#when my tablet pen returns from war

[scotianostra]

On 26th November 1917 Elsie Inglis, the Scottish nursing pioneer and suffragette, died.

There are very few people who were neither born or died in Scotland that are as highly regarded and respected as Scots, than Elsie Inglis, the only other that springs to mind is Eric Liddell.

Elsie parents were Scots Harriet Lowes Thompson and John Inglis, who worked for the East India Company, when her father retired from his job in 1878 the Inglis family returned to Scotland and settled in Edinburgh.

Having studied medicine at the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women Inglis subsequently established her own medical college. She qualified as a doctor and secured a teaching appointment at the New Hospital for Women.  A keen suffragette Inglis was later to found her own maternity hospital entirely staffed by women.

In 1906 Inglis played a notable role in the establishment of the Scottish Women’s Suffrage Federation.  The outbreak of war in Europe in August 1914 brought about a temporary ceasefire where political - including suffragette - issues were concerned, and Inglis promptly suggested the creation of women’s medical units on the Western Front.

The British government reacted to Inglis’s idea was frowned upon, she was told  “‘my good lady, go home and sit still’. .  Nevertheless a similar offer made directly to the French government was warmly received and Inglis travelled to France within three months of the outbreak of war, with the Abbaye de Royaumont hospital, containing some 200 beds, in place by December 1914. This was later followed by a second hospital at Villers Cotterets in 1917.

Inglis was active in arranging for the despatch of women’s units to other fighting areas aside from the Western Front, the first Scottish Women’s Hospital field unit was formed in December 1914 in a town called Kragujevac in Serbia.others followed  at Salonika, Romania, Malta and Corsica in 1915 and to Russia the following year.

Inglis herself served in Serbia from 1915 until the Serbian government and army withdrew to Corfu ,she had been held prisoner for a period until U.S. diplomatic pressure brought about her release.   Thereafter based in Russia she was taken ill, the government demanded she come home but Elsie refused until the Serbian soldiers were guaranteed safe passage. The boat brought them back to Newcastle and Elsie, who was crippled with illness, could hardly walk as she greeted Serbian soldiers on deck. She was so frail she had to be carried off to a nearby hotel where she died on 26th  November 1917.

Elsie’s body was taken “home” to Edinburgh where it was interned in Dean Cemetery, beforehand it lay in state in St Giles’ Cathedral.  Her funeral there on 29th November was attended by both British and Serbian royalty.

The SWH continued its work for the duration of the war, sending out more units and raising money for the work. Remaining funds were used to establish the Elsie Inglis Memorial Maternity Hospital in Edinburgh in July 1925, it closed in 1988.

There is a Memorial Drinking Fountain “Crkvenac” in Mladenovac, Serbia commemorating her work for the country. A plaque commemorates her at 8 Walker Street, Edinburgh. A portrait of her is included in the mural of heroic women by  Walter P. Starmer at  St Jude’s Church, Hampstead Garden, London. In 1922 a large tablet to her memory (sculpted by  Pilkington Jackson)  was erected in the north aisle of St Giles on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.  

A movie is set to be made of her biography, penned by her sister, Eva called The Woman With the Torch, no date yet about a release, work is ongoing as far as I can see,

Edinburgh is set to have a statue erected to Elsie, it will be the first woman to be commemorated with a statue on the Royal Mile at the site of her hospice on the High Street, which is between the Bridges and The Netherbow.  Unfortunately controversy has meant it has been put on hold after a bitter row about the choice of sculptor.

Anger erupted after the trustees suspended their open call for designs and instead commissioned Stoddart, the King’s sculptor in ordinary in Scotland. 

In late September, they tweeted: “The call to artists has been suspended indefinitely owing to considerations that have been brought to the attention of the trustees in recent weeks. This information has therefore rendered the brief as published suboptimal to ensure the successful outcome of the project at design scheduling and budgetary levels.”

The furore has brought fresh attention to the absence of female statuary in Edinburgh, which has dozens of monuments to male soldiers, kings, intellectuals and physicians. Those include one of Stoddart’s best-known works, a large bronze of the philosopher David Hume outside the high court near St Giles’.

Part of the problem is that some say the statue should be made by a woman, and I agree, why should a woman not get to make a a statue about a woman who did a lot for their rights. Edinburgh should be making a stand on this. 

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/perchance-to-dream-17/

Perchance To Dream #17

When an email with an attachment popped up on my computer screen,  I snapped to attention. The message was from a New York book agent.  I’d queried the woman about my memoir Getting Lost to Find Home two years ago. Having heard nothing, I’d written her off.  Yet, the  email’s subject line read, “contract attached.”  Like a dog gazing up at a picnic table, I salivated. Was this agent making me an off I couldn’t refuse? My index finger hovered above the attachment while my mind raced. Should I scrap my plans to self-publish? Was that wise? And was my attorney available to read the contract? After a moment’s pause, I dialed a set of numbers, but they weren’t my lawyer’s.  The computer guy answered. I asked him if the attachment was a scam.   He didn’t keep me in suspense.  “Open that puppy, and I’ll spend hours cleaning up the mess. The address has been hacked.”  Sadder and wiser, I deleted the email before my computer guy could hang up. In the “good old days,” when the mail arrived by stagecoach, the cost of sending a letter was exorbitant and the inability to hack into someone’s communication was nonexistent.  The system may have been inconvenient but the mail was seldom tampered with unless the carriage was hauling gold. Further back in history, cuneiform tablets offered an additional benefit. Given the time it took to stamp a nasty message into the wet clay, a person could repent and make a pot instead.   But back to my point. Convinced no agent wanted my book, my thoughts returned to the question of how to promote it. With or without an agent, all writers face the same challenge. Genius doesn’t get noticed unless there’s chatter. And, there’s no chatter unless the author dances naked in Times Square.  And, maybe not even then. The usual route to fame is to plead for book reviews, readings, television appearances, and guest shots on podcasts or YouTube.  An alternative might be to hire trained squirrels to dance the can-can around the book’s cover on TikTok. Famous or known only to their mothers, writers climb the same rocky slope.  Though my memoir isn’t set to publish until November, my begging has begun. Like confetti, I’m offering advance reader copies (ARCs) to anyone in the writing world. A word to neophytes.  Never send an arc without receiving permission. Otherwise, your book will end up unread in a landfill.  On the other hand, if you get the nod and the reviewer likes your work, don’t be shy.  Flaunt it! That’s what I’m doing here. New York Times best-selling crime writer Rebecca Morris agreed to read my book and, though she is busy writing her own, she’s penned a full review.  That makes her more than a generous person.  It makes her a saint. Below are her remarks which I share with a grateful heart. Review for Getting Lost to Find Home By Rebecca Morris After Elizabeth Gilbert published Eat, Pray, Love (2007), and Cheryl Strayed wrote Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (2012) hundreds, maybe thousands of women wrote memoirs about finding themselves. They went to Antarctica, the Alaskan wild, and around the world to do it, the more remote the better. A book that should be shelved with the best of them is Getting Lost to Find Home, by Caroline Miller. It is more poignant because it takes place in the 1960s English Midlands, with its post-war hardships, and Africa, where British rule is waning.  Miller, just out of college, is pursuing a British fiancé who finds numerous ways to stall marriage. While she waits, she teaches students in Englands (unable to understand their dialects) and in segregated Rhodesia, where her students catch insects in the air and eat them. At each teaching post, there is either no heat or too much heat.  Her experiences with her students, fellow teachers, and members of the many tribes she meets are told with a companionable self-deprecation.  Miller grew up to be the first Hispanic woman elected to office in Portland, Oregon, a strong advocate for citizen involvement in government and health care, and a prolific author and playwright.  The better-known memoirs stop in middle age. Elizabeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed became best-selling authors and their books were filmed. The poignancy of Getting Lost to Find Home is the coming-of-age story is told in the present tense by the author, now an elderly woman. Never married and with no children, she is the odd resident in her retirement center. She feels more like a stranger in a strange land than she ever did traveling. But, oh, the stories she can tell!

[siebenschoen]

Ivan doodle, because of course I have the intense urge to draw him, when I can't find my tablet pen

[saka-deamus]

Couldn't find my tablet pen so we've got a speedy miku for her birthday this year!

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, Pt. 12

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, 18+ Smut

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

Sorry for taking so long to update... there’s only a couple parts left to go!

“We have a problem.” Tony Stark strode into the conference room Steve Rogers had taken over as his head quarters for the rescue and clean up operations. Cap looked up from the tablet he’d been studying. Tony didn’t usually sound that angry even in the middle of a fight.

“What is it?” Cap stood up.

Tony looked around the room. You felt the wave rage, betrayal, flowing off him and looked over at Loki with confusion. The other three men in the room, Army General Ramirez, Colonel Whitehall and the FDNY Fire Chief all stopped, waiting.

Tony flicked his mobile unit, sending a holographic display over the table. A huge group of citizens was gathered outside the damage zone. They were chanting and carrying signs with things like “Justice Must Be Served”.

“Someone leaked who our out of town help really is.” Tony flipped the display to a news anchor. An image of Loki taken from the battle sat next to an image someone caught on their cell phone of him in his “Luke” disguise. Tony crossed his arms and scowled. “They’re calling for him to be turned over to authorities.”

“He’s helping us.” Steve scowled. “He’s been held accountable by his own people.”

“Anyone know who leaked?” The General slapped his notebook down.  

For all of the confusion and anger flying around the room, Loki was a center of calm. You stood, walking slowly to Loki’s side. You placed both your hands on his chest. His eyes remained on the holo image, but his focus was elsewhere. At your touch, his hands came up to cover yours.

“Loki?”

“The secret is out and cannot be put back. There are now but two choices. You deny your people a justice they deserve and watch as dissent and violence erupt amongst the masses, or you turn me over.” His eyes lowered to meet you wide stare.

“No.” You shook your head.

“That- “ Tony waved his finger around. “That is not going to happen. God, I can’t believe I’m going to say this! But we actually need your help.”

“He’s right” Steve rubbed his forehead. “We would not have accomplished what we have in the last three weeks without your help.”

“Loki is also right,” General tapped his pen on the desk. “If people know he’s here, even if we prove he’s helping, they’ll call for blood. People are terrified. This was an alien attack on American soil. It’s going to be ugly either way.”

“Excuse me.” Jarvis cut in to the conversation. “Sir, Secretary of State Wallace is calling for you.”

“Fuck.” Tony shut down the holo image.

“Buy time, Tony.” Steve folded his arm. “We need to talk about this before we agree to anything.”

“Yeah.” Tony brought his mobile to his ear. “Hey Jack! How’s it hangin’?” He marched out the room for his office.

“Loki, why are you so calm?” You studied his face. “Oh, no. No. You knew this was going to happen. You’ve been waiting for it to happen.”

His cool hand cupped your face, thumb ghosting over your lower lip. “Yes, my pet. I knew.”

Within an hour, you found yourself sitting beside Loki in a room filled to the brink with Avengers and US officials. You listened to the arguments fly around the room, felt level of animosity rise. Fury insisted if Loki was going to be incarcerated it should be with SHIELD. Others insisted there be a trial. Some wondered if sentenced to death, could he even be executed. What it mean in the public opinion if he couldn’t be killed. Bruce was adamant that Loki had already been tried by Odin.

“Are you alright, my pet?” Loki’s baritone voice cut through the noise.

“No.” You shook your head, realizing how close you were to tears. Anxiety, anger, and frustration raged inside. “You can’t let them take you.”

Loki stood and held his hand out for you. Before you made two steps from the table, Rogers called out. “Loki. Where are you going?”

“Captain, I believe you know my intentions in regard to the work you are doing here. I am bound to whatever order is given me. Being here, while my fate is decided, is not necessary.” Loki’s gaze moved to you then back to the Cap. “Don’t you agree?”

He understood. This was about you. “You’re right. The conversation may even be a little more honest with you out of the room. We all know the weight of Dr. Banner’s opinion. We’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Loki tipped his head and led you from the room with a hand at your back. The calm radiating off of him was infuriating. He was normally full of fire and fight. It scared you and you hated being scared. You managed to keep quiet until the elevator doors closed.

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re just giving up.” You growled, staring at the readout taking you to your floor.

“I must do as Dr. Banner orders. What is there to give up?” Loki sounded distant.

“What is there – “ You spun, instantly furious. “My entire life, my entire existence, has changed! Do you have any idea what would happen to me if they took you! Do you know what that would do to me! What is there to give up?! You selfish- “

Loki’s mouth crashed over yours. His hands roughly pulling you flush against his body, lifting you off your toes. Waves of possessive need, protective outrage, wrapped around you as tightly as his arms. Your fingers slipped through his silky hair as you clung to him.

The elevator doors opened, Loki waltzed you onto your floor. A tickle dance across your skin just before he dropped you down on the soft sheets of your bed. The cool air tickled across your bare flesh. Loki pinned you to the bed, hands holding down your wrists.

His face hovered over your, eyes blazing. “You are mine. I will not allow you to be . . . taken . . . from me. I will do whatever I must to keep you safe.”

“But you were so calm.” The tightness in your chest began to unravel. “What if they decide to. . .”

“It doesn’t matter what they decide.” Loki’s nose ghosted over yours, his breath mingling with yours. “The only word that matters is Banner’s.” His tongue slipped along your lower lip. “He is a man of reason.”

“You’re not concerned?”

“No, my pet, worry not.”

“But…”

His mouth covered yours, tongue dancing around your, drawing a moan from your throat. He nipped your lower lip between his teeth. “Whatever may come, I will protect you, my feisty little pet.”

“Don’t laugh at me. I was furious.” You rocked your hips up against him, causing Loki to growl. You twisted your wrists until your fingers entwined with his. “You are mine.”

Loki fell upon you like a man starving. He bit marks across your neck. His body slid along yours. The coolness of his skin against your flushed skin sent shivers over your body. His teeth grazed your nipple. You pulled at his hair, calling his name. Loki marked your delicate flesh.

“So fine.” Loki growled. He pushed apart your legs, teeth nipping, hot tongue painting wet trails along your inner thighs. It sent fire racing through your veins. His fingers slid through your wetness, delving into your depths. With a wicked smile, Loki licked his fingers. “My sweet.”

“Loki, don’t tease.” You clawed at the sheets.

He pressed your knees toward your shoulders, his tongue taking a long sweep across your sex. His voice rumbled deep. “Don’t tell me what to do, my pet.” He flicked your clit with his tongue. “I do what I want.”

You wrapped your legs around him and twisted. He allowed you to flip him over onto his back. Straddling his waist, hands on his chest, you nipped at his jaw. “I wanted to stand in front of you, and dare anyone to take you from me. I would rip them apart. You are mine.”

His fingers dug into your ass as you rubbed against his hard cock. Loki’s eyes fell closed. Your declaration feeling more intoxicating than any Asgardian mead he’d ever tasted. “You are a marvel, my dear.”    

“Loki,” you breathed, lowering yourself on him. “Loki,” you sighed, relishing in the stretch and the feel of him. “Oh, fuck, Loki,” you panted sitting up and rocking on him. His cock hitting you perfectly.

His feet anchored on the bed, thrusting up. So powerful. Your cunt clenched around him. Loki growled, holding you in place and fucking you harder. You reached back, balancing with a hand on his knee. Heat coiled in your center.

Loki watched the sweat break out on your skin, delighted in your tits bouncing for him. He extended a tendril of magic. A cool vibrating thrum pressed against your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You began to quiver.

“Do not come until I say.” Loki ordered. You whined, but nodded. The onslaught of his cock and the vibration overwhelming.

An icy pinch nipped along the edge of your breast. You yipped. A series of them circles your breasts, making them feel tight and hyper-sensitive. Ghost finger pinch your nipples hard, sending a shock to your cunt that near pushed you over. “Oh, god, Loki!”

He growled, a smirk upon his face. The thrum upon your clit became stronger and pushed against you harder. “Not yet.” Loki slammed into at a brutal pace. Wet, skin slapping skin. You panted. Shook. You couldn’t help it. The pinches upon your nipples pulled hard, coming free, the flash of pain making you snap.

Heat burst forth. You flooded, squirting over his cock. Soaking everything. Shaking uncontrollably. Falling forward. Loki wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Burying in you deep, coming hard with groan.

You lay boneless on his chest, breath slowly returning to normal. Loki stroked your skin, holding you gently. He allowed himself to get lost in your breath and heartbeat. You sighed and drifted into near sleep. He would not say it aloud, but if Banner makes any decision that takes you from him, he would tear everything to the ground.

You’d become his salvation. Loki once again wondered if the Norns laughed at him. A fragile little mortal.

He let you sleep, just holding you.

In short order though, Jarvis quietly alerted him of visitors. “Loki, excuse me, but Captain Rogers wishes me to inform you that he and the others are on their way to your suite.”

You lifted your head, sleepily.

“Thank you. Have they come to a decision?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Time to get up?” You sat up, the worry returning.

“Yes.” Loki stood and held a hand out for you.

With a shimmer of magic, you were both clean and dressed. You smiled, leaning into him. “Magic is so cool.”

His lips covered yours in a gentle kiss just as the door to your suite chimed. You both walked out of the bedroom just as the living room filled. Rogers was joined by Stark, Banner, Romanoff, and surprisingly Fury.

“You’ve come to a conclusion.”

“Yeah.” Banner was smiling. Good sign.

“We explained about Odin’s orders and the oath.” Cap began. “But the court of public opinion is a pretty powerful force.”

“Indeed it is.” Loki agreed. He took you hand in his to keep you from fidgeting. Everyone’s emotions were bounding all over the spectrum.

“We couldn’t exactly ask some of the others to defy direct orders,” Fury continued the story. “So we figured we’re going to have to handle this one on our own for a while.”

Natasha smiled. “We are the spies after all.”

“So what did you finally decide to do about Loki?” You finally blurted out.

“If we’re going to get the happy ending we all want,” Tony smiled. “Loki has to die.”

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[everdino]

Probably this is my last art and I can return to drawing again only after a month, when i'll ger new pen, or, at least, after I get used to the old semi-live pen from the tablet. Because, even an ordinary sketch with a very "cheap" color was very difficult to draw and my hands hurt, because old pen the old pen is just disgustingly uncomfortable.

Whining is end, now about art.

Lately, I thought about au, where a megaop found themselves on an unknown planet and survived there for a while. I decided to create my vision for this au, with Blitzbee and, yes, Bumblebee is triplechanger, I'm sorry, i regret everything.

This idea is not new, I saw several posts on this au, but I would like to show it exactly, as I see it. I cant write slowburn fanfiction (especially in English), and there is some problems with drawing, so I’ll just write the whole idea here. I own nothing, so if one of you wants, he can take this idea, you do not need my permission.

The first branches from the canon in this au occur at the very beginning, when Lugnut and Blitzwing arrive on Earth. A closer acquaintance with Bumblebee begins even before Megatron returns. At first it’s just a banal desire to take a break from the hostilities and annoying teammates, then friendship, quite strong friendship, then something more. Something reaally more. Blitz and Bee successfully hide their relationship by inventing a scheme, by which they can meet, without getting caught. (Note, Blitzwing invented this, and then for a very long time taught a stupid bug to stick to a plan). This continues until the moment Blitzwing captures by Elite Guard. (I note, that Wasp was partly to blame, because using the Bumblebee form, he drowned the vigilance of the triplechanger.) Another offshoot from the canon, Blackarachnia captures both Bumblebee and Wasp, for experimentation. She turns one into a triplechanger, and another into predacon, to figure out, how to solve her techno-organic problem. Sentinel tries to get rid of both, but Optimus prevents him. Bumblebee begins the rehabilitation course, trying to get used to the new body, but the hatred from the elite guard and the prisoner sparkmate strongly affect his mental state, not to mention the fact, that being a triplechager already means being unstable.

In this au, Blitzwing retreats with Lugnut, during the battle between Decepticons and the Elite guard, so only Starscream clones are brought to Cybertron Prison. The Final Battle is coming, Bumblebee is participating in it, which has more or less recovered from the operation. He fights against Blitzwing, however, right during the fight, Bee swears, that he don't allow anyone to put his sparkmate in prison ever again. He actually had many plans, and all of them were somehow related to leaving Autobots. Megatron defeated, prisoners of the Decepticons transported to Cybertron. Bumblebee prepares to escape from the ship with Blitzwing. Only Sparkmate becomes his meaning of life, since he is sure that Autobots betrayed him, treating his upgrade as a disabled person. Accidentally, being under the affect, he frees Megatron, along with Blitzwing. A new fight begins, during which Megatron and Optimus find themselves in a rescue capsule, which was prepared by Bumblebee, and crash on an unknown planet. The Elite Guard is trying to help, but during the battle some mechanisms of the ship’s engines are damaged and it’s much harder to get to Cybertron, especially with dangerous Decepticons on board, although without Megatron. Bee realizes, that all this happened through his fault, therefore, goes for the last signal of Optimus, which they managed to detect. Despite his grudge against the Autobots, he didn't want any of them to suffer. Blitzwing follows him, trying to protect him from reckless decisions. These two also have to endure a crash on the planet, where Optimus was supposedly. Bumblebee injures his leg and they have to hide in a cave, until Blitz comes up with some kind of plan.

Meanwhile, Optimus and Megatron are trying to continue the battle after landing on the planet, but soon realize, that they are too wounded and tired to fight. They disperse to find shelter until their factions find them. Time passes and both leaders come to the conclusion that surviving alone on a semi-organic planet is very difficult. Therefore, they unite and roam around, in search of an energon or communication devices. Instead, they find creatures that live on the planet and almost die, but at the last moment they are saved. This case forces both to appreciate the fighting qualities of a temporary teammate. Some time passes again, they both begin to starve, but still don't give up. Along the way, they both learn more about each other and the opposing faction, and their enmity slowly fades, giving way to respect. Optimus no longer experiences internal fear at the sight of a warlord, and Megatron allows the Autobot to stay closer. But as before, they did not find anything that resembled an energon. They find a poor mine later, but, with the mine, they find their triplechangers. Both Optimus and Megatron are shocked, seeing how these two, not so much as hostile, but, on the contrary, treat each other with such tenderness, like they have been married for several centuries. Megatron is furious at this betrayal and, despite Optimus’s protest, is attacking. Triplechagers obviously did not expect this, but it only made Blitzwing angrier. Both Decepticons start to fight violently, but battle is interrupted by Optimus. Leader of the Autobots is trying to convince others, that all of them are in a very critical situation, without communication, energy and medical assistance, so the war is the last thing they need. Although, Optimus also admitted that he didn't approve of such behavior on the part of Bumblebee. After long enough persuasions, Optimus manages to convince the others and the four stick together to survive, until someone finds them.

At first, Blitzwing very violently defended Bumblebee from leaders, given that Bee had damaged leg and mind, but soon all four have to trust each other, as survival is becoming harder and harder. While Optimus and Bumblebee sort things out, trying to understand, why Bumblebee wants to leave the fraction, Megatron becomes curious why, of all the Autobots, Blitzwing chose Bumblebee. He still cannot accept the fact, that Blitz betrayed him, but has already stopped being angry about this. He just becomes interested. Because with each new day, Megatron notices, that he is beginning to understand his soldier. Dark Lord more and more respects Optimus, who, despite his fairly young age and lack of experience (regarding Megatron himself, of course) is incredibly brave and strong. Respect slowly flows into a warmer but unknown feeling for Megatron. However, it was obvious that Optimus shared his feelings.

Bumblebee, meanwhile, is undergoing panic attacks, so, against the background of the rest of the team, he looks very weak. Old love of life is no longer observed in the optics of yellow Autobot. But, still, he holds on, for the sake of Blitzwing, who does not, not even for moment, leave his precious sparkmate alone. The moral damage was too strong, but Blitzwing is not thinking of retreating.

The four continues to roam the planet in search of the mines of the energon, fighting off the creatures and hiding from the weather, simultaneously solving their relationship with each other. Bumblebee, over time, thanks to Blitzwing, will cope with his mental problems, and Megatron and Optimus will become much much closer to each other.

[squawks]

feelin rly mmmMMBAD, gotta toss messy vent art into the void because apparently launching myself into the void is ‘‘‘‘physically impossible’’ and ‘‘‘‘‘maladaptive behavior’’’ whatever that means (as a fellow Certified Mess I feel like morrison knows the feeling)

[scotianostra]

On August 16th 1864 Scottish suffragette, Elsie Inglis, was born at Naini Tal hill station in India.

There are very few people who were neither born or died in Scotland that are as highly regarded and respected as Scots, than Elsie Inglis, the only other that springs to mind is Eric Liddell. 

Elsie parents were Scots Harriet Lowes Thompson and John Inglis, who worked for the East India Company, when her father retired from his job in 1878 the Inglis family returned to Scotland and settled in Edinburgh.

Having studied medicine at the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women Inglis subsequently established her own medical college. She qualified as a doctor and secured a teaching appointment at the New Hospital for Women.  A keen suffragette Inglis was later to found her own maternity hospital entirely staffed by women.

In 1906 Inglis played a notable role in the establishment of the Scottish Women’s Suffrage Federation.  The outbreak of war in Europe in August 1914 brought about a temporary ceasefire where political - including suffragette - issues were concerned, and Inglis promptly suggested the creation of women’s medical units on the Western Front.

The British government reacted to Inglis’s idea was frowned upon, she was told  "'my good lady, go home and sit still'. .  Nevertheless a similar offer made directly to the French government was warmly received and Inglis travelled to France within three months of the outbreak of war, with the Abbaye de Royaumont hospital, containing some 200 beds, in place by December 1914. This was later followed by a second hospital at Villers Cotterets in 1917.

Inglis was active in arranging for the despatch of women’s units to other fighting areas aside from the Western Front, the first Scottish Women's Hospital field unit was formed in December 1914 in a town called Kragujevac in Serbia.others followed  at Salonika, Romania, Malta and Corsica in 1915 and to Russia the following year.

Inglis herself served in Serbia from 1915 until the Serbian government and army withdrew to Corfu ,she had been held prisoner for a period until U.S. diplomatic pressure brought about her release.   Thereafter based in Russia she was taken ill, the government demanded she come home but Elsie refused until the Serbian soldiers were guaranteed safe passage. The boat brought them back to Newcastle and Elsie, who was crippled with illness, could hardly walk as she greeted Serbian soldiers on deck. She was so frail she had to be carried off to a nearby hotel where she died on 26th  November 1917.

Elsie’s body was taken “home” to Edinburgh where it was interned in Dean Cemetery, beforehand it lay in state in St Giles’ Cathedral.  Her funeral there on 29th November was attended by both British and Serbian royalty.

The SWH continued its work for the duration of the war, sending out more units and raising money for the work. Remaining funds were used to establish the Elsie Inglis Memorial Maternity Hospital in Edinburgh in July 1925, it closed in 1988.

There is a Memorial Drinking Fountain “Crkvenac” in Mladenovac, Serbia commemorating her work for the country. A plaque commemorates her at 8 Walker Street, Edinburgh. A portrait of her is included in the mural of heroic women by  Walter P. Starmer at  St Jude's Church, Hampstead Garden, London. In 1922 a large tablet to her memory (sculpted by  Pilkington Jackson)  was erected in the north aisle of St Giles on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.  

A movie is set to be made of her biography, penned by her sister, Eva called The Woman With the Torch

 In April 1916, Inglis became the first woman to be awarded the Order of the White Eagle (First class) by the Crown Prince Alexander of Serbia at a ceremony in London.  She had previously been awarded the Order of Saint Sava.

[freddy-ryland]

scene ii: the art of memory

turn up the volume I'm not listening the dialogue is static and I start to panic and the music fades

The dull roar in her ears was familiar as she stepped out of the glowing green flames, hurrying forward a few steps to make room for the tell-tale whoosh of a similar traveler. The teenager was sure to wipe her sooty palms off on a handkerchief, straightening out her jumper before approaching the visitor's desk. There was a long winding line behind the little gate, stamped with the Ministry Seal, but she sidestepped it and waited for the man to wave at her. 

There were a few noises of annoyance as Freddy cleared the line, but a singular glare from the attending Auror shut them up. Freddy patted Amara Bone's arm, who flushed and continued to stand ramrod straight. The elder Hufflepuff had always been kind to her at Hogwarts; she'd woken up with Amara carrying her back to her room many times after passing out around the castle. Amara always cut a surprisingly imposing figure, despite being one of the softest people Freddy had met in her life.

"Another top-secret meeting with our magical mimes eh Lil' Ry," The man had a shockingly bad case of bedhead and a lazy eye, he told her tales that he popped the eye out during the war to scare Snatchers so he could get the drop on them in a fight, and it never healed right. "Thinkin' that you might as well become a mime yourself, missus."

"Gerald, I think I've had my fill of our devout Unspeakables," she flashed him a smile as he continued to process her wand, a rigid formality, "and I've every intention to make a grand escape of them once I graduate."

"A grand escape, eh?"

"Oh yes, it's all very planned out, our lovely chats will come to an end. I'll be sure to send you a postcard." She had a map of every place she wanted to see, already marked up and pasted to her wall.

"You do that girl," Gerald smiled, he was missing his front tooth, and it always gave his words a distinctive whistling sound, "you get outta here an' far away from those mimes before they trap you in their circus."

"I was thinking of joining the circus actually, as a fortune-teller. Get some real-world experiences," Freddy grinned, "though I have plenty of experience working with mimes and clowns." Gerald's whistling laugh followed her through the marbled Atrium as she squeezed by, fixating her visitor's badge to the front of her sweater. 

More than a few ministry workers recognized her, between Micah and Uncle Kinglsey and her Mum being the Healer for the rich and pure, Freddy had been around these halls since she was born. Most offered small smiles and mayne some gently awkward small talk and returned to their lives. An older red-haired woman held the elevator door open for her as Freddy thanked her profusely, having nearly missed it after being waylaid by some friend-of-Mom's-patients-nephew. It wasn't unusual to see teenagers at the Ministry, between internships and family, but it was unusual to see 'Department of Mysteries' embossed on her visitor's badge. It earned her a few looks on the crowded elevator so Freddy simply smiled and watched the arrow tick. Slowly the overfilled elevator began to empty until it was just Freddy left. Kicking her heels against the ground, the teenager started to gently sweat under her loose top, a pit opening as she watched the arrow tick down and down towards 9.

Finally, the door opened, and the Hufflepuff stepped out into the Atrium, a cold desolate place. The floors were disconcertingly white, the kind of white that reminds you of dying, shined to such a high polish that Freddy could see up her own skirt. The walls were covered in etched runes and spells in Latin, Greek and possibly more than a few ancient, dead languages. There were no portraits adorning the sparse walls, only four statues in each corner of the room, all of which were humans in some sort of distorted way. Unspeakable Hawkins once told her they were reminders of how the human soul can twist when experimenting with unknown magic, a warning of sorts to the workers. A reminder. One she didn't need as Freddy looked away from the child chimera hybrid writhing on the ground below the impatient glare of an older woman who held a gnarled rod above it’s body. There was a distinctive clicking noise that was the only sound in the room, and Freddy moved towards it, keeping a careful eye on the statues. 

The Hufflepuff hated when they moved, or decided to watch her.

A woman sat behind a similarly Spartan desk, typing away and glaring at the man sitting at the lone mid-century chair that looks like a child's under his bulk and stature. His shock of royal purple and gold robes were dazzlingly out of place in this room, and as the receptionist sniffed at Freddy in her voiceless greeting, Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up. His lips pulled into a comfortingly wide smile.

"Uncle King?" Freddy hurried across the marble, taking care not to slip on the slick surface, "what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to check on your progress with Madame Basnet--"

"Unspeakable Basnet, Mr. Shacklebolt," the receptionist, Alisha snapped, her box braids whipping around her head so she could level a cold glare at him, "do remember her title, Sir." The clack! clack! clack! continued it's metronome and paper continued to feed into it with twitches of her pinky.

"Forgive me, Madame Kieta," his grin might’ve been charming to anyone else but the living statue at the desk. 

Her face pinched returning to her typing, the clack of the typewriter going faster as the door in front of them began to open. Freddy never understood how she opened it when her fingers never left the typewriter. "Mr. Shacklebolt has already taken his Vow of Silence, he may enter. As for you, Ms. Ryland, the statues will tell if you've been following your end of the contract."

Following her end of the contract, a contract she took when she was still a child and was somehow so binding it made her keep having to coming here every goddamn week. Just the notion of still being forced by a decade old scrap of parchment was enough to make her want to cuss Ms. Kieta out. 

But, Uncle Kingsley held his arm out, and in the fashion of any proper young woman of magical society, she took it with a gentle bob of her knees. Long schooled into her by her Mum. She kept her mouth shut, teeth grinding on sharp words until they became soft powder. 

The statue from the corner crawled over as they crossed the invisible barrier between the rest of the world and the Department of Mysteries. It was an eyeless thing, mouth carved open and gapping with marble streaks of drool. Truly it would’ve been an impressive piece of art if it wasn’t so gruesome. Its movement caused a grinding sound of stone on stone; the magicked creature prowled around her ankles before coming up behind her shoulder.

Freddy stood stock still, eyes screwing tight. She'd seen what happened when someone broke their Silence Vows, and the statue found it. The teen remembered how fast they moved and the high-pitched whistling sound they made for an alarm. She remembered how the woman's skull cracked when marble met marble with a body between. Freddy had been tugged in by Unspeakable Ellie, and sat down with comforting head pats from folk who didn’t know how to pet a cat without being constipated.

The teenager let out a sigh, not unlike a balloon, as the statue nudged her hand, cold and hard, before retreating to its sentry position in the corner.

"Horrible creatures," Kingsley whispered; his knuckles were white, and the bulge of his biceps were stone beneath her tightened grip, "wholly unnecessary for someone of your position." For all that he was a war hero her Uncle always did take far too much pride in their family position at the Ministry, but that was just pureblood upbringing for you. 

"The Department must have their protections, even from someone overly familiar."

Kingsley made a noise of disapproval before they entered the real Atrium. The place was a madhouse in truth, positively Frankenstienan compared to the cold room they just left. Messenger papers were flying above their heads and the distant sound of a boom. Desks were smashed together while massive runes covered thick paper; one desk was dedicated to writing implements -- quill, pen, pencil, charcoal, blood ink, unicorn blood ink, paint, chalk. In addition, there was a large bookcase stretching from floor to ceiling and filled to bursting with papers, books, and more than a few stone tablets. 

Unspeakable Hawkins was rushed past, jostling a cauldron and a papyrus scroll. He offered a cursorary wave before cursing as he tripped over a series of tangled wires. In a distant corner, Freddy noted a man talking to himself, Keith? Kai? Kyle? She couldn't remember his name, nor what they spoke of, nor anything about him. His name started with a 'K,' and he always looked half beaten to death with exhaustion. Unspeakable Ellie (who refused her surname for security purposes) was orchestrating a jostling crowd of marmosets, succulents, several hummingbirds, and a single cacti in a floating box headed towards a door marked with green. Freddy could see the bone thorns on her shoulders and arms peeking between the folds of her bulky Unspeakable robe even from this distance. There were doors all around them, moving in and out of existence. It reminded Freddy remarkably of Lib-Con, without the fun of it. Only hurried, furious magical workings, the scent of stale coffee and the ambiance of lab rats on a wheel chasing only certain death via science (or magic). The doors that led to the various Halls of Magic were locked to her personally, but employees busted in and out at breakneck pace. The smaller doors belonged to offices and various other tinkering workshops where booms and clangs shook the floor and no-one batted a single eyelash. It was an orchestra of chaos, with no conductor keeping track, time or tempo.

Above all the noise Cassandra Basnet walked like a whisper, in a tight business uniform that seemed more in place with the Department of Law Enforcement. Not even a single item of turquoise or jade adorned her person, no jangle of obtrusive jewelry or an obnoxious scent of sage or patchouli marked her for a Divination expert like others in the field. There were no stray tea leaves or frog spawn in her pockets, nor a deck of tarot cards in hand. Hair pulled back in such a severe bun that it would make Headmistress McGonagall wince. Yet, even with the power walk of a misandrist girlboss, no one could deny that Unspeakable Basnet is beautiful with her high cheekbones and startlingly green eyes, always decorated with minimal make up and on occasion wire frame glasses. Her walk slowed, dodging desks, the tenseness in her arms softened as she came closer before wrapping Freddy into a familiar hug, tugging her straight from her Uncle's arms.

Freddy tensed but hugged back, politely but wincing as she felt the surprisingly heavyweight of Cassandra's arm. It was a show of dominance, and all parties knew that as she pulled away, keeping a possessive arm around Freddy's shoulders.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, I had no idea you'd be joining our little shindig today." Her smile was florescent bright. "My little crystal didn't send a word."

"I simply wanted to do a quick drop-in. It's so difficult to plan these sorts of things these days."

"Well, I am always happy to have someone of your esteem in our halls. Come to my office. Today is hectic, we've had more than a few breakthroughs, so everyone is very excited. They'd probably want to drag Freddy to show off, and we can't have that." 

Moving through the zoo, they found a deep maroon door that came into the similarly stark office, the wall covered in crystal balls, palmistry books, more than a few photos of Freddy in various states of having a Sight or Vision. Several papers on her desk and a bronze paperweight in the shape of a jaguar, which Freddy knew to be her Patronus. A plush couch pushed up against the wall with a gauzy veil over it to block light. Freddy had passed out many times on that couch after long days working with her powers and had woken up an unknown number of times under a heavy weighted blanket that laid folded up neat against the arm. The desk was minimalistic, and there was a single dark brown leather armchair in front of it, where Kingsley settled his imposing mass into, without so much as an invitation, lounging like a panther.

Freddy dropped herself onto the couch, pulling her sweater tighter around herself, wishing with all her might that a pit would open beneath her butt and drop her from this incredibly awkward situation. 

"So, Mr. Shacklebolt, have you any questions about Freddy's instruction here with me? Concerns?" She kept her voice even and relaxed, puttering around the office shuffling and filing papers, pulling out an all too familiar folder more than three inches thick. Quills marched to their places on the desk with muttered incantations. She was absolute crap at wordless magic for all of Basnet's abilities, and her wandless magic was abysmal. All in all, Freddy regarded her as a less than average witch, but no one could deny that she had some sorta latent power and her mind was a whetstone on which she sharpened it. 

"Just wish to observe as much of Freddy's instruction as possible. Our family has begun to worry that perhaps she has grown stagnant in this environment. Our Freddy may need some more... varied instruction" though his tone remained polite, there was a distinct sense of 'fuck you' in each curated word. She knew her parents were worried, but she hadn't realized how nervous her Mom had asked her esteemed cousin to attend. "You know, young wix, always needing to be pushed in the right direction, teachers can make or break a future."

"Of course, however," Basnet pulled down several more books and smiled, "there is a point where I will have to ask you to leave. Your Vow of Silence only goes so far when it comes to more... delicate magical workings."

"I will respect that; however, if Freddy should ask me to stay, then I'd like to push that envelope."

"We'll see if you have any questions--"

"Believe me," his eyes flickered towards Freddy before back to Basnet, steel entering his voice, "I will speak up."

"Alright, now," Basnet turned her piercing gaze onto the teenager who squirmed in her seat, "Freddy, what did you have for breakfast?"

It seemed a harmless question if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't remember. 

"I believe I had some toast and tea."

"Do you believe or know?"

"Believe," Freddy answered, clipped and strangled.

Basnet noted something down on parchment, "This morning, what time did you wake up?"

"Seven o'clock; I went for a walk with Micah." She could smell the lavender, see the brick they walked on. She was sure of that.

"Where did you walk to?"

"The shops down the road had to pick up some things." The man greeted them, or was it his daughter? What day was it... Tuesday? His daughter then.

"What things? List them."

"Milk, bread, some cleaning supplies for mum. I wanted one of their cookies."

"Flavor?"

"Chocolate." Her fingers ran over the packaging still in her pocket, the embossed words 'Ghirardelli' guiding her answer.

"Good, you had breakfast when you came home?"

"Yes, I had a small vision while we were walking, just a flash."

"What was it?"

"A child screaming."

Basnet frowned, "Just a flash?"

"Just her and the sound, then it went away, lasted less than half a second."

Kingsley was watching Basnet's hands like a hawk, no doubt trying to decipher what she was writing. 

"So you believe you had breakfast, then you came straight here."

"Yes." Freddy shifted her weight.

"Who helped you at the Visitors Gate?" The question came fast, a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tierney whispered 'Your Mom.'

"Gerald, we chatted for a few minutes, nothing crazy. He was asking about my plans for post-grad." she ground her teeth. "I told him I was leaving after graduation, maybe to join a circus." That earned her two eye-rolls from both adults. "I said I had enough experience working with mimes and clowns." Basnet sneered and continued to jot things down.

"Who was the Auror on guard?" 

Freddy stopped.

Fuck. Wait, no, she had seen them. They had waved them through. She knew them, but their faces were blurred. Their robes weren't trimmed with any color.

"I'm not sure of their name!" She answered brightly, "I don't know everyone in the Auror Department." She hoped the lie would stick. 

But Basnet pressed further, steepling her fingers and peering at her over the tips of her chipped manicure. "Who were they, Freddy? Surely you would know most of the Aurors; give me an image, a gender."

"Now it's insulting to assume they use one of the binary genders, Madame Basnet!" Freddy was grasping at straws now, plowing through her memory over and over again. Who was standing there? Had they smiled? Did Freddy touch them? Sometimes the Aurors give her high fives or slip her a candy. She patted her pockets; they were empty except for the cookie wrapper and some lint. So who was at the Gate? "I can't-- I don't. I wasn't paying attention."

"It was Auror Amara Bones," Freddy's mouth went dry, and unshed tears came to her eyes, "but you can't remember that can you? Who held the door open for you on the elevator?" It was a woman, right? Freddy began to tug on the sleeves of her sweater. Maybe it was a man, a tall man? That didn't seem right... "What did you have for dinner last night? Who did you have lunch with last week? What is the name of the delivery boy at your work?" 

Questions began to pile up before Freddy finally shook her head.

"I--"

"What. Is going on." Kingsley stood from his chair, coming around to press a hand to the top of Freddy's head. "What are you badgering her for?"

"Short-term memory loss," Basnet finally said, "her memory it's," she wiggled her fingers, "going wonky for lack of a better term. Her power is a mental one. The more it gets used, the stronger it gets, the more it affects the brain."

"What does that mean?"

"What it means, Mr. Shacklebolt is that Freddy is losing her memories, short blips of time are being lost in her day-to-day life, and your visions are getting stronger, more detailed, aren't they? What did your vision smell like?"

"Piss." It came sharp, "The child was screaming and smelled like pee, the ground was brick, and it was cold out."

"All that in a flash requires a mind to remember. As they get stronger, her daily memories get lost."

"What is your plan?"

Basnet shook her head, "There really isn't one; we can just continue to manage the Visions, work on keeping them longer or stopping them when they start. But the memory loss is a side effect, like her migraines, like her nosebleeds. So it can only be managed, not healed."

"So what you're telling me is that all this is a waste of our goddamn time?" Kingsley was angry now, but his voice boomed from deep within his chest. "She is coming here just to have you manage her? 

"Teach her to handle it better, Mr. Shackle--"

"Get up, Freddy," the teenager flinched as Kingsley seemed to dominate the room, though Basnet sat pristinely and seemingly unaffected at her desk, "we are leaving. I will not have you waste your time as it gets worse."

"Freddy, stay."

The teenager hovered at the couch, her fists tightening under their equal gaze.

"Freddy, you know you can't leave yet, don't you?" Basnet's voice was sugar-sweet, "Your time isn't up today, as agreed upon." 

Persephone chose her place with Hades, she decided to eat the pomegranate seeds, and Freddy desperately wished to throw hers up. 

"Uncle... The contract says 8 hours a week during non-school time. I can't leave yet."

Her Uncle was breathing thunderclouds before sitting back down in the chair, "Continue," he ground out.

Slowly Freddy walked through last week. She could count up at least 20 instances of purely lost memory. More than 50 flashing visions, and 5 of the longer ones. They continued to record and tally up each one until finally they were done at the two-hour mark. Taking a deep breath, Freddy leaned against the back of the couch, her legs pulled up against her chest despite being far too tall for such a position.

"I think that is enough for the day," Basnet finally hummed, "We can make up the hours later this week, perhaps Friday?"

"Sure, I don't work that day."

"Excellent, now I want you to keep a notebook, make notes of when you forget things. Then, start playing some muggle brain games. I've heard Sudoku is helpful, and we'll talk to St. Mungo's about their memory-impaired patients and what they do. So that'll be my homework." Freddy nodded, hopping off the couch and stretching out her tensed limbs as her Uncle stood by the door, opening it.

"Mr. Shacklebolt," the man didn't look at her, "next time, do tell me when you plan on dropping by, we can have a more formal session planned, and it won't be as startling then while we do our work."

"Thank you for your time. Freddy, let's go."

The duo strode through the Department Atrium. They passed into the white marble room, where the receptionist quirked a brow. She knew that Freddy's sessions were usually much longer. Then they stepped into the elevator, and with a murmured silencing charm, Kingsley looked down at her. 

"I want to see that contract."

"Dad has it."

"I want a legal team to search it," there was a lightness in her chest, "she is a goodman quack, you are getting worse, and your control is minimal at best."

Freddy grimaced because, in truth, it was better than it had ever been, but neither her Uncle nor Basnet needed to know that. She didn't need Basnet poking around her head any more than she usually did. 

"We can find other help. There are many bright wix in the world who can help you, other Seers."

"I know. But we need to stop talking about it, the wards..." watching the arrow tick up and up.

"Of course," they both fell silent as the voice rang out -- "8th Floor!"

Freddy leaned against her Uncle's arm, and he curled her tighter against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I had no idea how bad your condition has gotten." She nodded slowly, trying not to let a tear fall. "We'll get you out of this contract, get you some real help. Basnet has done well with your control, but frankly, it's not enough anymore."

"She tried--" Freddy started weakly before closing her jaw together with a click. The wards were in place, and Freddy was far too terrified to talk too much about what Basnet had her doing. What envelopes she was pushing. Freddy could only think of the swirls of the room, the way she'd wake up, her memory blank and energy drained, the way she'd vomit blood up, and the glare of a timer going far, far past the agreed 10-minute mark. Breaking the Vows of Silence for the Department of Mysteries led to tragedy. Though Freddy had looser restrictions than any regular Unspeakable, she hardly wanted to test the boundary here.

"Trying to use the wrong family's kid is what she’s trying to do.” He was tense, every inch of him and every movement militaristic. “I'll have the Head of the Department investigate her. Then we'll see where we're at with getting you a new teacher. I’ll speak with my Mother, she has connections with the other magical schools." So this really was a family matter.

But, Freddy knew that it would take a lot more than the Shacklebolt name thrown around to get her out of the contract. But she let her Uncle have the optimism and simply let him crack jokes and tell funny anecdotes for the rest of the elevator ride up. Freddy popped in on occasion, exchanging a quip or describing a new story about her friends from school and things going on at the candy shop. 

Freddy hardly noticed they were already at the Visitor's Gate, a low thrumming headache forming at the back of her skull. She rubbed gently at her eyes; they were aching too. Maybe she ought to get checked at St. Mungo's to see if they could get her any more potent headache potions. 

"Gerald! I didn't know you were working today."

"Huh, lassie? You were just here, not even 3 hours ago? I checked you in, remember?" Gerald gently took her visitor's badge, "We were chatting..."

Freddy's face fell, and Kingsley tensed as she tripped over her words before finally exiting. Amara stood there, concern blatant; Freddy peered up at her before sharply turning away. They paused at the fireplaces, and Freddy looked at Kingsley, tears in her eyes, and whispered quietly. He seemed deep in thought.

"Uncle King?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know if I Flooed in this morning?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked down on her, a feat with her height, and gently slid his hand into hers and tugged her into the Floo, gently calling out "Ryland Residence, Falmouth." 

Freddy let her world go up in flames and didn't remember stepping out of them this morning.

[thevastnessof]

when will my tablet pen return from the war

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Documentation Gathering, Sanitization, and Storage: an excerpt from "A Public Service"

[Yesterday, we published my review of Tim Schwartz's new guide for whistleblowers, A Public Service: Whistleblowing, Disclosure and Anonymity; today, I'm delighted to include this generous excerpt from Schwartz's book. Schwartz is an activist whom I've had the pleasure of working with and I'm delighted to help him get this book into the hands of the people who need to read it. -Cory]

Collection

As you collect documents and bring new information to light, be aware that you are in an escalating digital arms race. There will always be new ways that data forensics can identify you, or uncover information based on data that you inadvertently leave in your files, or data that is retained in logs noting who has accessed what files on what network. Recently it was discovered that noise from electrical grids can be used to quite accurately pinpoint when, and potentially where, an audio recording was made. The best way to win this war—or at least to avoid becoming collateral damage—is to work outside the standard methods and find partners who have experience.

Of course, the actual collection of documents has changed dramatically over the years. In 1969, Daniel Ellsberg systematically removed documents, including the Pentagon Papers, from the RAND Corporation in his briefcase, taking them to an advertising agency where he (sometimes with the help of his 13-year-old son) photocopied them, one page at a time. Though this took enormous courage and psychological stamina—and in 1969 all that copying was certainly time-consuming and undoubtedly tiresome—it was also technologically straightforward and relatively safe. As long as the guards didn’t stop and check his briefcase, and as long as no one saw him remove and return the reports, Ellsberg could duplicate the papers undetected.

If Ellsberg was trying to do the same thing in 2019 with physical documents, he would have to be sure there weren’t cameras looking over his shoulder. He would have to make sure that the documents themselves didn’t have watermarks that would lead back to him. And he would have to make sure that the copying method didn’t log his activity. If Ellsberg’s 21st-century counterpart were to take digital documents, there would be many more potential technological risks and traps to avoid along the way.

Take Notes

Before you start collecting documents or even trying to tell anyone about the wrongs you want to expose, start documenting what you see. Jesselyn Radack, who heads the Whistleblower and Source Protection Program at ExposeFacts and has worked with Thomas Drake and Edward Snowden, says the first step is to “just keep your own little record at home in a little notebook.” This should be a notebook where you methodically record everything pertinent to the wrongs you want to expose: everything that you see, everything that you hear, and everything that you say. Do this as often as you can, the same day that incidents occur. Note the time and date of each occurrence. Above all, your notes should always include any complaints you raise and to whom, as well as any retaliation against you for doing so.

This approach to notetaking played a critical role in the big Russian sports doping scandal in 2016. Grigory Rodchenkov, the whistleblower and former doctor of the Russian Olympic team, took incredibly detailed contemporaneous notes that became compelling evidence. The notes included Rodchenkov’s interactions with Russian coaches, officials, and athletes, such as how and when he provided performance-enhancing drugs to athletes, and how the doping was hidden from Olympic observers and their drug tests. Aside from all of these incriminating notes, as the New York Times reported, Rodchenkov also noted his daily activities details such as “6:30, I took a shower, had a smoke, got ready, had hot cereal and farmer’s cheese at breakfast.” These seemingly trivial details helped convince the judges to allow the journal to be considered credible evidence in the court case.

The technology you use to take notes can either help or hinder those who might seek to access and/or destroy any information you have, depending upon your situation. You can use a physical notebook, good old pen and paper, or notes on an anonymous laptop or tablet. But be sure to stay away from making entries at work or on your personal computer unless you are highly technically confident of your computer’s security.

“Documentation is very important,” says Debra Katz, founding partner of Katz, Marshall & Banks, LLP and the lawyer who represented Christine Blasey Ford when she was called to testify during the Kavanaugh confirmation hearings. “We increasingly have people who show up with videotapes of harassment. I’ve had clients who’ve had their iPhone rolling as their employer, predictably, would come in and do back massages or make sexual remarks.” Logs of text messages on phones or even recordings of interactions can be crucial to demonstrating that harassment is taking place. Save logs of all of your conversations and interactions, because you never know how they might prove useful later on.

The text messages sent by Mike Isabella and partners to Chloe Caras (who was also represented by Debra Katz) were used as evidence in the lawsuit that eventually took down Mike Isabella Concepts restaurants for sexual harassment. If you are going to attempt to record interactions as evidence, be sure that you are aware of the relevant recording laws. In some states and countries, you must inform the other party that you are recording and you must obtain their consent to be recorded. These laws are collectively known as two-party consent laws. Do more research into your context before you start shooting video or recording audio as documentation. You don’t want your evidence thrown out of court. You don’t want to be sued for releasing the recording. The Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press is a good place to learn more about two-party consent laws in the United States.

Recommended Collection Approach

In New York City in 1953, a newspaper boy was finishing his day, jingling his coins around, when he noticed that one nickel felt lighter than the rest. When he dropped the coin on the floor, it split open, revealing a tiny photograph with numbers. This turned out to be microfilm that was destined for Soviet spy Reino Hayhanen. In 1957, Hayhanen defected to the U.S., where he exposed the spycraft of the Soviets to the FBI. This included the use of microfilm and dead drops for communication. Though this example may seem far from the world of computers and smartphones, taking photos of documents with microfilm is much safer than taking the actual documents, in the same way taking a digital photo is safer than copying the digital document. In such a case, there is far less potential for a log of the interaction.

The current best way to gather information is by taking pictures of documents or computer screens using a pseudonymous digital device. This method effectively circumvents all of the normal digital surveillance systems that might come into play when you copy data off of a network or onto a USB stick (e.g., logs of the copying or digital watermarking). It also circumvents any logging software that may be installed on your computer. Company or government tracking software can record the actions of taking screenshots or other mouse and keyboard actions. Evidence from one of these loggers was used by the FBI against Terry Albury, an FBI field agent who was sent to jail for disclosing classified information to The Intercept. In an affidavit in support of the search warrant, the FBI cited a number of facts, including that Albury had “conducted cut and paste activity” while viewing one of the classified documents. This fact could only have been gathered by latent logging software installed on his computer or built into a viewing program. By skipping digital copying or screenshotting, and instead simply taking a picture of the computer screen, you can circumvent some of these monitoring systems. Of course, if you are logged in and have a document open, you should assume that there is a log of the access as well.

Keep these tips in mind:

Only use a pseudonymous device for taking photos; never use your personal or work device.

Use a small tablet with Wi-Fi turned off instead of a phone; this way there will be no location information stored as metadata in the photos.

Make sure the photos don’t have any identifying information in them; this could be your hand, your reflection on the computer screen, images of your office, or other identifying information or marks on your computer screen.

Be sure to check the images afterwards for any metadata or accidental information captured, and make sure to sanitize the images if necessary.

Audio and video recordings can potentially replace taking photos, but these types of files can be harder to sanitize.

Be sure there aren’t video cameras that could capture you in the act of taking photos.

Microdots

Do not trust printers. Color laser jet printers and copiers embed metadata in the documents that they print in the form of microdots, which are patterns of tiny yellow dots that are almost invisible to the naked eye. These dots encode information, similar to QR codes. This includes the printer’s serial number, the time and date, the network address, and potentially other information. This data can be used to pinpoint when and where documents were printed, and potentially by whom. If you want to find out more on the topic, research the terms “printer steganography” and “machine identification code.”

Regular and enhanced image of a printed page from an HP Color LaserJet 3700 showing yellow microdots. Photography by Florian Heise, Druckerchannel.de, in the public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Copying Digital Files

It is nearly impossible to copy files to a USB stick without leaving a trace, particularly if you are using log-in credentials at work or on a company device. Computers and networks are built to track and log file access, transfers, and printing. Do not try to make a digital transfer or to copy information onto a USB stick at work unless you can be positive that this process isn’t being logged somewhere. Use the Tails operating system, or a computer that is offline, when you copy data.

If you must copy digital files, be sure to collect all your information as anonymously as possible: use a shared computer at work (not your own). Do not use your own login credentials. Also, consider your physical location. It is best not to attempt this in your own office, for instance. Gathering information in the office will become even less viable as technology and employee surveillance software evolves.

Aside from the issues around copying digital files, some sensitive documents (particularly from government agencies) come with “phone home” beacons embedded in them or with digital rights management built in, making it impossible to view or print documents if you aren’t logged in. This could be a remote image or link embedded in a document, such that when you view the document, the image pings back to a server owned by the government or creator of the document. This allows the creator to see the IP address and potentially more information about you as a viewer. Microsoft files such as Word documents have been known to have “locating beacons” placed within them. PDFs may also include this type of beacon, though Adobe now tries to notify users before documents call a remote server. To combat this type of tracking, either convert a document to a safe format such as plain text with the command line, or view a document on a computer that is “air-gapped,” meaning that it is not connected to the internet. Make it impossible for your adversary to know you have the documents.

Uniqueness and Backflushing

If you are one of a limited number of individuals with access to the information you are releasing, then no matter how careful you are, it will be easy to trace you. This was the case with Reality Winner. In the criminal complaint filed against Winner, the FBI noted that only six individuals had accessed the document that was disclosed to The Intercept. When this document showed up on the website, the FBI had six individuals to start investigating, including Winner. Her unique trail quickly made her the most likely suspect. One way to combat uniqueness is by increasing the number of individuals who have access to a document before it is released.

Danielle Brian, executive director of the Project on Government Oversight, described a method that has been in use in D.C. for years: “backflushing.” Before disclosing a document, send it through official channels to as many legitimate places as possible. For example, include the document in a report and send the report to other departments. This makes it so others have the document as well, vastly reducing the uniqueness of your connection to the document. When you disclose the information later on, it will not be clear that you were in any way connected to it.

Another way to combat uniqueness is by gathering the data through a shared digital account, e.g., if someone else is logged into a computer and you copy a file while they are logged in, the document-gathering will be connected to them, not you. Of course, this should be done carefully and ethically, so as not to inadvertently cast blame on someone else. If possible, it’s better to hijack a shared network account. So consider how unique the connection between the information and your identity might be. There is protection to be gained by hiding in the crowd.

Theft and Misfiling

Corporations sometimes lash back at whistleblowers by filing criminal charges for theft of company property. So be aware that by taking documents off company property, you may open yourself up to a legal battle. This was one reason that SOC, a government security contractor, gave for firing Jennifer Glover, a security guard who had been sexually assaulted and harassed at work. Her termination letter stated that Glover had used her smartphone to take a photograph of the daily schedule, an act that they viewed as justifying her termination.

As an alternative to taking physical or digital documents, consider the misfiling technique. Hide copies of documents at work, either by misnaming digital files or by storing physical copies or USB sticks somewhere at work. In the future, you can “stumble upon” the copies, providing investigators with the information. They, not you, would then be removing property from company premises. The bottom line is that it might be helpful to have a backup copy of any important material stashed somewhere at work.

Sanitization

Sanitization is the process of removing, concealing, or cleaning up information in documents before you give them to someone else. Whether the documents you’re dealing with are physical or digital, images or videos, the same general process applies: you should overwrite, obscure, or remove any sensitive information. This process is ubiquitous the world over in redacting classified material to prepare it for release to the public. When attempting this, imagine that you are in a heist film: be meticulous, wear gloves, wipe down surfaces to remove fingerprints, and don’t leave anything that contains your DNA.

For those who are trying to disclose information, the process of sanitization is a little more complex, but there are two goals: 1) the removal of any information that could identify you, such as fingerprints, email addresses, or unique watermarks on documents; and 2) the removal of sensitive information that might harm someone else or have undue consequences if released, such as any company or government secrets or any personally identifiable information. This is where ethics and judgment come into play. Who would be harmed if this information were released? You don’t want to accidentally victimize (or revictimize) a colleague, accidentally reveal personal information that could compromise one’s reputation, or put a field agent in harm’s way.

To sanitize physical items with nonporous surfaces, such as USB sticks or hard drives, wipe them down with a cleaning product and towel. Paper documents and other porous surfaces are more difficult to sanitize. There are a number of techniques for attempting this, but most involve using an eraser and potentially a cornstarch mixture to remove any oils left by fingerprints. If you are providing someone with a device such as a hard drive, remove any serial numbers or identifying information that would make that product traceable, and of course, be sure to pay cash when buying any hardware that you might use. If you must provide physical documents, redact them first with a black marker or white-out and then photocopy them, providing a redacted copy instead of the original.

For digital documents, the process of sanitization can be broken down into two strategies: 1) redaction, the process of obfuscating information within a document; and 2) metadata removal, the process of deleting identifying traces from the document.

Text

Any text-based document (rich text files, DOC and DOCX formats, CSVs, Microsoft Excel files, PowerPoint files, Adobe InDesign files, etc.) should first be converted to a PDF. This can be done on most computers with either “print to PDF” or “export to PDF” functionality. The PDF should then be opened, and each page should be exported as an image and then redacted in image-editing software. Draw black boxes over areas of sensitive or identifying information in the images. Note: If you try to redact the documents from within the PDF, it will be done in layers, leaving the actual data underneath the black boxes. This will not technically remove the sensitive information. Similarly, it is important to use only image formats that do not include layers. If layers are included, someone can later remove the redaction layer and see the sensitive information underneath. JPG is a great image format to use, as it cannot save layers. After all of the images have been edited, they should be either recombined into a new PDF using a PDF viewer or given to someone as a set of images.

An alternative option is to use PDF Redact Tools, which automates those processes for you. It is currently available on Linux or macOS and comes bundled inside the Tails operating system.

Images

Images should be redacted just the same as text documents. Save them in a format without layers such as a JPG. Draw black boxes over any portions that need to be removed, then save them.

Video and Audio

Redaction of video and audio files can be a bit trickier, but the same basic process of obfuscating information applies. For videos, open them in a video editing program and either delete portions of the video or add black boxes over sensitive pieces. Then export the edited video. Audio files should be edited in an audio editor (Audacity is a good free choice), and portions of the recordings can be deleted or replaced with a standard sine wave tone (like a censorship bleep).

Remember, though, that there may be other information in audio and video recordings that isn’t obvious at first glance. Is there background noise or imagery that can be analyzed to determine the time and place it was taken? Are there reflections or other subtle pieces of data that could compromise you or someone else? Be very careful when it comes to audio and video, because so much information is contained in each file that it can be hard to think of every single thing that should be redacted.

Metadata Removal

Of course, if you are simply trying to get a video out, but trying to make it less obvious who it was shot by, removing the underlying capture information might be all that’s needed. This is where removing metadata comes into play.

Example of image meta data created by an iPhone

The image above is just a selection of the metadata produced by one photo taken with a smartphone. The metadata contains the model of the phone, the time it was taken, and possibly the location of the phone at the time of capture (if GPS location was enabled). This data needs to be removed if you are trying to make the photo, video, or any other type of file untraceable.

Before anything else, check the filename for anything that could identify you or your means of creating the image. If you have any doubt—rename it.

All digital files inherently contain some distinct information that identifies them: filename, creation date and time, last modified date and time, and file size. Some digital file formats contain even more information. Microsoft Word documents, for example, are known for automatically saving additional metadata, such as the authors who worked on the document and the names and locations of the computers where the file was saved. Unfortunately, with these documents and particularly with proprietary file formats, it might be difficult or near-impossible to remove all pieces of metadata. Instead, convert proprietary formats to simple open-source formats that have consistent metadata formatting.

Some file formats use standard data wrappers to store metadata, such as EXIF (exchangeable image file format) or XMP (Extensible Metadata Platform). These are used for almost all image formats and PDFs. By converting other documents into these formats, it becomes much easier to delete metadata and know that it is really gone.

To actually remove metadata from an image, a PDF, or a video file, open it with its corresponding editing software and look for options such as “Properties,” “Inspector,” or “Document Inspector.” This should open up a dialog with a list of all of the metadata fields and entries. Delete them all. You will also want to research format-specific metadata removal methods for specific file types. Audio and video files, such as MP3s or MP4s, for example, can have proprietary ID3 tags embedded within them—such as PRIV frames—that make it near impossible to know if they have been sanitized.

Alternatively, a number of applications can scrub metadata from particular file formats. Several applications can remove EXIF data from images, but the Android application “EZ UnEXIF Free (EXIF Remover)” is especially useful for those communicating via an anonymous smartphone or tablet. This application removes all EXIF data, including geolocation, from photos taken with an Android device.

The Metadata Anonymisation Toolkit (MAT) provides a simple interface for stripping metadata from a number of formats, including PNG, JPEG, PDF, MP3, and Microsoft Office Document formats. MAT comes installed on Tails. However, MAT currently hasn’t been updated since January 2016, essentially making it abandonware. Fortunately, MAT2, the replacement for MAT, is under active development and currently in beta. This is a great tool that can be used to sanitize a variety of files, but please check on its current development status online before using it.

Storage

Be cautious about where you store documentation. Never store documentation at work, unless you are following the misfiling method mentioned previously. You may feel that your desk or office is a safe space, but it isn’t. You can consider storing documents at home, but this is an obvious choice for all concerned. In many cases, those who are trying to disclose information have had their houses ransacked and searched by their adversaries, both legally and illegally. If a subpoena is filed, information in your home will not be protected.

A good strategy is to either store documents outside your home or office or give a backup copy of what you will be revealing to a trusted person for safekeeping. Daniel Ellsberg gave a copy of a classified nuclear study to his brother, who hid the documents under a large gas stove in a garbage dump. Unfortunately, while this protected them for a while, the documents were ultimately destroyed by water damage, and Ellsberg spent years trying to reconstitute the information they contained. Instead of your brother, choose a lawyer. In the United States, information stored with your attorney may be protected from search and seizure through attorney-client privilege. Of course, there are exceptions to this, which was the case in the raid on the office of President Trump’s former attorney Michael Cohen. If investigators can make the case that attorney-client privilege is being used “in furtherance of a contemplated or ongoing crime or fraud,” then they will be able to search a lawyer’s office under the crime-fraud exception.

All digital documentation should be stored on either encrypted USB drives or on an encrypted pseudonymous device, such as an encrypted tablet or a Tails USB drive. Documents should never be stored in the cloud or on a personal computer or device.

Excerpted from A Public Service: Whistleblowing, Disclosure and Anonymity published by O/R Books. © 2019 Tim Schwartz

https://boingboing.net/2020/01/09/documentation-gathering-sanit.html

[siebenschoen]

I doodled the best girl(tm)

[adhd-wifi]

Do you have any meta on Suibian? I love that sword and I need more of it in my life!

Oh hell yeah I love SuiBian with all my heart and have a bunch of headcanons about it. Canon doesn’t give us much to play with unfortunately, but speculation games are always fun! Quick disclaimer, MDZS is currently the only story in the wuxia/xianxia genre I delve into, so my guesses and such are not at all based on the rules within the genre. Also, I grew up with both Chinese and Japanese folklore, so some details I talk about might’ve been merged or mixed up between the two cultures. So what I’m saying is that this post is 90% guessing games.

...Buuuuuuuuuut before we get into that I need a moment to gush about SuiBian's name. I love the name 随便 to a ridiculous degree. It's so silly and weird especially to a Chinese speaker like myself but oh so PERFECT. SuiBian's name alone does wonders for introducing Wei Ying's character early on, displaying his fickle and annoyingly'childish side so easily. Completely indecisive about the perfect name? Literally name it "Whatever". It also is symbolic of Wei Ying's carefree attitude in life before the war, with him being happy and doing whatever he wanted as a fun-loving teen, but he loses the ability to do "whatever" he wanted in life, along with losing the ability to wield the sword named "Whatever". SuiBian is the most brilliantly named weapon in the entire story and I have a stupid amount of feelings about the name itself. :D

Anyways, gushing aside let me ramble about the weapons themselves before talking about our brilliantly named sword. In a lot of the Chinese stories I grew up with, object spirits are fairly common, though it’s often believed a non-living being can’t form its own spirit naturally. For an object to create a spirit, powerful natural energy needs to be drawn into the object, with things like sentimentality or resentment making that attachment to a particular object stronger. I personally headcanon the cultivation swords as being forged with the cultivators’ spiritual energies and upon being given a name, the energy “awakens”, forming a spirit within the sword and thus a bond between wielder and weapon. Names are important in Chinese cultures (like many other cultures really), and not having a name tends to mean you’re unwanted or disgraced, so I like the believe that when the spirit receives its name, it’s properly “born”. 

I also personally headcanon the Yin Tiger Seal as nameless, because it’s a cursed object rather than a spiritual artefact, having absorbed an endless void of resentment from the tormented souls of those brutally killed by the XuanWu. This might be why it’s so disloyal and uncontrollable. 

That being said, the swords and other spiritual weapons don’t have personalities or a proper sentience. They have attachments to their wielders and through ZiDian in particular, we are shown that their “feelings” are a reflection of their wielders, most notably when Jiang FengMian believed he couldn’t wield ZiDian, but him being able to was a revelation of Madam Yu’s true feelings towards him. That being said, aside from ZiDian and SuiBian (through its self-sealing), no other weapon has shown this kind of loyal reflection towards their masters. (The Nie Sabers are a special case, but that’s for another post.) For the most part, the majority of the weapons/artefacts in MDZS are simply tools and are used as such. With ZiDian, the sentiments involving it are between its wielders rather than between the wielder and the weapon itself. Even Wei Ying treats SuiBian as a tool more than anything else (I mean this bitch used it to cut a watermelon and was implied to not OPENLY take care of it even when he could still wield it). Despite this, though possibly due to the third-person-limited nature of the story, Wei Ying is the only person we see having an actual bond with his sword. 

We know Wei Ying loves swordplay above all his other skills, being extremely confident when it comes to his sword skills (bitch didn’t even mention he knew how to hold a flute until he was tossed into death valley), and losing the ability to wield the sword made him extremely sad. Another note is that we ONLY see this sadness when it’s specifically SuiBian he’s looking at. I like to interpret this as him specifically missing wielding his own particular sword - that even if he could wield another sword, he would deeply wish it was SuiBian in his hands instead. Thinking about it, it was likely that SuiBian was the one object given to him by the Jiang Sect that was truly his own, because he trained hard to reach the head disciple position with that sword by his side. Going through hardships with one particular object will often make one feel sentimental attachments to said object, and I think this was what happened with Wei Ying with SuiBian. If you take into account my personal ADHD headcanons for Wei Ying, this is even more likely to me, because I, as an ADHD person, did that kind of thing multiple times whenever I improved in my own skills, such as getting EXTREMELY attached to a particular type of pen, drawing tablet, and note book. 

Bringing back the point of the swords reflecting the feelings of their wielders, I headcanon that Wei Ying’s love for his sword was channelled into the sword itself, and so SuiBian reflected its wielder’s sentiments right back to him. It was dearly loved, and so it returned that love back just as deeply in its own way. From what we know, SuiBian ONLY sealed itself after Wei Ying was truly gone. But while he was the Yiling Patriarch, it likely lay dormant while waiting for Wei Ying to pick it up to fight with again. We saw this very clearly in CQL, when Lan Zhan was able to unsheathe it when he and Jiang Cheng retrieved the confiscated swords from the Wens. But after there was truly no chance of being wielded by its master? SuiBian decided it would die with Wei Ying. For a sword spirit that knew no complicated sentiments, there was no other option. 

It’s interesting to me that SuiBian later recognized both Wei Ying in Mo XuanYu’s body, and Wei Ying’s golden core in Jiang Cheng. Those were two foreign bodies to the sword, and yet it recognized his wielder’s soul and spiritual power almost flawlessly. I think the only reasons it took a while to recognize the paperman-Wei Ying was due to taking a moment to “re-awaken” and also, Wei Ying’s spiritual energy in paperman-mode was low anyway. Considering the sword spirits are implied to primarily channel spiritual energy, the fact that it also recognized Wei Ying’s actual soul is pretty damning evidence of its attachment to Wei Ying. 

Of course, as a writing nerd I’m also nitpicking it a little, since it does also kinda come off as a pretty CONVENIENT way to reveal both Wei Ying’s identity and the golden core transfer, but eh, I prefer getting emotional over the sword’s bond with Wei Ying. :P

[hellenhighwater]

I would not mess with this bird boy. Please, fic authors, write me more wingfic, I will draw art for it forever.

(It’s still trackpad time. When will my tablet pen return from the war?)

[swellwriting]

Datapads and Love Letters

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Reader x Armitage Hux

Warnings: None.

A/N: It’s dumb and it's soft and I wanna write more Hux fics, I might do a “lemony” part two (oh god how I hate the word) but hey who knows?

Word Count: 3.6k

-

He writes a love letter to you, it’s harmless. It’s meant to be harmless. He needs to get his feelings out but he doesn't want anyone to know. His feelings though they are about you are his own feelings, they are private and he wants to keep it that way.

He knows you like him, “like” being a term he isn't sure how to define when it comes to you. You like Kylo Ren the Supreme Leader who is also your “master”, you like Phasma your only high ranked friend and you like any stormtrooper that doesn't slump their shoulders when you walk past them. Liking him doesn't necessarily mean anything spectacular. Not to say he isn’t grateful for it, at least you don't hate him.

He knows he's a bit older than you, he’s your co-worker, though you’re both Generals in title so at least he isn't your superior, he holds no power over you and he likes that. You make him feel powerless.

He grabs his Datapad and opens up a private note and starts typing.

He starts with your name but quickly erases it and starts over. If this got out by even a chance he didn't want it traceable to you so easily as to write your name on it.

He dims the brightness of his screen, holds it close as he types and pours his heart out. When he's done he goes to delete it but Millicent spills his glass of water on the bed he is currently sat in making him jump up to fix the mess. Before he can get back to what he was doing there are Stormtroopers at his door and he's so busy, so focused on work that he leaves it there. But it should be safe in his living space, a private note like that should be perfectly secure in his private quarters.

But he forgot that today was a scheduled cleaning day, the cleaning droids and sanitation troopers with high clearance would be there any minute, they’d have to move the Datapad and with the screen just remaining open like that, how could they not accidentally read such soft emotional words and be so curious to read more, especially on the cold and mean Generals Datapad.

The trooper sent it to his friend, he took a picture of the screen with his own Datapad and it wasn’t supposed to spread around as quickly as it did but before Hux even gets to the meeting he was going to everyone with a Datapad at their fingertips has seen it.

Everyone except for him and you.

You’re too busy with your current conversation with Phasma, the only thing distracting you as she glances down at her Datapad to read the email she was just sent is the fact that Hux just sat down across from you. You offer him a courteous smile as if you hadn't noticed the second he walked into the room. As if you hadn’t wished he would have sat down beside you and started a conversation as easily as Phasma had.

She’s still distracted by her tablet so you think of something to say to him.

“Usually you’re the first one to show up at meetings.” You comment casually, not wanting him to think you're chastising him for being later than usual, which still wasn’t late at all.

“I was a bit busy, paperwork and such,” he offers in response, a wave of his hand as he sips his coffee.

Before you can think of anything else to say Kylo Ren Speaks from behind his mask, his deep voice unable to be quiet at all. “Paperwork?”

Hux nods and tries not to think too much about what he was actually doing out of fear that Ren would be in his head.

Kylo lets out a chuckle, it’s more of a reflex than him trying to have anyone hear it but it comes out muffled yet loud from the mask and you notice, wonder what on earth Kylo Ren could be laughing about regarding paperwork.

The meeting starts with long conversations about budgets, rebelling systems and politics as per usual.

Many officers are reading their Datapads during the meeting, a basic rule violation.

Hux’s fingers itch as he instinctively goes to just grasp his in his hands, that's when he realizes he left it behind, unlocked, on his bed with a dictionary of everything he feels for you on it. He panics then. His chest feels like its caving in on his lungs, his heart stuck in throat as he assumes the worst. An officer, much below him, looks at him from across the table and Hux only offers him a scowl making the young officer quickly look away.

He looks at you, your eyebrows are furrowed as you chew the end of your stylus pen even though you don't even have your Datapad out. It seems like everyone in the room is in on the joke except him and you. Well, he's in on it, it's about him and he knows it, fears it.

You look across the table at him to find him already staring at you, you offer him a sweet smile but he doesn't return it. His eyes are wide and he looks worried before he forces a smile on his face. Somethings wrong with him and you aren't sure what it is. When the meeting ends he basically rushes out of the room and locks himself in his quarters.

He finds that his room is cleaned and his Datapad had been moved. How could he have been so stupid? Why would he ever let his true feelings out when he should have pushed them deep inside and never let them see the light of day. He doesn't even know what to do with himself. He takes his uniform off piece by piece, throwing it on the floor as he walks and then sits at the end of his bed wondering what he has done.

Thankfully he didn't write your name on it anywhere, and maybe no one would know it was about you but the second you read it he knew you would know. He was kriffing screwed.

Hux ran away before you could talk to him so you decided to give him some time and then go to his office and see if he was there.

You knocked on the door but no one answered, a stormtrooper, and a bold one at that, walks up to you.

“He's not going to be in there and if he is he won't see anybody.”

“Why? What’s happened?” You ask with a worry-filled tone and the expressionless Stormtrooper lets out a laugh.

“You haven't seen it yet? Read it? If I were you I’d check your email and see for yourself. It’s pretty self-explanatory that he knows it's gotten out, I don't know when he'll come out of his room and if he does it will be to kill whatever person leaked it.”

“Leaked what?” You press further, too scared to even touch your Datapad.

“It’s a love letter, written by the General.”

Your eyes widen and your heart sinks. He wrote someone a love letter, a love letter that everyone has read. Given that this is the first you’re hearing of it you assume it isn't about you. You aren't ready to read it, have your heartbreak when you see the name in the letter. The name of some other person who had somehow warmed the cold General's heart.

You nodded at the trooper silently and then swiftly turned and walked back to your quarters, they were only around the corner from Hux’s.

Before you close your door Kylo walks down the hall and calls your name, his tone almost happy sounding. He enjoys when bad things happen to his least favourite General and he wants to quickly share the knowledge with you that he is certain you’re the object of the letter but you yell a, “Not now!” Before slamming the door in his face.

Maybe he should wait until another time.

You make your way to your bed and take your Datapad out, gripping the sides gently as you stare at it. You are filled with a mix of the fear of knowing and curiosity.

You tap the screen, unlock it and open your emails. More than ten different people have sent you this picture, it's a bit hard to read the letter but as you zoom in it becomes more clear, and as you read further on it become more evident as well.

~ I like the sound of your voice, it’s small most of the time, you sound unsure of yourself, when I pass you in the hallway and you're asking a question like you expect yourself to know everything.

I like when your voice is loud, when your laugh fills my ears and when you're explaining something you care about, like crystals and power and politics. I know how smart you are the way you explain intricate things so easily, though you brush it off as nothing.

I like that there isn't a planet in the universe you aren’t aware of, that no matter the state of it you dream of going to one day. I fear for any person who tries to stop you.

I feel for the way your past is like a weight on your shoulders but you never let anyone catch you slouching, masking the pain of the past is hard and I want nothing more than to relieve you of it.

When you smile your cheeks round in this perfect way that makes your eyes squint closed and your teeth visible to all, you always bring your hands up to hide it once you realize but that short moment of pure bliss and happiness is all I look forward to some days.

Your elegant composure, your respect for your work, and your pride in your position are almost as beautiful as any other of your features. You look out the windows into space as though you've never seen a star while simultaneously capturing the light of each one you behold in your eyes. Your touch is always gentle, your compassion is contagious and your intelligent outlook on life and war is astounding.

Perhaps I've never felt love before, I'm not entirely sure what feeling love entails. It seems as though it’s something you could be an expert in, I’d love to hear you explain it to me, the way you think it works.

I think it's in the way my cheeks go red when your skin fleetingly touches mine, the way my stomach drops when you look at me from across a room filled with important people. I think I love you because you're on my mind every second of the day, even when you're across the universe, the way I always want you closer to me. I'm no expert but I think this is what love feels like, I think I'm in love with you. ~

Your mouth was hanging open as you read it, he doesn't say your name in it but you can tell it's about you. You quickly close the tablet and your eyes, lying down in your bed as you think it over. Maybe it isn't about you, maybe you’re projecting yourself into it because you want so desperately for his ever so formally written love letter to be about you.

You can’t imagine anyone else making him feel such things, you can't imagine anyone else matching his description the way it so perfectly matches you.

The love letter is so clearly written by Hux too, even if you were given it with no context you could tell. The way it starts so unsurely, the formality of it and the properness, the lack of spelling mistakes and the way compliments are worded. Though it seems out of character for him to even write a love letter in the first place, this is exactly the way you would have imagined it.

You turn the Datapad back on, you reread it over and over and over again until you found yourself walking over to his door, knocking quietly.

He doesn't answer so you knock harder, you use his professional title to give you a bit of confidence.

“General Hux?” You ask boldly as you wait to be met with only silence.

You knock again, your voice softer this time. “Armitage?”

He’s standing on the other side of the door, face paler than usual and his usually steady hands shaking. He can tell you've read it, he can tell because why else would you be here other than to set him straight.

He needs to open the door, apologize, promise to keep his distance and then hope the Supreme Leader doesn't kill him the second you ask him to. He should have never fallen for Kylo’s apprentice. The smart force sensitive woman who knows too much about Sith and Jedi and the faults that lie with their practices to become victim to them.

He thinks you’re too smart to fall victim to him, and his foolish heart.

But you aren’t, you don't see it that way so you knock one more time and plead with him. “Armitage, please.”

He presses the button opening the door, the door you could have easily forced your way through if you really wanted, if you were angry with him, but you weren't.

He’s standing there, usual proud shoulders slumped as he looks at the floor, refusing to look at what sort of expression is on your face.

You walk in and close the door behind you.

You walk up to him and place your palm on his cheek and his lip quivers slightly before you make him look at you. You can tell he is filled with regret and is mentally punishing himself, as he often does.

Your eyes are filled with the same forgiving kindness they always are.

You let go now that he's looking at you and step back, you feel for a moment as though maybe you acted too soon.

“I read your letter.” You say quietly and he looks away again, unable to lie or do anything. Completely submissive to the way you decide this conversation goes.

“Was it about me?” You boldly ask and his hands shake at his sides, he goes to grab the edges of his uniform but that's when he realizes, oh to his horror, that he isn't wearing it.

Instead, he is wearing black cotton pants and a white undershirt, completely inappropriate for even a droid to see him in, but here you are.

He takes in a deep breath, looks around you and beside you and then finally meets your eyes. He can't lie, he can’t nod or shake his head, he just looks at you with sorry eyes before he starts apologizing, sorries coming from his mouth like a waterfall.

“I'm sorry, General Y/L/N, the letter was... unprofessional, completely erratic and I should have never written a single word. I'm sorry for my lack of composure, my inability to control and retain myself and it will never happen again. Our professional relationship will not be affected in this manner and I will never speak of it or think those things of you again.” By the end of it, his eyes are red, he's about to cry but he wouldn’t dare let himself show any more emotions to present himself as even weaker.

His hands shake and his lip quivers even more, his voice is wobbly and he doesn't even sound genuine, he sounds disappointed in himself, like a wounded dog begging their owner not to hit them. Though he’s been a situation like that before.

You bite your lip as you think over the words in the letter, again and again, silence fills the room.

“I think I know how it works,” you start and he looks up. “I could explain it to you. I could explain the way it feels to me.”

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at you like you’re crazy, but his expression softens when he realizes you’re just as scared as he is.

You take in his soft expression and begin to elaborate, present your feelings so you’re both just as open and just as weak and exposed to the prospect of love.

“I like the way you look at me, you don't look at anyone else with such soft eyes and it makes me feel proud almost that I get that from you. I like your devotion to the order, your devotion to the galaxy and a realistic peace.

I like when your hair is out of place and I really really like seeing you outside of your uniform like this.

My feelings for you run deep, they have for a while and I know it’s more than something simple, because of the way I hide the thoughts of you from the Supreme Leader, the way my heart skips a beat when you return a smile to me and the way I can tell when your smile isn't genuine.

I think I'm no expert but I do think I’m in love with you too.”

You ramble on and he stares at you, his heart skipping beats and pounding against his ribcage, his hands are still shaking. He’s still scared even though he now knows your feelings are mutual. He is scared of how Kylo will react, he is still scared for the lower level officers to think he has a weakness, even if it’s true and it’s standing right in front of him, stepping closer and placing your hands on his to steady them.

It's in this moment the shy little boy of his past creeps into his skin. He wants to touch you, hold you or do anything but he's frozen solid. You bring his hands and place them on your hips, he revels in the way his skin tingles, his fingers squeeze just slightly to hold you a bit tighter.

You are worried and rightfully so about the Supreme Leader, about what people will think since everybody knows about the letter. But at this moment it doesn't matter, what matters is the way his pale skin shows his blush so boldly, the way his ginger hair looks so dark in the dim light and the fact that you can see a few scarce freckles across his nose because your so close it’s almost pressed to your face.

But it doesn't last long.

A Stormtrooper knocks on the door, terrified of being shot with a blaster the second the General opens the door. But when the door opens the General they weren't expecting is standing on the other side. You smile at the trooper.

“Can I help you?” You ask politely and the troopers heartbeat slows down.

“The Supreme Leader summons General Hux,” he states as confidently as he can, now unsure of himself since he thought this was Hux’s room, not yours.

“Does he now?” You tease as the Stormtrooper nods.

“We will be right there, thank you.” You say closing the door but before the door closes the trooper sees Hux is standing beside you.

The trooper decides himself that the love letter was definitely about General Y/L/N and that this was evidence that the two Generals are some sort of “thing” and that news spread faster than any letter ever could.

They are certain that such gossip is spreading around, they don't care much at all. Armitage doesn't care about anything except the way you smile at him as you turn back around and don’t hesitate to come closer to him again.

You grab his face, squishing his cheeks a bit as you bring him closer. He’s nervous, lacking experience and wondering how this wonderful person has any interest in him at all but he doesn't pull away. He feels himself leaning in, his eyes fluttering shut and he feels your breath on his lips before they touch.

The kiss is soft, a combination of hesitation and fear, like you’re breaking all the rules. His freckled nose presses against yours as you tilt your head and move your lips in a calculated manner. Both of your eyebrows furrowed in concentration like this important task was yet another thing for you both to perfect.

His hands remain pliant at his sides and you grab them, placing them on your hips again and oh how he loves to hold you there. He squeezes harder as you continue to melt your lips against his, he mimics your actions, breaths out his nose tickling your cheek, never wanting to pull away.

It’s at this moment he finally believes in the force. Not that he hadn't felt it before when it wrapped around his throat or threw his body across a room. In those moments he felt it as pain and power, though it was described so differently he never believed that side of it until now. They way it prickled his arms and travelled up his spine, it left a wake where ever your fingers lingered on his cheeks. He felt you and he never wanted to stop feeling you like this.

-

When you walked down the hallway with him by your side, close but not touching,  the troopers, the officers and the mechanics, they all stared, for how hadn't they seen before today that there was something more between the two Generals. It seems so obvious now that they’re in love, even when trying to conceal it.

[toxicsquad]

There is no better way to get to know someone than through a good question tag. In this case we have decided to make an Indie game dev question tag with the responses of our four developers. We hope that it will reveal many unknowns, but if you are left with any questions, do not hesitate to use our ask.

What part of game development are you responsible for?

Athe: I write and write, I melt in my seat, I correct, I cry and then I program. It’s an endless cycle. Occasionally I laugh like crazy while I eat Pringles.

Sam: I draw and color without leaving the lines (almost always) the sprites, the illustrations and the ravings that usually occur to us past 3 in the morning.

Illy: English translations.

Sher: I draw BGs

What tools do you use (hardware / software)?

Athe: Recently my desktop PC has passed away, so I’ve had to rescue my old PC from the garage. I also have a laptop that saves my life more times than I would like to admit. As for the software, I need, above all, drive documents, video editing programs, image etc (I have an Adobe package) and of course Renpy and Atom.

Sam: My main friend and companion is my tablet, a wacom intuos S (pistachio color, so cute). As programs I mainly use the Paint Tool Sai, because there is nothing in this life like its stabilizer. And less frequently than I would like (for details, texture brushes, effects ...) I also use Clip Studio Paint, which I only know how to use at about 2% of its capacity ... If someday I have time I would love to stop and learn seriously what can be done with it.

Illy: During the school year I live in a residence, so I use an old laptop, and when I return home I use a desktop computer that never has memory space. I translate the chapters in the same Atom where the complete script is and I keep them in google drive files where I share them with our beta reader. I also use editing programs like photoshop when I have to translate comics or procreate for when my artistic skills are required.

Sher: ipad+procreate+some final tweak in photoshop, I don't need much more

What is your favorite part of the job?

Athe: Would it be wrong if I say that is when we released the episode? During the whole production time everything is very stressful, there are times when it’s really uphill, but when we release a new chapter it feels soooo good. It's like saying to yourself, yeah, dammit, I can do it. Look at everything you've climbed by yourself. You're doing it right.

Sam: In general, my favorite parts are when the first scenes start to be programmed, and I can see the sprites with the backgrounds, the texts, and how the illustrations look. Everything always looks so much better when viewed in-game… I also really like being able to check out the script as it is written. And from the artistic part that concerns me, when I see that my hands capture the idea that I had in my head ... Especially in character designs.

Illy: Having to find a way to translate very spanish expressions into English, research vocabulary that I have never had to use and commenting on some translations with our beta reader (which we adore) to make it understandable without losing the original meaning.

Sher: I like to do the lineart when the sketch is complete, if I no longer have to think about anything else and it's just going through it, I find it very fun and relaxing

What is the most difficult part for you?

Athe: Offf, yes, I admit it, sometimes writing is the WORST. Other times I love it, especially when I can expand on the descriptions or stop at a part that is intimate or that I find interesting (for example, Hasiel's conversation from 6.3, small spoiler: P). But, I HATE having to paste scenes, often the protagonist moves between scenes and you always have to add lines to those transitions that really do not interest anyone, but that otherwise the text would be confusing. Anyway... It is a very wide world, with a lot of history, I have to deal with what I need readers to know to understand the facts, although sometimes it gets a bit boring.

Sam: What part does not... Rather who e.e Zihel and Ariel are a thorn in my side. Especially Zihel. I know it has to do with the fact that it has never been my strength to draw boys, and much less if they are more masculine in appearance... That's why I also suffer a lot from drawing muscles. Another thing that brings me a headache is the perspective of the illustrations. Every time I try to get out of the typical shot or poses a little... It doesn't work out.

Illy: Doughy’s  stuttering ¬.¬

Sher: chairs, sofas, tables... anything with four legs is my enemy

Anything to help or encourage you while you are working?

Athe: I need music, no, seriously, I NEED IT. I’m unable to focus without it. If, on top of that, I can get what I hear to act as a sounding board for what I write, the text is a thousand times better... But the muse is a pretty bad person.

Sam: Having a show/movie in the background that entertains me. The longer the better, so I don't have to stop to think what I want to put on next.

Illy: Eating sunflower seeds to trick my brain and not be tempted to do something else that distracts me.

Sher: I try to see other artists to motivate and inspire me before I start drawing, what I find most difficult is that initial push and that is where I need the motivation, then I usually have something in the background but it is not necessary

Something that’s a pet peeve or discouraging?

Athe: Some narrative climax moments. Generally, they are not important plot moments (that is almost entirely decided), they are often small decisions to go from scene A to scene B, but I can spend a LOT of time deciding which is the fastest and best way to tie those two ends. I'm the worst.

Sam: Many times when starting, I can't get the poses to fit the way I want, for example.

Illy: Finding many parts in a row that I find especially difficult to solve and that make me believe that I have forgotten how to English properly. And looking at how many lines I still have left.

Sher: When I don't know how to fill in some area, if I see something very empty but I don't know how to solve it, I can spend days looking at the screen without being able to advance, even if I have other areas that I could do in the meantime

What is required on your table or work surface?

Athe: Notebooks, sticky notes, pens… I’m a person who writes everything down, especially the tasks, but I also order the story by color schemes. The stack of sticky notes have 9 different colors, each one represents a character and I play a lot with them for a lot of nonsense. Besides, even though I have been writing on the computer for many more years than I wrote by hand, I still have a preference for the analogical.

Sam: Coffee, sweets, chocolate, cereals... And cats.

Illy: My phone, the sunflower seeds, a Capital America: Civil War 1L water cup, sticky notes that remind me of tasks.

Sher: I have nothing really lol all my things are for decoration

Your most productive hours?

Athe: Owl. Totally nocturnal. Although I have several crises a month to force myself to work at other times that always end... Wrong.

Sam: Also at night for the most part, although I can no longer stay awake as long as I endured before having a job (the good old days...) However, in the middle of the afternoon, when the zoo that I have at home is still taking a nap, I also manage to go a long way.

Illy: From when I finish eating until 7 or 8 in the afternoon, when I don't have to cook, clean, run errands...

Sher: I take over for Illy apparently, from 7 or 8 is when I start to get into the mood until bedtime

Do working hours make you forget to eat or make you eat twice as much?

Athe: It depends, in the past I ate a lot, now if I have stress I don't eat anything. If I'm in a normal productive phase and I'm not on my nerves, I'm probably eating by inertia.

Sam: They make me eat more, but especially junk food e.e And they make me forget healthy meals, especially dinner at night.

Illy: It depends on my mood, but I usually eat twice as much.

Sher: I'm generally a VERY distracted person so I don't usually get to focus on a task to get to either of those two modes but I guess when I am sooooooo much on the task, I forget. But that happens like a couple of times a year and "forgetting" is "I delay an hour."

What part of your set up would you improve / change (in aesthetics or functionality) if you had no money limit?

Athe: I'm trying to match some of my peripherals with the rest. They are all a damn different color, apparently I'm cursed... Now seriously, I wish I had a better graphic card that would allow me to make video captures, some speakers and a quality printer.

Sam: Actually, I don't think I need anything more complex than what I already have… But if I had to improve something, I'm curious about the most professional tablets, the big ones with the included screen and all that stuff.

Illy: A new laptop that lets me open 4 chrome tabs, Atom and photoshop at the same time without dying.

Sher: A pc screen that will not change the colors I use on the iPad would be nice, really

Which character are you most like? And why?

Athe: Phew I think the easy answer would be to say Akane ... But, Akane is a better person. : P

Sam: This is very difficult... They are all very different, but still I do not think I look much like any of them. If I have to say something, I could identify with Maske's tendency to avoid problems, and his more homey and calm side. And well… Since Akane has been an OC of mine for many years, surely I have something of her too.

Illy: I think I partly have Maske's instinct to stay out of trouble, and on the other hand Joe's shallowness, although tbh I wish I really did look like any of our awesome babies.

Sher: surprised because (unpopular opinion around here) is one of those who I "least care" about really but I would say that Pin because he is a little dumb, happy and probably has a Satanic room and proud of it

Favorite CG/art.

Athe: AT THE MOMENT. Maske chapter 1. It couldn't be more predictable. I know.

Sam: I quite agree with Maske in chapter 1. But I would also put Pin in chapter 5 and Akane in chapter 6.2 on the top.

Illy: Kyeran in Coco's tank ?? Is he even real? Being basic is my brand.

Sher: surprised again and disappointed but I would say that of angel Hasiel because I like pretty dresses, pretty hairs and pretty wings

Favorite BG/scene.

Athe: The Red Light District amazes me. I already liked the life of that place, its history, but the way of expressing it... Uggg Sher took it to another level. The dirt on the street, the night, the constricted buildings...

Sam: I think I’ll say Raziel’s square, I like it a lot from the first day.

Illy: I don't know if I can choose just one T__T but I would say that the Red Light District and Valefar's pub are at the top.

Sher: for not repeating the red light district that I also like very much, I really like the areas of Coco's laboratory, including the “main” area although the perspective is horrible and makes the characters look tiny, but I like how it looks :(

Your favorite chapter to date?

Athe: Ufff... The first and second one I assure you no, hahaha. I will say that the third one, but also for things that are not necessarily from the chapter, but of the production. It was a good moment. I felt that everything was flowing with ease. We all assumed a clear role, they were times that made us feel comfortable and capable of assuming what came next, I think it was a qualitative leap also, both in texts and in art.

Sam: Oh. Well let's see... Chapter 5 is amazing for me, for everything that happens but also because there are many personalized interactions and choices. I can't say I have a definitive favorite, but it could come close… Also from the last ones I really like the 6.2.

Illy: Chapter 5 has so many details, so many things happen, it's hard not to be my favorite. But the last ones with the specific routes are so great that if I stay with the 5 it’s with the  pain of my heart to have to choose one.

Sher: I would say 5 also because in the end when a lot of things happen is when you remember the most

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No hay mejor forma de conocer a alguien que a través de un buen tag de preguntas. En este caso hemos decidido hacer un Indie game dev question tag con las respuestas de las cuatro desarrolladoras. Esperamos que os aclare muchas incógnitas, pero si os quedáis con alguna no dudéis en usar nuestro ask.

¿Qué parte del desarrollo del juego llevas a cabo?

Athe: Escribo, escribo, me derrito sobre mi asiento, corrijo, lloro y después programo. Es un ciclo sin fin. Ocasionalmente me río como una demente mientras como Pringles.

Sam: Dibujo y coloreo sin salirme de las líneas (casi siempre) los sprites, las ilustraciones y los desvaríos que suelen surgir a partir de las 3 de la mañana. 

Illy: Las traducciones a inglés.

Sher: Hago fonditos

¿Qué herramientas utilizas (hardware/software)?

Athe: Recientemente mi PC de sobremesa ha fallecido, así que he tenido que rescatar mi viejo PC del trastero, también tengo un portatil que me salva la vida más veces de las que me gustaría admitir. En cuanto al software, necesito, sobre todo, documentos de drive, programas de edición de video, imagen etc (tengo un paquete de Adobe) y por supuesto Renpy y Atom.

Sam: Mi principal amiga y compañera es mi tableta, una wacom intuos S (color pistacho, muy cuqui.) Como programas uso sobretodo el Paint Tool Sai, porque no hay nada en esta vida como su estabilizador. Y con menos frecuencia de lo que querría (para detalles, pinceles de texturas, efectos…) también utilizo el Clip Studio Paint, el cual sólo se usar como a un 2% de su capacidad… Si algún día tengo tiempo me encantaría pararme a aprender seriamente todo lo que se puede hacer con él. 

Illy: Durante el curso vivo en una residencia, así que uso un portatil del año que reinó carolo, y cuando vuelvo a mi casa un ordenador de sobremesa que nunca tiene espacio en la memoria. Los capítulos los traduzco en el mismo Atom en el que está el guión completo y los guardo en drive donde los comparto con nuestra beta reader. También uso programas de edición como photoshop cuando tengo que traducir viñetas o procreate para cuando mis habilidades artísticas son requeridas.

Sher: ipad+procreate+algún retoquito final en photoshop no necesito mucho más

¿Cuál es tu parte de favorita del trabajo?

Athe: ¿Estaría mal si digo que es cuando sacamos el episodio? Durante toda la producción todo es muy estresante, hay veces, que se hace realmente cuesta arriba, pero cuando liberamos un nuevo capítulo sienta taaaan bien. Es como decirte a ti misma, sí, joder, puedo hacerlo. Mira todo lo que has escalado tú solita. Lo estás haciendo bien.

Sam: En general, mis partes favoritas son cuando se empiezan a programar las primeras escenas, y puedo ver los sprites con los fondos, los textos, y cómo se ven las ilustraciones. Todo queda siempre mucho mejor cuando se ve dentro del juego… También me gusta mucho poder cotillear el guión conforme se va escribiendo. Y de la parte artística que me toca, cuando veo que mis manos plasman la idea que tenía en mi cabeza… Sobretodo en diseños de personajes. 

Illy: Tener que buscar la forma de traducir a inglés expresiones muy nuestras, investigar vocabulario que no he tenido que usar jamás y comentar algunas traducciones con nuestra beta reader (a la que adoramos) para conseguir que se entienda sin perder el significado original.

Sher: me gusta hacer el lineart cuando el sketch está completo, si ya no tengo que pensar nada más y es solo ir repasando me parece muy divertido y relajante

¿Cuál es la parte que más te cuesta?

Athe: Ufff, sí, lo admito, escribir a veces es lo PEOR. Otras me encanta, sobre todo, cuando puedo explayarme con las descripciones o detenerme en una parte íntima o que a mí me parece interesante (por ejemplo, la conversación de Hasiel del 6.3, pequeño spoiler :P). Pero, ODIO tener que empastar escenas, a menudo el protagonista se mueve de escenarios y hay que agregar siempre líneas a esas transiciones que realmente no interesan a nadie, pero que de lo contrario el texto quedaría mal montado. En fin… Es un mundo muy amplio, con mucha historia, tengo que lidiar con lo que necesito que los lectores sepan para entender los hechos, aunque a veces se haga un pelín peñazo.

Sam: Qué parte no… Quiénes, más bien e.e Zihel y Ariel son mi espinita. Especialmente Zihel. Sé que tiene que ver con el hecho de que nunca ha sido mi punto fuerte dibujar chicos, y menos si son de aspecto más masculino… Por eso también sufro mucho dibujando músculos. Otra cosa que me trae de cabeza es la perspectiva de las ilustraciones. Cada vez que intento salirme un poco del típico plano o poses… No sale bien. 

Illy: El tartamudeo de Doughy ¬.¬ 

Sher: sillas, sofás, mesas… cualquier cosa con cuatro patas son mis enemigos

¿Algo que te ayude o anime mientras estás trabajando?

Athe: Necesito música, no, en serio, LA NECESITO. Soy incapaz de concentrarme sin ella. Si ya consigo que lo que escucho haga de caja de resonancia de lo que escribo, el texto es mil veces mejor… Pero la musa es bastante mala gente.

Sam: Tener alguna serie/peli de fondo que me entretenga. Cuanto más larga mejor, así no me toca pararme a ver qué es lo que quiero poner después. 

Illy: Comer pipas para engañar a mi cerebro y no tener la tentación de ponerme a hacer otra cosa que me distraiga.

Sher: intento ver otros artistas para motivarme e inspirarme antes de empezar a dibujar, lo que más me cuesta es ese empujón inicial y es donde necesito la motivación, luego ya suelo tener algo de fondo pero no es necesario

¿Algo que te corte el rollo o te desmotive?

Athe: Los nudos narrativos. Generalmente, no son nudos gordos de la trama (eso está decidido casi en su totalidad), a menudo son decisiones pequeñas para pasar de la escena A a la escena B, pero puedo tirarme MUCHO tiempo decidiendo cuál es la forma más rápida y mejor planteada para atar esos dos cabos. Soy lo peor.

Sam: Muchas veces a la hora de empezar, no conseguir encajar las poses como quiero, por ejemplo. 

Illy: Encontrar muchas partes seguidas que me cueste especialmente resolver y que me hacen creer que no tengo ni idea de hablar inglés. Y mirar cuantas líneas me quedan todavía.

Sher: cuando no se como rellenar alguna zona, si veo algo muy vacío pero no se como solucionarlo puedo tirarme días mirando la pantalla sin ser capaz de avanzar, incluso aunque tenga otras zonas que pudiera ir haciendo mientras

¿Qué no puede faltar en tu mesa o superficie de trabajo?

Athe: Libretas, post-its, bolígrafos… Soy una persona que lo anota todo, sobre todo, las tareas, pero también ordeno la historia por esquemas de colores. La pila de post-its tienen 9 colores diferentes, cada uno representa un personaje y juego mucho con ellos para miles de idioteces. A parte, a pesar de que llevo muchos más años escribiendo a ordenador de los que escribí a mano, sigo teniendo querencia a lo físico.

Sam: Café, chucherías, chocolate, cereales… Y gatos. 

Illy: El móvil, las pipas, un vaso de 1L de agua de Capital America: Civil War, post-its que me recuerdan las tareas.

Sher: no tengo nada realmente lol todas mis cosas son de adorno 

¿Tus horas más productivas?

Athe: Búho. Nocturna totalmente. A pesar de que tengo varias crisis al mes para forzarme a trabajar a otras horas que acaban siempre… Mal.

Sam: También por la noche en su mayoría, aunque ya no aguanto trasnochando tanto como antes de trabajar (qué tiempos aquellos…) Aunque a media tarde cuando el zoo que tengo en casa aún está echando la siesta también consigo dar un buen empujón. 

Illy: Desde que acabo de comer hasta las 7 o las 8 de la tarde, cuando no tengo que cocinar, limpiar, hacer recados...

Sher: le tomo el testigo a Illy aparentemente, a partir de las 7 u 8 es cuando empiezo a entrar en el mood hasta que llega la hora de dormir

¿Las horas de trabajo hacen que te olvides de comer o te hacen comer el doble?

Athe: Depende, antes comía mucho, ahora, si tengo estrés no como nada. Si me encuentro en un rango productivo normal y no estoy de los nervios, probablemente, esté comiendo por inercia.

Sam: Me hacen comer más, pero sobretodo porquerías e.e Y hacen que me olvide de las comidas sanas, sobretodo de cenar por la noche. 

Illy: Depende de mi estado de ánimo, pero normalmente comer el doble.

Sher: en general soy una persona MUY distraída así que no suelo conseguir centrarme en una tarea para llegar a ninguno de esos dos modos pero supongo que cuando estoy muuuuuuy dentro de la tarea, me olvido. Pero eso pasa como un par de veces al año y “olvido” es “lo retraso una hora”.

¿Qué parte de tu set up mejorarías/cambiarías (en estética o funcionalidad) si no tuvieses límite de dinero?

Athe: Estoy tratando de que alguno de mis periféricos peguen con el resto. Todos son de un maldito color diferente, al parecer estoy maldita… Ahora en serio, desearía tener una mejor gráfica que me permitiese hacer videocapturas, unos altavoces y una impresora de calidad.

Sam: En realidad, no creo que necesitara nada más complejo de lo que ya tengo… Pero por mejorar, me llaman la atención las tabletas más profesionales, las grandes con la pantalla incluida y eso. 

Illy: Un portátil nuevo que me deje abrir 4 pestañas de chrome, el Atom y photoshop al mismo tiempo sin quedarse tieso.

Sher: Una pantalla de pc que no me cambiara los colores que uso en el ipad seria bonito la verdad 

¿A qué personaje te pareces más? ¿Y por qué?

Athe: Ufff Creo que la respuesta fácil sería decir Akane… Pero, Akane es mejor persona. :P

Sam: Esto es muy complicado… Son todos muy distintos, pero aún así no creo que me parezca mucho a ninguno. Por decir algo, me podría identificar con la tendencia a evitar problemas de Maske, y su lado más casero y tranquilo. Y bueno… Dado que Akane es OC mío de hace muchos años, seguramente tenga algo de ella también. 

Illy: Creo que en parte tengo el instinto de alejarme de las movidas de Maske, y por otro la superficialidad de Joe, aunque tbh ojalá parecerme realmente a nuestros bebés geniales.

Sher: sorprendida porque (unpopular opinión por aquí) es de los que “menos me importan” realmente pero diría que Pin porque es tontito, feliz y probablemente tenga una habitación satánica y orgulloso de ello

Tu CG/arte favorito.

Athe: DE MOMENTO. Maske capítulo 1. No podría ser más predecible. Lo sé.

Sam: Coincido bastante en la de Maske del capítulo 1. Pero también metería en el top la de Pin del capítulo 5 y la de Akane del capítulo 6.2. 

Illy: ¿¿Kyeran en el tanque de Coco?? ¿Es siquiera real? Ser básica es mi marca.

Sher: sorprendida de nuevo y decepcionada pero diría que la de Hasiel de ángel porque me gustan los vestidos bonitos, los pelos bonitos y las alas bonitas

Tu BG/escenario favorito.

Athe: Me flipa el Barrio Rojo. Me gusta la vida de ese sitio, su historia, pero la forma de plasmarlo… Uggg Sher lo llevó a otro nivel. La suciedad de la calle, la nocturnidad, los edificios constreñidos...

Sam: Creo que me quedo con el de la plaza de Raziel, me gusta mucho desde el primer día. 

Illy: No sé si puedo elegir solo uno T__T pero diría que el Barrio Rojo y el bar de Valefar están en el top.

Sher: por no repetir el barrio rojo que también me gusta mucho, me gustan mucho las zonas del laboratorio de Coco, incluida la zona “principal” aunque la perspectiva sea horrible y haga a los pj parecer diminutos, pero me gusto como quedo :( 

¿Tu capítulo favorito hasta las fecha?

Athe: Ufff… El uno y el dos os aseguro que no, jajaja. Diré que el tres, pero también por cosas que no son necesariamente del capítulo, sino de la producción. Fue un buen momento. Sentí que todo estaba fluyendo con facilidad. Todas asumimos un rol claro, unos tiempos que nos hacían sentir cómodas y capaces de asumir lo que venía después, creo que fue un salto cualitativo también, tanto en los textos, como en el arte.

Sam: Ay. Pues a ver… El capítulo 5 es una pasada para mi, por todo lo que pasa pero también porque hay muchas interacciones personalizadas y elecciones. No puedo decir que tenga un favorito definitivo, pero podría acercarse… También me gusta mucho de los últimos el 6.2. 

Illy: El capítulo 5 tiene tantos detalles, pasan tantas cosas, que es difícil que no sea mi favorito, pero los ultimos de rutas específicas son tan geniales que si me quedo con el 5 es con un poco de dolor de tener que elegir uno.

Sher: Diría el 5 también porque al final cuando pasan muchas cosas es cuando mas se te queda grabado

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