arya”, so the fact that she’s on the wrong side of the lake is supposed to be our first major hint that it’s NOT Arya and she’s NOT coming from Winterfell. BUT. Take a look at the map:

… why would Alys Karstark from Karhold take an “L” shaped route to Castle Black that is basically twice the linear distance between the two places? (it would make sense if the large body of water in Meli’s vision is misidentified by Mance as Long Lake but is actually the Last River; still a much longer route than necessary, but one you could maybe explain with the necessity to travel safe or cover your tracks).

But if it IS indeed Long Lake, then the girl in Meli’s vision is probably NOT Alys Karstark at all, but someone coming from the south. Let’s look at the map again. A few places this girl could be reasonably coming from are:

the Dreadfort;

Hornwood;

Ramsgate, Widow’s Watch;

probably not Winterfell (as she’d be riding with the lake to her east, not west, unless she’s so determined to stay clear of the Kingsroad that she crosses the White Knife. Same goes for Deepwood Motte, the Wolfswood, Torrhen’s Square and any places west of Long Lake/the Kingsroad.)

White Harbor. 

White Harbor is the most interesting option to me. Someone who goes from WH to CB would be tracing back the White Knife until the eastern shore of Long Lake, and then ride to CB almost in a straight line (note: Catelyn took the White Knife route to go to White Harbor and then to King’s Landing in AGOT). But most importantly, White Harbor, as the North’s primary trade port, is the easiest access point to the North for a person who comes from south of the Neck. Like… the Vale, for example.

Is it possible that the girl is Sansa, running away from the Vale, from Littlefinger’s plans, from Harry Hardyng, from ser Shadrich, maybe wearing the white and grey cloak of her (failed? broken? consummated?) marriage to Harry?

Yes. It’s possible. Plausible, though? I have to consider this from all angles and not just the one that suits my headcanon, so let me play the devil’s advocate:

What if it’s Jeyne Poole? She and Theon were captured by Mors Umber and taken to Stannis’ camp, in a village located in the Wolfswood, three days away from Winterfell. Stannis decides to keep Theon and send Jeyne/Arya to Jon, accompanied by Justin Massey, Tycho Nestoris and a few other men. Maybe the group is attacked somewhere along the way and Jeyne is left alone, with no choice but keep riding North. She’d probably be wearing grey and, as she’s still impersonating “Arya”, Mel’s vision would be virtually correct. Though since her journey is supposed to begin near Winterfell, the issue of why would she be on the eastern side of Long Lake still stands. But overall, Jeyne Poole is a likely candidate.

What if it’s (the real) Arya? You know she’s going to leave the Faceless Men soon. White Harbor might be the place she lands after traveling by ship from Braavos to Westeros. Another equally possible scenario is that she is coming North from the Riverlands, in which case the large body of water could be still Long Lake, but also the Gods Eye (if winter has come, it’s entirely possible that its surface would be covered in ice, and if Arya lands in Maidenpool, for example, it would make sense for her to be near the Gods Eye’s eastern shore if she’s going North via the Kingsroad. Heck, the water might be even the Green Fork).

What if it’s just Alys Karstark, the Long Lake inconsistency was completely unintentional on the author’s part, and Meli’s prophecy is already resolved? The simplest explanation is often the right one, after all.

Also important to note: the girl Melisandre saw was “as grey as ash”, no trace of Sansa’s very conspicuous auburn hair. That could be explained with Sansa wearing a hood or not having gotten rid of her Alayne dye yet or being dirty or maybe escaping from a fire (covered in ashes?), but still, it’s something that works against the Sansa option, in my opinion.

(speaking of fires and ashes and very grey girls, I’ve seen people bring up Shireen, but Shireen is currently at the Wall, so for her to ride back to the Wall, she has to go south first (summoned by her father, maybe?). Which, you know… given what happened in the show, isn’t terribly unlikely. And might be connected to whatever creepypasta is going on with Patchface and Shireen’s dormant greyscale (”the girl is not clean”). Perhaps the “grey girl” is even Melisandre herself, escaping from the complete annihilation of Team Stannis like she did in the show, which would be… ironic)

But back to our Sansa theory, it’s all based on a series of assumptions (that Littlefinger’s plans go downhill, that either ser Shadrich kidnaps her or she’s forced to flee, that at some point she starts riding alone, that she’ll think the safest place she can go is the Wall), that, while tempting especially in light of Show!Sansa’s storyline, are still wild speculation with no textual evidence. In fact, it’s just as likely that Sansa marries Harry as per LF’s plan and travels North with them and an entire Vale army in tow. Or that she doesn’t go North at all. It’s also possible that Littlefinger’s plans come to fruition… in part: perhaps she goes to White Harbor with Team Littlefinger, and then something happens there, which makes her flee to the Wall.

At this point is really hard to say so TL;DR it’s an interesting theory on multiple levels but also a long shot considering the information we have now, and we have other possible candidates, so I recommend caution and avoiding to pin all your hopes on Sansa being the grey girl.

[pardontheglueman]

Marching Through the Streets of Rhydyfelin

A response to The Wales Arts Review’s Roundtable discussion

Pop Music: Searching for the young soul rebels- why has pop given up on politics.

For an unreconstructed Socialist, who is also a passionate believer in the power of protest music, this opening discussion promised to be the ideal way to launch The Wales Arts Review’s much anticipated Millennium Centre symposium. The inclusion of Rhian E Jones (Critic and author of Clampdown: Pop-Cultural Wars on Class and Gender), Richard Parfitt (Songwriter / Former member of 60ft Dolls and senior lecturer in Music and Performing Arts, Bath Spa University) and Gray Taylor (writer and member of Goldie Lookin’ Chain), on a panel to be chaired by our very own Craig Austin, promised a forensic examination of a key cultural question. We seemed in safe hands, what could go wrong?

Perhaps the writing was on the wall, even before the debate began. Following Adrian Masters and Adam Somerset’s warmly received introductory remarks, most of the critics present decided to take up the undoubtedly tempting option of attending the launch of The Wales Arts Review’s excellent ‘Fiction Map Of Wales’ anthology in an adjoining room. It was immediately noticeable how many younger critics had joined the exodus – further proof perhaps of youthful dis-engagement with politics, or pop, or both?  A quick glance around the Victor Salvi Function Room revealed that just three dozen or so hardy souls had remained behind to man the barricades.

I wasn’t altogether surprised. The evening before, I had cast my bread upon the listless waters of the internet, randomly pitching phrases into the all-powerful search engine like ‘Why pop isn’t political anymore?’ or ‘Why isn’t pop angry?’, to be met by and large, with barely a ripple upon the stagnant pond of political discourse. An inexact science for sure, but somewhat discouraging, nevertheless.There was the obligatory rallying call by Billy Bragg, but little else. A piece in Village Voice, from 2006, another American piece ‘Apocalypse Then: Why Rock isn’t angry any more’, dating from 2010, a short analysis by Smashing Pumpkin’s frontman Billy Corgan, headed ‘Billy Corgan thinks rock isn’t reaching teenagers anymore’ and, lastly, a blog by John Robb, ‘Why politics and music don’t mix anymore’, which provided a glimmer of hope, or, at least one heartfelt response to it did -

‘Well maybe some people just aren’t trying

We are

Hack attack

We just put it out today,

Suburban Mousewife

This seemed to warrant investigation. A quick search revealed a promising list of song titles that made explicit the radical, feminist protest music, I could expect to hear – ‘Botox Skin’, ‘Shopping’, ‘Gulags for Slags’, while their handful of youtube videos unveiled an all-girl, multi-racial, five-piece combo, playing a spiky brand of garage rock, behind a lead singer wielding a mean tambourine. It looked and sounded too good to be true, and indeed it was. A quick glance at their facebook page revealed the following message, dated 13th Feb 2013:

‘Big thanks to all you lovely people for your support. The band is on an extended break at the moment.’

An ill omen perhaps? The waste of a bloody excellent band name, certainly.

Suburban Mousewife

Disappointingly, the panel’s discussion never really got past first base, partly as a result of unavoidable time constraints, but mainly because the debate was strangely sidetracked into a cultural cul de sac which, to paraphrase Dylan, might best be termed Stuck inside of Newport, with the Bristol blues again. This amiable detour down memory lane was entertaining enough in its own right, but did little to address the wider political context the panel was supposed to be engaging with. Craig and Rhian tried bravely to steer the discussion away from the confines of South East Wales with a perceptive analysis of Ben Drew’s ‘Ill Manors,’ a genuinely threatening pop-protest song. Unfortunately, the forum never quite re-focused itself on the central proposition.

Incredibly, the whole debate passed by without any reference to the current political landscape. For the best part of twenty years, the mainstream political parties have been busy stealing each other’s clothes, cross-dressing their way to the mythical centre ground of British Politics. The Tories actually went into the last General Election with a manifesto commitment to ring-fence spending on the NHS, something which Labour, its creator and proud champion, steadfastly refused to do. Furthermore, the coalition between Britain’s then most right-wing and left-wing mainstream parties, desperately cobbled together after the last election, has increasingly served to apply a brake to radical dissent. It’s in this context of unprincipled allegiances and bipartisan accommodations, that the weak-kneed response of today’s musicians can best be understood. Equally, the genuine prospect of this now fragile consensus being smashed apart at the next election by UKIP, and how this just might kick-start a slumbering protest movement into action, went altogether unexplored. It’s entirely possible that the resurrection of Rock against Racism, (the historical significance of which was barely mentioned), may now be more than this 52 yr old pop fan’s ultimate fantasy. In a fevered post-election climate, where the race card will not only be played, but undoubtedly dealt from the bottom of the pack too, an imaginative grassroots resistance could take many forms. Rap against Racism, anyone?

Similarly, Two–Tone, another protest movement with its roots in the politics of race, was never mentioned at all, despite it arguably producing the greatest pop protest song of all time – The Special’s number 1 hit,’ Ghost Town’. Indeed, UB40, a band on the fringes of Two-Tone, charted regularly at the time, with the most radical sequence of songs ever to infiltrate the playlists of mainstream radio. Between March 1980 and August 1981 the band scored five top twenty hits with songs about Third world starvation; ‘Food For Thought’, Racism in America; ‘King’, Nuclear war; ‘Earth Dies Screaming’, Atheism; ‘Don’t Let It Pass You By’, and Mass Unemployment; ‘One In Ten’.

Plausible reasons for the decline of political pop were flagged up, but not followed up, (the immediacy of the internet as a first preference for those with a personal manifesto, and conventional record company insouciance, being amongst the most convincing explanations.)  At the same time, rather too much of the discussion was given over to boxing Ed Sheeran about the ears, not that he didn’t deserve it following his cringe-worthy attempts to gladhand David Cameron at a recent gig. Even here, though, the chance was missed to broaden the discussion, by asking tough questions about why the recent folk revival was so insipid and non-political in nature.

Even where the discussion briefly came to life - every one of the panelists made perceptive comments about the impact of Brit Pop, and particularly the best song to come out of it, Pulp’s ‘Common People’- the theme could not be sustained. In all fairness, I should acknowledge here, the herculean nature of this particular task. It was a time after all, when Tony Blair was ruthlessly triangulating dissident opinion out of existence, constructing New Labour’s big tent, in which there was room for everyone, except Socialists of course. This was an age when there wasn’t any politics in politics, never mind in popular music.

Pop Music may be a young person’s game, but in the year when Pete Seeger passed away, where was the discussion about the role of the elder statesman in popular culture? Billy Bragg, our Seeger, justly escapes censure, but with Springsteen and Young still energetically campaigning in the USA, what do we make of Weller and Costello’s extended leave of absence from the front?

Admittedly, not everything could have been covered in the allotted 50 minutes, though it was clearly a mistake to guillotine the Q&A at the end, where some of these issues might have been taken up. The critic who ignored Craig’s genuine apology, and rattled off her question about the dominance of ex-public school pupils in today’s chart, caused quite a stir. I too, would have liked the chance to ask whether anybody had actually heard of Suburban Mousewife, and if not, whose fault would that have been - the band’s, the mediums or ourselves (in our guise as both critic and consumer)?  Or, I might have posited my pet theory that The Mighty Sparrow’s 1983 Soca classic, ‘Capitalism Gone Mad’, a diatribe about the cost of living crisis in Trinidad, if re-released now, in an age of economic meltdown, might just be the spark that ignites a world-wide revolution. The first verse alone, is enough to persuade me to get the red flag down from the attic, dust it off and start waving it about the streets of Rhydyfelin-

‘You got to be a millionaire or some kind of petit-bourgeoisie

Any time you’re living here in this country

You got to be in skulduggery, or making money illicitly

To live like somebody in this country

It’s outrageous and insane, them crazy prices in the Port Of Spain

And like the merchants going out dey brain

And the working man, like he only toiling in vain.’

The Mighty Sparrow - Champion of the Oppressed

Finally, though the panel saw little cause for optimism, the radicalisation of Scottish Youth in the referendum campaign has apparently made little impression on our guests, there is every prospect of a generational re-engagement with politics. The next election could be something of a watershed for Wales. A crass marriage of convenience between UKIP and the Tories could see things turn ugly very quickly. The cheap shot mantra “English votes for English laws”, has the potential to disseminate the seeds of division throughout the UK, which in all probability, will be seriously destabilised by massive constitutional change and the endless re-packaging of austerity. More positively though, a space seems to be opening up on the left, that an enlightened Green Party are well positioned to occupy.

England might be on the verge of electing the most right-wing Government in its history, at the exact same time that the people of Scotland are voting into office its most left-wing Parliament. Trapped in the vacuum, between two opposing philosophies, Wales will have to forge a new identity for itself. The conditions will then exist for freshly radicalised, free-thinking artists, to do the same.  

[cathygeha]

Somebody Like You by Donna Alward

A Darling, VT Novel #1

 Did I like this book? Yes

Will you like this book? I think you will IF you like:

* Second chance at love love stories that are plausible

* Characters that deserve one another and deserve their HEA

* Love stories that are more than just a love story

* To feel with the characters

* Characters that could become your friends

 The author has written a believable story in a wonderful location and set the hook for books to come in the future. I have not read a book by this author in the past but look forward to reading more of her work in the future.

 Laurel and Aiden were more than friends in high school but something happened that caused them to move away from one another. Laurel has recently moved back to Darlington when the story begins and her garden shop has just been vandalized. Aiden is first responder and their first encounter was not smooth. Over time they bump into each other again, share some truths and become closer. Aiden is empathetic and understands Laurel better than she may understand herself. Laurel and Aiden both have issues they have to deal with before they can find their HEA but each hurdle they overcome is believable and adds to the story. I enjoyed the side stories of George (the homeless man), the finding of the hoodlums and also the background of the kissing bridge. Willow and Ethan’s story is up next and I can hardly wait!  

 Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC. This is my honest review.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Every single terra- cotta pot was smashed.

Laurel Stone blinked quickly, annoyed at the sting at the back of her eyes as she stared at the mess. She was angry. Furious. Most people would rant or turn red in the face. But not Laurel. When she got mad, she angry- cried. And right now she was so infuriated that she could barely see through the hot tears.

           She’d come in early to do some watering and deadheading before starting the weekly stock order, but discovered the gate hanging limply from its hinges, its lock busted. She immediately took out her cell and called the cops, working extra hard to keep her voice from shaking. Falling apart was not an option. She’d made it through a lot of life changes lately and had kept it together. This time was no different.

Now, as she waited for the police, she swiped at her face and bit down on her lip. It was only six thirty in the morning and she hadn’t even had her first coffee yet. The brew sat cooling, forgotten in her ladybug print travel mug.

           Normally she hummed away to herself, unwinding the hose in the cool morning air. Not today. Today she had to deal with the fact that crime actually happened in quiet,

idyllic Darling, Vermont.

And that left her shaken.

The Ladybug Garden Center was her pride and joy, her foray into building a new life for herself. There’d been little incidents in her first few weeks of opening, but she hadn’t

thought much of them. The parking lot had been messed up a bit where someone had pulled doughnuts with their car. Two lilac bushes from the bed by the store sign had been stolen. She’d sighed at the incon ve nience, but chalked it up to simple mischief.

This time the intent was obvious. Deliberate. And it felt personal.

All the pottery was in shards on the floor. Six- packs of annuals had been pushed off their tables, spilling dirt and crushed blossoms. Hanging baskets had been carelessly dropped, so that the planters cracked and split. Tomato and pepper plants were strewn everywhere, broken and wilting. The lock on the little safe had been smashed, and they’d taken the small amount of money set aside for a float.

Laurel was sweeping shards of pottery into a dustpan when she heard the gritty crunch of tires on gravel. She stood up and braced her hand on her hip as the cruiser crept slowly up the drive and into the parking lot. Might as well get the report over with, and then get on with the cleanup and the call to the insurance agent.

The cruiser door opened.

Damn, damn, damn.

She’d forgotten, though she wasn’t quite sure how she could have since Darling was such a small town. Aiden Gallagher. One of Darling’s finest, complete with a crisp navy uniform, black shoes, and a belt on his hip that lent him a certain gravity and sexiness she wished she didn’t appreciate.

The last time she’d seen Aiden, she’d been home from school, barely twenty- one, and he’d flashed her a cocky take- a- good- look grin, all the while parading around the Suds and Spuds pub with some girl on his arm. Not that she’d expected any other sort of behavior from him. But still. Ugh.

Aiden approached the gate and she took a deep breath. He was a cop answering a call. Nothing more. And that was how she’d treat him. She definitely wouldn’t acknowledge that they’d known each other since they were five years old. Or that he’d once had her half- naked in the backseat of his car.

“Laurel,” he greeted, sliding through the gap in the fence. “Looks like you’ve had some trouble.”

She would do this. She would not cry again, especially not in front of Aiden. She had too much pride.

“A break-in last night.” She opened the gate a bit wider so he could get through. He passed close by her, his scent wafting in his wake. She swallowed. After all these years, he still wore the same cologne, and nostalgia hit her right in the solar plexus. He took off his cap and she saw his hair was still the same burnished copper, only shorter and without the natural waves, and his skin showed signs of freckles, but nowhere near as pronounced as they’d been. He wasn’t a boy any longer; he was a man.

He looked over his shoulder, his gray- blue eyes meeting hers.

Definitely a man.

“Wow.” He stopped and stared at the carnage. “They made a real mess. Was anything taken?”

She shrugged, focusing on the issue at hand once more.

“Inventory- wise, I won’t know until I get things cleaned up and do a count. But I doubt it. The float for the cash is gone, but that’s only a few hundred dollars. Mostly they just made a mess.”

Laurel bent over and righted a half- barrel of colorful begonias, purple lobelia, and million bells. Her gaze blurred as she noticed the crushed, fragile blossoms and pile of dirt left on the floor.

“Laurel?”

She clenched her teeth. If he saw her with tears in her eyes . . . today was upsetting enough without adding humiliation to the mix.

“Laurel,” he said, softer now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She bit out the words and pushed past him, going to the counter area. She could stand behind it and the counter would provide a barrier between them. “You don’t need to worry about me, or take that soothing-the-victim tone. What do you need for facts?”

She sensed his withdrawal as he straightened his shoulders, and she felt momentarily sheepish for taking such a sharp tone. But she was angry, dammit. Hell, she was angry most of the time, and starting to get tired of hiding it with a smile. This was truly the last thing she needed.

“Do you have a slip or anything with the amount of the float?” Now he was all business. It was a relief. She took a piece of paper from beneath the cash drawer in the register. “This is our rundown for what goes in the float each night. It’s put in a zip bag in the safe. Like a pencil case.”

He came around the counter, invading her space, and knelt down in front of the cupboard. “This is the safe?”

“I know. It’s not heavy- duty . . .”

“It looks like they just beat it open with a hammer.”

Great. Now she was feeling stupid, too. “It’s Darling. I didn’t expect something like this to happen here.”

He stood up and gave her a look that telegraphed “Are you serious?” before stepping back beyond the counter again. “Something like this happens everywhere, Laurel. What, you didn’t think crime happened in Darling?”

Well, no. Or at least, not until today. The fact that she’d already come to this disappointing conclusion, and then he’d repeated it, just made her angrier.

Coming home was supposed to be peaceful. Happy. The town was small, friendly, neighborly. Even after years away, many of her customers remembered her from her school years and recalled stories from those days. Darling even had a special “Kissing Bridge” in the park. There were several stories around how the bridge got the name, so no one really knew for sure. But the stone bridge and the quaint little legend to go with it brought tourists to the area and made Darling’s claim to fame a very romantic one. In a nutshell, those who stood on the bridge and sealed their love with a kiss would be together forever.

She should know all about it. Her picture— and Aiden’s— hung in the town offices to advertise the attraction. Just because they’d only been five years old at the time didn’t make it less of an embarrassment.

“I’m not naïve,” she replied sharply. “Is there anything else you need or can I get back to cleaning up?”

“Can you think of anyone who might want to give you trouble? Someone with a grudge or ax to grind?”

Other than you? she thought darkly. This was the first time they’d actually spoken since she’d poured vanilla milkshake over his head in the school cafeteria in their senior year. “No,” she replied. “I can’t imagine who’d want to do this.”

“I don’t suppose you have any video cameras installed.”

She shook her head, feeling inept and slightly stupid. Maybe she was a little naïve after all. She hadn’t lived in Darling since she was nineteen— nine years. Things had changed in her absence. New people, new businesses.

“I’ll have another look around. It looks like a case of vandalism more than anything. Probably some teen agers thinking it’s funny, or after the cash for booze or pot, and smashed some stuff for show.” His gaze touched hers.

“Kids can be really dumb at that age.”

Her cheeks heated. He hadn’t had to say the actual words for her to catch his meaning. “You never know. They might have been dared to do it. Or some sort of stupid bet.”

He held her gaze a few seconds longer, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he acknowledged the hit.

He’d kissed her because of one of those bets . . . more than kissed her. They’d been parking in his car and he’d rounded second base and had been headed for third. And then she’d found out about the wager and lost her cool. Publicly. With the milkshake.

The only thing she regretted was saying yes to going on that drive in the first place.

“So you still haven’t forgiven me for that.”

Laurel lifted her chin. “To my recollection, you haven’t asked for forgiveness.”

Aiden frowned, his brows pulling together. “We were seventeen. Kids. That was years ago.”

Which didn’t sound much like an apology at all.

“Yes, it was. Now, I have a lot of mess to clean up. Is there any more information you need or are we done here?”

He stared at her for a long minute. Long enough that she started to squirm a bit at his continued attention. Finally, when she was so uncomfortable she thought she might burst, she turned away and retrieved the broom and dustpan from where she’d left them.

“Do you want some help with this?”

She didn’t want him to offer. The idea of spending more time with him was so unsettling that she immediately refused.

“No. Don’t you have to get back to work? Besides, I have someone coming in at eight. You go do what you need to do, Officer Gallagher.”

“Officer Galla . . . oh, for Crissakes, Laurel. Is that necessary?”

She pinned him with a glare. He was standing with his weight on one hip, accentuating his lean, muscular physique, one perfect eyebrow arched in response to her acid tone.

She wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge. Not generally. Heck, she’d forgiven Dan months ago, and that was for something far bigger than a silly teenage bet. Why did Aiden get under her skin so easily?

Maybe it was because he’d been so callous, even after the fact. If he’d shown any remorse at all . . . but he hadn’t. He’d taken the paper cup the milkshake had been in, and fired it across the cafeteria floor before charging out. And he’d never once spoken to her again. Until today. And despite the change in circumstances, she felt much the same as she had that night in the backseat of his car. Out of her depth, over her head, and at a distinct disadvantage.

She looked away. “Sorry. I just want to clean this up and get ready to open.”

She picked up the broom and began sweeping the little bits of broken pots and dirt into the dustpan. She saw his shoes first; big sturdy black ones that stopped in front of her. Then his hand, warm and reassuring, touched her shoulder. She’d been rude and brusque, and he was being kind. Damn him. Emotion threatened to overwhelm again. Couldn’t he see that gentle compassion was harder for her to handle than cool efficiency?

“Are you afraid to stay here alone this morning?” He throat tightened. “No, of course not.”

“I’m on duty until this afternoon. I can check in from time to time.”

“I’m fine.” She looked up at him and set her jaw. “I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.”

He stepped back. “All right. But if you think of anything or anything else happens, call right away.”

“Okay.”

She kept sweeping and listened to his footsteps walk away across the concrete floor. The building always smelled delicious thanks to the flowers, but this morning the scent was even more pungent because many had been crushed and mangled. She sighed and rested her weight on the broom handle. He was just doing his job. And she was pissed off—at the state of the garden center and the fact that the one person in Darling she didn’t really care to see was the one who’d been sent to help.

“Aiden?”

He turned when she called his name, but his expression was neutral. She wished she could be that way. Unfortunately she always seemed to wear her emotions all over her face.

“Thanks for your help this morning.”

He nodded. “Just doing my job.”

He walked to his cruiser and got in while Laurel stood there with a flaming- hot face. Once he’d turned to exit the driveway, she kicked a plastic bucket that had been abandoned in the middle of an aisle, sending it spinning away with a loud clatter. No sooner had she decided to extend an olive branch than he came back with a line that deflated any sort of possibility of amity. He was just doing his job, like he’d do for anyone else. She was no one special. Never had been. The knowledge shouldn’t have cut, but it did.

Anyway, the bigger issue was the prob lem at hand— getting the store ready to open in just a few hours. The Ladybug Garden Center was her baby now. She’d invested all of herself into it, and she was determined to see it succeed, not only this spring and summer but into the fall and winter. In order for that to happen she would have to take steps to ensure this sort of thing didn’t happen again.

Just as soon as she cleaned up the mess.

And stopped thinking about how Aiden hadn’t changed that much, either. In good ways and in bad.

 Copyright © 2017 by Donna Alward and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

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4.5 Stars