#'one thousand years into the future' very much implies some kind of long term thinking

[pochapal]

oh ok so genji's just straight up confirming these deranged things as truth. got it.

[eggrestes]

ladrien fic recs!

there are SO MANY amazing ladrien fics i cant possibly cover them all but here are a few!

(all the ratings used are ao3 ratings)

((this is a very long post!))

FLUFF

Of Ivy and Sunlight by cyanise [ T, 1509 words, 1/1 ]

When Adrien takes to wandering the streets of Paris in ungodly hours, Ladybug has no choice but to keep an eye on him. Still, things are bound to get a little out of hand between two overloaded teenagers with a lot of love and not enough self-control. 

a lovely post-chat blanc fic :’) it has a great flow and is just soft and so sweet and it’s just perfect. gosh i cannot really say more other than read it!!! also almost all of their other stuff is also ladrien so do check it out!

This can't be happening by PlaPla [ T,  6,467 words, 1/2 ]

Ladybug is unsure whether accompanying Adrien to a gala as his not-date is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to her. But when their table mates turn out to be none other than her long time friends Alya and Nino and with Adrien acting weirder and weirder she finds herself with bigger worries than an unrequited crush.

a djwifi/ladrien double date? hit me up! i love identity shenanigans, ball dancing, ladrien, and djwifi and this is a perfect mix for me. i know it’s incomplete but it doesn’t end in a cliff-hanger really, the part 2 is just a promise of more so it doesn’t feel incomplete! PlaPla also has a short oneshot of ladrien going for a motorcycle ride.

Falling again by emsylcatac [ M,  4,506 words, 2 Works ]

They had been dancing around each other for a while now, and while fifteen year old Adrien would have been ecstatic at the idea of dating Ladybug in secret, twenty-two year old Adrien knew better. But Ladybug wasn’t making it easy. It was like… she, too, was falling for him. And that surprisingly enough, she didn’t mind.

* * *

Or Adrien trying (and failing) to keep things professional between him and Ladybug when the two of them partner up for a mission. Older AU

things are a little steamy~ here (don’t worry, it’s only implied it’s very mild and closer to a T rating than the M) but it’s a great mature take on their dynamics! emsy has more ladrien one-shots in her collection of one-shots!

i'd love to go on a date with you by sae_what  [ G,  6,480 words, 1/1 ]

Once it had been falsely announced throughout Paris that Adrien and Ladybug are in a relationship, Ladybug pays him a visit to turn him down gently.

Only, she doesn’t. And instead, she has a formal dinner date. With Adrien. At 8 pm. Tonight.

LADYBUG IN A SUIT!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. okay but for real it’s so sweet and also??? they are on a date!!! a rooftop date!! (too man exclamation marks oops)

Always Welcome by  chatonne-rousse [ T, 1,683 words, 1/1 ]

Ladybug knows that Adrien's window is always open for her to swing by and stop in, whether for video games or a chat or, like tonight, for soft kisses and sweet nothings.

He loves these visits. His girlfriend is always welcome. Always. (Especially for kisses.)

Written for Ladrien June, day 8: bluebell eyes.

established relationship, pre-reveal ladrien. there is something very home-y about this fic and it’s all about the comfort and quiet that i adore about it!

Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir) by agrestenoir [ T,  1,923 words, 1/1]

Gabriel Agreste keeps finding Ladybug in his son's bedroom. As a super villain and father, this will not stand.

this crack fic is... honestly so hilarious. it’s all through gabrie-i-am-trying-to-parent-and-failing-a-lot-agreste’s POV so it is so much ridiculous! 

an uncurtain discovery by  Missnoodles [ T, 4,684 words, 1/1 ]

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Adrien is being a cat and gets tangled in the curtains on his window and it’s utterly ridiculous. all the bug and the cat tendencies make it funnier and adrien’s inner monologue is just a cherry on top!

secret valentine by a_miiraculer [ T,  12,245 words, 1/1 ]

this is the moment that we will come alive brace yourself for love sweet love, secret love

If Adrien had known that getting himself stuck in a tree would end like this, he would've gotten himself stuck sooner.

A drabble series.

i just,,,, don’t have words for how much i love it! it’s ridiculous, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s whole-some and just ladrien. the writer also has a M rated multi-chapter ladrien kissing (no the M is very much real here) and a heroic adrien and ladybug one-shot too! 

Those Benevolent Stars by peachcitt [ G,  23,696 words, 3/3 ]

“Will you come back?”

She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.

“But will you?”

or

adrien meets his soulmate, a thief who calls herself ladybug. he falls for her, but she seems determined to maintain a space between them.

oh my god this au.... just no words!! it’s poetry and it’s tender and it’s about the yearning and just!!! perfect :’). Her current ongoing ladrien june fic is also akin to this (and the fic i linked before it) so do check it out too! (literally check out all of their works it’s so beautiful)

Flowers on the Window Sill by LNC [ G,  2,144 words, 1/1 ]

The first time Ladybug saw him, really saw him, the universe stopped.

this fic feels like poetry and it’s so lovely. LNC is always short and direct but it always hits right in the feels while also being hilarious. Her  other ladrien works are just as good and i highly recommend going through them because it fulfills all of the ladrien needs (along with Reiaji)

whatever a sun will always sing is you by komorebirei [ T,  32,980 words, 37/37 ]

“I didn't think you'd actually... do anything," Adrien admitted, cheeks prickling with warmth. "I-I mean, I never expected... I didn't know you watched my interviews.” That definitely wasn’t how he'd imagined confessing to Ladybug.

“Of course I do!” Ladybug squeaked. “Uhh, that is…” She looked down at her hands, nervously turning her yo-yo over, over and over. “Maybe you’re not the only one with a crush.”

(After an unexpected confession, Ladybug and Adrien start dating in secret. A progressive character- and relationship-study quilted from drabbles, with the intention of digging treasure out of the cove that is Ladrien. Written using kashimalin-fanfiction's kiss writing prompts from Tumblr.)

it does such an excellent job at exploring this dynamic along with the characters. it’s such a sweet fic, each chapter short and fun!

ANGST

whose woods these are (I think I know.) by  Reiaji [ T,  105,000 words, 25/25 ]

Four years after his future turns to cinders, Adrien is a servant in the house he was meant to inherit. Disowned by his father and abused by his stepmother, his days are filled with drudgery until he meets a masked huntress in the forest behind his father's chateau.

As his friendship with Ladybug turns to first love, he dreams of a future spent at her side.

Then, on the eve of the Princess's masquerade, he meets his guardian—and is granted a wish.

[Ladrien Cinderella AU]

Warnings: Child abuse, Graphic depiction of violence

this is absolutely gorgeous. it has so many troupes and so many amazing character arc and great build up and everything just flows so well. it left me in awe for weeks and i just. want to experience reading it for the first time again. look at this gorgeous art inspired by this! {and you have to read  leonard bernstein too because LETTERS and LADRIEN and YEARNING}

i would do it again (oh, a thousand times) by bugabisous [ T, 2,266 words, 1/1 ]

Knowing you can bring someone back doesn’t mean you’re free of the pain of seeing them disappear before your eyes. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to look at her directly without replaying every horrifying moment when he felt her slip away in a puff of smoke.

When it happens once again, he already knows he’ll be trying again. He just can’t give up.

it expands on adrien’s feelings in the episode desperada (my beloved <3) and it is just ouch. such great angst, such great potential. the kind of tragedy that it offers is unusual for ml (it gets only rivaled by chat blanc tbh). to rival this angst bugabisous also has a fluffy one-shot :)

when the world gets too heavy (put it on my back) by Taliax [ T, 4,720 words, 1/1 ]

Chat Noir isn't allowed to cry over his father. But even when he's just Adrien, Ladybug won't abandon him.

Hawkmoth reveal hurt/comfort + Ladrien

the plagg and adrien bond written is just perfect, and oh this hits right in the feels :’) it hurts all in the right way. tali also has so many other ladrien works in all genres too

By Your Side by omniousunflower [ T, 4,361 words, 1/1 ]

(Angry and alone, Adrien waits on top of the Eiffel Tower for his lady.)

“So, how did my kitty get stranded up here?” Ladybug asks.

Groaning, Adrien pulls his knees toward his chest and presses his face against them. “Because he’s stupid and impulsive.”

“Chasing pigeons, then?”

“No.” Shame burns in Adrien’s veins, white-hot now that Ladybug is here to witness his stupidity. “I threw my Miraculous, and Plagg wouldn’t get it for me.”

post-hawkmoth defeat, and adrien is not doing well at all. i am cheating because it is post reveal, pre relationship but it’s still ladrien. this fic is a roller coater of emotions, starting from a slightly crack scenario to a cute, awkward, hopeful ending.  More Than You Know is another of sunny’s angsty ladrien work!

Breaking The Rules (AKA The Ladrien Fistfight) by ThisKwamiNeeds_aNap [ T, 8,714 words, 1/1 ]

Marinette may or may not be dying, but she’s still going to do her best to fix every single problem in the world. She’s not expecting Adrien to be the one who tries to stop her. (Takes place immediately after Kwami Buster)

Warnings: panic attack, broken bones, PTSD. please read the tags!

*slaps this fic* this fic can fit in so much angst. it just?? left me in PAIN oof. it says ‘ladrien fistfight’ on the lid but nooo there is marinette is just having a freak out and it’s all so much??!! and it’s not just marinette there is adrien too and chloe and alya and- wow it’s amazing. love it so much it fills up my angst needs :’)

so that’s it for now! my personal commentary isn’t impressive nor does it do justice to the fic but i still hope you read a few of these!! happy reading!!

[bonesandthebees]

ok ok ok. stars time!!!

upon reading the name Myscria in your answers to the ask game, i realized the name seemed super familiar… any chance the name Themiscyra??? supposed home of the Amazon warriors??? also is that partially where the name for the planet comes from??? or is that specifically for the goddess Themis??? care to explain???

way to imply Percy Shelly existed in the Stars universe!!!

Phil calling Wil “little bird” makes me feel things. still not sure what exactly those are, but it’s there. it could just be further familiarity, they’ve gotten so causal now that a random nickname isn’t inappropriate and phil defaults to what is probably a super common elytrian nickname/term of endearment, but that seems unlikely to me bc phil is still playing a game even if wil has partially given up and that’s not the kind of slip-up he would make. he’s too calculating for that.

so, in my mind, that leaves the following possibilities: 1) phil is just messing with him. he’s pushing his buttons, but mostly just for fun to see what kind of reaction he’ll get. it may be entertaining. 2) he’s messing with him for a purpose, continuing to test wil’s limits to gauge his “potential” the same as he’s been doing this whole time. 3) he’s intentionally acting pseudo-parental and endearing not necessarily bc he actually feels that way towards wil (tho it’s not a complete impossibly), but bc he’s trying to build a sense of familiarity and trust. he’s acting this way to influence their relationship to move that direction, at least on some level.

my guess is it’s a combination of all three. #1 seems to be a pretty standard motivation for all phil’s actions, #2 makes the most sense/has the most support from the plot so far, and #3 adds complexity which makes their dynamic more interesting, and makes for some interesting possibilities for tension down the line.

ok i definitely have more to say but i’ll end this ask here. once again thank you so much for all your hard work writing this!!!

- 💜

hi purple heart anon!!!

omg I'm so glad you picked up on that. yes, Myscira is a reference to Themiscyra the home of the Amazon warriors! And that's also a tie in to where the planet name Themis comes from! yes, Themis is a goddess, but also Themis + Myscira = home of the Amazons so it serves a double purpose as a name. (also, Myrina was the name of one of the Queens of the Amazon in mythology, so that's another tie in).

actually stars technically takes place in our normal universe, just tens of thousands of years in the future. so yes, the Ancient Greeks existed as did ancient poets like Percy Shelly. humans have just been exploring the galaxy for so long at this point that they settled on a lot of different planets (most of which didn't have any life on them in the first place) and so you have 'natives' to different planets that are humans. once a species has been living on a planet for thousands of years I think you can say they're a native even if they technically didn't originate there lol

it's so interesting to see what you guys think about the 'little bird' nickname. very fun to read everyones different theories. I won't comment as usual, but I will point out that you said "that's not the kind of slip-up phil would make" and "he's too calculating for that". based off what we've read so far, that's not an incorrect assessment, but also keep in mind that the story is told from wilbur's pov. I'm not saying phil isn't an extremely calculating mastermind, but wilbur's perspective isn't exactly a reliable basis to form an opinion off of. so do with that what you will.

[weil-weil-lautre]

By Jonathan Franzen September 8, 2019

“There is infinite hope,” Kafka tells us, “only not for us.” This is a fittingly mystical epigram from a writer whose characters strive for ostensibly reachable goals and, tragically or amusingly, never manage to get any closer to them. But it seems to me, in our rapidly darkening world, that the converse of Kafka’s quip is equally true: There is no hope, except for us.

I’m talking, of course, about climate change. The struggle to rein in global carbon emissions and keep the planet from melting down has the feel of Kafka’s fiction. The goal has been clear for thirty years, and despite earnest efforts we’ve made essentially no progress toward reaching it. Today, the scientific evidence verges on irrefutable. If you’re younger than sixty, you have a good chance of witnessing the radical destabilization of life on earth—massive crop failures, apocalyptic fires, imploding economies, epic flooding, hundreds of millions of refugees fleeing regions made uninhabitable by extreme heat or permanent drought. If you’re under thirty, you’re all but guaranteed to witness it.

If you care about the planet, and about the people and animals who live on it, there are two ways to think about this. You can keep on hoping that catastrophe is preventable, and feel ever more frustrated or enraged by the world’s inaction. Or you can accept that disaster is coming, and begin to rethink what it means to have hope.

Even at this late date, expressions of unrealistic hope continue to abound. Hardly a day seems to pass without my reading that it’s time to “roll up our sleeves” and “save the planet”; that the problem of climate change can be “solved” if we summon the collective will. Although this message was probably still true in 1988, when the science became fully clear, we’ve emitted as much atmospheric carbon in the past thirty years as we did in the previous two centuries of industrialization. The facts have changed, but somehow the message stays the same.

Psychologically, this denial makes sense. Despite the outrageous fact that I’ll soon be dead forever, I live in the present, not the future. Given a choice between an alarming abstraction (death) and the reassuring evidence of my senses (breakfast!), my mind prefers to focus on the latter. The planet, too, is still marvelously intact, still basically normal—seasons changing, another election year coming, new comedies on Netflix—and its impending collapse is even harder to wrap my mind around than death. Other kinds of apocalypse, whether religious or thermonuclear or asteroidal, at least have the binary neatness of dying: one moment the world is there, the next moment it’s gone forever. Climate apocalypse, by contrast, is messy. It will take the form of increasingly severe crises compounding chaotically until civilization begins to fray. Things will get very bad, but maybe not too soon, and maybe not for everyone. Maybe not for me.

Some of the denial, however, is more willful. The evil of the Republican Party’s position on climate science is well known, but denial is entrenched in progressive politics, too, or at least in its rhetoric. The Green New Deal, the blueprint for some of the most substantial proposals put forth on the issue, is still framed as our last chance to avert catastrophe and save the planet, by way of gargantuan renewable-energy projects. Many of the groups that support those proposals deploy the language of “stopping” climate change, or imply that there’s still time to prevent it. Unlike the political right, the left prides itself on listening to climate scientists, who do indeed allow that catastrophe is theoretically avertable. But not everyone seems to be listening carefully. The stress falls on the word theoretically.

Our atmosphere and oceans can absorb only so much heat before climate change, intensified by various feedback loops, spins completely out of control. Some scientists and policymakers fear that we’re in danger of passing this point of no return if the global mean temperature rises by more than two degrees Celsius (maybe more, but also maybe less). The I.P.C.C.—the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—tells us that, to limit the rise to less than two degrees, we not only need to reverse the trend of the past three decades. We need to approach zero net emissions, globally, in the next three decades.

This is, to say the least, a tall order. It also assumes that you trust the I.P.C.C.’s calculations. New research, described last month in Scientific American, demonstrates that climate scientists, far from exaggerating the threat of climate change, have underestimated its pace and severity. To project the rise in the global mean temperature, scientists rely on complicated atmospheric modelling. They take a host of variables and run them through supercomputers to generate, say, ten thousand different simulations for the coming century, in order to make a “best” prediction of the rise in temperature. When a scientist predicts a rise of two degrees Celsius, she’s merely naming a number about which she’s very confident: the rise will be at least two degrees. The rise might, in fact, be far higher.

As a non-scientist, I do my own kind of modelling. I run various future scenarios through my brain, apply the constraints of human psychology and political reality, take note of the relentless rise in global energy consumption (thus far, the carbon savings provided by renewable energy have been more than offset by consumer demand), and count the scenarios in which collective action averts catastrophe. The scenarios, which I draw from the prescriptions of policymakers and activists, share certain necessary conditions.

The first condition is that every one of the world’s major polluting countries institute draconian conservation measures, shut down much of its energy and transportation infrastructure, and completely retool its economy. According to a recent paper in Nature, the carbon emissions from existing global infrastructure, if operated through its normal lifetime, will exceed our entire emissions “allowance”—the further gigatons of carbon that can be released without crossing the threshold of catastrophe. (This estimate does not include the thousands of new energy and transportation projects already planned or under construction.) To stay within that allowance, a top-down intervention needs to happen not only in every country but throughout every country. Making New York City a green utopia will not avail if Texans keep pumping oil and driving pickup trucks.

The actions taken by these countries must also be the right ones. Vast sums of government money must be spent without wasting it and without lining the wrong pockets. Here it’s useful to recall the Kafkaesque joke of the European Union’s biofuel mandate, which served to accelerate the deforestation of Indonesia for palm-oil plantations, and the American subsidy of ethanol fuel, which turned out to benefit no one but corn farmers.

Finally, overwhelming numbers of human beings, including millions of government-hating Americans, need to accept high taxes and severe curtailment of their familiar life styles without revolting. They must accept the reality of climate change and have faith in the extreme measures taken to combat it. They can’t dismiss news they dislike as fake. They have to set aside nationalism and class and racial resentments. They have to make sacrifices for distant threatened nations and distant future generations. They have to be permanently terrified by hotter summers and more frequent natural disasters, rather than just getting used to them. Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast, they have to think about death.

Call me a pessimist or call me a humanist, but I don’t see human nature fundamentally changing anytime soon. I can run ten thousand scenarios through my model, and in not one of them do I see the two-degree target being met.

To judge from recent opinion polls, which show that a majority of Americans (many of them Republican) are pessimistic about the planet’s future, and from the success of a book like David Wallace-Wells’s harrowing “The Uninhabitable Earth,” which was released this year, I’m not alone in having reached this conclusion. But there continues to be a reluctance to broadcast it. Some climate activists argue that if we publicly admit that the problem can’t be solved, it will discourage people from taking any ameliorative action at all. This seems to me not only a patronizing calculation but an ineffectual one, given how little progress we have to show for it to date. The activists who make it remind me of the religious leaders who fear that, without the promise of eternal salvation, people won’t bother to behave well. In my experience, nonbelievers are no less loving of their neighbors than believers. And so I wonder what might happen if, instead of denying reality, we told ourselves the truth.

First of all, even if we can no longer hope to be saved from two degrees of warming, there’s still a strong practical and ethical case for reducing carbon emissions. In the long run, it probably makes no difference how badly we overshoot two degrees; once the point of no return is passed, the world will become self-transforming. In the shorter term, however, half measures are better than no measures. Halfway cutting our emissions would make the immediate effects of warming somewhat less severe, and it would somewhat postpone the point of no return. The most terrifying thing about climate change is the speed at which it’s advancing, the almost monthly shattering of temperature records. If collective action resulted in just one fewer devastating hurricane, just a few extra years of relative stability, it would be a goal worth pursuing.

[sunriseverse]

rec listtttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

fair warning there’s a lot of different fandoms here—i have, uh. twenty-two pages of bookmarks. lots of newmann though, i promise. in no particular order, i give you a fic rec list

the future’s owned by you and me by kaiyen (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Years after they stopped writing each other, Newt and Hermann run into each other on the steps of Cambridge University Library. Quite literally.

 Newt stares at him, expecting more. He doesn’t get any. “Come on, man, who are you? Maybe I’ve read something.”

 I doubt it, Hermann barely catches himself from saying. “Gottlieb. Hermann Gottlieb.”

 And Newt looks like he’s struck oil. “Oh my god,” he says, and something flickers behind his eyes, like there’s more than just recognition there, and before he can wonder any more about what it is, Newt blurts, “Oh my god!” and Hermann flinches and makes a face like a disgruntled frog.

What you can expect: emotions, opprotunities missed, and opprotunities taken. I absolutely adore this fic, though I might be biased by the fact that it has Newt as bipolar, and that’s something I always crave (more bipolar Newt fic when???).

Survival is for Nerds by Annabeelee (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 46k, Teen and Up)

It's three hundred and two years after humanity lost to the Kaiju and two hundred and twenty one since the Kaiju left. Not that it matters to Hermann. In relation to following a neurotic genetic experiment across whats left of the Northern American continent while dodging alien predators and hostile subgroups of humans, its possibly the least helpful thing to keep in mind.

What you can expect: scifi, tension, and a very intersting world. Post-apocalyptic, technically, but the way it’s written makes it almost hopeful. I love how the setting and writing makes it feel like a blend between victorian steampunk and futuristic in tone.

people can surprise you (or not) by pdameron (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 10k, Teen and Up)

“I’m not you, Bond. I don’t exactly have a technique for getting rich strangers to like me.”

“Just do your naive cute puppy thing, and they’ll be doting on you in no time,” Bond replies as he pulls up to the grand estate.

“My what?” Q asks incredulously. Bond doesn’t answer, simply giving him an indulgent smile. The fucker.

(or: 00q meets Gosford Park. Except not really.)

What you can expect: humour, murder, and some light espionage. Also, fake dating.

Infinite Distance by lachatblanche (X-Men, Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier, 7k, Teen and Up)

When they encounter an unfamiliar and seemingly-abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere in space, Captain Charles Xavier of the spaceship Graymalkin heads out to investigate.

What you can expect: drama! Intruige! It’s set in space! I read this a while ago but I have memories of it being rather riveting despite the relatively short length.

Gertrude’s Goulash by lollzie (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 7k, General Audiences)

Ed needs a new roommate. Oswald needs a room. Oswald may just be the most amazing person Ed has ever met. Shame he's not single. Cue wooing via the medium of cooking.

What you can expect: pining, misunderstandings, obliviousness, and a lot of goulash as a method of romancing.

Death Of The Author by happygolovely (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 9k, Mature)

Edward Nygma was never intended to be anything more than a secondary character.

The Riddler demands otherwise.

What you can expect: a story within a story within a story. You think you have it figured out, and the next moment the carpet is yanked out from beneath you. Fairly dark, possibly disturbing, but my goodness if it’s not engaging.

we make our friends, we make our enemies by ORiley42 (Mission: Impossible, Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, 52k, Teen and Up)

Benji finds out he has a new neighbor. This new neighbor happens to be off-the-charts hot. Hijinks, friendship, more-than-friendship, and secret agent drama ensue.

What you can expect: pining. There’s spy stuff going on too, and it eventually gets brought up, but my gods, the pining. Also, it’s fucking hilarious, and, at just over fifty thousand words, the perfect read when you’ve got an hour or two and you want something that’ll make you both laugh and cry.

Self-Sabotage by EmilyweepsforPilfrey (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 2k, Teen and Up)

For some reason, whenever he's alone with Bond, the most ridiculous things come out of Q's mouth.

Or 'the one where Q accidentally invents a girlfriend'.

What you can expect: Q being an utter idiot. It’s hilarious. Nice quick bite of humour if you fancy it.

The Long Con by harleygirl2648 (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 19k, Teen and Up)

There are two kinds of cons: long and short. Short cons mean short-term gain, with smaller rewards, mostly just everything you have in your pocket at that moment. Long cons mean lots of time, effort, costumes, masks, props, sets, and other characters all looking to set up the downfall of the mark and take them for all that they've got.

Con Artist/Thieves AU: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are both interested in acquiring a Botticelli, but both of them are quite fond of each other's short games. For both of them, it's the deception and thrill of the game that's worth more than the payout.

And well, after all, aren't the easiest people to scam are those who think they are smart enough to not get scammed?

What you can expect: no cannibalism, a lot of banter, and, of course, con artistry. Quite delightful if I do say so myself.

deus ex machina by coloredink (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 26k, Teen and Up)

"What the hell?" said Katz.  "Is that--"

"Yeah, I know, it's kinda flashy."  Will shut the car door behind him and patted his pockets for the little fob to lock the car.

"Isn't that Hannibal Lecter's car?"

The car beeped to indicate it was locked.  "Yeah, I guess so."  Will walked away, toward the field, Katz on his heels.  "I needed a new car."

"So you bought the cannibal car?"

-----

You asked for it: the one where Hannibal is a murderous self-driving car.

What you can expect: what it says on the tin. Quite funny, especially with the element of magical realism meaning Hanni-car is sentient. The Hannigram is more vaguely implied than an actual thing, owing, probably, to the fact that Hannibal is, well, a car.

adapt, evolve, become. by peupeugunn (Alex Rider, Gen, 3k, Not Rated)

“This is how you get out. You're slowly moving towards a desk job.” A pause, then, “you know, most people do it the other way around.” Alex chuckles softly and and shuffles towards him to lean against his shoulder, burrowing into the crook of his neck. Ben’s arm winds around him, shields him from the world, a solid weight on his back. “You're going to miss the adrenaline rushes, kid.” There's something almost sad in his voice. Alex doesn't want to understand why. Down that road lies madness. 

What you can expect: a character study, in a bit of a roundabout way.

A Sharp Dressed Man by Avelera (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Hermann's latest book needs an author photo. However, when he's given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.

Hermann decides to play along.

What you can expect: gods this fic is so good. It’s the first Newmann fic I ever read, and I’ve reread it a good six times since 2018. I would say more, but I think the fic speaks for itself.

Gestures by Actually_Crowley (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Teen and Up)

Newton finds out what Hermann does with his rare free time, but the discovery leads him to believe that Hermann honestly and unequivocally hates him. 

What you can expect: the rituals are fucking intricate. I love this fic so so so much. And the eventual reveal/confession...scream.

Fate’s Horrifying Ways (also known as: CHRISTMAS GODZILLA) by linearoundmythoughts (Pacific Rim, Newton Geislzer/Hermann Gottlieb, 4k, Teen and Up)

Your name is Newton Geiszler and you’re going to have to break things off with your sort-of online boyfriend because you’re cheating on him. Sort of. [AKA the most dramatic summary of a humorous crackfic ever ok]

Originally written for the Pacrim Secret Santa back in 2014.

What you can expect: first off, it’s not second person, I promise. It is, though, really fucking funny, owing to the misunderstandings that ensue. There’s much pining, some angsting, and, of course, humour.

Letters From Berlin by spenshi (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Newton keeps in touch with his family when he's shipped off to the Shatterdome. Jacob and Illia send care packages to the K-Science Lab. 

What you can expect: Geiszler-family feels. A lot of them. Also, Newt and Hermann slowly growing closer to until they can finally admit they’re into each other.

Wishbone by cypress_tree (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 8k, Teen and Up)

Hermann doesn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting.  Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays. 

What you can expect: fluff, softness, general feel-good fic. It’s really good, and it has Geiszler-family feels. Reading this fic is a bit like drinking hot cocoa on a cold day.

next days by catbeans (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, Teen and Up)

Hermann had never felt an ache quite like this one, and he had felt plenty. He had been running on adrenaline first, and then on the necessity to keep running, pain and bone-deep exhaustion falling to such a low priority that he couldn't even consider it one anymore, and then it had stopped.

(the 18 hour nap date these guys deserve)

What you can expect: Newt and Hermann cuddling. A lot. That’s really it, that’s the fic. It’s 100% indulgent and I love it for that.

Tebori by SkysongMA (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Newt squints. "It's really not a sex thing? 'Cause I'm not opposed to it being a sex thing, mind you. I just don't want to come in the lab tomorrow and not get to throw things at your stupid face."

Hermann lets out an endless, long-suffering sigh. "It's really not a sex thing, Newton, honestly. We hate each other. That's worked out very well for us so far, and it will continue to work out for us in the future." He doesn't mention that they haven't always hated each other and that, at one point in their long relationship, showing up unannounced at Newton's door for the purpose of sexual favors would not have been so far out of the realm of possibility. Had been, in fact, one of those things Hermann had considered late at night long ago, when he couldn't go a week without a fat envelope in the mail full of Newt's ramblings.

But that was quite some time ago, and he means it. They each get more work done than they would ever have separately, even if only because they like to rub their progress in the other's face.

Anyway, admitting anything different would just give Newt ammunition

What you can expect: Newt gives Hermann a tattoo. There’s a lot of feels.

Newt Inherits a Bar by orphan (Pacific Rim and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Not Rated)

The scary part is the bar looks exactly like Newt remembers.

What you can expect: you’ll probably tear up a bit. This one hits pretty hard, honestly, but it’s so, so, so good.

First a Darling, Then a Marvel by isozyme (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 20k, Mature)

Newt runs a simulation given three constraints:

1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju 2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju 3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

What you can expect: a lot of sciencing, a lot of feels, and two repressed idiots. There’s like, a paragraph or two of smut but it’s pretty clear when it’s going to happen so it’s easy to skip, which is great. The tl;dr of this fic is Newt clones some kaiju, Hermann reminds him how fucking horrible of an idea that is, and everything more or less works out in the end.

Tea and Sympathy by osprey_archer (Torchwood, Owen Harper/Ianto Jones, 13k, Teen and Up)

Soon after Jack's disappearance, Owen takes sick. Ianto goes to check on him.

What you can expect: crabby doctors, put-upon Welshmen, and a fuckton of emotions that everyone is trying to ignore. Not particularly happy, but then, when is Torchwood ever? It’s good while it lasts, though.

Pareidolia by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim and The Black Tapes Podcast, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 102k, Mature)

It starts as a profile of paranormal investigator and professional skeptic Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. But it seems the further journalist Newt Geiszler delves into his cases, the more mysterious Dr. Gottlieb becomes. What is he hiding? What is he looking for? What is the truth? What is the difference between a journalist's idea of truth, and a scientist's?

Seeing is not believing. Believing is believing.

What you can expect: suspense, mystery, horror, pining, and apocalypse cults, with a dash of an ambiguous ending. I love this fic so much. I literally would stop what I was doing to read it when I got an alert that there was an update when it was still a work in progress.

Meet Me There Across The Water, And We’ll Start An Endless Storm by Skepticamoeba (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann, an honorably discharged veteran has retired to continue working as a Keeper at a Lighthouse. It is perfectly solitary, and with little in the way for incidents. Newton is the sailor that washes up on the seashore after a summer storm.

[Late 19th century Lighthouse Keeper AU--or the one where Hermann was an aspiring artist whose dreams got a bit derailed, and Newt is the sailor that needs to learn to take his time with things.]

What you can expect: the pining........the intricate rituals............the denial.........*chef’s kiss*

and I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted by Lvslie (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 24k, Teen and Up)

He still smells like Newt; bears traces of his recent nearness. Clothes sleep-wrinkled from the proximity, from the way Newt’s ankle has during the night hooked around the calf of Hermann’s good leg and dragged his whole body seamlessly closer. Cheek half-flushed from the face unconsciously nuzzled his into the side of Hermann’s neck—evidence of his presence, fast asleep, as Hermann lay still and fretful for hours an end, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with wanting.

[An early 20th century AU inspired loosely by Maurice and Age of Innocence.]

What you can expect: wistfulness, pining, repression, denial, lots of feelings. You’ll probably tear up. There’s an achingly happy ending for both of them. This is one of the fics I want a hard copy of so I can mark it up because, fuck, I love it so much.

leave the car running by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 1k, Teen and Up)

It is clear that, after everything, Newt doesn't like to be touched. 

What you can expect: touch starvation, mutual pining, Newt finally getting the human contact he deserves. I wrote my own version of this since it was initially a prompt, but quite frankly, I like Newton’s version better because it hits.

The Man Who Invented Sherlock Holmes by Calais_Reno (Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, 15k, Teen and Up)

John Watson, struggling young doctor, doomed to live an ordinary life, dreams of writing detective fiction. If he can just figure out his hero's name, the story will practically write itself.

What you can expect: Watson sort of, kind of, maybe invents a man into being. Oops. I haven’t read this one in a while but I remember it being quite a lot of fun. There’s elements of what I would say is probably magical realism, but it’s never quite clear.

Newton Isn’t Dead by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb and Vanessa Gottlieb/Karla Gottlieb, 32k, Mature)

Newton Geiszler is currently being possessed by a genocidal alien race known as the Precursors. They’ve taken over his body, leaving him a prisoner in his own mind. However, Newt has a totally awesome plan. He’s going to make a deal with them: let him prove that Earth is worth saving, and if he can’t do that, they can have his body. But convincing a hivemind full of mega-colonizers that one blue planet can be wonderful isn’t going to be easy. He’s going to need the help of his kind-of-ex Hermann, his best friend Vanessa, and one awesome Footloose remake to pull this off.

So, naturally, they go on a road trip.

What you can expect: pining, world-saving, eventual confessions and happy endings. I had the great honour of reading the chapters before they were published, and this fic is one of my top five favourite fics. There were multiple points where I yelled, both literally (quietly) and through text (slightly less quietly).

it takes time, but time moves slow by prettydizzeed (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 2k, Teen and Up)

Hermann conducts a cost-benefit analysis every class period of sitting in the back of the lecture hall versus walking down the stairs to the front. He wishes he had hard data for this, to get some actual statistics, and perhaps after a while, if he records his pain level and his ability to read the board and pay attention after each class, he will be able to predict the outcomes given either choice on a particular day.

Two curves, traveling in opposite directions, inversely proportional: pain goes up, concentration goes down. It’s comforting, somewhat, to make it a numbers game. Impersonal. Absolute. Not a tragedy, and not his doing, only his to interpret, a smudged scrawl across his left knee in an unfamiliar handwriting, his to analyze, to decrypt.

What you can expect: the fic may only be 2k, but it will leave you feeling like you were punched. It’s fantastic.

I Could Be Jew-ish For You by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 10k, Teen and Up)

When Hermann agrees to spend Chanukah with his family in an attempt to wheedle some desperately-needed funding out of his father, Newt insists that he shouldn’t face Lars alone and tags along as his “emotional support family rage distraction”. What they fail to realize are two things: 1. When Hermann brings Newt with him to the festivities, assumptions will be made, and 2. Newt may be half-Jewish, but he sure wasn’t raised as one. 

What to expect: fake dating fake dating fake dating— (can you tell I have a favourite trope?) In which Newt is Jew-ish, Hermann is both exasperated and pining, Lars is disliked, and we all get the Jewish romcom we deserve.

It Was Love At Second Sight by rednights (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann receives the first letter when he is eighteen years old.

or: Kaiju don't attack the Earth, but Hermann and Newt still write letters, botch their first meeting, and fall in love, not necessarily in that order.

What you can expect: feels. So many fucking feels. There’s no kaiju but that doesn’t mean you won’t be on the edge of your seat.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite (The Magnus Archives, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, 15k, Teen and Up)

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

What you can expect: tenderness, domesticity, and love. The perfect trifecta.

the truth about me (and the truth about me) by danimagus (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Teen and Up)

Newton suffers from a bout of memory loss and is told Hermann is his fiancé.

Hermann plays along, to his endless shame.

What you can expect: two words: fake dating. Gods, I love this fic, as Mary can attest from how I unceremoniously started screaming at her about it in her tumblr messages the day of/after it was published. This fic is great because it subverts the trope a bit, and thus avoids issues of consent that may otherwise have occured.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by thekaidonovskys (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 13k, General Audiences)

“Your eyes. Your expression. Your smile. I’ve worked with you for ten years, Hermann, and words have never been our primary method of communication.” 

What you can expect: to be knocked the fuck out emotionally. This one hits pretty hard, and that’s what makes it so good.

Transducer by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 85k, Teen and Up)

“I need you to hide something for me.”

“Oh, excellent. Of course, Newton, please allow me to jeopardize my career. And yours as well. My pleasure. Do go on.”

“Yeesh, relax,” said Newton. “It’s a personal thing, not a work thing.”

“As if there is any division between the two,” Hermann snapped.

If only you knew, Newt thought.

What you can expect: intruigue, alien tech, light espionage. This fic will have your little nerd heart beating double-time. It’s very very good.

A Really Private Person by astolat (Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, 18k, Mature)

The end of the world started on a Wednesday in March. 

What you can expect: badassery on Finch’s part. One of the few fics I have bookmarked for this fandom, and it’s bookmarked for good reason.

Party For Two by ProblemWithTrouble (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 18k, General Audiences)

 “My mother’s parents have a home in the Black Forest that has a guest house. They’ve often allowed me to stay there when I could spare the time.” Hermann looked distant as if he were remembering something; the warmth of a fire and a nice book and the smell of freshly made tea. “It will be quiet, and possibly too boring for you-”

 “It won’t be. I could use some quiet after the decade we’ve had. I could actually compile my research. And sleep. It sounds amazing.”

After the world doesn't end Newt and Hermann take a vacation together to live in a cabin and finally relax, as friends. Cue the pining, the longing, and the living together as best friends.

What you can expect: a fic that will wrap you up like a warm blanket. Mutual pining, vacationing together in a cabin, lots of feels—what more can you want?

Dream Drifting by MooseLane (Pacific Rim and Inception, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, General Audiences)

"You're running an extraction on that spastic PPDC biologist, is what I hear." Chau fixes him with a side-eye. "I know I wouldn't want to go poking around in that little bastard's head."

(There are not enough Inception x Pacific Rim crossover fics, so I decided to change that.)

What you can expect: Inception meets Pacific Rim. There’s no other way to say it, really.

I’ve Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy In New York) by gyzym (Inception, Arthur/Eames, 19k, Teen and Up)

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte. 

What to expect: Arthur is stressed, Eames runs a coffee shop, and, through the power of friendship and a lot of stress-baking, everything works out happily for our intrepid protagonist.

Kalimat/كلمات  by rainbowagnes (The Old Guard, Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicolò di Genova, 3k, Teen and Up)

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic. 

What you can expect: if you, like me, are, especially natively, multilingual, this might hit the sweet spot of Language Feels. It did for me. Also, Joe calling Nicky hayati? Yeah.

i never liked that ending either by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 15k, Mature)

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?    - Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

Once upon a time Dr. Flick Tucker, K-Sci head of Biology, fought a bunch of highly scientific dragons to save the world. Then, they took over her life. It didn’t end well.

Once upon our time Dr. Newt Geiszler, marine biologist, sci-fi aficionado, and accidental discoverer of dimensional travel, got a chance to take her place. He has a couple of ideas.

In which Uprising is still a bad movie, musings on the nature of choice and personal autonomy are made, and somewhere, probably, a coin is showing heads every time.

What you can expect: everything’s fine this is a perfectly normal fic come here i want to cause you as much emotional damage as I can

Not Allowed by acedott (BBC Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 1k, General Audiences)

Gwen has been dealing with self-imposed touch starvation since she was a child. Morgana sets out to challenge this. 

What you can expect: gays. Pining. Touch starvation. Need I say more?

Rocky Horror Pancake Show by ChuckleVoodoos (Daredevil, Matt Murdock/Franklin “Foggy” Nelson, 19k, Teen and Up)

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

What you can expect: Ground-hog Day style time-loop, lots of fluff, and a happy ending.

Ain’t No Nancy Kerrigan by cleverqueen (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, 13k, Teen and Up)

It's 1994, and young Lisa Snart's jumps aren't strong enough for an Olympic singles skater. Thankfully, her older brother has an athletic friend who can match her in pairs.

Mick Rory is hopelessly in love with Leonard Snart, though he'd never say anything about it, so he jumps at a chance to do Len's little sister a favor. If he's patient and works hard, maybe he'll even get to skate with her older brother.

What you can expect: pining, ice-skating, and general goodness. It’s fun, it’s funny, and it has a happy ending.

[arpmemething2]

Sherlock starter sentences

Send one for my muse’s reaction

"I wrote my own version of the Nativity when I was a child, "The Hungry Donkey". It was a bit gory, but if you're going to put a baby in a manger you're asking for trouble."

"I was just playing the game."

"I can't make bricks without clay."

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometime I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?"

"You were thinking.  It's annoying."

"Oh, hell! What does that matter? So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn’t make any difference."

"Not important? It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?"

"I'm not a hero, I'm a high-functioning sociopath!  Merry Christmas!"

"What's the point in being clever if you can't prove it?"

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?"

"There was once a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for there he was sure Death could not find him. But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. “Very well,” said the merchant. “I give in. I am yours. But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?”, “Because,” said Death, “I had an appointment with you tonight – in Samarra.”"

"And we're having quite a lot of sex."

"You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life; you have a past."

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

"I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But you see, body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions... grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Look, this is a six. There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed. Now go back, show me the grass."

"What a couple of lightweights! You couldn’t even make it to closing time!"

"She provides, shall we say, "recreational scolding" to those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it."

"Sex doesn't alarm me."

"No idea why people think you’re incapable of human emotion."

"Careful! Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!"

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

"Down girl."

"Don't talk out loud.  You lower the IQ of the whole street."

"That's not what people normally say."

"Should I answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

"I've got a better question: is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

"Kill you? Um, no. Don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no no, if you don't stop prying... I'll burn you. I will burn... the heart out of you."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories."

"You think he lost a lot of money? Suicide is common among city boys."

"He will outlive God trying to have the last word."

"Listen, what I said before, I meant it. I don't have friends; I've just got one."

"I'm not dead.  Let's have dinner."

"So he'll have to make a speech in front of people. There will be actual people there actually listening."

"Don't make people into heroes. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

"Stop talking, it makes me aware of your existence."

"This is my game face.  And the game is on."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels... but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

"We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

“Do you always carry handcuffs?”

"When I say run … run!"

"He’s planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No, better than that – posthumous game."

"Intuitions are not to be ignored. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend."

"You can't arrest a jellyfish."

"Brainy is the new sexy."

"Taking your own life. Interesting expression - taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it."

"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"So what if there are right? They are always right, it's boring."

"We all have a past. Ghosts. They are the shadows that define our every sunny day."

"Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

"Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed."

"It's not a pleasant thought. I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human."

"Friends protect people."

I'm not implying anything. I'm sure she came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

"The universe is rarely so lazy."

"Everybody dies. It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do."

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call"

"Really hope you don't have a baby in here."

"How did he recognize her from.. not her face?"

"I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology."

"I always hear "punch me in the face" when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext."

"People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned."

"We've got a serial killer on our hands. Love those, there's always something to look forward to."

"Dear God.  What is it like in your funny little brains?  It must be so boring."

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"To a great mind, nothing is little."

"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape."

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."

"Pass me your revolver. I have a sudden need to use it."

"No, no, NO! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

"Dear Lord, I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost...!"

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me.…"

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy, twice"

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought that no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."

"Does yours rub off too?"

"I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket!"

"Get out.  I need to go to my mind palace."

"The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable. As inevitable as mathematics."

"You should put that on a t-shirt."

"I'm soooo changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

"Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain. You need me or you're nothing — because we're just alike, you and I. Except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels."

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

"None of the cabs would take me."

"Also, your loss would break my heart."

"I can open any door, anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. All are mine. No such thing as secrecy. I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey, you should see me in a crown."

"And you read my writing upside down. You see what I mean?"

"London. It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it’s not a question of who, it’s a question of who knows."

"You've gone all croaky, you getting a cold?"

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage"

"I hope you'll be very happy. You deserve it. After all, not all people you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths."

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

"...Murder. Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead."

"That's clever.  Is it clever?  Why is it clever?"

"Interesting thing a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters."

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am... would you still want to help me?"

[fandomflail]

title: Recognition (8/9)

rating: M

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: i should be wary of promising exact dates as I have a habit of running the edit brush over and over again until i finally reach a point where i can edit no more. and still, the length of this chapter is monstrous. there will be another chapter, as giving myself an additional chapter before the end has allowed me to share more of the world with you. i hope you dont hate me for it. 

also on AO3

_____________________________

CHAPTER 8: Reveal

Killian kissed Emma fiercely, before he, Liam and Elsa sped off. Killian had left Emma with the keys to his home, and it had been hours now since they’d left. She had little word from him and was doing her best to not worry.

Jefferson had regressed, and was now quietly speaking on the communicator to someone she couldn’t see. Belle had taken the opportunity to tutor the kids in History, walking them through the royal lineage.

Emma joined them after she had cleaned the penthouse, thankful for the sore in her muscles as a lot of the anxious energy had been burned off. Despite the fact that Henry kept interrupting Belle with questions, the Head of the B.E.A.S.T was patient and kind in answering them.

She faltered however, when Gracie suddenly asked, “All the kings and queens mentioned have had long lives. And the ones who have died early, like King Brennan, has been a result of foul play. Was he assassinated?”

Belle looked uncomfortable, tossing a glance at Jefferson who paid them no mind. “Well, it’s too early to say, isn’t it? And that’s a rather… well, it could have been mind maladies, an accident, anything. We can’t know for sure. Why jump to that as the first explanation?”

The girl pursed her lips. Emma watched her, the look on her face was so like her father’s it was uncanny. “Papa may have…” her eyes darted to her father who was still in conversation, “he may have alluded that the Queen…” she trailed off, losing her nerve.

“But why?” Emma asked, jumping into the conversation. Her one and only interaction with the Queen Consort had been highly unpleasant, to say the least, but she stood to gain nothing from a dead king, “Liam’s next in line.”

Gracie, Henry and Belle shook their heads in tandem. “That’s not how it works.”

“But he’s the first born son!” She defended.

Her outburst must have caught Jefferson’s attention, because he interjected, “The way the rule works is that, the next ruler must be chosen by the previous.” He clicked off the communicator, joining their side of the room, “Now of course, Kings have long since just ‘chosen’ their children, thus making it a blood lineage, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“That’s right, and precedence was set thousand of years before the Landing of the First Men, during the rule of King Sanfant, who died young and childless. Queen Elligent became the automatic ruler, and re-married. Her daughter would inherit the throne.” Belle recited, as if she could see the book in front of her. “I think there was opposition to automatic inheritance, which led to the formation of the 13,” Belle finished, her tone unsure as she looked to Jefferson, who nodded to confirm her statement.

“But if the ruler was assassinated or died without naming a successor…” Jefferson said, his tone flat, “then the Council would be forced to ascend from their lofty abodes in Irska and decide. Of the 13, most favor Prince William as he spent a long time in Irska. He would most likely take the throne given that he is well liked and has been cultivated as a ruler since he was knee high. However, that appointment won’t come without politics.”  

“You seemed to know this with a certainty…” Emma remarked, watching Jefferson closely. It was imperceptible, but she saw that slight change of expression that told her he hadn’t meant to reveal his depth of knowledge on the matter. Emma realized then that she didn’t actually know what Jefferson did. He kept a remarkably low profile, had little relationships with other elves that she knew of (courtesy of Henry through Gracie) and was really more secretive than was warranted.

Jefferson seemed rigid as he shrugged his shoulder in nonchalance. Emma caught Gracie watching her father critically, validating Emma’s thoughts. “It’s common knowledge,” he said, “just like how one of the barriers for Prince William’s appointment will be whether or not he intends to pass the line to Prince Killian or his own children.”

It may have been an attempt to distract her, but Emma couldn’t help the question, ���Why wouldn’t they want Killian to take the throne?”

“I don’t think they like him, mum,” Henry said with an expression that said he severely disagreed with that.

“But why?”

Jefferson sighed, rubbing his neck. “You do remember what I told you all those months ago at the Open Court? That he had eschewed his elven responsibilities and all but left to be human?”

She nodded. Killian had shared with her why he had left, and what he had done in that time.

“It’s a great insult,” Gracie said, nodding sagely.

“There’s 3 books about the incident,” Belle said, squinting her eyes like she was looking through book catalogues in her memory.

“It was big, when it happened. Mostly because of how he did it.The insult to pride has not abated, no matter how nice they play now. I can almost guarantee that one of the conditions of Prince William’s ascension will be that the line will never pass through Prince Killian or any of his progeny.”

Emma felt a wave of rage at the injustice of that, despite the fact that they had not discussed children. Heck, they hadn’t even really discussed their own future! She was also pretty sure Killian had no desire to rule. It was just… the principle of it.

“And Liam will agree to that condition?”

Jefferson scoffed. “Easily. He would not take likely to anyone insulting his family’s honor, but even he would easily agree to such a term. That’s not what will tip the scales.”

“What, then?” Belle asked.

Jefferson sighed, his eyes glancing at them and around the room, as if deciding how much to tell them, and what. His eyes landed on the closed doors, on the eagerly awaiting faces, and when his eyes caught Emma’s, he sighed.

“Understand,” he said in a voice lower than usual, “that what you’re about to hear would be… problematic, to say the least, if repeated elsewhere. Consider perhaps, that some may be hearsay, or completely invalidated.”

“We understand the disclaimer, Papa” Gracie said, sounding impatient.

He sighed again. Emma too, was feeling impatient.

And then, it was like a damn burst.

“The Queen has a rather interesting history, one surprisingly that even escaped the Sukrasa. She’s reinvented herself of sorts. It’s a long story, but she’s from a kingdom far, far, far away. There’s rumored to be a band of elves in the vast desert systems of the Orken, and as no one really knows how to find them or has had much contact with them over literal millennia; most people consider them mythical.”

“They are real?” Belle asks, sounding like someone just told her she’d won a million Glyd. Emma’s sort of glad to see that Henry and Gracie both look as confused as she personally feels.

“It appears so. Her Highness Coraline, though she was nothing but a maiden named Kara then, was… exiled. She was no older than 14 I hear, though I cannot be certain of her age when it happened. It seems she murdered someone, again unverified, or at the least, benefited from the death of some high ranking person in their society. In any case, they sent her to live in a cavern below their systems. Intel implies a deeper level of cave system. In any case, she must have escaped sometime later, though she did so with a baby in her belly.”

“Wait, what? What does this have to do with Liam? How do you know this?” Emma interrupted, incredulous.  

Jefferson held up a hand, as if to say, be patient. He eyed Henry and Gracie, as if regretting that they were hearing this, but must have surmised it was too late now, as he continued, “She made her way to a settlement somewhere on the borders of Snoland and Nysno, where it was said the child passed during birth - that a decision had to be made so she chose to live. Fashioned a completely new identity there, became a key strategist in Snoland, was recommended to serve in Irska, where she met the widowed King Brennan, and is now as we know, Queen Coraline.”

Emma had more questions than ever.

“The child, didn’t in fact pass. In fact, the child has grown up to be a very powerful alchemist. Unfortunately, she has taken after her mother in both ambition and ruthlessness. You see, two months ago, my network, don’t ask who or how, received intel about this elf, about 350 years in age, who had set sights on Irska. Not uncommon, to be fair, except that her brand of alchemy dealt strongly in dangerous arts, poisons and services of revenge, both petty and malicious. This was all hush hush. On the surface, she did plenty of healing art too. But then one of the agents had a hunch, and a good thing too, for he tracked her, got close to her, and found out all that I’ve relayed to you now. Her name is Zelena, beautiful, red haired, and fair skin. She’s already in Irska, and she knows whose daughter she is. What we don’t know is if she’s confronted her mother, or worst, is scheming with Coraline to ingratiate herself for the crown. She’s first born. Then of course, you have Coraline’s own child, Princess Regina, who the crown would most certainly pass to if The 13 instate the Queen as Regent.”

“Oh shit,” said Henry. 

“Henry, language!”

“So if I understand,” Belle said haltingly, “if King Brennan didn’t bequeath the crown to Prince Liam, then The Council of Elders will be called to decide if the crown goes to him or Queen Coraline. If the crown goes to Queen Coraline, then she will later give it to Princess Regina, provided her alleged first born Zelena, doesn’t come in to demand her rights. Did I get it right?”

“Does Regina know about her sister? Or Coraline know about her daughter?”

“Yes,” said Jefferson pointing to Belle, and “No, I don’t think so, and not sure, we don’t know if she’s confronted her,” he said, answering Emma’s questions.

“This is ludicrous, Papa. Is this true?”

“If Zelena is to be believed. But regardless of whether or not Coraline’s past is true - perhaps she herself made up the rumor about Orken for intrigue -  the present remains that the King was, most likely, intentionally disposed. And if so, then it must be because the stars have aligned themselves for some nefarious plan that one, or both of them, are cooking up.”

“Then Killian is in danger. And Liam, and Elsa.” Emma breathed out. “Wait, why the hell haven’t you told anyone this?!?” She demanded, rounding on Jefferson.

He gave her a long hard look. “The ones who have needed to be informed have been. But clearly, they have failed. I don’t know who has been compromised.”

“The Sukrasa?” Belle asked.

“Were aware. It remains to be seen if they failed or were… compromised.”

“But they have a code,” Emma said unthinkingly, remembering that night at the ball.

“Yes, a code,” Jefferson said impatiently, “but morality is separate. It would not be disloyal to follow Queen Coraline’s orders, especially if they didn’t—-“

He stopped, looking like he had just figured something out.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Papa, you’ve lost colour.”

“Belle, I need you to stay here, lock the doors, and keep the children safe. Can I count on you?”

“What is it?” Emma pressed, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.

Henry and Gracie protested immediately, but Belle’s voice was the firmest Emma had ever heard it. “Yes, we won’t move. They will be safe.”

Jefferson turned to her, something blazing in his eyes. “We need to go, now.”

Emma had a million questions, but there was something there that told her she could ask it on the way. She trusted Jefferson, despite the evidence suggesting she shouldn’t. She nodded, and went to Henry, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this drama, kid,” she whispered into his hair.

He laughed, despite the worry she felt radiating from him. “Are you kidding, I’m living in a movie. Just,” he inhaled sharply, “just be safe, mum, please.”

“Of course. I love you,” she said, feeling warm when he responded in kind.

She kissed him on the forehead, touched Gracie’s forearm gently, thanked Belle who waved her off, and went with Jefferson.

The dizzying emotions kept her quiet as she warred with the side of her that screamed I told you so!, I told you he’d be nothing but bad news, which she knew objectively was untrue, but also sort of true - getting mixed up in whatever political intrigue was happening was way above Emma’s comprehension and interest. But she also knew that she’d go to the fiery pits of Anbar for him; she loved him, whether or not she was ready to say it.

She had so many questions that figuring what to ask first kept her quiet, and the urge to just show up to the palace and … punch, or kick or just slap the Queen was making her skin itch. This inaction was making her antsy.

Jefferson too, seemed preoccupied. He was fiddling with his communicator, clearly processing a million different things at once. It wasn’t until they were safely tucked in his pod and their harnesses buckled did Emma speak. So did Jefferson.

“I know you must be wondering—“

“What the hell is going on—“

The pod was moving at full speed; Jefferson was masterfully guiding the craft towards the borders of Alamané on the other side of the river.

“There’s too much to tell you, so here’s what you must know. If, if the Sukrasa are executing orders from the Queen, it means that her actions or promised outcomes are likely to be for the better of the realm.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Maybe so… but she’s smart, and plays the game of politics for more masterfully than the King, or the two princes. One King dying of young age is suspect enough, but two princes? No, they are not in immediate danger - unless they threaten to expose her. How likely is that?”

“If Killian or Liam thinks their father has been murdered—“

“Exactly. Until this moment, the Zelena connection has been tenuous at best. Despite the intel, there was no actual proof, no evidence to suggest the entire story was true. I’ve met both Zelena and Regina; very similar in temperament, both… unpleasant, but  smart. Also quick to anger, and impatient. Where Coraline would play games for centuries, Zelena finds waiting to be strenuous. About 7 minutes ago, confirmation has come through that the King was indeed poisoned.”

“Fuck them,” Emma said, hating the she-elves the more she learned about them. “Of the three, who do we need to worry more about now?”

“Coraline, Zelena, Regina, in that order,” he said, without a moment of hesitation.

“Oh shit,” Jefferson exclaimed suddenly.

“What? What?”

“We’re almost at the border into the Ekilon Forest, where the first checkpoint is.”

Emma had never been there, but she understood.

“Oh,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks unbidden, “I actually… I have right of way.”

“What? How?”

Emma pulled out the chain she never took off, the one that kept Killian’s ring by her skin at all times. She dangled the ring, and the pod swerved slightly to the right as Jefferson reacted to the sight.

The ring Killian had given her was no mere ring. It was delicately crafted, and the official signet ring of Killian Aearinön. At the time, she hadn’t understood the full significance of the gesture, as he’d merely told her that it would allow her to find him, always. Only later had he explained that someone who carried that ring could march right up to the throne room in Irska itself and not be stopped, for it was their right and honor. Each royal had only one to give away, and she had his.

She had wondered if anyone would actually believe that it was a real signet ring. He had licked her cheek, making her laugh and smack him in protest. Then he told her lovingly, that it was made from pure Innenfra which had made her gasp into silence. It was a type of metal that when worn for long periods of time, made elf blood sing, providing harmony to the body. Most elves wore some type of Innenfra, mostly just as a small earring like Jefferson did, as it was rare and terribly expensive. A whole ring was royal indeed.

“Wow,” Jefferson said, “well, that solves one problem at least. Though perhaps not as inconspicuous as I hoped.”

They arrived at the checkpoint, and Emma gave her name, doing her best to remain plain even as she showed them the signet ring. She could see the arch of brow at that, but they did not question her further, allowing their pod to pass through unencumbered. Their mood was not sombre as she thought it would be, they seemed  to be mostly unaffected, as if they hadn’t heard about the death of their king.

“Are these elves loyal to Killian’s family? They don’t seem like they’re mourning.”

“Mourning is what we reserve for the tragic loss, like that of a child. A mother’s death is a warrior’s mourn, for she died in the most noble of battles. And as for King Brennan… no one knows about the murder yet. For that, there shall be anger, and a swift retribution.  But common deaths? Oh, we celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“We live longer lives than you, ah I mean to say, humans, and so we do not fear death as much as humans, only a life left unfulfilled.”

“So, Cora?”

“There’s more questions than answers. But I have a theory if you will, and it goes as follows. Once the King is disposed, the sons must be discredited. Of the two, Prince Killian would be the easiest to lay blame on. If he is found somehow responsible for the death of his father, that casts aspersions to the whole lot of them. Prince William will be expected to sentence Prince Killian to death, which he would not do, mostly because he will not believe his brother to be conspirator, no matter who accuses Killian as the mastermind. Queen Coraline however, as broken hearted as she will appear to be, will of course avenge her husband. Once her mother is in position, Zelena will appear suddenly, taking credit for setting the whole thing up, if she hasn’t already.”

A sudden, sinking feeling settled in Emma stomach. One that had been building since  earlier that day, one that had been growing in the pit of her stomach but she had ignored in favor of other pressing matters.

“This is your best theory?”

They were speeding through Ekilon; she could see the next checkpoint into Irska itself, with its glittering castle not too far in the distance. She needed to play this right.

“I told you, I’ve met Zelena. And Regina.”

“Very well met then, to make such accurate predictions?” She asked more sharply than intended. Cool down, Emma, almost there.

She was looking straight ahead, but she could feel the weight of his stare on her as he glanced her way.

“Enough to know that this is the play she’d make, rather than attack directly.”

“How do you suppose she’s getting information?”

She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, his face remained impassive, though his left hand twitched imperceptibly on the control - she would have missed it if she had blinked.

“Her mother, most likely. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“Right.”

Clearly, she was terrible at subtlety, because Jefferson, for the first time since she’d known him, growled irritated.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re not being subtle, Emma!”

“Fine! Are you working for the Queen? Zelena? Or Regina?”

“You have a lot of nerve asking that,” Jefferson said, voice turning dangerous. Emma balled her fists, ready to swing if it came to that.

“Answer the question.”

He huffed, and the pod jerked, accelerating forward faster. He swerved off the main path into a smaller one off to the right, and stopped suddenly at an alcove.

“Jefferson!” Her hand jumped to the handle.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said angrily, “I’m not working for them… anymore.”

“WHAT?”

He had his hands in his hair, gripping it tightly. He looked absolutely mad. Emma had no idea how everything had unravelled so quickly, but she had her balisong in her left hand, ready to be flipped out to become a dangerous blade if needed.

“Look, we really don’t have time for this. But here’s the short of it. I worked for Zelena, before I knew all of her connections. I’m the one who basically… connected the dots of her family line, led her to her mother, so to speak.”

“You said you only found out about her a month ago!”

“I didn’t lie, though there might have been omission,” he admitted.

Emma cursed at him, but he ignored her and went on, “I worked with her on something, unrelated, and we found out her heritage almost by chance. In any case, she wanted me to do…more, threatening Gracie, who was a mere babe at the time; I refused. Needless to say, I disappeared, moved to Alamané. When we found out about an unknown alchemist, and Gr—my partner did digging into it. It’s when pieces started to fall into place. My partner has been very close to Zelena, and we’ve had nothing further to act on since then.”

“Jævla deg,” she cursed at him.

Despite looking frazzled, he laughed. “Prince Killian is teaching you the good stuff, I see.”

“Jefferson, I thought we were…” she faltered, the word friend dying on her lips because they weren’t quite that.

“I mean you no harm, Emma. Truly. But we need to get to the place now. One, to make sure in anger that neither prince jeopardizes their claim to the throne by unwise actions, and two, Zelena is on her way to the castle. She knows something, she had some kind of leverage, and my partner believes he knows what it is.”

“Which is?”

With a deep breath, as if he too were wishing this was true, “The last letter of King Brennan Blåoyne, which states indubitably that he intends for the crown to pass to Prince William. It’s not quite the official bequeathing ceremony per say, but it should be enough to convince The 13 of the will of the king. They would lose face and cast aspersions to their character if they went with Queen Coraline after that, unless of course her reward was more enticing than we could imagine.” He begin moving the pod back in the proper direction of Irska.

“I can imagine an awful lot,” Emma said, annoyed.

“Yes,”  Jefferson agreed, saying nothing more.

The rest of the ride was in silence, as Emma, despite her anxiety, irritation and feelings of betrayal, could not help but be awed as the pod moved into Irska. The forest gave way to a valley, with a clear river flowing off to their right. It was the same side where a tall mountain cliff stood strong, and a thick jet of water sprung from its top, rushing down to the river below.

The architecture was so very different from the clean industrial designs of Alamané. Irska was a city built into nature, with buildings carved into the mountain side, wood, stone and marble; and roads paved to curve around the trees. The energy was ancient, and it showed in the intricacies of design; elves of old had plenty of time to dedicate their lives to a small area of mastery, and so the attention to detail was magnificent, even from the little that she could see.

Damn, Emma thought, no wonder elves are so uptight about preserving this.

Ruby would have been pissed to hear her thoughts, but Emma wasn’t thinking of that.

* * *

The security around the castle was heightened, but The Sukrasa gave her no resistance as she showed Killian’s ring. It wasn’t until she was at the front doors itself was her movement given pause.

The tall elf standing straight near the doors wore a bright white uniform, his skin sun-kissed and his arms muscled. He was a person of authority, and wasn’t used to having it questioned.

“You’re the Lady Emma?” The elf asked. He wasn’t eyeing her with distaste, exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either.

“I don’t know about Lady…but I’m Emma, yes.”

“Vi må se prinsen, voktere,” Jefferson said, giving the elf a short bow.

The elf answered in their language, clearly giving Jefferson a set of strict directions. Emma opened her mouth to ask, but the elf turned to her. “My name is Robin, Kjærlighet.”

“Char-lie-et?”

“It’s the title of royal paramours.”

Emma felt her face heating - being labelled a paramour seemed so clandestine.

“His Highness, Prince Killian has been alerted of your presence. He awaits you. Adel Jefferson, you may —“

“I will accompany Kjærlighet Emma.”

Robin’s face soured. He gave Jefferson a severe look before he said, “If she would allow it.”

“Uh,” Emma said, taken off guard. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him exactly. He couldn’t be trusted for one, especially since he seemed to be keeping everyone on an information diet. But she could often tell when someone was lying, and he wasn’t… she didn’t think he was being malicious. But she wasn’t sure, either.

“Okay, yeah, he can come.”

“As you wish,” Robin said, turning heel with the air of someone who expected they would follow.

So they did.

* * *

When she saw him, she rushed into his arms without even thinking about it.

“Killian!”

“Emma,” Killian laughed in surprise, “it’s only been a couple of hours.”

“A hell couple of hours,” she muttered, to which he agreed by kissing her on the side of her head.

“Highness,” Jefferson said, his tone indicating whatever he had to say was going to be about the matter at hand, “I have some news. Is this a safe place to talk?”

“Is anywhere in this place safe from prying ears? But I reckon Liam is going to want to hear whatever you have to say,” Killian said, his body straightening against hers as if preparing to fight.

They gathered in a small room, with Liam looking troubled and Elsa with a frown marring her features.

“You seem to be a little too informed, lytting” Liam said, watching Jefferson suspiciously after the elf had told them what he had told Emma in the pod. Killian had only just avoided decking him in the face.

Jefferson shrugged, “In any case, that’s the start of it. There were traces of Marjaga in his late highness’ blood.”

A sharp intake was heard, and Liam slammed his hand on the table. The name Jefferson mentioned niggled at a memory, but she couldn’t place it. More importantly, it seemed that they hadn’t known about the king’s cause of death.

“I knew it,” Killian hissed. “Damn snake.” He increased his pacing, looking like a scorpion ready to sting. Emma remained perched where she was, looking away from him as his pacing made her queasy.

Elsa stood up suddenly. “I’ve seen her. I’ve seen her.”

“Who? Zelena?”

“Yes! She’s the healer they sent for Voktere Walsh when he was injured from his fall a few weeks ago. Beautiful redhead, he seemed to forget his pain when she was tending to him.”

“Whose security detail is Voktere Walsh on?” Jefferson asked.

Elsa shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I only saw everything from a distance.” She turned to her husband, asking without words if he did. Liam shook his head.

“Okay, so she’s in the palace. A Sukrara may have a a soft spot for her, making him easily manipulatable. By the time the royal coroner gets the full test, the Marjaga might be undetectable. The 13 should be arriving within the hour to convene.”

“Why should we trust you?” Liam interrupted, his body language reminding Emma of a wild animal about to spring.

“Because I have information, and you have whatever they tell you. And because, it is in my best interests that the throne does not pass to the Queen or her brats.”

Killian and Liam had been looking at each other every time Jefferson let loose another nugget of information, glancing at one another as if able to communicate by eyes alone. Maybe it was a sibling thing.

“I would like to skin her alive. And I’m surprised Killian has shown restraint thus far in not rushing out. But we must not loose our heads or our upper hand. Your partner,” Liam said, getting up and walking to Jefferson, “is he still in position?”

“Yes,” Jefferson confirmed, “though if we want him to… incapacitate Zelena, we would have one shot of it.”

“And what about dear stepmum?” Killian asked, every syllable dripping with venom.

For the first time since Liam had hugged her hello, he smiled. “I took care of that actually. We didn’t want her to be… distraught, see, so I gently suggested to her maiden that she be given strong dose of a magnolia bark, valerian and blue skullcap mixture.”

“What do those do?” Emma asked.

It was Elsa who answered. “Put one in a deep, deep, deep sleep. Oh, and I might have suggested a bit of chloroformius orchids, just to make sure she stays really relaxed.”

Emma stared in Elsa in surprise while Killian let out a whoop and clap. “Well done!”

“So that leaves Zelena and Regina.”

“Regina just left the palace in Snoland about an hour ago, it will take her at least two days to get here.”

“How do you know these things?!” Killian asked Jefferson.

“Can’t you trust that I do?”

“No,” Emma snapped.

“Fine. Your accusation was right, Highness,” he said looking at Liam, “I’m a lytting, though I’m sure when you called me that it was an insult. I served as the second in command to the Master of Whispers in Snoland, before the Snowdrop Wars, under the command of Queen Eva. The networks I built there reached Irska, and many of those relationships are active, even though I no longer serve the house that sits there. As you know, Princess Regina married King Leopold and she’s not who I wished to serve. If she succeeds in bearing him a blood heir since his first daughter’s family was killed in the Snowdrop Wars, and her mother bequeaths her Irska, then they become a powerful line indeed. And I’m not ready for the abuse of power that would follow. There, you now know my motivations, is this enough?”

* * *

As Emma walked to the dais where the dead king lay, she took a moment to reflect the insanity her life had become. She was now dressed in a dark blue dress of Elsa’s that was suitable for the occasion; it was a party after all. Elves left and right were high in spirits, regaling tales of the late king, surely embellishing details about how big the monster was, or how clever the foe.

It seemed Liam and Killian were showing the kind of restraint and strategy she thought went against their very nature, two whirlwinds of emotions now having to temper their anger for the bigger picture. There was a greater plot at play, and Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to know it all. The Sukrasa Jefferson had warned, the informant in the palace, was no where to be found, suggesting another brand of foul play that may have resulted in the death of the king.

They had sent a trusted maiden to collect all of the Queen’s notes from her study, anything to link her to a plot. Jefferson’s partner was busy collecting and recording indisputable evidence that Zelena was part of it too. Liam had been summoned to The 13’s chambers. It seemed like a great wheel was spinning and the pieces would soon fall, once the blue smoke rose from The 13’s fire which would indicate a chosen ruler.

Emma reached the top of the dais, Killian holding her waist gently.

She stared down at the face of King Brennan, whose face had sunken in from the water loss. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked like he was dead.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your father,” she said finally.

“I’m more sorry that Liam has to take his throne this way.”

“Killian…”

“He wasn’t much of a father, to be honest. Vengeance will be mine, on his behalf, but I’m more sorry for all the trouble this is causing than anything else. I’m tired, Emma. It’s why I left. The title of a prince means little. We honor it and traditions because without it, elves are little else. Stuck in the past, averse to change. For what? So we can delude ourselves with grandeur and importance? I’ve paid my respects, let’s just go.”

He turned, but Emma stopped. She had just realized something.

“Killian, there’s ink on his hands.”

“What?” He turned back. “That’s not possible, they clean and dress bodies to ensure they keep for the Death Day Celebration.”

“Well, yes, but look at his fingernails. Look at the pad of that finger there.”

King Brennan’s nail bed had ink on them. Dark blue ink that could easily be mistaken as discoloration. There was a tinge of Aurum ink on his right index finger, and on his signet ring. Barely there, but now that she was looking, she could see it.

“You think he was writing the document Jefferson mentioned? The bequeathing letter? A bit much as coincidences go, don’t you think?”

There were whispering to each other, but Emma felt the hair of her neck stand at the implications of this discovery. “But what if it wasn’t? What if that’s the reason he was poisoned?”

“We’ve got to go find Liam and search father’s study, let’s go.”

* * *

Their search turned up nothing, but the whole thing was for naught. Because, too quickly, though a day had since passed, a blue fire rose into the night sky.

It happened just as Emma shut off the communicator, having been assured that Henry and Gracie were fine.

Jefferson moved to stand next to her, as Killian gripped her waist. The late king was to be interred in a few hours. Hhe had professed to her that he wished to just go home after that and lay in bed with her and forget the world for a while. Perhaps his father’s death and the plots surrounding it had affected him more than he care to let on, but he wasn’t talking to Emma about it, and as much as she wanted him to, she knew she had to give him space.

After all, she was aware enough to know that she’d have demanded the same.

The elves of court moved into the hall, with Liam and Elsa leading the front. The air was markedly more solemn than it had been earlier where King Brennan lay, but Emma had since given up understanding elven culture. She’d leave that to Henry.

An ancient elf stood; he looked like he had been left in the sun too long. His skin was weathered, voice deep and coarse. He might have been the oldest elf she’d ever seen.

“Sem Artur Pendrégon in sluzim Svetu starejsih. Var første og helligste plikt er abeskytte alvene, alvenes frihet og var guddommelighet. Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd.”

“Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd,” the elves repeated.

She looked up at Killian inquiringly. He was holding her so close to his body that every exhalation blew her hair to her cheek.

When he whispered the translation, her body reacted, suddenly very aware of the close proximity of her… of him.

“I am Arthurus Pendrégon, and I serve the Council of Elders. Our first and most sacred duty is to protect the way of life of elves, the liberty of elves, and our divinity. So it has been. And so it will be.”

But Arthurus was already speaking.

“Danes ne bomo stali na hitro ali slovesno. Razmislili smo, kaj je najboljše za irsko kraljestvo in kraljestvo vilinov, kot ga imamo vedno. Krona ni narejena samo iz dragocenih draguljev in kamnov, niti iz auruma in srebra. Krona je narejena iz discipline, pravičnosti, poguma in hrabrosti. Kraljeve linije so izbrane tako, da služijo ljudem, in tega ne smejo pozabiti nikoli tisti, ki služijo, in tisti, ki jim je služeno. Svet starejših se spominja in ohranja tradicije vilinov že od nekdaj, in to bomo storili, dokler ne bo stal zadnji vilin. In zato smo danes sklicali sem, da bi izbrali naslednjo Irska krono.”

“We will not stand on prompt nor ceremony for today. We have considered what is best for the kingdom of Irska, and the realm of elves, as we always have. A crown is not made of just precious gems and stones, nor of aurum and silver. A crown is made of  discipline, justice, courage and valor. The royal lines are chosen to serve the people,    and this should never be forgotten by those who serve and those who are served. The Council of Elders remembers and conserves the elven traditions from time immemorial, and we shall do so until the last elf stands. And for this, today, we have convened here to choose the next crown of Irska,” Killian said, translating to his best ability as Arthurus spoke. The words spoken were solemn, and they made Emma feel like she was now apart of something bigger. It was silly, but the atmosphere in the room of the noble elves, the grandeur of the hall and the way Arthurus voice reverberated made her forget she ever lived on the streets as an unwensket.

“Vi har ogsa mottatt det siste skrevne ordet om Hans Oppstegne Højhet, King Brennan, som overlot sin krone til et valgt individ.”

Killian stiffened, as did Jefferson beside her.

“What?” She asked.

“My father must have… I don’t know how, but they got it. The letter.”

“She’s here,” Jefferson hissed.

“What? Who?”

“Zelena is here, corner of the room to your left, in the dark green hood.”

Arthurus’s voice increased in volume. “Vi fant ingen alver mer egnet for dette. Vi fant ingen alver som ville hedre kronen like mye som Prins William Beriothien. Mine edle alver, jeg presenterer deg, din neste kral, Kral William Beriothien.”

Emma didn’t need a translation for that last bit.

“They chose him! Their plots were in vain!” Jefferson uttered, looking as though someone had slapped him.

Killian let out a giant breath of relief, as Liam, walked up to Arthurus, looking perfectly poised. Emma could see it, the way his eyes scanned the elves in attendance, the fire in his eyes that many would mistake for relief or joy. There would be retribution, but it would come so fast and swift his enemies would have no way to escape it. He was reciting some words of acceptance, looking very kingly indeed, but Emma’s attention was focused on Zelena.

Underneath the green hood there was a shock of red hair, and beside her, a tall elf which chiseled features spoke quietly into her ear. Emma guessed that to be Jefferson’s partner. Before Killian, he’d be exactly her type. His hair was reddish brown and curly. He had broad shoulders and wore a light brown tunic that highlighted it well. He must have felt her gaze, for as he turned to look at her questioningly, his curiosity blossomed into a smirk. Emma looked away quickly, embarrassed at being distracted, and fervently hoping Killian hadn’t noticed.

“That’s Graham,” Jefferson said suddenly, giving her a fright. He was speaking very softly, and while Killian’s attention was devoted to his brother, she knew he was listening.

“The partner?”

“The partner. I’m not sure what happened today. Truly. But perhaps, the His Ascended Highness was more crafty than we thought, more prepared than we anticipated. Perhaps we should never discount basic preparation compared to complicated plots.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh no. Definitely not. But with King William at the helm now, the Queen now Dowager, with significantly less hold, it will be easy to usher her away to Snoland, where she can be their problem. And Zelena will likely follow. And in the mean time, a way for justice to be served can be found.”

“And it will be,” Killian said, though his eyes were still on his brother. His hands however, were secure around her, and his heart in tandem with hers. It was time to go home.  

[littlemisssquiggles]

Some people are saying that Rosegarden feels forced, especially after the most recent interaction the two had. That RG had absolutely no build up in terms of shipping. What is your response to this?

Hello Draw. You see, one of the many perks of being both a Rosegardener and Rosegardening Pinehead is that my adoration for the budding bond between our pair of smaller, more honest souls has caused me to become more observant of their moments together; particularly over the course of the most recent three seasons. And it is because I pay so much attention to following these two and their interactions per episode that I can easily contest with full confidence that people’s point of the ship being “forced with no build up” is drivel because it’s not true.

Again, take this from someone who has been following the development of this bond since V5. While it’s not as in your face as the portrayal of certain other ships within the FNDM, I can’t deny the fact that he show has been slowly building up these two’s relationship from the moment they met.

Throughout the seasons, the PLOT continues to highlight Ruby and Oscar’s growing friendship in the form of their continued support of one another. In V5, we began off with Ruby being the sole member of RNJR to actively look out for Oscar during his stay with the group back in Mistral and this habit of our littlered rose being protective of our freckled farm boy turned little barn prince has remained consistent even till this season.

And what’s interesting to note is that this protective and supportive nature wasn’t only established with Ruby. Oscar mirrors this behaviour as well with his own support of Ruby particularly in V6.

But don’t just take my word for it, here’s the photo proof because a picture says a thousand words:

So no I don’t believe the relationship between the Rosebuds is forced at all. If anything, I think the CRWBY have done pretty decently on showcasing the development between these two kids. It’s slow but it’s definitely there and it’s certainly ain’t forced. ‘Forced’ would’ve been if we spent several seasons with the show never really acknowledging these two’s relationship at all, providing zero groundwork for the potential of a romance to spark between them only to suddenly slam them together for this season.

This has not been the case with them fortunately. The Rosegarden bond has been building up nicely with the show occasionally tossing in moments between V5-V7 that highlight just how much one values the other’s influence on them on the team.

My one gripe is that I wished the show had done just a bit more to push for their friendship for this season. What’s weird was that it honestly seemed like that was the direction they were going for at first looking back on CH2 and CH3 of this season.

But no, what that essentially boiled down to was more light exchange of comments between the two until the recent ninth episode. It’s not how I would’ve handled if I were a CRWBY writer but hey, it’s the PLOT and I’m not here to argue the PLOT of RWBY and how the show writes its characters.

Needless to say, the portrayal of Rosegarden and their budding bond has been handled well enough so far (certainly better than certain other ships).

The only thing I believe might be ‘forced’ here is the reaction or rather overreaction of certain members of the FNDM in regards to the recent development of Rosegarden. It honestly upsets me to no end the level of toxicity people can stoop to within this FNDM and just how far they will go to rain on another person’s parade when they weren’t even doing anything to bother them in the first place.

Do you have any idea how annoyed I was over the weekend hearing stories of people complaining about the Rosegarden moment in V7CH9? How angered I became when I saw retweets from fellow Rosegardeners with some of the comments people were making in regards to not just Rosegarden but also Oscar because of this episode. Heck I’m upset now that I can’t even answer this question since I am just so fed up with this part of FNDM and their nonsense.

And what’s silly to me the most about all of this is that these types of fans are losing their butts over a moment that confirmed nothing.

So Ruby and Oscar acted all awkward and adorable while talking to each other in a scene that focused on their interaction?

So?

It’s no different than all the other times the show has had them act this way in a scene. And that’s just it! All they did was share another nice moment together that could easily be argued as not being all that romantically charged.

I’m a Rosegarden shipper and while I will say that that moment did toss a coin in the possibility of a future Rosegarden romance should the series really take them in that direction, it didn’t confirm this possibility for me either. It was just another cute moment between the two characters and the fact that folks are losing their knickers over something as minor as that is utterly ridiculous.

I even had a Whiterose shipper leave me comments on Twitter implying that their ship was now sunk thanks to that moment and they even congratulated me as a Rosegardener in this kind of way as if we were in some kind of beef regarding our ships. My reaction to that was “…Dude what?”

The last time I checked, I’m not fighting anyone on their ships. I am here because I love Rosegarden. They are my main RWBY OTP at the moment and like any fan, I’m more than delighted to see wherever the showrunners decide to take their bond—be it platonically or romantically. That being said, just because I ship RG, doesn’t mean I have any kind of beef or wish to be in any type of ridiculous shipping war with non-Rosegardeners.

To put it humbly, it doesn’t really matter to me what your shipping preferences are. Ship whoever you like so long as you remain respectable to other shippers. To put it bluntly, I don’t give a rat’s ass who or what you ship. Just don’t be a dickwad to anyone else regarding their own shipping choices. To each their own, in my books but respect is mandatory.

To the last episode in question, I’m going to be frank here. If Whiterose or Lancaster or any other non-RG ship had received any kind of moment in V7CH9 or in any episode before that, as a Rosegardener, I would be upset that my pairing didn’t get to have a moment too but I wouldn’t go out of my way to complain about the other ships or worse attack the shippers of said ship. That type of nonsense is unwarranted.

This is why this whole recent discourse surrounding a ship that I love has left me bothered. The things I have heard people say regarding the Rosegarden pair and even our shipping community is just deplorable.

I mean…it’s not entirely new what these people are saying.

It’s the same ole rubbish that’s been said to complain about the “problems” with RG for a while—the 2 year age gap. The Ozpin Dilemma. Yada-yada! Stuff that has already been debunked by the Rosegarden community, the CRWBY and the show itself. Yet…here we go again. The same recycled arguments going around and around, like a Beyblade.

I’ve even heard through the grapevine that certain-certain folks have reached as far as to refer to us Rosegardeners by a very ‘problematic’ term (i.e. paedophiles) just for liking Rosegarden. Like…wow! All of that just because RWBY gave our ship a little moment in the recent episode. Terrific.

But who is more problematic, though? The community of shippers who see this pairing of the two youngest huntsmen in our gaggle of heroes (who are not too far apart in age) as nothing more than an innocent bond that has the strong potential to blossom into an equally charming romance built on their mutual support of one another and their shared core values, as established within the canon.

Or…the group of people who are spreading hurtful backlash regarding said ship and its shippers that are not only NOT true but are just downright vulgar.

If I were to be completely honest with you, fam, my heart really isn’t in answering this question this time because there isn’t anything here I can really say to argue in favour of Rosegarden that either I or my fellow gardeners have not said multiple times before.

Seriously? How many times do we have to argue the hypocrisy of the nonsensical 2-year age gap “issue” that people still bring up to throw shade at Rosegarden while leaving ships like Whiterose, Lancaster and Nuts and Dolts who share the same age gap completely unscathed?

How many times do we have to repeat the same information provided by the show in which “The Lost Fable” episode (V6CH3) clearly said that Ozpin does not affect the Rosegarden relationship since in the past, Ozma had learnt to live in harmony with the men he was paired off with leading to one of them even getting married and having a family with Ozma being present but never interfering with Henkle’s (Dadpin) family affairs?

Seriously, how many times are people going to dig up both of these two poor, poor dead horses and continue to beat the ever living daylights out of em, huh?

It’s bad enough to ignore the rationales of the people who actually better understand the bond between the characters within the pairing since we pay closer attention to said relationship; however to ignore evidence provided by the series too as well as the word of the showrunners— that is a level of ignorance that has surpassed my patience to deal with this crap anymore.

Honestly, this squiggle meister has reached a point where I am fed up with the toxicity of some of the folks within this FNDM. The type of people, who to me, sound like nothing more than spoiled brats throwing hissy fits and tantrums just because the ‘CRWBY didn’t give them what they wanted in regards to their favourite SHIP so they have to ruin the experience for others who are just trying to have as much fun with it as they were’.

As if the CRWBY owe them anything. At the end of the day, the people running RWBY have all the say in the world. So if they decide they wish to give certain character relationships a bigger push than others then it’s their call.

And even if something becomes canon, that don’t necessarily mean it’s the end of a ship. Look how many other fandoms there are that dissolved into ridiculous shipping wars over whose ship was going to be canon and what happened? It didn’t matter in the end. Canon or not, people still continued to love and support the ship they liked even long after the series was over. Just look at Zutara from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

You think the Zutara-shippers gave two Flying Lemur shits about Kataang being endgame? No! Both ships still thrive pretty strongly even after all of these years as well as any other beloved ship from that show. So certain folks in the RWBY FNDM need to chill it with this kind of crap. It’s foolish!

And quite frankly, I have no more f***s left to give at this point to deal with it. Once upon a time, another fellow gardener approached me with this same kind of question and I’m going to repeat the same thing I told them in the end. There is a saying in my country that my mom used to say whenever conflict arose and people would just run their mouths for no reason. “Let the jackass bray!”

If folks within the FNDM wish to continue to run their mouths, making the same ole set of noise time and time again over small ting then it makes no sense trying to debate these kinds of people. This is why I feel more annoyed that I’m hearing about my fellow Rosegardeners still answering these people. STOP! Please STOP!

I myself have been caught up in it a little bit. Whether Rosegarden becomes canon or not, these types of people are always going to complain about it. We will never win with these people and y’know what? Whatever, because in all honesty, there is no fight or “shipping war” in the first place.

I refuse to argue with anyone over my preferred ship. Whether Rosegarden becomes canon or not, what matters to me is that I just want to kick back and enjoy the progression of our rosebuds who I adore so much. Ruby and Oscar are both my all-time favourite RWBY characters. Their individual stories mean a lot to me and their shared story together means a lot to me too.  I want to be able to express my admiration for the growing bond between these two buds and create content around them in peace; away from any kind of animosity.

Instead of wasting my time and energy on responding to the half-baked comments of people who clearly only care about my ship whenever they wish to stir up trouble, I will instead channel it into giving more support for the ship I adore. And I pray my fellow gardeners do the same.

I, for one, have been more inspired than I’ve ever been to create more RG content because if I have sit in my proverbial bubble and listen to constant chatter from folks like that then the least I can do is fill my bubble with the things I like. And I adore Rosegarden very much. I also adore our community. We’re a small bunch but we’re mostly all pretty cool, very nice, very talented and mostly courteous people. If certain-certain folks are saying things, let them run their mouths. Leave them alone with their noise.  

DON’T ANSWER THE TOXICITY! IGNORE IT! AND SHOULD IT DARE ATTACK YOU FOR NO REASON, DELETE AND BLOCK ARE YOUR WEAPONS. DON’T LET THE HATE RUIN YOUR FUN!

I understand how annoying it is to hear people talk smack about something you like while also being tempted to contest everything they say. But as I’ve mentioned before, I and many others have already debated these same old arguments before. They are not even worthy of being mentioned anymore since the CANON OF RWBY has deemed them invalid already.

While I appreciate you coming to me for my views, fam, truth is that I’ve already said my piece many, many, times before and I will always say the exact same thing:

I have been a Rosegardener (and by extension Rosegardening Pinehead) since RWBY V5 (2017). I have adored the pairing of Ruby and Oscar together since the series did a great job of hooking me in with how adorable these two’s first interactions were. Watching the way Ruby giggled and smiled at Oscar and seeing his ‘mini-stroke smile’ response to that was quite cute and such an expected reaction befitting of two adolescent kids meeting each other for the first time.

I have always viewed Rosegarden as the romantic pairing between Ruby Rose and Oscar Pine. I have NEVER once confused Rosegarden with Clockrose—the presumed RWBY pairing of Ruby Rose and Professor Ozpin. I wasn’t even aware of the existence of such a ship until V5.

But regardless, when I say I ship Ruby with Oscar, I mean exactly that, I ship Ruby with Oscar. To me, Oscar is NOT Ozpin. Nor will he ever be Ozpin or even another version of Ozpin.  

Do you wanna know why? Because by my understanding of the character of Oscar Pine, he is his own person separate from the character of Professor Ozpin.

As a matter of fact, when Ozpin previously had his old body, people saw him as himself. And when Oscar first appeared on the scene, the show introduced him to the audience as his own character. Even after Oz’s soul appeared, the show immediately highlighted that the two souls are different from the other in spite of sharing Oscar’s body.

It is for this reason why I don’t understand how people can keep insisting that Oscar and Oz are the same person.Especially when the show has gone out of its way to establish time and time again that these two souls, while like-minded, are NOT the same.

So when certain-certain folks attempt to imply that Rosegarden = Ruby and Ozpin because Oscar is Ozpin, not only do I find this remark to be gibberish but it’s also a complete misunderstanding of both the characters of Ozpin and Oscar.

Rosegarden does not involve Ozpin at all since it is a pairing between Ruby and Oscar and as I shall repeat with conviction, Oscar and Oz are not the same person. Two souls, people.

I also have no problem with shipping the Rosebuds despite their ginormous, galaxy-sized age difference of 2 years.

As confirmed by Miles Luna, the age gap between Ruby and Oscar is indeed 2 years. So even if Ruby is 17 years old as of present in the series, there is the likelihood that Oscar will be turning 15 soon. Possibly in V8.

As a matter of fact, 2 years is a common age gap used in RWBY. So common in fact that it’s the exact same age gap as non-RG ships like Whiterose, Lancaster, Nuts and Dolts and for all the ‘special folks’ in the FNDM who ship Enabler—the pairing of Ruby with her sister Yang.

Not trying to throw shade at Enabler, I just find it hilarious how incest is wincest within the FNDM yet my ship is the one getting heat all because they shared a cute moment where they finished each other’s sandwiches.

No declaration of love. No confirmation of a crush. No kiss. Not even a flushed cheek. Just two KIDS being absolute dorks with one another got certain-certain people all rattled up. Wow.  

Man I can’t wait to see how those same folks will react if Ruby and Oscar were to ever…dare I say it, hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes.

RoosterTeeth may need to censor that kind of stuff because it’ll be too inappropriate for this type of uppity audience. The same audience who wouldn’t mind this type of thing or more if it were in favour of their favourite non-RG ship of the same age difference. Nope. Just the Garden is the problem. Sure….

Anyhow, while I understand that certain people may dislike Rosegarden for whatever reasons they got, what this squiggle meister firmly disapproves of is the outright disrespect of their fellow fans. I don’t understand the need for people to stir up trouble just because things within the show didn’t play out exactly how you wanted it. It’s just ridiculous and as I said, I’m done with it.

Just because certain-certain folks are talking, don’t mean I have to listen. Certainly not anymore now.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say on this topic. Not sure if I actually answered your question fam but that’s the best I got.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[thanksjro]

Telefunken, A Prequel to Eugenesis: The Future Is Obsessed With Making Babies

OR

All These Materials, And I Still Had To Keep The Wiki Open The Whole Time

This short story was included with the secondary publication of Eugenesis, which happened in 2007, six years after the first run. Yep. He had multiple publication runs. Back when you had to actually go and talk to people about what you wanted published instead of doing everything online. For a novel-length fan fiction about murdering space robots and then having them give birth to tentacle monsters.

I wish I had the friggin’ brass balls Roberts does.

Telefunken as a term doesn’t mean anything in any language, but that doesn’t mean we can’t gain any sort of understanding using context clues.

Tele- as a part of Greek, means “from a distance.” So whatever’s happening is far off. In the future, perhaps? The pre-story quotes certainly seem to imply such a thing.

A couple hundred years into the future, actually. With a list like that, one has to wonder just who the hell can get into Maccadam’s these days.

Funken itself actually is a word- it’s German for spark. So “from a distance” + “spark”. Alright, let’s see where this goes.

Is… is this someone trying to convince someone else to read Eugenesis? Is Roberts making the space robots read this batshit story? Is he threatening them? Because making someone read an entire book’s worth of slaughter of their race sort of feels like a threat.

Okay, moving on to actual story, our narrator starts the day by blinding himself. He turns the input on his optics all the way up and stares at the sun.

I don’t know why.

Once he’s done that, he reflects on the nature of change, and how some things just can’t be fixed.

I see we’ve hit our fascist phase. Because they’re only allowed to enjoy the rejuvenation of the planet if they’re wearing Prowl’s face on their chest, right?

Our narrator seems to have an alternate take on the walls, though- seems more like they’re trying to keep the citizens in as opposed to the ruffians out.

Scene jump, and we’re in the middle of a conversation between two folks about some guy who killed an Autobot and fled. Yeah, no one with dialogue has been properly identified as of yet. All I know currently is that one of the conversationalists is a commander. Something tells me Nightbeat’s involved with the scene.

But that’s just a hunch.

So, looks like the Transformers had a little more room for the war buffet after all, because they’ve had at least two named squabbles in the last couple centuries. Hence, our narrator is off to try and corroborate a rumor that Galvatron is still kicking around.

He heads through the religious sector to get downtown, lamenting that Iacon’s been reduced to a military city-state in order to keep some façade of peace going on. He didn’t go through the hell that was the Eugenesis Wars for this.

Ooh, a dash of fantastic racism to really bring out the acidic taste of Orson Welles 1984. Maybe this is Prowl, actually, which would explain why he hasn’t been explicitly named. Would kind of ruin the whole end of the novel, wouldn’t it?

I’m not saying it’s Prowl because of the racism. More the clean dividing of folks into categories and statistical data.

Our narrator walks through the throng, ignores a homeless veteran, and passes by a crowd of Creationists on pilgrimage, and with that he’s off to Autobot City 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Meanwhile, back with the guys reading this account- yes, turns out they’re outside of this particular story- more details are being revealed.

The Turning, you say.

Vampire robots it is, then.

Back with the narrator, he’s just found what he’d been looking for- an Autobot badge, close enough to the real thing to work for his purposes. He heads inside something called an “ingestion tank”- I’m imagining the fucking eating chairs from IDW2- and oh-so-sneakily adds a few screw-looking bombs to the badge.

Hmm. I’m thinking my guesses are just a bit off-base.

Back at the narrative, our narrator has just arrived at the Ministry, where Sideswipe and his boys are truly living up to the ACAB lifestyle- Sideswipe is literally unloading clips into a crowd of protestors. Apparently this isn’t anything new.

Oh-kay. So. Back in the epilogue for Eugenesis, Wheeljack made an offhand comment about Rodimus wanting to look into streamlining the biomorphic reproductive process, using the power of science. This was something Ratchet really wasn’t thrilled about- he’s the Transformer-equivalent to being child-free, I guess- and let me tell you something: if Ratchet thinks something is a bad idea, it almost absolutely is. But it looks like Rodimus got his way, if our narrator’s cryptic statements are to be believed.

Let’s get fucking weird for a second.

Millions of years ago the biomorphic process was decided to be too slow for the colonial ways of the Cybertronian Empire, so morphing centers were created, where protoforms were basically injected with false memories to kickstart their lives. Think MTO programming from IDW, but more mechpreggy. This practice died out when the shortage of energon caught up with everyone, and was left behind for the most part.

EXCEPT FOR THIS. Turns out that Kup actually wasn’t all that old, he just thought he was. Why did they do this? Assumedly for the preservation of their research. Does it factor into anything ever for Kup? Nah, not really. Also:

🄹🄰🄼🄴🅂 🅆🄷🄰🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🄵🅄����🄺

Telefunken really is what makes the director’s cut of Eugenesis. This is where all the really weird shit is. If you ever fucking read this nightmare of a book, you better make sure Telefunken is included, because you will be reeling.

Anyway, the planet can’t handle more than a few hundred thousand robots, energon-wise, so the Treaty of Antimorphism was signed- a sort of “no more mechpreg” agreement between the Autobots and Decepticons. Not sure how they’re going to stop someone’s torso from vomiting up a goo baby, seeing as the process appears to be completely random, but they probably know more about the process than I do.

Yeah, that treaty is broken almost immediately. I mean, come on, we know who’s writing this story, it’s amazing that the idea was even remotely considered.

The Autobots decided that they were going to start underground biomorph rings, where Lifers- y’know, the guys who can actually do this sort of thing- spit out protoforms on command to supplement the Autobot forces, in case more war broke out.

They can give birth on command.

I-

I just-

How-

Okay. Sure.

BUT HOW-

Of course, a lot of people had a problem with this, seeing as they already had a solution to the problem of a limited population, in the copies of everyone’s brains Rodimus had commissioned after the events of Eugenesis. Yeah, that’s the root of the problem right there: it was unnecessary. Certainly not the violations of the free will and rights of the poor bastards who got chained to a table and told to start pumping out new robots at what was probably gunpoint in the basement of some bombed out building. Nope! Just that the whole thing was superfluous.

That was about the time that the Anticopyist protests started- how convenient- and the mind crystals were buried, never to see the light of day. Of course, Star Saber might have had a hand in quietly recovering the crystals, but that’s just hearsay.

It’s all going down the tubes, really- High Commands gearing up for the inevitable civil war that’s about to break out amid all this bullshit. Prowl and Nightbeat are trying to put a stop to things, but what are two guys with crippling depression going to do against all this crap? Not much. Especially now that there are Neogens discovering that they aren’t who they think they are.

The slogan is “maximum speed, maximum efficiency.” I’ll let you take a wild guess as to what these weirdos call themselves.

Sideswipe and his goons get done with killing civilians, and our narrator can finally get on with their mission- an interview with Rodimus Prime, who is dying. Again. We just can’t keep our Primes alive, can we? Can’t keep ‘em dead either, but that’s not the point.

But I thought Cyclonus was key.

…I’m sorry, that was dumb.

Anyway, our narrator gets through security, bombs undetected, and prepares to finish his thesis.

These outside conversationalists are kind of morbid, aren’t they? Still, we wouldn’t have the narrative if they weren’t, so thanks? I guess? For being weird voyeurs of terrorist activities?

The narrator makes his way to the basement, where they’ve got Rodimus stashed.

But how are his tiddies? Are they ridiculously huge? Does he breast boobily down the hall towards you? Too bad First Aid’s dead, he’d be all over this behemoth.

You know, last time we saw Springer, his sole purpose in life was getting high. Wonder how he got to this point in just a couple hundred years. That’s nothing to these guys. Guess he traded in the space-heroin for juicing.

Springer, because I guess he’s kind of an asshole in this story, threatens our narrator, saying that he’s got a joor- pretty much an hour- to talk to Rodimus, and one second beyond that he’s throwing his ass out the door. He makes this point very emphatically, and repeatedly. Springer needs to take a chill pill.

With that, our narrator double-checks that his rigged badge is still there- how many times are we going to blow up Rodimus Prime?- and enters the medvault.

Rodimus isn’t doing so hot.

Despite the obvious lag in his brain, Rodimus is happy to be of service to a young student, and invites the narrator to sit and stay awhile.

Now that’s just cruel, Roberts. You gotta give Rodimus something, you already killed his best friend and most of his comrades. No wonder he’s depressed in every continuity, all the writers are mean as hell to our boy Rodders.

Our narrator starts off by asking about Scorponok, and Rodimus takes so long to answer he wonders if the guy just went ahead and died. But Rodimus, ever a good sport, does eventually answer. He talks about all the major Decepticon players, and our narrator smiles and listens, waiting for the point where Unicron is mentioned. He really wants to hear about Unicron, and can practically taste his presence in the room, seeing as Rodimus is still possessed.

You see, our dear narrator is a space-satanist.

Unfortunately, when Rodimus finally utters the name of the robot-devil, nothing happens.

No, see, if the Transformers had Plan B, none of this mechpreg stuff would be fucking happening.

This is where our outside conversationalists come more into play, revealing themselves to be Star Saber- finally entering the story proper- and Great Shot, who I can’t seem to find anything on. We get treated to the security footage from this point on, getting a lovely scene of our narrator yelling at a dying old man, as the two discuss the Turning. It’s a major point of concern for a lot of the troops, and we’re shown why, as Rodimus starts having a Reagan-from-the-Exorcist-level fit about the same time as our narrator drops his bomb. The room explodes, and our narrator escapes out into the world.

From here on, all of the narrative comes from out narrator’s internal recording. He keeps running, beyond the walls of the city and into the Rad Zone, until he hits Eocra. Eocra is where that chunk of space rock from Liars A-to-D was housed. I guess we’ll find out if it’s still there.

He requests an audience with Servion from a member of the Brotherhood of Chaos whom he doesn’t recognize, and is ushered inside.

Into an underground room with a window showing the stars and just packed with Decepticons. Even Blitzwing’s there- I’d figured he’d been one of the POWs who kicked the bucket, but apparently not. Turns out that door he went through was a teleport. They want our narrator’s thesis. He hands it over immediately.

Go for it, guys, his resume from today alone is beyond impressive. He’s done more in the last six hours than most of your top guys have done in their entire careers.

The Decepticons say that they’ll be in touch, and with that they shove him out of the room. Well, that’s that. Guess it’s time to go and see if the rumors about the losers in Kalis are a bunch of bunk after all.

And that’s the end of his datalog.

Back with the ‘Cons, the boys are gossiping about their new hire. Turns out he’s one of theirs anyway- a Neogen, and his name is Tarantulus.

I checked, it’s a valid alternate spelling of his name.

Over with Galvatron- did you honestly think he was dead?- the edgy bastard’s preparing for the Final Purge. Turns out he’s still under Unicron’s thumb, even after all this time. He’s pleased to hear that Rodimus is dying, and recalls being able to corrupt the Lifecode when he needled the Prime during other desperate moments. He decides he’s going to do that again.

Back with Start Saber and Great Shot, the boys are cooking up some tasty treats in their politically-powered lie kitchen. As far as the public knows, Tarantulus was shot to death by the guards when he approached the wall. Prime’s Turned, which sucks for him, but might work out in Star Saber’s favor. Just too bad that that one guard got in between Rodimus and the bomb blast.

So I guess Star Saber being less than piously heroic is just a Roberts thing. Alrighty then.

That’s the end of Telefunken. This answers as many questions as it presents, leaving us at a net-neutral for understanding just what the fuck is going on. Awesome.

[myfriendpokey]

the 2019 my friend pokey year in review!!

released a game i was happy about. started work on a new game i'm not sure about yet! went through a few months of false starts, switching game engines and ideas and approaches.

at one point i decided i wanted to spend about 2 years making nothing but "clown games", games where you played as a little mr. do figure navigating these abstract tile mazes a la chip's challenge. these games would all have titles like clown thing, clown city, moon clown, clown deluxe. i put this idea on hold when it was pointed out to me that all of my games were clown games.

at a different point i decided to try making an rpg maker horror game. i spent a month reading as many ghost stories as i could but then when i actually started the work i realised i'd immediately lose interest when the game was meant to become scary as opposed to just being a strange space full of funny text descriptions. but, one day i hope i can return to this game.

i made physical cd rom boxes for 10 beautiful postcards and took them to a zine fair. i think i forget the extent to which cds are a legacy format, now... people seemed interested but noncommital. i need to remember the last time i tried doing this was in 2014!! still interested in the idea of more "local" ways of releasing these things but will need to reconsider my approach.

also for the fair i made a short zine of romantic comedy reviews from my big romantic comedy review thread. i think i started that last year... over time i've become more jaded... i think i want to put that aside for a while so that i don't become the romcom equivalent of a joyless youtube guy. i don't know if it comes across in anything i've written about them but i do get a certain charge from the studio romantic comedy format. these things were on TV all the time when i was a kid. they fit sort of the same role as horror films and action movies to me, in that the real appeal wasn't so much the nominal genre as the weird vague visions of "everyday life" that the genre had to clothe itself in. the idea that these could be examined for clues to that life... and of course romcoms offer up a different version of that terrain than other genre movies, one that's almost studiedly bland in such a stylised and artificial way that it becomes seductive. when i was a kid i dreamed about being one of the night watchmen patrolling the warehouse in the opening minutes of a horror movie; now i have at least some kind of fascination with the eerily benign and conflictless parallel universe of spunky yet hapless romcom heroines running around accidentally dumping coffee on people.

i wrote another few big blog things. my favourite is probably the one on easy games - as prolix as ever but basically light and drifting in scope. my attempt to get at what i find exciting about the specific category of "videogame writing" in Monster Party... i dunno, we always kill the thing we love etc. writing on modernism and vgames i found interesting though it's possibly unintelligible to anyone who doesn't have my particular haphazard reference points for what modernism even refers to (more biased to writing than painting etc). i enjoyed trying to figure out what morality means in this weird context.

I also wrote dictionary to the known world for emilie reed’s lost histories jam. this was an attempt to get across the sort of strange insular reference systems which existed in hobbyist game spaces at a point immediately before they were all grouped under “indie”. 

i spent the last two years kind of obsessively returning to the idea of videogames as speculation, videogames as financialisation, videogames and the market. videogames thru the lens of the crash in 2008. i don't completely know why i got so fixated for so long, but feel like i was finally able to burn myself out on the subject in the course of this long piece. i dunno, maybe in future i can swing more into the other direction - the non-economic, mystical, etc. this year i bought a little clear glass pyramid with a star embedded into it for £1.50, and if you look through it and turn it around you get these vivid translucent fields of colour... it's interesting and it's pleasant to look at. clear glass pyramid is the game of the year.

oh, I also did the ball with feet fanpage this year. come with me and appreciate one of the format’s most powerful critters.

books: i can never remember what i read, but here are the ones i most remember out of 2019.

val wilmer - as serious as your life: a beautiful book about free jazz, or "the new music", worthwhile less for the descriptions of same than for the careful contemporary reportage of how it came about: the people involved, the influences and ideas that moved and changed from place to place, disagreements and developments, across rehearsals and performances and such clubs as would book it at all: what sun ra refers to here as the "unmanufactured avant garde", the kind that emerges when people in a commercially disregarded form quietly find space to explore their own interests. and to respond to one another's work - possibly the most surprising aspect of this book in 2019 is the way seemingly none of the musicians felt the now inescapable obligation to respond to the commercial culture of the day, to describe their work in the preferred language of that culture rather than on their own terms. instead we get reportage of black avant-garde musicians attempting to unionise in hopes of extracting concessions  from a white pop media establishment - think about reconciling THAT with the recieved ideas of culture 2019, in which anything that's not a disney movie is presented as elitist. solid paperback reissue means it's suitable for throwing at the heads of passers by.

other books i remember:

jane bowles - collected works. these are very mysterious and funny - i don't know how to describe them other than as sort of having the tone of a screwball katherine hepburn comedy in which she gets the job of becoming a beckett protagonist. max haiven - art after money, money after art. a feast on every page... extremely sharp and restless thinking about art, financialisation, the shifting and ongoing interdependence of the two. roberto calasso - the marriage of cadmus and harmony. content warning for greek myths and all that this implies. got this one on a whim not caring anything about the subject but was immediately drawn in by the terrifying strangeness of the symbolic universe that he explores. jean debuffet - cultural asphyxiation. collection of miscellaneous debuffet writings. vengeful attacks upon official culture. ford madox ford - memories & impressions. an extremely unreliable but entertaining memoir about growing up in the circle of the pre-raphaelites. there's a good bit where he describes the terror of walking around london as a child when you've been made to dress like a cross between little lord fauntleroy and oscar wilde. b.s. johnson - christy malry's double entry. the title character applies the basic principle of double entry bookkeeping - for every debit, a credit - to work and life, killing thousands in the process. funny and  strangely melancholy in the manner of at swim-two-birds.

other 2019 things: first time visiting sligo, saw some megaliths, got some nice books. first time casting a vote for a political program i was sincerely enthusiastic about! they got crushed!! tomorrow is another year.

[sparklyjojos]

CARNIVAL recaps [8/13]

Today’s recap: Murder on the Trans-Siberian Express, or Yaiba having a Very Bad Very Not Good Time.

[tw: a lot of mental illness, suicide, implied csa mention]

--

SIXTEEN

05 Oct 1996 — 11 Oct 1996

TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY

--

[First person narration from Yaiba, here presented in lazy third person.]

It’s the fifth night since Yaiba has left Japan. He stares into the frosty Russian night while the Trans-Siberian Express has a brief stop in Vladivostok. Over nine thousand kilometers more until Moscow.

He walks back inside the train, on the way greeting the two female conductors of his car (Masha and Faina). In his four-person couchette with two bunk beds he rejoins a fellow passenger called Natalia, who’s getting ready to sleep. The boy Yaiba’s travelling with has already fallen asleep on the top bed.

It’s surprisingly easy to move between countries using the new IDID card, probably because everyone is so shaken by the Crime Olympics that any seemingly busy detective wouldn’t be held up at the border longer than necessary. They will make it, he just needs to continue to pretend Amano is his son and make sure to buy only necessary items.

Sitting in the dark compartment, looking at the moving scenery outside, Yaiba has a feeling that no matter what they do, whether they’re sleeping or awake, moving or not, the ever-changing world mercilessly carries them into the future. He can’t sleep, ends up just lying motionlessly in his blue polka dot pajamas and staring into the darkness. After a while he decides to make his favorite hot cocoa and read instead.

He’s reminded of that time three years ago when Hikimiya, a detective novel fan, borrowed him an anthology that had a Russian-themed story in it. Around that time Yaiba was busy with a case surrounding murders in the north of Russia, so it seemed oddly fitting. Things have changed so much since that time. JDC blew up, Ajiro went missing, Suzukaze Unomaru sunk with a ship… everyone kept dying. It just seemed so random that Yaiba was still alive. This terrifying randomness of fate he couldn’t deal with.

Before Yaiba fled hospital, he’d gotten a call from Hyouma, who announced that he was quitting JDC and wanted to start a new life wandering around America. Hard to blame him; JDC without Ajiro, without Juku around, and with Dokuson in charge didn’t feel like JDC at all.

As if that wasn’t enough change for the worse, everyone around Yaiba read Cosmic and Joker. Everyone learned about what he would rather keep secret about his childhood. Everyone asked questions. He told them that the books were fictional and nobody should worry about the literary version of the events too much, but they didn’t seem to believe him. Yaiba could feel the door to madness opening within him.

Everyone now knew about what that woman had done to him. About how their child was declared to be a serial killer—when Yaiba first heard about that event a few years ago, he couldn’t help but think that the hereditary psychiatric problems that plagued his family had reared its head once more.

But even Cosmic and Joker didn’t know the truth that only Yaiba knew—the truth about his younger brother Amato’s suicide many years ago.

The truth being that Yaiba was the one to kill him.

Amano looks a lot like Amato did at that time. Yaiba doesn’t regret kidnapping him. They are so similar. In a way, Amano is that already non-existing person. What is Yaiba going to do now? Kill Amano—Amato, kill him again to escape his curse? Perhaps. After all, he has already broken down inside

--

[There’s a switch to second person, still from Yaiba, and again I’m just writing in third.]

When he wakes up in the morning, Natalia has already gone off somewhere. The white-haired boy on the bed above his own, Amato, is busy with his gameboy. Walking down the train aisle Yaiba hears a few Russians mention the killer Amur Tiger, but judging from the laughter they’re just making a joke. The two conductors are chatting in their room. Yaiba feels like everyone is observing him suspiciously. He gets tea and goes back to their compartment to give it to Amato, who as a recently hospitalized child can’t really handle a lot of solid food. Amato has four months to live, maybe less. Yaiba wonders if it’s possible to show him the northern lights before his death.

On the next stop they stand aside as the electric train engine is switched out for a diesel, which Amato compares to Galaxy Express 999, the flying space train. Yaiba realizes they are being observed from afar by another passenger, who after being spotted quickly boards the train again.

Later Yaiba meets a few travel mates from the neighboring compartment: a young couple of Pyotr and Shaina, and a strong guy with sideburns called Ivan. Yaiba thinks they’re looking at Amato’s white hair strangely, so he quickly explains that “his son” is ill. While everyone is having a nice conversation, a few cans get loose from the couple’s baggage, which they regard with laughter as their “super secret stuff”. It’s clearly a joke, considering the cans seem to have plain corned beef inside.

--

When Yaiba is sitting in the dining car later, that passenger who seemed to be observing them earlier introduces comes up and introduces himself as Drexel Uryakov. Uryakov turns out to be a fellow A-rank detective, who knows very well who Yaiba is and what he’s doing here, but has more pressing matters to attend to—namely the cases of the Amur Tiger and Pogrom. He asks Yaiba for help with the investigation.

The Amur Tiger is a serial killer whose hundreds of victims all had their heads cut off, and who is most infamous for disguising a bunch of corpses as mannequins in Moscow’s GUM. Pogrom similarly likes to decapitate his victims, but specifically targets the detectives of DOLL’s Russian branch and steals their IDID cards from the scene. (Uryakov makes an interesting comment on how these nicknames alone shape people’s understanding: an Amur Tiger brings to mind a mindless animal, while Pogrom has Connotations and implies a much scarier enemy that is a cruel human—or perhaps, an unfeeling beast wearing the mask of a human.)

Uryakov thinks these two cases are connected. He managed to get a hold of secret KGB files which show the Amur Tiger murders go back to at least the times of Ivan the Terrible, but the public never learned about it before now. All of Pogrom’s victims were detectives who tried to shed more light on the Amur Tiger. Uryakov himself is also pursuing the Amur Tiger, and revealed a few case details to his twin brother Aleksandr, a private detective. Aleksandr attempted to stealthily investigate on his own and was murdered for his curiosity. But before his death, he managed to tell what he had discovered to Drexel...

--

In the afternoon, the train has to temporarily stop in Khabarovsk because of something unprecised happening to the west. Pyotr claims he heard that the overhead line supports had been knocked over in places too strategic to be a random event, and on a stretch of over three thousand kilometers of tracks to boot. It can’t be the Billion Killer, they still have two days until Saturday.

Yaiba uses the break to call Hikimiya and ask him to confirm Uryakov’s story by checking his entry in DOLL’s database. There is indeed a Drexel Uryakov registered, and he did have a private detective brother who died in the Amur Tiger case two weeks ago. Drexel hasn’t been in contact with the Russian DOLL branch at all in those two weeks, but he does work alone a lot, so it’s expected (kinda like Hyouma wanders off a lot).

After confirming that, Hikimiya asks what on earth Yaiba is even thinking, grabbing a child and running away. Yaiba isn’t really pursued by the police, who think this is JDC’s own problem to fix (and there’s no definite proof it was him who kidnapped the boy), but it’s just a matter of time until he gets caught during a search. Hikimiya asks him to please give himself up before that so he doesn’t get into even more trouble.

Nemu has already boarded the Trans-Siberian Express going the other direction, so that she will be able to catch him halfway. Maybe that power outage that bought Yaiba some time was a godsend after all. Nemu may be kind, but she always gets spirited when facing criminals, so Yaiba would hate to meet her when being one. Then again, he prefers that to meeting someone like Jounosuke. He can deal with Nemu’s harshness, but wouldn’t be able to keep a hold of himself if Jounosuke looked at him with that compassionate smile and kindness.

Yaiba knew all along that any escape would be impossible in the long term—but perhaps it was this awareness of entrapment that paradoxically made him want to run.

--

Since the train won’t move until morning, Yaiba is invited to hit the town with Pyotr and the rest. Uryakov warns him that it might not be the best idea—what if Pyotr is Pogrom?—but it’s not like anyone else here knows that Yaiba is a detective, he’s not pursuing the Amur Tiger, and besides, Pyotr is only as suspicious as Uryakov himself.

Yaiba asks if Uryakov’s brother also had a mark on his cheek. Uryakov jokes about it (“what, are you implying we switched?”) then shares his own surprising suspicion: he thinks Yaiba is actually being manipulated by the boy he’s with. He questions Yaiba’s motive for the kidnapping—did he want a kid this badly or what?—but the answer “he’s my dead brother” is enough to end the conversation.

Yaiba takes Amato to the nearest town with the others. They ask him where he’s travelling, so he says that he and Amato are going to Murmansk to see the northern lights, but since it’s too early in the year for that, they’re going to go see Moscow first. Pyotr jokes that Yaiba’s tone makes it sound like a suicide trip. Amato gets a little pale.

When they get back to their empty compartment, Amato asks if he’s going to be killed under the northern lights in Murmansk. Yaiba replies that they probably won’t make it to Murmansk, as his coworkers are too smart to just let him go.

“Then you could kill them too,” Amato says. “Just like you killed me. It’s fine if everyone else dies.”

“You will never let me go, will you? I was young, didn’t know anything…”

“You can’t change the past. No one can change it, even if they may forget about it. Don’t deny my existence.”

“Please forgive me, I’m just so tired…”

“Then die and come here already. The world of the dead is nice. If you kill yourself, I’ll forgive you.”

“Amato, please, stop talking.”

“You will never escape from me.”

Darkness envelops him.

--

[Narration swaps to third person.]

That same evening, Yaiba and the others drink vodka in the neighboring compartment. The Russians tend to forget his first name and call him Somanovich instead of Somahito. After a few drinks Yaiba admits that he’s quite weak-headed nowadays, but he spent his teenage years drinking a lot as a means of distracting himself after his brother’s suicide. He was the one to discover the body.

His brother used to say that they were inescapably fated to commit suicide. He repeated it no matter how many times Yaiba scolded him for saying things like that, no matter how much he argued that it’s perfectly possible to avoid the curse of one’s bloodline. Yaiba loved him, but he too had a point of snapping and one day yelled, “If you want to die so much, then go ahead and die! Do as you wish. But I would never do a stupid thing like that.” Later that day he found Amato dead in the bathroom. To Yaiba, it was clear who caused this death, and guilt drove him to drink. He would probably end up the same way as his brother. On the other hand, the events made him feel drawn to study the darkness in people’s hearts, and that caused him to become a detective, which gave his life new meaning… but that's all in the past now.

--

Yaiba wakes up with a hangover in his own compartment. Someone’s knocking at the door and Amato is asking him from the upper bed to open it already. Yaiba complies and unlocks the door, briefly wondering why the floor has a dark stain on it. The one knocking is completely pale Pyotr, who informs him that the two conductors have been murdered—while the bodies are nowhere to be found, their room is covered in blood, and the red stains lead to Yaiba’s compartment door. Yaiba notices that Natalia is not with them, but Pyotr informs him that she just switched compartments last night, since she didn’t like being unable to lock the door for the sake of her companions.

They call over Uryakov from another car to help with investigation. There’s a lot of blood in the compartment and on the train aisle floor, but the outside of the compartment door is clean, so Uryakov believes the victims were attacked inside. However, Yaiba was in no shape to attack anyone, and the only other person inside was a child. When Yaiba woke up, the door had been locked from the inside, so nobody could budge them unless they had the master key belonging to the conductors. It’s possible that obtaining that key was the motive for murder. It’s also very possible that the murderer actually wanted to kill Yaiba, but the conductors walked in during the act and had to be taken care of. Uryakov suspects Pyotr, but Yaiba thinks he’s innocent.

Natalia shows up and claims that Yaiba is the murderer. Earlier she heard the conductors arguing with someone, then a sound like something fell over and was being dragged towards the conductor room. When she worked up the courage to check that room, she saw two headless bodies and sprinted back to her compartment, afraid of coming out until now.

Uryakov listens to her testimony and has her return to her room. He doesn’t believe Yaiba did it, but they only have an hour left to solve the case before they arrive at the next station and will potentially be in big trouble.

They investigate. The conductor room toilet is unusually unlocked. One of the empty compartments is locked, but Uryakov doesn’t think the bodies are in there (probably were thrown out the train window instead). In a baggage storage under Yaiba’s bed they find a bloodied axe.

Yaiba remembers what Uryakov told him about the Amur Tiger. The motive for the murders is obtaining human heads, retrieving brain tissue and selling it as a delicacy on the black market, camouflaged as ordinary canned food. Considering the scope of the entire scheme, it has to be the work of an organization that Pogrom must be related to as well. The vital clue that Aleksandr Uryakov told his brother before death was that Pogrom was likely Pyotr, and so Drexel decided to tail the man.

Yaiba thinks it’s strange. If Pyotr was Pogrom, why would he try to kill Yaiba instead of the more immediate threat that was Uryakov, and why would he fail? If those corned beef cans contained human brain tissue, why would Pyotr want to murder someone right there in their train car, considering the police would probably look through the passengers’ belongings? And why was the door closed?

They make a rough timeline of events.

00:00 — Natalia asks to switch compartments. The conductors help her move baggage.

00:30 — Pyotr and Amato drag passed out Yaiba to his compartment, meeting both conductors on the way. One of the conductors returns to their room. Natalia explains the switch to Amato. The boy locks the door to Yaiba’s compartment from the inside and goes to sleep. Pyotr goes back to his own bed.

04:25 — The train gets moving again and leaves Khabarovsk.

05:00 — Natalia hears the suspicious noises. Around ten minutes later she discovers the two bodies and hides in her compartment.

05:30 — Pyotr sees the bloody scene (but no bodies) and knocks on Yaiba’s door.

Uryakov thinks that the murderer waited until one conductor was using the bathroom, killed the other one, snatched the master key, attempted to kill Yaiba, but was discovered by the other conductor and had to kill her too. Yaiba points out that it would be weird to not just kill both women first to be safe. Maybe the suspect they’re searching for is in fact one of the conductors? But then who killed her in turn?

Yaiba theorizes that maybe the murderer wasn’t targeting him at all, but the two women—after all, the Amur Tiger just wants some random heads. He attacked them in their room, got the master key, and then arranged things to look like they were killed in Yaiba’s compartment to pin the guilt on him. This could mean that the murderer was traveling in the same car… or just wanted them to think that way. It could even be someone from outside—it would be impossible not to get one’s clothes stained with this much blood flying around, yet none of the passengers they talked to seemed to have changed their clothing since yesterday. The fact that the murder occured after the train resumed movement also seems quite suspicious, almost as if done intentionally to make them think the culprit was still on the train.

Uryakov adds that the murderer has to be someone who knew that Yaiba wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and that Natalia had moved to another compartment. Aside from Amato and Natalia herself, this only leaves Pyotr as the suspect.

Yaiba notices that Uryakov really wants to pin the guilt on Pyotr, but he thinks he has already found another solution. The real murderer was someone from outside who cooperated with Natalia to create an alibi for himself. First the real murderer killed the conductors at night and left the train, then in the morning Natalia pushed the bodies outside.

They approach the next station quickly, so Uryakov promises to take care of the rest.

--

Natalia admits her guilt and reveals that Pyotr, Shaina and Ivan were all in on it. Ivan told Natalia he was with the Amur Tiger group and threatened her into compliance. Then he left the train at night in Khabarovsk, bought an axe, checked in a local hotel, then claiming he forgot something returned to the train, killed both conductors and took their heads with him. Natalia took care of the bodies later.

Thankfully the police seems satisfied with this and the train continues on its way. Yaiba evaded being searched, but he doesn’t have a lot of time before his and Nemu’s trains stop at the same station. He’s not sure what to do now, so he passes the time talking with Uryakov.

Yaiba notices that despite the case being over, something still doesn’t fit into his reasoning. If Ivan really was the murderer, why would he buy a murder weapon in a store, considering how easy it would be to track it back to him? Revealing himself as part of the Amur Tiger to another person and trying to put the blame on an A-detective seemed too risky. Yaiba thinks it’s more probable that the real murderer actually forced Natalia to accuse Ivan.

And when you take all the circumstances into account, the only person who can be the murderer—who traveled outside their car, and who knew that Yaiba would be drinking—is actually Uryakov.

Uryakov asks why Yaiba covered for him in front of the police. Yaiba answers that he’s not in a position to be getting himself involved into cases, and besides, it’s only a matter of time until the truth is discovered. Uryakov can’t escape anymore.

The deciding evidence was Amato’s testimony. The boy actually told Yaiba that he had been only pretending to be asleep at night, so he saw Uryakov entering their compartment and killing a conductor who walked in on him. The intended target really was Yaiba. The motive is easy to guess: Uryakov himself is Pogrom. He was the one to kill his own brother.

Uryakov admits to everything, but adds that no matter how good of a detective Yaiba is, he has one weakness: he cannot put his thinking to reason out his own problems. And because Uryakov knows that they’re both going to die on this train anyway, he may as well tell him the truth about the boy he’s traveling with.

“That boy over there is Amano, not Amato. Wake up, Somanovich—no, Yaiba Somahito! That ‘Amato’ only exists within you!”

Yaiba slowly stands up and looks at the boy on the top bed. An unfamiliar face looks back at him. It’s not his brother Amato at all.

Yaiba runs out of the compartment and realizes that the train seems to be climbing a steep hill that shouldn’t be there, and that the hour is almost 1 PM on a Saturday—and then the train shots out of the broken tracks and starts falling straight towards Lake Baikal.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUP IN FOUNDERS TO MAKE WEALTH

Would it be useful to have an explicit belief in change. And I think that's ok. Mihalko seemed like he actually wanted to be our friend. Grad school is the other end of the humanities. Indirectly, but they pay attention.1 US, its effects lasted longer. Together you talk about some hard problem, probably getting nowhere.

Informal language is the athletic clothing of ideas. Why? They got to have expense account lunches at the best restaurants and fly around on the company's Gulfstreams. Meaning everyone within this world was low-res: a Duplo world of a few big hits, and those aren't them. It's not true that those who teach can't do. Or is it?2 I think much of the company.

Part of the reason is prestige. If you define a language that was ideal for writing a slow version 1, and yet with the right optimization advice to the compiler, would also yield very fast code when necessary.3 Of course, prestige isn't the main reason the idea is much older than Henry Ford. The right way to get it. And indeed, there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century and the origins of the big, national corporation. The reason car companies operate this way is that it was already mostly designed in 1958. Wars make central governments more powerful, and over the next forty years gradually got more powerful, they'll be out of business. And this too tended to produce both social and economic cohesion. The first microcomputers were dismissed as toys.4 This won't be a very powerful feature. Lisp paper.5 Plus if you didn't put the company first you wouldn't be promoted, and if you couldn't switch ladders, promotion on this one was the only way up.

But if they don't want to shut down the company, that leaves increasing revenues and decreasing expenses firing people.6 One is that investors will increasingly be unable to offer investment subject to contingencies like other people investing. I understood their work. Which in turn means the variation in the amount of wealth people can create has not only been increasing, but accelerating.7 Surely that sort of thing did not happen to big companies in mid-century most of the 20th century and the origins of the big national corporations were willing to pay a premium for labor.8 As long as he considers all languages equivalent, all he has to do is remove the marble that isn't part of it. I had a few other teachers who were smart, but I never have. And it turns out that was all you needed to solve the problem. You have certain mental gestures you've learned in your work, and when you're not paying attention, you keep making these same gestures, but somewhat randomly.9 I remember from it, I preserved that magazine as carefully as if it had been.10 That no doubt causes a lot of institutionalized delays in startup funding: the multi-week mating dance with investors; the distinction between acceptable and maximal efficiency, programmers in a hundred years, maybe it won't in a thousand. Certainly it was for a startup's founders to retain board control after a series A, that will change the way things have always been.

Which inevitably, if unions had been doing their job tended to be lower. They did as employers too. I worry about the power Apple could have with this force behind them. I made the list, I looked to see if there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century, working-class people tried hard to look middle class. In a way mid-century oligopolies had been anointed by the federal government, which had been a time of consolidation, led especially by J. Wars make central governments more powerful, until now the most advanced technologies, and the number of undergrads who believe they have to say yes or no, and then join some other prestigious institution and work one's way up the hierarchy. Locally, all the news was bad. Close, but they are still missing a few things. Not entirely bad though. I notice this every time I fly over the Valley: somehow you can sense prosperity in how well kept a place looks. Another way to burn up cycles is to have many layers of software between the application and the hardware. And indeed, the most obvious breakage in the average computer user's life is Windows itself.

Investors don't need weeks to make up their minds anyway. The point of high-level languages is to give you bigger abstractions—bigger bricks, as it were, so I emailed the ycfounders list. They traversed idea space as gingerly as a very old person traverses the physical world. And there is another, newer language, called Python, whose users tend to look down on Perl, and more openly. At the time it seemed the future. What happens in that shower? You can't reproduce mid-century model was already starting to get old.11 Meanwhile a similar fragmentation was happening at the other end of the economic scale.12 But the advantage is that it works better.

Most really good startup ideas look like bad ideas at first, and many of those look bad specifically because some change in the world just switched them from bad to good.13 There's good waste, and bad waste. A rounds. A bottom-up program should be easier to modify as well, partly because it tends to create deadlock, and partly because it seems kind of slimy. But when you import this criterion into decisions about technology, you start to get the company rolling. It would have been unbearable. Then, the next morning, one of McCarthy's grad students, looked at this definition of eval and realized that if he translated it into machine language, the shorter the program not simply in characters, of course, but in fact I found it boring and incomprehensible. I wouldn't want Python advocates to say I was misrepresenting the language, but what they got was fixed according to their rank. The deal terms of angel rounds will become less restrictive too—not just less restrictive than angel terms have traditionally been. If it is, it will be a minority squared.

If 98% of the time, just like they do to startups everywhere. Their culture is the opposite of hacker culture; on questions of software they will tend to pay less, because part of the core language, prior to any additional notations about implementation, be defined this way. That's what a metaphor is: a function applied to an argument of the wrong type.14 Now we'd give a different answer.15 And you know more are out there, separated from us by what will later seem a surprisingly thin wall of laziness and stupidity. There have probably been other people who did this as well as Newton, for their time, but Newton is my model of this kind of thought. I'd be very curious to see it, but Rabin was spectacularly explicit. Betting on people over ideas saved me countless times as an investor.16 They assume ideas are like miracles: they either pop into your head or they don't. I was pretty much assembly language with math. Whereas if you ask for it explicitly, but ordinarily not used. A couple days ago an interviewer asked me if founders having more power would be better or worse for the world.

Notes

The reason we quote statistics about fundraising is so hard to prevent shoplifting because in their early twenties. Auto-retrieving filters will have a definite commitment.

It will seem like noise.

It's one of the world. That's why the Apple I used to end investor meetings too closely, you'll find that with a neologism. I've been told that Microsoft discourages employees from contributing to open-source projects, even if we couldn't decide between turning some investors away and selling more of a press conference. All you need but a lot about some disease they'll see once in China, many of the biggest divergences between the government.

Mozilla is open-source projects, even if they pay a lot of time. If they agreed among themselves never to do that. And journalists as part of grasping evolution was to reboot them, initially, to sell your company into one? Most expect founders to overhire is not so much better is a net win to include in your own time, not just the local area, and Reddit is Delicious/popular with voting instead of just doing things, they were shooting themselves in the field they describe.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an urban context, issues basically means things we're going to get you type I startups. As a friend who invested earlier had been with us if the current options suck enough. MITE Corp.

The top VCs and Micro-VCs. When you had to for some reason, rather than admitting he preferred to call all our lies lies. But what they're wasting their time on schleps, and at least what they really need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much as Drew Houston needed Dropbox, or to be able to raise money on convertible notes, VCs who can say I need to run an online service. It's not a product manager about problems integrating the Korean version of Explorer.

What you're too early really means is No, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. In either case the implications are similar. But there are few things worse than the don't-be startup founders who go on to study the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, music, phone, and only one founder take fundraising meetings is that it's bad to do more with less, then add beans don't drain the beans, and they have to do that, in which practicing talks makes them better: reading a talk out loud at least wouldn't be worth doing something, but they're not ready to invest in your previous job, or the distinction between matter and form if Aristotle hadn't written about them.

Philadelphia is a net loss of productivity. As a rule, if the growth is genuine. Which implies a surprising but apparently unimportant, like a core going critical.

In practice the first year or so. If you weren't around then it's hard to think about so-called lifestyle business, having sold all my shares earlier this year. Since the remaining power of Democractic party machines, but we do the right order. They're an administrative convenience.

35 companies that tried to attack the A P supermarket chain because it has to be the more the aggregate is what the editors think the main reason is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. What is Mathematics? Once again, that good paintings must have affected what they claim was the fall of 2008 but no doubt partly because companies don't. Perhaps the solution is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors treat them differently.

At the moment the time it still seems to have, however, is a fine sentence, though I think all of them is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. We thought software was all that matters to us. It's a lot about some of the business much harder to fix once it's big, plus they are to be something of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being a scientist. Some would say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups is very common for founders to walk to.

In fact, we try to be a special recipient of favour, being a scientist.

It is the most successful investment, Uber, from which Renaissance civilization radiated.

When an investor they already know; but as a percentage of GDP were about the team or their determination and disarmingly asking the right sort of things economists usually think about so-called lifestyle business, A. Put in chopped garlic, pepper, cumin, and would not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told that they probably don't notice even when I first met him, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. There is of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what you write for your present valuation is the most promising opportunities, it is to get into the intellectual sounding theory behind it.

Innosight, February 2012. Ashgate, 1998. So it is less than a Web terminal.

This is why we can't figure out the same ones. Trevor Blackwell, who had been able to. We didn't let him off, either as an example of applied empathy. And yet if he were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

[homebrewpodcast]

Transcript: Home Brew 07: Abandoned Places, Liminal Spaces

Hey ya’ll! Thanks so much for supporting ☕Home Brew☕ thus far - especially because we a still a pretty young podcast and not yet in the wide world of Apple/Google yet.

Ever since Danny and I dreamed up this project, accessibility has always been a part of our vision - especially as audio recordings can be tough for some of our audience to process. Thanks to some kind and incredible volunteers, we will be able to bring you transcripts of the episodes soon after they are published!

Please explore this transcript of our latest episode at your leisure and look forward to more transcripts to be posted here and on the homebrewpodcast.podbean.com page. 

Thanks again everyone!

-Johna💚

Transcript: Home Brew 07: Abandoned Places, Liminal Spaces

Order of events:

☕ Make Talk Good

☕ Main topic: LIMINAL SPACES!!!

☕ Mythic feature: John Henry: The Steel Drivin Man

☕ Devotional thought with Danny

DANNY: Hi, and welcome to Home Brew podcast. I'm Danny…

JOHNA: And I’m Johna, two pagan friends exploring spirituality in the Modern Age.

DANNY: We’re queer…

 JOHNA: And definitely not so white.

 DANNY: So please be aware that we are grown-ups, who may discuss sensitive topics as they relate to our own experiences.

 JOHNA: That being said, we welcome and incorporate the experiences of our listeners. You can contribute by messaging homebrewpodcast.tumblr.com—

 DANNY: Or by tagging @homebrewpagans on Twitter. And so, let’s get into the episode!

 [transition music]

 JOHNA: All right, we have our order of events. The first thing on our list is Make Talk Good, as per usual.

 DANNY: And, we are very very excited to introduce our main topic, which is liminal spaces, specifically abandoned places.

 JOHNA: [chuckle] So after we’re done being nerds about that, I am going to share a myth with you. This is going to be the Ballad of John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man.

 DANNY: And we're going to close out with a devotional thought about plants! [chuckle]

 JOHNA: Yay!

 DANNY: Yay!

 JOHNA: [sing-song] Make…Talk…Good!

 It's Make Talk Good again. This is our update on our language learning efforts, which are an act of ancestor veneration. So, let me tell you what I have for this week. It is “Paki-ulit?” 

DANNY: Ooh!

JOHNNA: “Please, paki-ulit?” Uh, so, okay, Danny, let me explain to you. This is like saying, like, “pardon? Excuse me, can you repeat that? Can you do it again?”

 DANNY: Oh, okay, okay, okay.

 JOHNA: [long sigh] This is important, because there's like a lot that I've tried to learn, but I’m not always able to like, use it, and not always able to, like, talk to other people, and it's hard when you're always learning new things, so just like reviewing what I...you know, started out with since we first started doing this.

 You know I learned "Kumusta ang lahat," which is “Hello, everybody.” It was really important to me that I learn that. "Na--[laugh]--Nag-aaral ako ng mga multo." You need to know that I study ghosts. And then there's that, you know, very heartfelt one, "Minsan lahat napupunta sa impyerno," which I feel a lot better about but I also feel more strongly about how everything can go to hell.

 DANNY: Yeah. I remember that one. [chuckle]

 JOHNA: But things like "Tao po?" Easy. Paki-ulit is going to be regular, so regular. I need that phrase a lot. Pardon me, you guys, I needed time to review. It’s important. [laugh] But how about you, Danny?

 DANNY: Um, I can start saying sentences!

 JOHNA: Ooh, say a sentence now. Like right now, say a sentence.

 DANNY: Oh geez, okay, alright, okay. I'm going to say an untrue sentence. “Ni-TLAca-tl--” Aww, but you know what, I forget that the syllable is not going to be in the middle, it's going to be the second to last syllable, so let me try that again for everybody.

 JOHNA: All right, take two!

 DANNY: “Ni-tlaCA-tl.”  And “Nitlacatl” means “I am a man,” which I am not.  

 JOHNA: [gasp] You’re not, though!

 DANNY: But that is the first sentence that they teach. I'm not, but that's the first sentence that they teach in this book. I'm going to once again plug it. It's called Learn Nahuatl: Language of the Aztecs and Modern Nahuas by Yan Garcia. It's a workbook, it's neat, and I am learning simple sentences. And basically how these simple sentences work—

 Last week we talked about plural nouns. And we learned that an, a noun in Nahuatl ends with what's called an absolutive ending. And what we are doing now is we are taking that noun and we are also adding a subject prefix, if you wanna just do a simple sentence.

 So, in the sentence that I used, “tlaca” means “man.” What you do is, if I wanted to say, “I am a man,” the way that you would conjugate that noun is to add the prefix “ni-,” so “Nitlacatl,” that's a way smoother way to say it. But, as we kind of covered last week, if it's a plural noun in certain situations, the ending is M-E-H. In this sentence, if I wanted to say “we are men,” I would say “Titlacameh,” instead of “Nitlacatl”.

 [sigh] So, pronunciation is still not a strong point, and this is a lot. This is, like, very very different than how they do things in English, um, and they only kind of do this in Latin, which is the only other language I know sort of how to do. But I am very excited to be able to start even conceptualizing simple sentences now, ‘cause so far it's just been, like, kind of words a little bit.

 JOHNA: Hell. Yeah. Dude. Awesome. Sooooooooooo…

 DANNY: Let's get into our main topic!

 JOHNA: [laughs]

 DANNY: So, in this episode…this is probably, I want to say, our most dense episode yet. It's not necessarily our heaviest, but it's really packed full of stuff. We cover a lot of terms, we cover a lot of concepts, and we introduce some ideas that are only barely like getting revisited post-Enlightenment in the Western World. So if it feels a little confusing and we get a little academic, hang with us, we just have to kind of cover a couple of things.

 So our main topic here is liminal spaces, with a specific focus on abandoned places. The reason why we chose to split this up is that if we just talked about liminal spaces as a whole we would be here for a thousand years.

 JOHNA: So many thousands.

 DANNY: And it would be way more complicated than, like, anybody is prepared for. Did I discover that I wanted to write a thesis on liminal spaces more than usual when doing this prep? Yes.

 JOHNA: [chuckle]

 DANNY: But we narrowed it down for you because we wanted to, um, really give each subcategory of liminal space the time it deserves. But we're going to get into a lot of good stuff. But for right now, let’s start with some foundation work.

 So, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines liminal as “relating to or situated at a sensory threshold, specifically being barely perceptible.” And then space is “a physical space independent of what occupies it.” There are a couple of different definitions that were also listed there, but I picked these two because I felt that they directly related to liminal space as a concept, and also was helpful to connect liminal spaces and abandoned places. A liminal space is a physical place that situates itself between the perceptible, or the real world, and the imperceptible in such a way that creates an overlap between now and the past-slash-future in various ways. Phew! [laugh]

 JOHNA: Yes. Okay. That's a good place to start, aaaa… I mean, in layman's terms, I feel like liminal places tend to be busy, you know--

DANNY: Mm-hmm.

JOHNA: --sort of like byways, and that haunted places tend to have, uh, more consistent residents. Even if there is a doorway, there tend to be the same characters around. Does that make sense?

 DANNY: It does. And I think, also, before we kind of jump away from haunted places, it’s kind of important to talk about what haunted means. Um, at-at least in terms of how we're, like, looking at it from this podcast. Because we are taking the ‘hauntedness’ out of abandoned places for those who might think that those things are interchangeable.

 So let’s kind of go back to the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition. There's two that I really want to kind of chew on. The first definition that I want to kind of look at is haunted as “to visit or inhabit as a ghost.” So that's, like, that was one of the first ones that they list online. But another one, alternative definition, is “to visit often or continually seek the company of.” And I think that that is a more interesting dichotomy for, like, what haunted means. The idea of just visiting often, seeking the company of, is inviting us to consider that things other than ghosts can haunt places.

 So while we might consider haunted places to be liminal, and they have liminal qualities, we are going to talk more here, like how you phrased it, like, we're going to talk here more about spiritual byways, rather than like, a haunt. That will be later.

 JOHNA: [laugh]

 DANNY: So that’s sort of--[laugh] But that’s where we’re approaching this difference.

 JOHNA: Mm-hmm. So a common belief among non-western religions is that existence, not just life, is primarily spiritual, and may express itself physically. So this idea has been pretty well eradicated from Western culture, like, particularly after the enlightenment, but it has been something that has been sort of rediscovered by a lot of Western Pagan traditions. So essentially we can recognize this life as an expression of our being, but far from the sum of it.

 That invites you to consider, like, how does that apply to things that physical beings have constructed? Does this mean that places and objects existed spiritually, too? Are we able to create spiritual objects or beings by creating them physically first? I think that this is, like, typically the first way that we sort of try to approach that, but that kind of question implies that we're asking whether the chicken comes before the egg. In my theology, and sort of in the perspective of this podcast, pretty much everything is an egg that occasionally makes chicken shapes. You see? Like, you get it? Do you get the--?

 DANNY: Yeah, yeah. I kind of love that, too. I like that relationship, I guess, between like our spiritual life and our physical objects we make and like what does what first. And I think that, okay, if we assume “yes,” that at least part of our spiritual life impacts the physical non-living objects we create, it kind of leads, like you were saying, to the question of like, “what happens to these places, objects, spaces when we're done with them?” Like, the idea of leaving a spiritual footprint is how we can kind of connect liminal space to abandoned place.

 And I think, also, and here's kind of where things are going to get, um, I guess, a little non-western here, is that time, like you were saying, is a really strong factor here as well. So if a building, for example, can hold onto the physical, the spiritual footprint of those who used to utilize the space, even after the people themselves are gone, then liminal spaces become a really useful tool when conceptualizing how time and spiritual energy becomes less linear than we are accustomed to thinking about that in this day and age. That is to say that liminal spaces sort of become an example of how time exists all at the same time. [chuckle]

 Our spiritual footprint kind of leaves the-the energies that we imprinted into the ground on one specific day, and holds it for potentially forever, so that, like, one day that you were there can be sort of suspended in this liminal space for all time. And I think that understanding space as it relates to nonlinear time and overlapping energies can be a really really useful tool when growing in your faith as a pagan, or even just as a spiritual person. I know that personally this kind of interaction with space and liminal spaces has improved my relationship with my gods, um, has simplified and improved how I interact with the natural world, and also how I handle my own mortality and the concept of death as a spiritual person.

 JOHNA: Mm-hmm, you know what, I do like that. I like that the Western world is warming up to nonlinear time--now that we have, like, math to theoretically explain it so it's not laughed at as much. But, like, as you continue to deepen a practice with your gods, your ancestors, or just your exalted self, you come to experience, like, dialogue and answered prayers as something that isn't limited to your experience of time, right? Like, you might pray for a job and thank your ancestors for the answered prayer, and then realize that it was possible because they made a demand of you like months before you even needed that job, before the need for that job existed.

 So it's difficult to examine how this happens in relation to our own lives, sometimes, when you’re thinking of time totally linearly—

 DANNY: Mm-hmm.

 JOHNA: --so it helps to, you know, study liminal space instead, and use that as a starting por—sorry, use that as a starting point. So, like, I understand that the way that we talked about this, like, lacks academic nuance sometimes, and, like, for now I'm okay with that ‘cause, you know, when it comes to paranormal subjects, the field is still incredibly new, we still rely on a lot of anecdotal information, but that's not to say that you can't trust your own observational skills.

 DANNY: Yes, absolutely. And sort of speaking of anecdotes, I-I do have a lot of perception about liminal spaces with regards to abandoned places in particular, and I wanted to sort of highlight a couple of things to sort of have like a real world example of the concepts that we’re talking about. This is sort of to underline the—the concepts and ideas that we've introduced so far and how I use them in my practice, and also kind of in my hobbies, which, as we all know, end up overlapping eventually.

 JOHNA: [chuckle]

 DANNY: I very casually do urban exploration. I don't live in a place where it's super easy to do. All of the good good stuff is, uh, really hard to get to, and it’s also hard to find again. If you find, like, a sweet sweet house that you want to get your little fingers in, it's hard to find it later.

 BOTH: [laugh]

 DANNY: But, and I’ve been doing this for a while, but only recently have I started conceptualizing urban exploration as part of my spiritual exercise, and I find it actually really meditative, sort of before I knew that I-I needed to have a meditative practice. It's a really unique experience for me to sit quietly in a space and to try to feel all of that energy that's ever been there. That is to say, like, if you sit quietly in a messed up house in the middle of nowhere and settle your mind for a second, it really feels like you can feel everything that has ever come in, has ever been around, and has ever passed through that house. And it's a little different than, like, interacting with a forest or, you know, like, your favorite park. It's a, it’s a very very specific energy that is different in every place that you go. And for me that's like, it’s… as closest as I think we can get to straddling a few different worlds, sort of because of the way time happens in liminal spaces. It’s really beautiful.

 But I do want to have a disclaimer. [chuckles] And my disclaimer is: please be careful when urban exploring. Be mindful of No Trespassing signs, be mindful of security cameras. You might approach a house that looks really cool, but the structural issues will make it too dangerous to go in. It is not worth dying for the aesthetic. Do not walk into a house that looks like the entire floor is covered in bird shit without a respirator. Do not go onto second floors unless you're absolutely sure that it is safe and secure. I always recommend that you go urban exploring in pairs, at least. I'm happier if people go in groups of three or four, that way if somebody gets hurt you can have someone stay with the person and you have someone go get help. There are times you will lose cell phone reception. That's when you're going to want and need partners. Bring flashlights, bring batteries, don't tag up the joint. Thank you.

 JOHNA: Mm-hmm. Good advice from the neighborhood weirdo.

 DANNY: That's me!

 JOHNA: So I myself, like, I don't like to visit liminal spaces. I like to look at them from a comfortable distance. Now, like, okay, I hate to apply the word “sensitive” to myself because I think that word is used to excuse how other people would rather, like, completely deny their own experiences and the experiences of other people instead of considering that reality is not what they taught themselves to expect, right? But I guess I am, uh, some kind of sensitive in the way that, like, a sensitive person is someone who uses some kind of psychic ability, right?

 DANNY: Yeah.

 JOHNA: Whether that’s conscious or not. But I also hate the sound of that, because it makes it sound like it's supernatural, but it's not. It's a normal and regular thing that people are. [sigh] Okay, anyway, anyway.

 I don't like to hang out in liminal spaces ‘cause they feel…busy. It's like I'm standing in the middle of a hallway, you know, and everyone around me knows where the hell they're going and why they’re there, and I’m just taking up space. Like, I feel like I'm bumping into people at an intersection, because I'm not actually going anywhere. And I don't have business there, and I know it, and whatever or whoever's there knows it, and I'm just standing there, and I’m being impolite, and I don't like how it feels. Unlike you for who it sounds like you sort of like it, like white noise.

 DANNY: Yeah.

 JOHNA: And I get that. But for me it's not white noise, it's just so noisy. But I do like to observe from a distance, because it's a little like people watching. Which is pretty much what you do up close. But because it’s too much activity for me, I’ll like sit further away and sort of watch, like, an abandoned railroad. And when you quiet yourself, you can sort of feel the land’s memory of trains rushing past. Sometimes you can feel when, like, spirits use them as byways, and sometimes you'll see—well, I say see—but sometimes you can sense people or entities, like, congregating nearby, waiting. And in that way it’s sort of calming because there's this reassurance that people have always just been people.

 And sometimes it's just this frightening awareness that it's not just the spirit of a person that’s aware of you, it's the spirit of a place that's become aware of me, and they have an opinion on that. And when that happens I just leave, ‘cause I don't like people watching if I also have to be watched. You know what I mean?

 DANNY: [laughs] It's a one-way street.

 JOHNA: Mm-mm, I don't like it.

 DANNY: We’ve touched on this before, but I think about it every time we talk about this. Um, especially when you were talking about how it feels to, like, sit by an abandoned railroad and feel like the trains rush past, etc. It makes me think of Spirited Away, in that, my, wh-… how do I wanna put this. The feeling for me of, like, watching a world, like… At the very, very beginning when they, like, actually like pass through the tunnel and they're in what appears to be an abandoned theme park, and then that transitions into, like, a thriving place where people are doing stuff, that is how it feel—like watching that, is how it feels for me. But I feel like for you, experiencing…

 JOHNA: [laughs]

 DANNY: …a liminal place is, like, what it's like to be Chihiro. [laughs] Whereas—

 JOHNA: Yes.

 DANNY: --I’m still at least enjoying, like, watching Chihiro, I’m st—I’m, don't feel like I am physically a part of the energy, it's just kind of, like, not acknowledging me. Whereas for you it seems like there are eyes on you and you are—someone you know has eaten a bunch of food they should not have.

 JOHNA: Oh man. Aw, man.

 DANNY: Does that kind of…does that seem like kind of…?

 JOHNA: No, it just…feels like… It feels like when you, like, walk into a classroom that you’re not supposed to be in, but you walk in…

 DANNY: Oh my gosh.

 JOHNA: …with so much purpose that everyone’s just like “ok, and what did you bring?” Aaand…I don’t have answers!

 DANNY: Yes, actually, that makes so much sense, like the walking into a classroom and everybody kind of looks at you like “well, you’re here, aren’t you?” And you’re like, “this isn’t the right place.” That makes a lot more sense to me, of all of, like, the times you’ve talked about, like, your feelings about liminal space, I guess.

 JOHNA: Yeah.

 DANNY: But like, kind of on that vein, we—you know, we touched on Spirited Away, which is a Japanese film, and we are, you know, we're talking about a North American experience. And, like, there is this concept that I sort of want to like touch on before we, we move on, that abandoned places as a liminal space are a really really interesting part of the US, like, the United States experience, in particular, because as an established country, we are pretty young.

 So someone who…a hypothetical listener listening in like, England or Japan, might have a different perspective on abandoned places altogether. Because some people…when I went to England, like, some people were living in houses that were older than the established country I live in.

 JOHNA: [laughs]

 DANNY: And obviously, like, disclaimer, like, we understand that, like, the indigenous peoples of America have been around just as long as every other settled place, you know. We're sort of talking about that in the post-colonial timeline, unfortunately.

 Kind of in that vein, in the short amount of time that the United States of America has existed as a country, we have gone through several changes of Industry that has created and then abandoned factories, apartment buildings, whole cities. Uh, pretty much every time that America, like, encounters a change in capitalism, so that’s, so like an economic boom or an economic crash, we change the landscape of our land. We changed the shape of that space, um, as part of our, like, perpetual manifest destiny bullshit.

 So the idea here also, the thing with liminality may also relate to how we as pagans or as spiritually sensitive people interact with the energy of our North American culture, and how--

 JOHNA: Hmm!

 DANNY: --someone who's Japanese would be interacting with their Japanese culture. So, like, liminal spaces might be completely different energetically, depending on where you are! And I think that that's also really super cool!

 JOHNA: Oh my God. That's a thing that we're going to have to talk about later, for sure.

 DANNY: Yeah, it's a lot to think on right now.

 BOTH: [laugh]

 JOHNA: But for now…do you wanna hear a story?

 DANNY: I would love to hear a story. Let's bring it back.

 JOHNA: Whoo whoo whoo! Okay. It’s…this is going to be a story told through song. As I mentioned before, of John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man. This is a version of the song that has been adapted from a Harry Belafonte performance. There are so many different versions of this. The song became popular in the early 1900s when locomotives were first getting popular and companies were laying tracks down all across the country.

 Just a preface, a steel driver is someone who hammers down screws that tack down the railroad. And for your reference during the song, a shaker is somebody who twists the screw in between the hammer hits. So, labor intensive, took a lot of people to do this. And locomotion tycoons wanted to make as much money as they could, so they tr--worked hard to be able to replace people with automated drills. So here is The Ballad of John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man.

 John Henry was a little baby

Sittin’ on his papa’s knee

He picked up a hammer and a little piece of steel

Said “Hammer’s gonna be the death of me, Lord!

Hammer’s gonna be the death of me.”

 The captain said to John Henry

“Gonna bring that steam drill ’round

Gonna bring that steam drill out on the job

Gonna whoop that steel on down, Lord!

Gonna whoop that steel on down.”

 John Henry told his captain,

“A man ain’t nothin’ but a man

But before I let your steam drill beat me down

I’ll die with a hammer in my hand, Lord!

I’ll die with a hammer in my hand.”

 John Henry said to his Shaker

“Shaker, why don’t you sing?

I’m throwin’ 30 lbs. from my hips on down

Just listen to that cold steel ring, Lord!

Listen to that cold steel ring.”

 John Henry said to his Shaker

“Shaker, you’d better pray

’Cause if I miss that little piece of steel

Tomorrow’s gonna be your buryin’ day!

Tomorrow be your buryin’ day.”

 The Shaker said to John Henry

“I think this mountain’s cavin’ in!”

John Henry said to his Shaker, “Man

That ain’t nothin’ but my hammer suckin’ wind! Lord!

Nothin’ but my hammer suckin’ wind.”

 The man that invented the steam drill

Thought he was mighty fine

But John Henry made 15 ft. of track

The steam drill only made nine, Lord!

The steam drill only made nine.

 John Henry hammered in the mountain

His hammer was striking fire

But he worked so hard, he broke his poor heart

He laid down his hammer and he died, Lord,

He laid down his hammer and he died.

 Now John Henry had a little woman

Her name was Polly Ann

John Henry took sick & went to his bed

Polly Ann drove steel like a man, Lord!

Polly Ann drove steel like a man.

 And John Henry had a little baby

You could hold him in the palm of your hand

The last words I heard that poor boy say

“My daddy was a steel-drivin’ man, Lord!

My daddy was a steel-drivin’ man.”

 They took John Henry to the graveyard

And they buried him in the sand

And every locomotive comes a-roarin’ by

Says “There lies a steel-drivin’ man, Lord!

There lies a steel-drivin’ man.”

 Well every Monday morning

When the bluebirds begin to sing

You can hear John Henry a mile or more

You can (heal--) hear John Henry’s hammer ring, Lord!

You can hear John Henry’s hammer ring.

 Doo-doo!

 DANNY: Wow. I told you this earlier when we were planning, but it’s been like a hot minute since I've heard the story of John Henry, and like, it gets—I’m like, that's some good stuff, dude.

 JOHNA: Yeah, that's some good shit.

 DANNY: Mm-hmm.

 JOHNA: Um, historically, John Henry was a real man, an ex-slave. And it's generally believed that he drove steel in, like, the Virginia area. There’s uh, things to support that, things to refute it. But, generally we agree in the late 1800s he was driving steel. And the warning of John Henry is, I think, especially meaningful today, the way that it was in the early 1900s. That is to say capitalism is bad and the man ain’t here to help us, so you should go unionize, like, yesterday, and your ancestors all agree to stick it to the man, but… [chuckles] …also…

 DANNY: [chuckles] It's true.

 JOHNA: Yeah, as heroic and glorious our people are, we are gonna have to stick together and work together in order to take care of each other, because these companies certainly do not. That’s it. Over to you, Danny.

 DANNY: Thank you. That’s, like, its own devotional thought, honestly.

 JOHNNA: Yeeeah.

 BOTH: [laugh]

 DANNY: Fuck capitalism! And also! [laughs] …bought a mint plant. That’s your devotional thought for today. No. I bought a mint plant--

 JOHNA: Congratulations.

 DANNY: Thank you, it's so finicky. Um, and I only say that because I'm used to taking care of succulents and cacti, which are not. And…but caring for this, this mint plant kind of got me thinking about life, as plants usually do. And how if you neglect one thing--it doesn't have to be anything big. Say you don't mist your mint plant that day, or you don't rotate it so that it gets all the good good sun around all of its little leavies, the whole plant gets uh, unhappy. It gets brown, crusty leaves, it lists to one side, it looks real stupid. And--

 JOHNA: [chuckles] Oh…

 DANNY: --most importantly, it doesn’t fix itself on its own. Mint plant, your mint plant, whatever that, like, may be for you, things that rely on you to take care of it, are important. But also remember that you are also reliant on you to take care of yourself.

 So take some time at the beginning of winter to check in on your needs, uh, physically, mentally, emotionally. Make sure that you're stocked up for what is typified as a fairly barren time, winter. And if you feel off-balance, if you feel like you are getting the proverbial crusty leaves or a part of you feels like it is listing off to the side, or if it's wilting, it just means that something you usually do to take care of yourself isn't happening right now. So, you know, check in with yourself, stock up on yourself, be kind to yourself, and turn yourself towards the sun every once in a while. It's, it’s gonna be okay. [chuckle]

 JOHNA: Aww, yay.

 DANNY: I love you.

 JOHNA: Thank you, Danny. [laughs] I love you, listener.

 DANNY: I fuckin’ love you, dudes. [laughs]

 JOHNA: So okay, we're going to send us off. I love our question this week, it's great.

 Have you seen Spirited Away, the excellent excellent Miyazaki film by Studio Ghibli? Spirited Away? Have you heard of it, yet? Go see it now, immediately, and when you’re done…

 DANNY: Immediately go watch it.

 JOHNA: …when you're done, get back to us online and tell us, which Chihiro moment do you relate to most?

 DANNY: Hell yeah.

 JOHNA: Yeah. For me, obviously, it's like, when the sun goes down and Chihiro finds herself in the middle of a busy intersection, and she doesn't know what to do and has no money and everyone…kind of wishes she weren't in the way.

 DANNY: [laughs]

 JOHNA: That's it. [laughs]

 DANNY: I just want to be the boiler man. [loud laugh]

 JOHNA: Oh man, good one.

 DANNY: That's not a Chihiro moment, I just wanted to make that known to everybody.

 [outro music starts]

 JOHNA: Oh, definitely get back to us on that you guys. Thank you so much for joining us this week. You should look out for new episodes every other Friday.

 DANNY: A big thank you again to Vexento for the use of our theme song, “We Are One,” and to The Miracle Forest for the background, “The Magical Tearoom.”

 JOHNA: Again, you can send your comments and experiences to us on Tumblr and Twitter with #homebrewpagans.

 DANNY: We are at homebrewpodcast.tumblr.com and @homebrewpagans on Twitter. We’ll talk to you real soon. Bye!

 JOHNA: Bye!

 DANNY: See you!

[marginalgloss]

in the egg

Many years into the future, humanity has begun to colonise the galaxy. Our capabilities have come to include terraforming foreign planets and moons: we seed them, and turn them from barren rocks to verdant worlds teeming with life. Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky opens with such an experiment. A space station full of scientists are about to drop off a colony of monkeys on a forest world, with a climate that has been adapted to more or less resemble Earth. The plan is to release them alongside a virus which will accelerate their evolution, along more or less the same basis as humanity — it will, in short, create a society, one that will come into existence much faster than would otherwise be the case. 

Except something goes wrong. At the moment of inception, a rebel on board the station sabotages the experiment. The station is almost destroyed, most of the crew are dead, and the monkeys are gone. The only survivor is Dr Avrana Kern, the sole inhabitant of a tiny sentry pod intended to orbit the earth to keep watch over the experiment. Accompanied only by the AI in the ship’s computer, she believes fiercely in the purpose of her mission. She doesn’t know that the monkeys are gone. She also doesn’t know that the virus survived and will endure in the form of a colony of spiders from the space station.   

This is a fun book — hard sf in the Asimov vein. But more fun than I ever had with Asimov. It’s gripping, and thoughtful, and often quite funny. The story takes place across a scale of thousands of years, enabled in a few ways: the author follows the development of the spiders by awarding roughly equivalent individuals the same name across the generations; meanwhile, out in space there is the Gilgamesh, a wandering ark-ship carrying what could be the last remnants of humanity, who survive by popping in and out of cryogenic storage whenever they start looking a bit grey. 

The whole thing is informed by an interest in history and genetics. Meme theory and materialism are part of it, certainly: ‘The blind watchmaker has been busy’, the author quips at one point. In political terms it’s a hard one to pin down. It borrows the idea (surely quite an old one in certain circles) of an advanced civilisation playing god and takes it very far indeed. The book is interested in how this feels on a human (or arachnid) scale, but spirituality is rendered mostly irrelevant – a convenient by-product of instincts driven at a deeper biological level. At one point one of the smarter spiders believes it has discovered something significant: 

‘…a second book in a second code, short and yet full of information, and different, so different…She says it is the Messenger within us. She says the Messenger is always to be found when new Understandings are laid down. She says it dwells with us in the egg, and grows with us, our invisible guardian, each one of us, she says, she says…’ 

This turns out to be not quite the Reformation-level understanding of religion it appears. The meaning is more literal. The ‘second code’ is simply the virus that has determined their own rapid progression as a species — once they master its development, the spiders become the masters of their own destiny.

There’s little in this novel that cannot be explained in terms of astronomy, genetics, biochemistry, or sociology. In execution it resembles an elaborate retelling of Frankenstein: what happens when the creation wants to meet its maker? But unlike Shelley’s novel, this is a book which has only a moderate active interest in the inner lives of its characters. 

The spiders are convenient because their outer lives are so immediately intertwined (pun intended) with their psychology. Most of them are not interesting as unique individuals — they fascinate the reader only in the sense that each one endures as part of a bigger picture. Consider this description of one of the later incarnations of a spider who is named Bianca for our convenience: 

‘She has a rare perspective that enables her to look back on so many generations of struggle and growth and be able to give a shape and a texture to history, to appreciate the incremental contributions of all those Portias and Biancas and, yes, Fabians down through the generations. Each has contributed Understandings to the sum total of arachnid knowledge. Each has been a node in the expanding web of progress. Each has planned out the path one step beyond their ancestors. In a very real way, Bianca is their child, the product of their learning, daring, discovery and sacrifice. Her mind throngs with the living learning of dead ancestors.’

None of the humans here lives up to the honour of the description above. In their longing for this kind of permanence, the people here end up craving authority, and inflicting suffering. The closest thing the novel has to a human protagonist is Holsten, a scholar on board the Gilgamesh whose role it is to act as a translator and all-round ‘classicist’ — he seems the only one with any lingering cultural or historical knowledge of human civilisation back on earth. He’s a hapless Arthur Dent-ish figure — perpetually confused, generally at the mercy of events around him rather than any kind of hero. He is not atypical. Much like the smaller male spiders, he is incapable of surviving alone, but he is basically good-natured. 

The rest of the humans don’t come across so well. We were the monster all along. We know this. But it’s more than that, I think. Humanity as a whole is portrayed as living at the mercy of fate. We are forever victims of some critical flaw in our own nature. The spiders surpass us because they fixed that flaw. If the spiders represent the idea of progress at its most refined, the humans seem like a race of catastrophically ignorant blunderers by comparison. 

The book ends on something of an optimistic note. It is as though Frankenstein closed with the creature and its maker embracing and, in some ways, swapping genetics. But the ending fits with the tone of the rest of the book. This doesn’t strike me as the kind of novel which could tolerate much in the way of ambiguity. Following the logic of the story too closely could imply that ambiguity is part of what got us into this mess in the first place. So, in a novel which is otherwise teeming with convenient pseudo-evolutionary contrivances, it’s only fitting that the book ends with one final sweeping, peaceful gesture. 

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Signe

Today’s awesome aro-spec creator is Signe, better known to aro-spec Tumblr as @fluffyllamacorn!

Signe is a busy aroace writer, visual and textile artist! She writes for the Young Avengers, The Shadowhunter Chronicles/Shadowhunters, Hawkeye Comics and New X-Men: Academy fandoms in addition to developing diverse original fiction. You can find her growing collection of fanworks on AO3 under the name FluffyLlamacorn and her gorgeous art at @llamacorn-productions.

She also posts and reblogs fashion and accessories at @clothing-inspiration, and some of her cosplays can be seen throughout this post!

With us Signe talks about her passion for textile arts and how they allowed her to reclaim her femininity, the importance of non-romantic relationships in creative media, the difficulty of writing kissing scenes, and the need for works and discussions that celebrate our aromanticism. Her love of making, crafting and designing just shines through this post, so please let’s give her all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

I just sort of … never cared? I’ve never wanted to get married and have children, and I never really had crushes growing up. I partly figured that was because I was surrounded by assholes who weren’t worth crushing on, but even when I graduated and moved to better schools where I actually had friends, I still didn’t care. I’ve always had a lot of confidence, so I’ve never bothered feeling insecure about not dating. I spent a while identifying as a straight person “who doesn’t care about romance” before eventually identifying with the ace and then aroace identifiers after having known them for a while, but there was never any big moments in the journey that really stand out.

Currently, I see my aromanticism as more important to my identity than my asexuality – being aro is what I do, while being ace is what my body does – but I also don’t really see them as separate. It’s hard to put into words because it requires cementing some stuff that I don’t mind leaving fluid, but while my lack of attraction is a package deal, it’s the lack of romantic attraction that defines my lifestyle the most. I know which I would choose if I had to, but I prefer not having to. That’s the only good thing about the ace discourse: It’s made me very protective of my ace identity again after having let somewhat go of it after I came to identify as aro.

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

I’m the type of person who has a thousand different hobbies and therefore doesn’t have time to actually do any of them. The three I care most about are writing, drawing and textile work.

I’ve always told myself a lot of stories. Walking home from school, I would develop my stories, acting out scenes in my mind and developing huge universes. When I decided to share them with the world, it was initially as comics. I drew a lot, so I had developed the characters’ visual identities along with their personalities. While I’ve switched to planning my stories as books, drawing and writing is still pretty linked in my mind and I can’t imagine creating a character that I don’t know how to draw.

I got into textile work through cosplay, but have spread out into knitting, sewing, embroidery, cross stitch, weaving, crocheting, bobbin lace… Pretty much everything I can get my hands on, which is why I give it such a broad name. (This is part of my too many hobbies deal!) I love everything about textiles, from the look and feel of it, to how many different things can be created out of one simple material. Looking at clothes and knowing not just how it’s been sewn, but also how the fabric was made, is so cool. Creating things from scratch can make me feel like something akin to a god, recreating this corner of the universe as I see fit. A big part of my love for textile work is also reclaiming my femininity in a way that’s so different from the girly girl image I was taught to look down on as a girl. This is a way to enjoy being feminine that doesn’t force me to embrace things I don’t enjoy.

One thing I’ve realized recently is that I love the freedom to design my own work. My cosplays have moved further and further away from canon, from human versions to characters without a firm design or completely redesigning a canon design. On the other hand, I rarely feel the need to sew completely original things, and without the built in deadline of a con, I’m not very likely to get it done. I tend to rarely do the things I can just do whenever, but I’m getting better at that.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

It’s easy to spot in my stories. I have a lot of a-spec characters. The two main characters who were specifically designed to get most of my heart – Shizuka, the shy girl who didn’t know how to make friends, and Diana, the confident girl who’s never cared what anyone thinks of her – both ended up being a-spec even though I created them long before I started identifying as aroace. Shizuka is demi and I don’t know whether it’s sexually and/or romantically or if it even matters. Diana ended up being aroace because I was thinking about her future and my mind nope’d out of the possibility of her ever dating. I also made a conscious choice not to include much romance until I got interested in queer love stories and that sorta fell by the way side. Even then, I try to keep the love stories from being the only defining feature of the stories and the characters involved in them and never to devalue other types of relationship. You will never hear the term “just friends” in my work unless I’m trying to make a point about the person who uses it.

(This is not to pass a value judgement on anyone who uses that expression, but to help normalize language that doesn’t devalue platonic relationships.)

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

The recent anti-a-spec discourse has made me worried about posting about aromantic things too publicly, as aphobic comments and opinions seem way to commonly accepted these days.

Also, writing kissing scenes. What the hell. “And then their mouths squished together for a little while, which apparently made fireworks go off in their brains.” Like. What? Why does society think this is the epitome of every relationship?

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

Building communities about a lack of something is always hard. Once you’ve written the first story about being aro, it can be hard to write the next one, unless you consciously try to write about a different way of being aro-spec. It’s also a hard orientation to include quickly as being single isn’t as clear an indicator as having a romantic partner of the same gender. While I follow a bunch of aro-blogs and I have a bunch of a-spec friends, I wouldn’t say I’m strongly integrated in the a-spec communities on Tumblr.

Part of it is that most content I see is validations that every sort of aro is alright. I see a lot of content aimed at people who feel bad. That’s important, definitely, but I don’t need it. I’ve always known I’m amazing, both independently of and intersecting with my aromantic identity. I’m interested in work that celebrates being aro, work that doesn’t say I’ll be happy “even though” I’m aro, but “while” I’m aro, maybe even “because” I’m aro and don’t need to waste my life on amatonormativity. At the very least, work that spends more than a sentence on reassuring me. I see a lot of content that implies the basic state of an aro-spec person is sad, and I object to that idea.

I have also recently seen a whole lot of posts about QPRs and that’s really cool! I’m happy to see they’re becoming more and more accepted, at least in some circles. I’m less happy to see them become so prominent and so expected that they start feeling like a new shape of amatonormativity. It’s not that bad right now, but I definitely got allo aces saying “at least we can still feel love” vibes from some QPR posts earlier this year. Because here’s the thing: I’m aroace. I won the lottery. I don’t need to define myself by relationships to other people.* I refuse to take another label that sounds like I don’t want friends because of people pushing QPRs to be the new norm. Again, I’m super happy QPRs seem to have become more accepted, just please don’t present them as something every aro-spec person is interested in unless we specifically opt out.

There’s also the question of what kind of aro stories should be told. I mean, as many as possible, obviously, but that’s going to take a while. But the whole deal with being aro-spec is to have less interest in romance, so too many stories that focus on the lack of it become … counterproductive? I think the Jughead comics are pretty perfect in that regard. The main character is aroace and there are several stories that’s hella important to, but mainly it’s just about him going on adventures with his friends.

(P.S. I hate Riverdale. I’ve seen two different Jughead cosplays these last two weekends, but I didn’t dare fangirl, because what if they were based on the wrong version?)

Honestly, my main way of interacting with the a-spec community is befriending people at random and later finding out they’re a-spec. It’s … almost a superpower? It’s pretty great.

* No one needs to define themselves by relationships to other people, but I imagine it’s much easier when you don’t feel the desire to.

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

I don’t feel very connected to creative communities, but that’s more because I’m not very good at reaching out and promoting myself unless I know I have exactly what’s being asked for. I mainly stick to one or two people I can bounce ideas off of for my different projects before I post it and hope it finds an audience. It might also be because I’m juggling so many things and don’t spend enough time on the social connections needed to connect with a community.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

Feedback, feedback, feedback! I love it! I live on it! Telling me you like X or Y part of my work can keep me floating for days and makes me so much more motivated to keep arting! So please, check out my art and leave a comment and/or share it with your friends/followers, if you like it.

(Also, if anyone has good tips on how to reach a larger audience, let me know.)

Can you share with us something about your current project?

I just finished my newest cosplay, which is Lup from The Adventure Zone in her lich form! I had a lot of fun designing her – the podcast doesn’t have very specific descriptions and the creators encourage fans to come up with their own designs – and got a lot of positive reactions at the con last weekend. I went for a very non-human design, including hiding my face, and added a bunch of fire details to reflect her evocation magic. I would have added more, but then my sewing machine broke in the last second, and I had to finish everything by hand, so I just aimed for the basic version. I’ll be updating her for the next con and will have much more fire with me then. I have yet to finish editing the pictures, but they should be up soon.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

My next project, one I’ve alluded to a couple of times in this profile already, in fact combines all three of my passions. I was considering cosplaying Pixie, one of the underrated students from X-Men, relegated to the background since their series ended, but I kept bumping up against the problem that her uniform was just too … generic to be fun. Besides, what’s the point of cosplaying the pink girl, and then not getting to work with pink fabric?

So I just redesigned her and gave her an individual outfit. And then I decided to redesign all of her teammates. I wanted them all to go together, but still keep an individual feeling, and I achieved that by giving them a rainbow theme when they’re together. Obviously, the next stop was figuring out a story for that to take place in, of which I’ve posted the first chapter. The idea is that they get out in their bright colors and visibly help everyday people with everyday problems to stop people from hating and fearing mutants and maybe actually making a positive change, unlike all of the superhero battles that don’t get anyone anywhere.

The project has three parts: Individual drawings for every member where I develop their outfits further, chapters of fic describing their adventures and a cosplay that I aim to finish for Genki in August, the next big con in Denmark.