#(even the 'not to my knowledge' is fairly facetious)

[freepassbound]

K - Killed someone?

I - Icecream flavour?

D - Drink you last had?

K - Killed someone?

Not to my knowledge!

I - Icecream flavour?

Top ever is Ashby's Key Lime Pie; currently in the freezer are Hudsonville's Bananas Foster and Creamery Vanilla.

D - Drink you last had?

Got a big tumbler full of ice water right next to me!

[okay-victoria]

Status of Women in The Empire

Summary: LN gives some evidence women have a better status than they did in OTL Germany. It gives little to nothing in the way of evidence that we are in post-sexual-revolution territory. It presents little enough evidence generally that you can use this issue in your own story as you wish; however, using how humans actually work as your baseline, it would be a very definite handwave to think that gender equality is much more than marginally better than OTL would have been at the time, or that Tanya wouldn’t be negatively affected by it in some significant ways in daily life. On the other hand, the original story handwaves an eight year old enrolling in a modern military and getting promoted to a mid-ranking officer by age eleven, so as a reader, I’m obviously pretty down for handwaving some realism for the sake of a good story.

Evidence:

V1/C1

“The armed forces have a practical exception in place for just about everything.” <= I think in fanon the entire Empire as seen as this sort of “everything we do is logical” territory where gender discrimination would have had to be eliminated, but in reality it’s presented as the military, and they are making an exception for a rare and incredibly militarily useful type of person to be able to be put to use by them without gender discrimination stopping it.

V1/C4

“But in the far-from-gender-free world of “ladies first,” Tanya with her outwardly girlish appearance is, albeit only relatively, blessed compared to the other students” <= YMMV, but I would not describe modern society as a world of “ladies first”. Do people do/say it to hark back to pre-1960s chivalry? Sure. Is it really the standard we live by anymore? Not so much. Tanya seems to pretty definitely still be living in those days.

“Basically, apart from the mage branch, the army is a man’s world. Actually, even most of the mages are men.” <= this is notable because it is said when Tanya is in War College, at which point the war has been going on for long enough that available mages have been conscripted, so there is no selection bias that men have simply chosen to pursue a career as a mage more often than women. This is actually weirdly important because it either means:

Magic talent is like, an X chromosome trait and men are thus more likely to have it [in which case, it would probably be taken as natural evidence that men are superior and worsen the gender equality situation]; or

There in fact is a Youjo Konki-esque exception for married women and/or mothers. A nation has to still be relatively in the infancy of gender equality if Female Mage #102 has children with Infantryman #1,000,102 and the military decides that since it can’t leave these children parentless, it has to conscript the dude who is substitutable for literally anyone else and not the human weapon.

Tanya has a long-ish reflection on women in the military. Important points are, the rules have only been overhauled recently to make it practical for women to serve in combat. Women in combat didn’t really exist prior to this war, and women in the military were basically limited to noble/imperial families having their daughters serve out nominal duties. Whatever boost women as a whole get from serving in a capacity that people are used to seeing men in, it has not had time to transform society all that much.

V2/C2

“Women administrators are not uncommon, but in the Empire where gender equality still has a ways to go, their qualifications are always questioned.” <= YMMV as to what degree this is meant to be a statement on something that still troubles women in modern times, or something that indicates gender equality is not particularly close to modern.

V2/C5

“After all, now that I’ve been turned into a girl, I’m faced with this annoying military framework where men are superior. Just the thought of my promotions being blocked by an invisible glass ceiling is enough to dampen any desire I might have to act all girlish for propaganda…apart from that, the Empire’s personnel system has adapted extremely meritocratic principles for the war, in a way, so I’m more or less satisfied with it.” <= sort of same as above, YMMV on whether this is just Tanya realizing what life is like for a woman in modern society or meant as a “no, it was worse” point.

However, I will say this: I highly, highly doubt any men chosen for high military honors were photographed doing anything other than looking ultra manly in uniform. Women serving in modern militaries are not forced to put on showy dresses when they get their photos taken, they are treated, at least in photos, with the same respect as their male colleagues. The fact that anyone found it appropriate to only photograph the recipient of the highest military honor in cute girl clothes speaks to some deep discomfort with anyone outside the military seeing women not doing what they’re supposed to.

V6/C6

“The Imperial Army has already tapped all the population pools that can be mobilized, but it still has two options. One is to begin the general conscription of women. That said, they’ve already been mobilized in the industrial sector.” <= YMMV, again, on how willing a modern country would be to conscript women to fight a world war, but if you are as deep into a world war as the Empire is and no one’s trying it, at the least we can say the Empire is not the bastion of cold logic it fanonically is outside the military. Also, it pretty much seems like women working in large numbers has only become a thing because all the guys are off fighting, which very much sticks us in pre-1950s territory.

V8/C1

Andrew reacts surprised to see a female reporter from the Federation, and reflects that they are quite liberal in some ways <= while this is a non-Imperial guy, given his familiarity with the Empire, it would seem weird that if the Empire was particularly more advanced than his country that he would still be so surprised.

Other Working Knowledge Your Author Has On This Subject:

Women serving in the military, while certainly helpful to the cause of gender equality, by itself is not going to create a broad-based transformation in society. That sounds a bit like saying: As we all know, the US dropped any racist laws or regulations as soon as we started allowing non-white units in the military. After Elizabeth I serving as the Ruler of England, a very manly role that her tiny woman-brain didn’t fuck up too bad, the people who thought women were naturally stupider than men were quickly relegated to the margins and gender discrimination mostly became more of an annoyance than a real hindrance to the average woman’s goals. It just doesn’t work that way. And I’m not here to say that the US is a post-gender paradise, but the US, which has never had a woman president and is pretty slow about expanding military opportunities for women, nonetheless is a lot better on the gender equality front than some countries that have had women leaders and allow women a fuller range of military opportunities. There’s a lot more complexity to it than: My country respects military => military allows women => guess I’m going to stop being sexist

The same goes for something that isn’t about gender equality at large but how it relates to Tanya: The view that while gender equality may be non-advanced, Tanya specifically is exempt from dealing with it because she is “one of the boys”. It Does Not Work Like That. At All. And the further you go back in time, the less it worked like that. Within the military specifically Tanya will probably be alright, but society at large punishes men & women that break gender roles as brazenly as she does more than it rewards them. This is an entire essay unto itself, Google is your friend.

This is going to sound silly and facetious but I’m being dead serious, from what little we know of fashion in the YS world, it matches what would have been the case in the real world in the WW1 era. If society at large was really that different, that wouldn’t be the case.

There is no canon evidence that magic has made any scientific advancements outside the military sphere of influence. Before the advent of things like dishwashers, vacuums, microwaves, especially refrigerators, and especially laundry machines being common household items, the ideal family model was: one person makes money outside home, one person takes care of house. There wasn’t enough time in the day to work and run a household. Many women in poor households had to work, generally at the expense of being able to keep their own household running smoothly, and even then they often worked in capacities that allowed them to be at home or ones that allowed them the flexibility to take care of some of this stuff. It really just isn’t possible to have a society remotely approaching equality when one gender is automatically assigned to home unless necessary.

Same goes for something else - contraception. Women having access to a contraceptive device that they control is a major component of setting a society on a path towards equality. Birth control pills didn’t become widely available until the 1960s. Without being unable to at least kind of balance the outcome of sex (even between married couples) between men and women, women as a class have a hard time escaping from the housewife-mother archetype.

Not to get too political here, but the Empire matches OTL Germanic-Prussianness too much to ignore. Living under a military-worshipping, religiously-inclined traditional monarchy has not, in any real life example I’m aware of, gone hand-in-hand with anything other than a fairly conservative and patriarchal society, and I feel like the burden of proof is on the other side to explain why that isn’t the case in the Empire, and our original author makes approximately zero effort to do this.

Being X turns Tanya into a woman for the purpose of making her life worse. It seems simply illogical [although I guess Being X’s decision-making skills are questionable] that he would then drop her into a world that had undergone broad-based gender reform instead of a world that was just barely tweaked from our own in such a way that it would allow Tanya to serve in the military.

My conclusion: the most likely option is that gender equality is exactly enough better as it needs to be to allow the military to convince the lawmakers that they should be able to use a very rare & dangerous ability to be part of their arsenal without respect to gender, or age, and no more. That difference is not likely to make life for women significantly better than it was in the equivalent OTL time period.

[bookspined]

❝ that’s all history is after all: scar tissue. ❞

{ cis-man, he/him }  huh, who’s FROY GUTIERREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he is a TWENTY-TWO year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is A HEALING APPRENTICE. he is known for being CAPTIOUS, RETICENT, FACETIOUS, DISMISSIVE, and DRAMATIC but also RESOURCEFUL, CONSCIENTIOUS, FERVENT, INNOVATIVE, and OBSERVANT, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IN DREAMS BY BEN HOWARD. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { merry, 24, gmt, she/they }

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (MCU), Simon Tam (Firefly), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins) 

pinterest [blood, medical imagery tw]

wanted connection ideas

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Lucius Malfoy & Astoria Céline Malfoy (née Greengrass) [Not biologically Astoria’s due to her health, if you ever point this out he’ll flay your eyeballs] Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: His pet toad, Jarvis, recently passed away. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovative, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventive, logical, practical skills and self assertion; lack of attachment to people outside his circle and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissive, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetious, rigid, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubborn. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic  

HOGWARTS HOUSE ANALYSIS

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well. After a few years he leant into the sarcastic vague-snobbishness to hide the core of overwhelming anxiety.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t really due to him being a model student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. 

Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest. Some people he beat just to spite cause he hates them. It worked, whatever.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Even though the war culminated far earlier in this verse I imagine Scor would have had to have been relatively sheltered as a child if not for how emotionally sensitive and prone to periods of ill-health he was, it was definitely for his own safety. He is still the grandson of a known high-ranking Death Eater and that made him a media target and put one on his back for anyone else that might happen to be watching. 

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, potion-making, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic are what define him to the Order. While everyone kind of knows who he hung out with at school and who his friends are he is deliberately very mischievous with releasing rumours and misleading people. He deliberately keeps his cards very close to his chest so most people don’t know that he is aligned with anyone, he usually uses glamours or a scarf to conceal his identity if he has to. 

While he is knowledgeable about healing and anatomy, he is the WORST at taking care of himself. The literal embodiment of Healers make the worst patients, tends to forgo sleep and basic bodily needs if he’s locked into what he’s focusing on. Sometimes needs reminders to sleep and eat, like a child. 

Healing is the most satisfying part of his life and he would never give it up, he likes to experiment as he has a fascination with magic and muggle science and where they might intersect. A fucking nerd honestly. While he thinks he’s being fairly subtle about it a large part of his academic life has been doused in research into blood maledictions, for obvious reasons. He does his best not to flutter too obviously around his Mum. She is capable and ten times stronger than he is. 

Lives in a small studio flat in Diagon Alley that is mostly stacks of books and makeshift shelves.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm, his existence is an endless heat seeking mission. 

Went to one Slug Club meeting and used his time to verbally berate and or challenge most of the contacts in attendance, he was not asked to return. 

Potions Club, Charms Club, used to sometimes be willing to be dragged to Dueling Club but didn’t enjoy himself. 

Plays quite a bit of chess.

Bruises like a fucking peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled. 

Is a very skilled pianist almost entirely due to his Grandmother’s tutelage. 

Surprisingly great with children/toddlers/babies, no one including himself expected this, he mostly feared them beforehand. 

Bit of a mummy’s boy in that he practically GLOWS when people talk of Astoria’s achievements. 

When he has time off from healing he will have chipped black nail varnish on. 

Highly intelligent but rarely manages to match a pair of socks, chews his quills but no one else’s. 

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

[ CREDIT : CHARACTER PSD template by @karmahelper (defunct url) I tried to find a current social this week by messaging around but couldn’t find anything unfortunately. Forgot to copy this over from the google doc! ]

[beachknit]

MYSTERIOUS AUTHOR OF SIGNED, VENUS, "THE WRITER," FOUND

Sorry for the clickbait title. Pretty soon it won't be clickbait, though, and that's what this post is about!

If you don't already know, my name is Hayden. Welcome to my blog! Loyal readers might notice that all my old posts are gone… don’t worry, they’ve just been archived to a different site, and I will be sure to send everyone who was following before this post (which, honestly, wasn’t many people) a link so you can still read those old posts if you’d like. But for what I’m about to do, I think a fresh start and introductions are warranted!

Those of you who are from Coast Venus yourselves (which, I believe, will probably be the majority of you) will be excited to hear that the mystery we've all been keeping tabs on for the last ten years is about to be unravelled. Yes, that's right, I'm talking about the anonymous author behind Signed, Venus. The person, the myth, the Coast Venus legend themselves... The Writer!

To start this off with a bang, I have managed to identify and track down the slightly-less-enigmatic illustrator of Signed, Venus to their home here on Coast Venus's beach. Please do not try this at home, though, readers, for in most cases, it is rude to blatantly disregard the privacy and boundaries of others.

Now, I know what you Coast Venus skeptics are thinking, but rest assured: by the time you've finished reading this post, you will be completely convinced that I, Hayden, am the best and most worthy person for the job! But before we get to that, let me explain to our readers from out of town just why any of this matters.

Coast Venus is a little town in the country of Conclaire. If you've heard of us, it's probably because the town is known as a hotspot for authors and creatives. I copied this description from the town's official website, but we've been described as "Everyone's dream vacation, with breathtaking ocean views, world-class resorts, and famously friendly locals who will inspire with storytelling and poetry." The really important thing is that writing means a LOT to us here. You won’t find a person in this town who doesn’t at least read regularly, and I’m told that our local budget for literary arts is much higher than the international average.

The second most important thing to pay attention to is that, apart from Coast Venus, travel to other towns in Conclaire is generally off-limits. There’s a bunch of history behind that, blah blah, but basically for the last eighty or so years travel throughout Conclaire (except for Coast Venus, of course) has been almost completely unheard of. Almost.

Until The Writer did it. The first issue of Signed, Venus was published roughly ten years ago. In it, The Writer explained that they are breaking Conclaire’s travel taboo, going to the different towns, and recording what they find for publication here in Coast Venus. Signed, Venus is the only modern source of knowledge about what the rest of Conclaire is like. It’s such an important project for anyone who is interested in learning more about Conclaire, and The Writer conveys their findings with a unique and personal flair. Signed, Venus is my absolute favourite creative work, and I highly recommend that all of you check it out if you haven’t already.

Now, of course, there is a catch to all of this: nobody actually knows who The Writer is. We know that they’re from Coast Venus (or claim to be), and that they work with a local artist who illustrates and publishes each issue of the series. We know a bit about their personality from their writing, but we don’t actually have any identifying information other than that. Signed, Venus is published completely anonymously, and The Writer has only earned the moniker of “The Writer” from Coast Venus locals discussing their work.

Thank you for bearing with me through that explanation, Coast Venus readers, and you’ll be glad to know we’ve reached the part you actually care about. Here are the five W’s for your convenience:

Who: Me, Hayden, and my partner, Kameron, in pursuit of The Writer of Signed, Venus

Where: We will be going on a road trip throughout five locations in Conclaire, visiting sites that The Writer talked about. Specifically, we will visit Arabella, Sayre, Quidel, Mulani, and Urbina

What: We’ll be meeting and talking to locals of these different towns mentioned in Signed, Venus to ask them about their encounters with The Writer and their impressions of them

Why: The Writer is known for exaggerating. Instead of trying to go straight to where The Writer is right away, we want to try to learn more about what they’re like as a person as part of the process of uncovering their identity. Talking to those who have actually met him will be a great way to get a sense of what their character is really like off the page

When: This plan has been in the works for years, actually, but the first tangible step is happening today!

Okay, I know the “why” didn’t really answer the question you’re actually asking, which is, what prompted this? Why now?

The answer can be found in the latest issue of Signed, Venus, #44, in the final paragraph:

“… with my hammering heart and a tank full of gas, ready to head into what will likely be the last chapter of Signed, Venus, I want to thank those loyal readers who've kept up with my journey over the years. And, if my vain hope I've nurtured all this time ever comes true, that someday these journals will inspire one of you to set out from Coast Venus and explore Conclaire yourself, I'd like to ask that you not come after me or try to identify me."

As you can see, The Writer clarifies here that they have hoped for Coast Venus readers to someday be inspired by Signed, Venus to explore the rest of Conclaire. They then request that those of us who do make that journey do not try to find The Writer.

I believe that The Writer is being purposely facetious here (see issue #31 where they explain at length about their use of reverse psychology when talking to River). In the ten years since the first issue of Signed, Venus was published, no one has ever tried to find and identify The Writer. Sure, there has been plenty of guesswork done as to The Writer’s identity, particularly with astute readers comparing his writing style to the writing of other famous Coast Venus authors, or looking up records of locals who have left town, but no one has actually tried to follow in The Writer’s footsteps for the purpose of uncovering their identity. Also, there haven’t been a lot of attempts to travel Conclaire. The ones who have left end up either returning fairly soon after, discouraged by how this country isn’t exactly built for tourism once you’re outside of Coast Venus, or they create no written record of their travels so it’s pretty well useless to the rest of us. Keeping all of that in mind, it’s curious that The Writer would even bother to mention this, right?

Well, not really. If you’ve read enough of Signed, Venus, you’ll recognize this as a clear sign of encouragement. The Writer mentioned that readers travelling Conclaire is their hope because it’s something that they want readers to do. They love a good twist and a challenge (as we can see from the entirety of the series…), and they’ve been carefully creating a mystery around their identity since the very first issue. There’s a reason that here in Coast Venus we refer to The Writer as our town’s very own urban legend - that is exactly how The Writer wants us to feel about them. Telling us not to try to identify them just makes their identity even more mysterious and intriguing. The Writer knows that, and that’s the entire reason that they said it - they want us to look for them, and they want us to find them.

This morning, Kameron and I took the first steps on our journey. Like I said at the beginning of the post, I’ve figured out who the elusive illustrator of Signed, Venus is and their place of residence. But what I didn’t mention is that today, we actually went over to their house to ask them about The Writer. It didn’t all go exactly according to plan… but that’s a topic for the next post!

Follow my blog to keep up-to-date with me and Kameron as we set out to find The Writer! :) You can also follow Kam on Instagram.

[paigesturning]

Race in 5e: Who Is at Your Table?

I had to write an argumentative essay for one of my classes this semester. I was really into the idea I had, and gave it a shot! I think this might be one of the best pieces I’ve ever written.

Word count: 2995 TW: Discussions of race science, orientalism, and references to white supremacist rhetoric

Writing is difficult, and it’s even more difficult to write collaboratively. This applies to TTRPG as much as it applies to novels. Sure, the DM could simply railroad the players into sessions of combat, lock them into a certain path, or make their other options so terrible that they simply must go the way the story is leading, but it’s bad practice. After all, though it’s not a traditional story, written down in book form for distribution, TTRPG relies on the interplay between the DM’s idea for what should happen in the story, and the players’ ideas. Unlike writing a book, however, TTRPGs rely on another influence, rather than just the set of people who have agreed to tell a story. There’s always at least one other person in the situation, who might be completely unknown to the DM and players. I refer, of course, to the game designer. TTRPGs have far more freedom than video games, but the decisions made by the game designer have the same amount of weight in both mediums. In Skyrim, for example, this looks like a prioritization of combat mechanics over puzzle solving mechanics or relationship mechanics. Though both are implemented in the game, there’s not nearly as many options in playstyle for relationships, or variation in puzzle types, for it to be considered a romance game, or a puzzle game. In TTRPG, the influence of the designer is often far less apparent. In 5e, your character can do basically whatever they want so long as the other people at the table agree that it’s something they want to interact with. However, with some exception, you will not be able to run a game set, for example, in real-world Chicago or on a transport vessel in space. Players tend to be locked into a fantasy setting. Like Skyrim, 5e is a system that prioritizes combat in a magical, pseudo-European medieval setting. It’s a mix of mechanics, and built-in worldbuilding that can allow us to come to this conclusion - each spell, if it doesn’t explicitly add or remove hit points from a target, changes the rules for when and how combat can happen, and each class is described in their flavor text in high fantasy terms, often opening with the examples of ways each one can be useful in combat. True as all this may be, it is, at its core a neutral thing, and I find myself blessed to occasionally be at the tables of others as a game designer and homebrewer. All games must make assumptions about the kind of game players want, and must do their best to fulfil those expectations, the same way a speaker might attempt to predict the thoughts, previous knowledge, and counter-arguments of their audience. However, in 5e, there lies a certain set of assumptions that I personally find troubling, and in fact in need of some serious reworking. The way that race functions in 5e represents an old-fashioned way of viewing the world. In the most direct terms, yeah, it’s kinda racist. Therefore, the assumptions 5e makes in their race system, represented in mechanics that both promote archaic ways of thinking and force the narrative in directions the players and DM may be uncomfortable with, means that it is time to either dramatically change the way race works, or pass over the system entirely.

When a DM is preparing to start a new game of 5e, one very good place to start is the Dungeon Master’s Guide, or DMG. In it, theoretically, are the tools for DMs and players alike to better understand exactly what the game they are playing looks like. In many ways, it’s a behind the scenes look at what goes into planning a session. For example, each “encounter”, or a portion of the game in which the players fight enemies or find ways around them, there’s a bit of calculation which can tell you what enemies will be appropriate for your party size and level. However, in a new game, before even doing that, you should go to the beginning of chapter 1, on page 9. It lists the assumptions the rules make about your setting, which is a helpful tool for anyone attempting to rectify the base rules with a far-out, high-concept world. They are as follows: “Gods Oversee the World”, “Much of the World is Untamed”, “The World is Ancient”, “Conflict Shapes the World’s History”, and “The World is Magical”. On paper, that’s all you need to know (though it might be worth noting that on page 43 the book contradicts this and gets more specific about what sort of multiverse is required to support the rules). These are five basic rules anyone can follow, rules that most people working to create a fantasy setting would have followed anyway, especially in such a combat-focused system. However, in the Player’s Handbook, (abbreviated as PHB) there are additional assumptions about the setting you’ll be playing in, most notably in the section on the different races that appear in 5e. For starters, each race has a small box that explains how the other races in the game are likely to view them. Taken from page 37, when the book is discussing how Gnomes (a small race of humanoids with large heads and thin limbs) think about their place among other races, “It's rare for a gnome to be hostile or malicious unless he or she has suffered a grievous injury. Gnomes know that most races don't share their sense of humor, but they enjoy anyone's company just as they enjoy everything else they set out to do.” They give no explanation for why gnomes tend to be “Good”, in terms of 5e’s morality system. Perhaps this isn’t an oversight, and instead they are allowing you to fill in the blanks yourself? Do the gnomes perhaps have free healthcare, while some others do not? 

I am of course being facetious. I am certain the creators didn’t think quite so far ahead, and instead just wanted to paint a picture of the world they envisioned. It’s not some great sin of design, of course, to do this, and I will admit I am guilty of it in my own design. However, this is just one of the smaller examples of 5e making decisions for the DM and the players. Unlike some other portions of the rules, that brief note can be ignored with little to no need for creating a replacement. You could just as easily scribble the note out of the book, and leave a black sharpie stain where it once sat. Unfortunately, there are other decisions made about race that are much harder to ignore without a level of homebrewed (or player-created) mechanics. For example, a little later, on page 43, the book tells you about the specific mechanical benefits that half-orcs get. Two in particular stand out to me as disturbing. The first, Menacing, means that “You gain proficiency in the Intimidation skill”. The other is Savage Attacks, which reads “When you score a critical hit with a melee weapon attack, you can roll one of the weapon's damage dice one additional time and add it to the extra damage of the critical hit”. There is no way in which these cannot be seen as narrative decisions on the part of the creators. Exactly what is it about an orc’s presence that would mean it is more intimidating than any other person? One could surmise that, perhaps they are much larger than most people, or that their rarity means that people are not used to their size and tusks. Perhaps I only speak for myself, but I do not often find myself intimidated by people who look different from what I am used to. The explanation the rules provide is that full-blooded-orcs are barbaric raiders, who wantonly destroy and kill, and are considered evil. Why is it, however, that there’s an entire group of people, people with thoughts, feelings, social structures, who can produce viable offspring with members of other groups of people, that the book deems evil? I submit that, in the minds of the creators, there is some sort of orientalist mystique behind the savage barbarian, one that is physically superior, and yet is still no more than fodder to be torn through by the heroes of the story. This isn’t even the worst example of racism built into the game, but to explain this next portion, I will need to explain a concept. 

At its base level, phrenology is, as per the Encyclopedia Britannica, “the study of the conformation of the skull as indicative of mental faculties and traits of character, especially according to the hypotheses of Franz Joseph Gall”. Gall, born in 1758, measured the heads of his colleagues, convicts, and people in asylums, in order to determine traits such as intellect and potentiality for criminal behavior. As with many things invented in late 18th century Europe, this practice was used to fuel European imperialism. The article Of ‘Native Skulls’ and ‘Noble Caucasions’: Phrenology in Colonial South Africa, by Andrew Bank, explains very quickly that “The leading proponents of the new discipline almost uniformly adapted their science of the brain to issues of racial differentiation”. I assume that from here it isn’t difficult to see the direction I am heading with this. Elves, Tieflings, Humans, and Gnomes are given bonuses to Intelligence. Dwarves, Humans, and Elves are given bonuses to Wisdom. Elves, Half-Elves, Humans, Tieflings, Dragonborn, and Halflings are given bonuses to Charisma. Of the races present in the PHB, Half-Orcs are the only ones that don’t get any bonuses to the so-called “Mental Stats”. Physical stats, on the other hand, include Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution, and Half-Orcs get bonuses to Strength and Constitution. In mechanical terms, this leads to a fairly good balance. The other classes serve as either well-rounded jacks-of-all-trades, or are specialized for certain casters, or help fit an archetype of dexterous fighter/caster combinations, while the Half-Orcs are specialized for non-caster tanks, such as the Barbarian or the Fighter. This makes narrative sense as well; if Half-Orcs are raised by the orcish side of their family, they are far more likely to be brutal in martial combat, trained to fight and kill anyone who might have supplies or treasure for them. 

However much this might “make sense”, I have to ask why this was an addition to the game. I see three possible answers, and by my approximation, they are likely to all be true. The first is that the creators wanted more narrative control than they let on. The second is that they needed those stats to be stand-in numbers to represent various types of spellcaster and are simply ignorant to their implications. The third is that the creators simply find race science unobjectionable. Earlier, I suggested that the game designer joins the players and the DM at the table, through their work. At my table, ignorance and suggestions that some races are simply more intellectually powerful than others is not tolerated, and I should only hope you feel the same way. 

At this point, you’re thinking so loud that I can practically hear it, even in the past. “Ignorance isn’t tolerated? What if the ignorant person in question is willing to change, and well-meaning?”, but if this is what you were thinking, I say with the deepest respect that you’re being just a touch too literal. Of course, if I’ve sat down and agreed to play with someone I know, I am willing to go over why what they said made me uncomfortable. TTRPG is a dialogue, one where the players and the DM must negotiate, not battle, for the story they want to tell, and where everyone must speak up when something happens that makes them upset. The difference between a literal player’s presence and the game designer’s figurative presence is that there is no arguing with a book. In some ways, it’s easier to change a book’s mind. Simply write your own rules, and move on, there’s no need to debate an actual person. You may also be thinking that 5e simply utilizes the mechanics of previous editions. While that is technically true, what is the point of creating a new edition if you can’t change things moving forward? And what’s more, each of my criticisms can be moved onto 1e. The biggest criticism I expect against my argument however, isn’t any of this. Obviously, only one of the races in 5e is human. Nothing in 5e indicates that one race of human is significantly better or worse than any other race of human, and so surely it can’t be racism. Again, you may be thinking a little too literally. In the world supposed by 5e, each race is seen as a person, and (depending on the setting and narrative your group constructs) has the same rights to freedom and life, and yet some are just more mentally skilled than others as soon as they are born. How often in reality do the dregs of society say something along the lines of “it isn’t that I think [members of a certain race] aren’t people or should be enslaved, it’s just that I think that white people are inherently smarter” to make an effort of sounding more reasonable? It isn’t that I think the races in 5e are 1:1 parallels to real-world racist stereotypes. Instead, it’s a matter of philosophy, race-based pseudoscience, and ideology that makes 5e (and previous editions) racist, without major rules upheavals. 

However, in some cases, it would require such an overhaul of a system that it isn’t worth it. Most people would look at the rules for 5e’s races and pale at the thought of changing it completely. Do you get rid of stats completely? Do you select whatever stats you want by yourself? Perhaps you instead get certain bonuses when you select your class, rather than your race? These are all possibilities, and I have played games that utilized some of these options. Aside from the strength of reducing the amount of racism in 5e, it also increases the amount of choice a player has when creating their character. It isn’t unheard of to have a dwarf that uses Dexterity and Charisma as it’s primary abilities, but it is poorly optimized in comparison to the options of Half-Elf or Tiefling, and though it takes a bit more work than just handing a player the PHB, I believe it is worth it in the end. There’s no shame in admitting defeat, though. It’s not every day that I feel like fixing another person’s game, and I design games. And I do it for fun. It is the talent I am blessed with, and my lifelong burden. I understand not wanting to put in the effort. However, my suggestion isn’t that you walk away from TTRPG forever, scorned by the problems in 5e, never to roll a die again. Instead, it might be worth your time looking into other systems of play. Whenever I recommend a system to someone who has only played 5e and is looking for a similar aesthetic, I always turn them toward my personal favorite, Dungeon World (abbreviated as DW). DW is, in many ways, the game that I thought I was playing when I first started playing 5e. Looking through the PHB, it seems very comprehensive to incoming players. But to go back to the example of Skyrim, there’s a suggestion when you start it for the first time that you are about to enter a world of endless possibility, only to be shoehorned into a game that directly prioritizes combat. Dungeon World, while it has far less comprehensive rules for combat, one of its biggest strengths is that it has far fewer rules in general. That isn’t to say that it’s harder to follow. Instead of having intense, complicated rules for combat, every moment in the game is subject to “moves” in which, when you say that your character is doing something, the GM - Game Master, in contrast to the Dungeon Master of 5e - can tell you that the outcome is uncertain, and that it might be difficult. When this happens, you roll two six-sided dice, and the game provides very comprehensive rules to help you resolve it. When you choose a race, you get one extra move and nothing else - an option easily alterable, if one finds it uncomfortable. Blades in the Dark, a similar fantasy system, resolves roles in a similar manner, once again, with a much lesser emphasis on violence, and a much stronger emphasis on magic heists. It’s races have no mechanical benefit, and can be completely ignored if so desired. 

Creating a system is difficult, I know. Playtesting aside, it’s a combination of finding something special that you want to create, deciding what the players will be looking for, and editing draft after draft. It’s also difficult, both logistically and emotionally, to kick someone out of a campaign. It’s my belief though that a line should be drawn when someone in the game insists on adding not only social, but biological inferiority to characters of certain races. It’s a privilege to have your work at someone else’s table, and it’s a privilege that can be revoked. Once again, playing 5e isn’t some ethical failing, or mortal offence. However, it is worth evaluating what changes can be made to 5e’s race system, and if it’s worth it to you to not switch to another system. If you have found any of this compelling, consider your other options. In addition to what I’ve already mentioned, there are designers out there who can bring you into space, cities filled with dark magic and/or under control by cosmic monsters, or honey conventions where there are a few bears trying to steal stuff. Next time you get the urge to roleplay, just consider what I’ve said here, and think about who you’re inviting to your table.

Bibliography

LaTorra, Sage, and Adam Koebel. Dungeon World. 1st ed., The Burning Wheel, 2012.

Harper, John. Blades in the Dark. Evil Hat Productions LLC., 2017.

Works Cited

Mearls, Mike, and Jeremy Crawford. Player's Handbook. 5th ed., Wizards of the Coast LLC, 2014.

Mearls, Mike, and Jeremy Crawford. Dungeon Master's Guide. 5th ed., Wizards of the Coast LLC, 2014.

“Phrenology.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., www.britannica.com/topic/phrenology.

Bank, Andrew. “Of 'Native Skulls' and 'Noble Caucasians': Phrenology in Colonial South Africa.” Journal of Southern African Studies, vol. 22, no. 3, 1996, pp. 387–403. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2637310. Accessed 26 Mar. 2020.

[littleandroidwrites]

"You’d break your heart to make it bigger." RIVMEEERRREEEEE

For the most part, River had never really thought much about Cashmere Breckenridge. Which, for the record, wasn’t him trying to belittle her, he just really hadn’t. Cashmere and all of her friend group -- Valentina, Berlin, Madrid, you know the type -- didn’t take up much real estate in River’s mind. They seemed perfectly happy to do whatever it was they wanted to do over on that side of morality, and River was perfectly happy to continue doing what he did on this side of morality. You know, being affable, generally pleasant, helpful. He really lived for those a pleasure to have in class report cards. Something told him Cashmere and her group of friends didn’t really worry too much about things like that.

That was just for the most part, though. The most part being the first half of his high school career. Sure, Cashmere had always been a fellow TA, and he’d always noticed the fact that she was abusing her privileges -- in fact he’d looked at her and raised an eyebrow pointedly a couple of times, hoping it would tap at her conscience -- but it wasn’t until she’d for all intents and purposes out of the blue called himself and his siblings rats that River had starting noticing her, well, pretty much all the time. Probably because he’d never met anyone like her before. Very rude, quite manipulative.

But, he thought, that’s probably only a little bit of her. 

He was sure she could be nice, too. Just. Not to him. Or his family. Or generally poor people? 

Maybe she wasn’t nice.

The frown that creased his brow brought with it a sigh, and River let the pen he was using to mark papers clatter to the beechwood table with a little clicky-clack-clack. It was late. He couldn’t focus. He was pretty sure the security guard, Clay, was going to be coming around soon and locking all the doors. I hope he’s paid fairly was a stray thought and then I never finished my Calculus homework and then I’m hungry and River was on his feet because he didn’t have time to meditate today so he was going to have to get moving to keep his mind in check. 

The linoleum halls were dark and empty, most other pupils having headed home hours ago, and as predicted there was Clay who had a smile for River and who River asked how’s the family and really nothing was out of order, except -- 

Except that when he walked past the IT room, there was a clattering sound.

River took a few steps backward.

Sat under the harsh fluorescent lights at the front of the classroom was Cashmere, elbows leaning on the desk and hands working loosely at an unattached keyboard. When River squinted, he could see that she was -- removing keys? That kind of petty destruction seemed a little outside of her wheelhouse, River thought, and then he watched her pick up a bright pink cloth and twist it, inexplicably, into the surface of the mechanical work. 

Oh. Now he remembered. She’d gotten three months worth of detentions for getting caught bumping up the scores of her friends’ papers. Right. River grimaced, reluctantly feeling sorry. It wasn’t like Cashmere was the one who was benefiting, and sure, she shouldn’t have done it -- definitely not -- but wasn’t the onus on her friends to come clean, or better yet, tell her she didn’t have to do that for them? It just seemed unfair that she was the only one who --

“What are you looking at?” 

River’s eyes flickered upward, surprised to find her glaring at him. He realised he’d made his way half through the door in his efforts to see what she was doing, sluggish mind only now catching up to his movements. Fantastic. He’d debated having coffee earlier this evening but had ultimately decided not to, remembering his mama’s rants about the mass exploitation of workers overseas for a cheap mug of joe. Now he was kind of wishing he’d gotten a cup.

No, that was stupid. Of course not. On the other hand --

“Sorry. I didn’t think anyone would --” 

“Because you’re the only person with things to do.” Cashmere clucked her tongue disapprovingly, turning her attention back to what River now saw was a pile of keyboards in front of her.

“Do you have to do those one key at a time?” 

Cashmere held up the single amputated key she was pinching between her thumb and forefinger, staring at him flatly. “No. I’m doing it this way for fun.” 

Well, she had him there. River smiled sheepishly, a breath of a laugh dancing its way traitorously into the space between them. She was being facetious, he reminded himself, because she doesn’t like you. Not to make you laugh.

“Glad the concept of me being stuck here all night is funny to you.”

“All night?” River repeated, skeptical. He moved toward the desk, tilted his head as he inspected the stack of keyboards, like he could possibly have the calculations stored away somewhere in his head to tell at a glance how long taking out roughly nine hundred key caps individually to clean them would take. No, actually, he didn’t have that knowledge. But -- “I’m sure they wouldn’t have made you do all of this if they knew how long it’d take.” 

“Or would they?” Cashmere said, which could have been ominous but was said a little too bitterly. 

And there was this terrible, just kind of terrible nagging feeling working its way up River’s spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar one, either. It was the one where all of a sudden when something was none of his business, he became very, very aware of the fact that he was going to make it very, very much his business and it was going to suck very, very much. 

Not now. Not this, please.

But, “I’ll help you.” 

Cashmere looked up. Quirked her head. “If you’re that reluctant to go back to your little hovel, you can do it all.” 

Well, that was just unbelievable. River allowed himself to convey his incredulity and offence all at once with a scowl, stopping himself from asking who raised you but definitely thinking it and saying, very firmly, “You’re doing half of what’s left.” 

He didn’t wait for her response, dropping his bag on the floor in a way that he could admit was a touch bratty and which he regretted. There was no reason to let her get to him. In the time that it took River to drag a chair over to the other side of the desk and split the keyboard stack in two, he managed to centre himself enough to remember something important.

“Do you want something to eat?” 

“Oh my god,” Cashmere laughed, eyes widening with something that looked like scandal, “You are not asking me out when you know I’m trapped here.” 

“I’m really not.” He replied flatly, which - come on. It was absurd enough that River convinced himself she hadn’t really thought so, anyway. “I just haven’t had dinner yet. If you wanted something too, I’m --”

“Fine.” She said, returning her focus to dabbing at the inner workings of the keyboard with a sigh. “Nothing gross.” 

River smiled tightly. Nothing gross. He would’ve asked her about her preferences, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it through the night if he did, so instead he just pulled up the app and filtered out any common allergens he could think of that weren’t already captured under the extensive umbrella of the diet his parents had raised him with. 

Dumplings seemed like a safe option. When they arrived, Cashmere didn’t really complain. Mostly they just worked in silence, infecting each other with yawns every now and then which River couldn’t help but smile at in spite of himself. 

There was just this one point, when it was around 1am, that River had looked up to  see Cashmere frowning at him unexpectedly. She’d said, in a tone that sounded like confusion, “You’d break your heart to make it bigger.” 

And River hadn’t really been able to stop thinking about it since.

[embersrevived]

Questions Meme 

Tagged By: @sunflowercecil​

1. What is your name? “Nadir Darvish.” 

2. Do you know why you’re named that?” “Well ... I believe my parents specifically wanted their first and only child to have a name that either honored an important aspect of Parzian culture and tradition or was an homage to a renowned monarch in Parzian history, and eventually they decided on the latter. Nadir (Nader) Shah, if I recall correctly, was a king from a former dynasty who was renowned for his ingenuity and acumen, both as a statesman and military general. His military campaigns and exploits during his reign were so great that he has actually been dubbed ‘the second Alexander’ by some historians. I think my parents had been betting on having a male child at first, but then just decided to roll with it after I was born, haha.”

“Funny thing is, a lot of people just automatically assume that my name is meant to be some sort of ‘edgy’ moniker, like the antithesis of the word ‘zenith’ or something when that actually isn’t the case. Though that certainly doesn’t mean I appreciate the endearing little opposite-nickname that I was recently given, Zen-Zen, any less...~”  She furtively winks at @plague-doctor-jules

3. Are you single or taken? “Single. as a Pringle” 

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“Besides bringing all around me to their knees groaning with my tacky humor? Well ... incantation-wise, I feel I am somewhat proficient in spells that have to do with small-scale, temporary immobilization, like temporary stunning. Though I really refrain from utilizing such spells unless I truly feel the need to do so. The stunning spells really only are effective on small creatures, e.g. rats, roaches, etc. that I feel need to be halted in their tracks before being able to deal with them accordingly. Also some might argue that my horrendous jokes and puns constitute some sort of low-key ‘evil’ ability in themselves, haha.”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“Stop being an ‘idealized, seemingly perfect character? ... Hahahaha! How droll of you, when everyone knows that I’m practically the most awkward and gauche potato turtle in this here town. That’s a facetious jab at how I’m actually the complete and utter opposite of that, right? Right, it must be.” 

6. What’s your eye colour? “Very dark brown.” 

7. How about your hair colour?

“Very dark brunette, almost appearing even black from a distance.”

8. Have any family members?

“Yes, my mother and father, Setareh and Bardiya,  along with my maternal grandmother and grandfather, Roshanak and Cyrus. No siblings, though. I think after I was born, my parents decided that one was more than enough, hahaha ... I’ve been told that I was quite the troublesome little stinker as a tot.” 

9. Oh! How about pets?

“Well, I’m not sure if I should go about referring to my familiar as a pet, but my  albeit adorable call duck, Ordak is the only one I have currently. Back when I lived with my parents and not the magic shop, I did used to own a boisterous blue budgie, though ... someone forgot to close the door to his cage, and the little poopsie just chirped his wee heart out before suddenly taking off, never to be seen or heard from again.” 

10. That’s cool, I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

“Well ... I must admit I don’t really appreciate people who are overly snippy or snarky just for the sake of it when it isn’t really necessary, or because they find it ‘quirky’, ‘trendy’, or ‘edgy’ to do so. Basically people who show little consideration for others’ feelings in general, especially if they do so because they believe their elevated social status or sense of ego gives them a pass to do so. And people who just find it absolutely acceptable to do away completely with common courtesy when dealing or speaking with you just because they decide they don’t like, click with, or understand you as a person, or they personally find some attributes of yours irksome.”

“I mean, I feel you must always at least try to put a conscious effort into politely and tactfully dealing with even those you don’t jive well with or like much, I think. Especially because there will always be people you find yourself not being overly fond of, or who aren’t overly fond of you, there is just too much effort and negative energy to be put into going out of one’s way to not be civil towards others, at least initially.” 

“Also overly arrogant and condescending individuals, lord knows I’ve dealt with more than a fair share of those in my time, both in and out of  the realm of academia. Overly pretentious and critical individuals in general also. Though ... perhaps I have been too verbose and ranty in giving this answer, I do apologize. I ... I do tend to talk a lot, haha. In summation: just overly inconsiderate individuals in general.” 

11. Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

“Writing poetry at times, sketching, drawing, reading, occasionally engaging in mischievous antics, etc. ...” 

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“Oh, I’m sure ... I mean, I have certainly gotten into disagreements and all that with people in the past, and in doing so the distressed, angry tone that I may have utilized in the heat of it all may have hurt some feelings in the past. And I’d almost always feel some sort of guilt afterwards, even if things wound up being patched up and resolved betwixt myself and the individual with whom I’d had the spat. Though it is never my intention to go out of my way to make anyone feel badly about themselves or hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“But if you meant physically, no I don’t think - ... Wait. Wait. That one time, when the Ginger Floof  Julian barged into the shop and scared the bejeezus out of me with his overly dramatic, villainous entrance, of course how could I so easily forget ...” However, she does avert her gaze to the ground in shame as she recalls the events of that fateful night. “Well ... I did hurt Julian that ... one time when I threw that glass bottle during the invasion that one night, but I ... I didn’t know who he was at the time, and I certainly had zero idea as to what his intentions were ... though that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the occasional pang of guilt, especially when I specifically recall that graphic image of the blood pooling and dripping down his cheek as a result of the injury inflicted around his eye.”

A sad, remorseful look engulfs the apprentice’s face before she snaps out of the flashback. “Ah ... I do apologize, ehr ... next question, please.” 

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“No. Though I’ve perhaps come close to doing so with my barrage of gods-awful puns” 

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I have been told by a few in the past that because of my more timid nature, I can be akin to a small rodent, like a mouse or a hamster, at times. Though my familiar is currently a wee baby call duckling who, though rather sweet and cute, can be quite the boisterous little stinker at times, which I’ve been told is apparently another side of me that is ‘unlocked’ once I get to know people and am coaxed out of my shell. So I guess it’s somewhat fitting in that sense, haha.” 

15. Name your worst habits?

“I tend to become distracted fairly easily, I reluctantly admit. Also, I ... I tend to allow my insecurities and anxieties take control and cause me to make decisions or act in ways that ultimately prove to be counterproductive. Also over analyzing things, people, and situations almost to the point of obsession, to the point where I find myself often skeptical and cynical of other’s motives and sincerity, allowing my insecurities and fears to hinder and inhibit me mentally and socially.” 

16. Do you look up to anyone?

“I look up to any individual who remains steadfast and dedicated to their cause or line of work, whether it be academic, scientific, humanitarian, etc. in nature, and shows a genuine interest in acquiring knowledge in their selected field of interest and applying that knowledge for the betterment of others. I admire anyone who has defined themselves and devoted their purpose to the likes of altruism, benevolence, and kindness. A certain auburn-haired, fugitive physician would be the quintessential example of this, along with his lovely and equally sweet sister.” 

“I also admire those who yet manage to be levelheaded and resolute in the face of adverse situations, those who seem to know how to improvise, adapt, and persist in the face of any given hardship, or who devote themselves to supporting and assisting others finding themselves in such situations. My father comes to mind.”

17. Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?

“I believe I’m straight ... Though these sorts of things have been said to not be entirely black and white, with it being a spectrum and all, so who can really say for sure?” 

18. Do you go to school?

“Been there, done that, haha.” 

19. Ever wanted to marry and have kids one day?

“I’ve never even really ... been in a relationship before, so I must admit that the thought of marriage has been a more distant one, and children even more so. One step at a time I guess? Ahahahaha ...” Sweat drop. 

“Though me, in any sort of relationship, with my awkward and anxious tendencies? Is that even possible” 

20. Do you have any fans?

“Why yes, I do as a matter of fact.~” And with that, she proceeds to whip out an intricately designed, vibrantly hued hand fan that Asra had brought her back from one of his previous travels. And yes, she knows very well that is not quite what the question meant. Something of a cheeky grin forms on her visage shortly after giving this response. 

21. What are you most afraid of?

“...Failure. My internalized insecurities and anxieties mentally obstructing my path and goals and clouding my vision and perception of the future. Not being good enough, ineptitude, then possibly dying after having ultimately accomplished little more than becoming carrion for the microbes and worms to feast upon. ... Wow, that definitely came out darker than I had initially intended, ehr ... sorry about that.” 

22. What do you usually wear?

“Ah, just the usual casual dresses, shirts, and pants, truthfully nothing fancy in the least.” 

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Ohh ... I’m sure there are a myriad of dishes that could be used to answer this, but if I had to settle on one? Pomegranate chicken, especially like my mother makes it, especially when coupled with this fizzy carbonated yogurt beverage that we have back home in Parzia ... you’d have to actually see and try it if you don’t know what I’m referring to, haha; it sounds a bit weird to those who didn’t grow up with it.” 

24. Am I annoying to you?

“Ah, no, not at all ... am I annoying to you? I do hope ... that I haven’t been overly loquacious or rambling in giving my answers? If so, my apologies.” 

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Aha, great. Wait ... that wasn’t meant sardonically, I promise, a-apologies if it came out sounding like that. Please continue.” 

26. What social class are you?

“I’d say more of the middle class, perhaps more on the lower end. Though we know that in the eyes of a certain gilded and flamboyant noble, that we are all seen equally as commoners and peasants, haha.” 

27. How many friends do you have?

“Uh ... well, I definitely consider Mas- ... I mean Asra to be a kind companion and friend ... and then there is Julian, whose company I’ve come to be rather at ease with to the point of engaging in regular banter and teasing. Portia is positively delightful and lovely as well. The Devorak duo is a true blessing, seriously. Such sweet, benevolent siblings. Selasi is rather amiable too, and I’ve had many a pleasant conversation with him every time I venture out into the market. Nadia has always been kind and polite to me, though I am not too sure if she’d regard me as a ‘friend’ just yet ... And I don’t think Muriel likes me very much, unfortunately.” 

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Aha, I’m not picky at all when it comes to saccharine treats, I pretty much think they’re all savory, cakes, pies, candies, etc. Though that doesn’t mean I indulge myself in them of course, haha. Certainly could do without anymore junk in the trunk” 

29. Favourite drink?

“Something known as the Parzian fizzy yogurt drink, basically exactly what the name says, plain yogurt mixed with carbonated water, with a pinch of salt and some mint to top it off.” 

30. What’s your favourite place?

“I don’t have one favorite place, to be honest ... Basically any place that is picturesque, serene, and allows me to pacify my nerves and be alone with my thoughts and away from the commotion of the general public, I guess. And I also must admit that the forbidden gardens in the abandoned courtyard that I visited with Julian that one time were quite lovely, I certainly wouldn’t mind revisiting that place.” 

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“Er ... W-well, I’m interested in a lot of people! Each and every individual has their own intriguing persona, a-after all ... Especially those towering, swaggering, cockily grinning types who tease yet become tomato-blushing, flustered messes the instant you give them even the smallest sample of their own medicine.” 

32. That was a stupid question…

“Ah, no, not really actually...” 

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“The lake, at least I’m less likely to be encountering any aquatic creatures bearing sharp teeth in a freshwater body as opposed to the saline, haha. Also already having to experience one type of “shark week” is more than enough.” 

34. What’s your type?

“Er ... Well, I guess just someone who’s kind, sincere, considerate, with a good sense of humor. Because honestly, even if someone is generally perceived as being ‘classically attractive’ or whatnot, it really matters little if their personality is unpleasant or lacking in general. To be honest, I really don’t have a specific ‘type’ so to speak...” 

35. Any fetishes?

Something of a dumbfounded expression appears on the apprentice’s face, though she is quick to vehemently shake her head. “What? Uhhh .... no? Not that I ... know of? No. Ahem, next question, if you please.” A crimson hue proceeds to engulf her cheeks. 

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Uhh ... wait, camping takes place outdoors? ... Unless you mean camping vs. just walking about and enjoying the outdoors in general, in which case I must say the latter. Just ... the thought of all sorts and species of creepy crawlies clambering over me while I’m trying to sleep in a tent would make camping the less preferable option.” 

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

Tagging: @plague-doctor-jules​ @conceitedxglory​ @nevivorona​ @asrage​ @humortremors​ @caesiis​ @unlicensedmartyr​ @bluemoontm​ @mnemosys​ @bitters-enthusiast @strsha

Questions: 

1. What is your name?

2. Do you know why you’re named that?”

3. Are you single or taken?

4. Have any abilities or powers?

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

6. What’s your eye colour?

7. How about your hair colour?

8. Have any family members?

9. Oh! How about pets?

10. That’s cool, I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

11. Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

14. What kind of animal are you?

15. Name your worst habits?

16. Do you look up to anyone?

17. Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?

18. Do you go to school?

19. Ever wanted to marry and have kids one day?

20. Do you have any fans?

21. What are you most afraid of?

22. What do you usually wear?

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

24. Am I annoying to you?

25. Well, it’s still not over!

26. What social class are you?

27. How many friends do you have?

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

29. Favourite drink?

30. What’s your favourite place?

31. Are you interested in anyone?

32. That was a stupid question…

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

34. What’s your type?

35. Any fetishes?

36. Camping or outdoors?

[azrielsiphons]

Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same (ch. 2)

<< Previous Chapter   Next Chapter >>

This fic is meant to be read in connection with my Azriel-centric prequel stories. I would highly suggest reading those first to get the full reading experience of this fic. 

Make sure to reblog and leave comments and fun tags! I hope you guys like this chapter, this should help you guys get a feel for how Lena has changed over all these centuries. 

Enjoy! 

“They never told you my name?” Her voice hadn’t sounded so weak in almost five centuries. Feyre shook her head. “It’s… it’s Lena. My name is Lena.”

Feyre continued to stare, but smiled softly. Lena couldn’t find it within her to return it.

She pulled up her hood in one smooth motion, hiding her face once again as Tamlin and Lucien burst into the room.

“Feyre,” Tamlin gasped. He flinched at the sight of Lena — or rather, at the sight of Hybern’s nameless, faceless weapon he had only heard of — but strode to Feyre all the same, taking her face in his hands and checking her up and down. “The guards came running, they said you shouted my name. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Feyre could feel Lena roll her eyes from beneath her hood. Of course they would think the infamously powerful creature beneath the cloak was a man.

“Jurian is unconscious,” Lucien observed, his hand trembling slightly but hovering over his blade all the same as he stared at Lena. “You’re… him, then? The one the King sent?”

“He doesn’t speak, Lucien,” Tamlin snapped, continuing to check Feyre up and down.

“I’m fine, Tamlin.” Feyre pushed his hands away with just enough force. His eyes widened at her tone and she forced herself to play the part. “Jurian was… being facetious,” she said. “This man — or woman here, knocked him out. I was afraid so I called out for you and Lucien. But they didn’t touch me. Or speak to me. We just stood here.”

Tamlin growled, whirling on Lena. She only cocked her head to the side beneath her cloak.

“You will stay away from her,” he hissed. “You aren’t here for her, you’re here to keep an eye on him and the other two.” He jerked his head at Jurian on the ground. “You touch her, or even look at her or breathe near her, I will personally—”

Tamlin froze, his face turning red as Lena filled his lungs with night that knew no air. He made to lunge at her but his feet couldn’t leave the floor.

“What are you doing to him?” Lucien asked, paling. He pulled his sword but Lena only turned her head towards him lazily. “Let him go! Feyre.”

Feyre jumped, remembering the part she had to play. She had been so in awe at Lena’s powers — this really was Rhys’s sister. Only someone like him could do that to a High Lord and not even break a sweat.

“Please!” She cried out, rushing to Tamlin’s side. “Let him go, he didn’t mean anything by it, just let him go!”

Lena released Tamlin immediately at her High Lady’s words and Tamlin fell against Feyre, gasping for breath. His talons had emerged, and his face was full of rage.

“Why you little—”

He took a step forward only to freeze.

Smart move, Lena thought to herself. The only noise she made was a low, deep chuckle that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

Without another word, Lena walked right out of the dining room, making sure to bump Tamlin’s shoulder on the way out. She didn’t even glance back at him when he snarled loud enough that the entire manor shook.

“Well then,” Jurian spoke suddenly, sitting up with a groan and staring at the other three. “I see you’ve met the King’s secret weapon. They’re not very talkative.”

~~~~~

Lena could hear Feyre pacing in her chambers. The moon was high in the sky and that prick Tamlin was fast asleep in his room thinking the world would be alright now that his possession was back.

A twisted part of Lena would always be both grateful to and jealous of Tamlin for laying the killing blow on her father. All the same though, she hoped she had the chance to see Rhys kill him one day. It would be quite entertaining.

She stepped up to Feyre’s door silently — as she did everything since she was dead after all. After listening to Feyre pace for another minute or so she made her breathing just loud enough to be heard by the Cursebreaker. By her High Lady.

The door swung open not even a second later.

Lena’s hood was still up. Up until that day she had never taken it down or revealed her face on a mission except for one time.

A century and a half ago. On a terrible mission for the King to the Middle of Prythian where the worst beasts roamed. A group of Hybern extremists that the King had sanctioned were there torturing humans and trying to track beasts.

And then he had shown up...

Come in,” Feyre said softly, startling Lena out of her memories.

Lena nodded, stepping in silently. She only removed her hood when the door clicked shut behind them. A second later she had settled a noise cancelling shield around the entire room. Only when she was confident that they were completely concealed from the rest of the manor did Lena release a deep breath and roll out her shoulders. Feyre watched her carefully, cataloguing every movement.

“You’re staring,” Lena deadpanned, perching herself on the edge of the desk.

“How do you do that?” Feyre asked curiously. “Control two shields at once, I mean. I still can’t smell you so you must be in control of both. Isn’t that… taxing?”

Lena glanced around the room and grimaced at the decor. She reached out and flicked the fringe hanging from a lamp. “No.” She said simply. With the extent of her power, not much at all was taxing to her. “I’ve gotten so used to shielding my scent, I forget sometimes that I’m even doing it. I don’t want anyone to smell me and realize it’s so similar to—” She cut herself off, glancing at Feyre sidelong.

“Similar to Rhys’s scent,” Feyre finished for her. She gave Lena a smile and the genuine kindness in the gesture made Lena flinch and look away.

Feyre cleared her throat, playing with her hands nervously.

“You haven’t told anyone about me, have you?” Lena asked suddenly. “You haven’t used your bond with my brother and told him that I’m here? Or… who I am?”

“No,” Feyre said instantly. Lena released a relieved breath. “The bond doesn’t quite work like that with us at such a distance. It’s… hard to communicate. And something like this, telling him that his only remaining family is alive, well… that’s not exactly something I want to tell him without being there at his side.”

“You’re not going to tell him at all.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

“You cannot,” Lena said with emphasis, “tell my brother that I am alive.”

“But… you revealed yourself to me,” Feyre argued.

“I did, and a part of me already regrets it,” Lena said simply. “You have no idea what I’m risking by showing you my face and telling you who I am to Rhys. And apparently, telling you my name.”

The bitter laugh that escaped her didn’t do much trying to cover Lena’s hurt. Feyre’s mouth parted in understanding, but she could only look down at the ground. She didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t pity me, Feyre,” Lena said suddenly. “I have accepted my lot in life and accepted it well and I will continue to do so in order to protect those that I love.”

“Well if you’re not planning on going home to those people you love, then—”

“That’s not what I said,” Lena smoothly interrupted.

Feyre stared. “So… you are trying to go back to the Night Court? To reveal yourself to them and escape the King?”

The smile that Lena gave was borderline feral. “Well considering that I’m face to face with the Cursebreaker herself, I think that you and I together might actually have a shot.” Feyre’s face broke out into a grin. “But I won’t risk it unless I’m absolutely sure it will work. If I think for even a second that this will fall through, you still can never tell them that I’m alive. You’re getting back to the Night Court no matter what Feyre, understand that well.”

“Yes, but—”

“I am guaranteed nothing and that’s alright,” Lena continued. “But Feyre, my first priority is getting you back to my brother. Back to m— back to your Court. If I can go with you, that would be… everything to me. But if I can’t, you have to swear to me you’ll never tell them that I am alive. Or you can just give me permission to wipe your mind of any memories of me.”

“No!” Feyre cried. “I can’t… Lena, you’re his sister. They deserve to know you’re alive. It will bring them so much joy and—”

“They never told you my name,” Lena snapped suddenly, darkness flaring out of her. Feyre froze. “Feyre, they… they never even told you my name.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “They’ve moved on. They survived, which is all I ever wanted for them. If I can’t get back to them, then at least let them keep surviving. They don’t need to be burdened with this knowledge and quite frankly it could get them killed.”

Feyre gulped. “Fine,” she said. “I give you permission to wipe my mind of any memories of you if whatever plan you have doesn’t work, but it doesn’t matter because it will work. I’m making sure that you get back to them, Lena. I swear it.”

Lena laughed humorlessly, but Feyre still caught the flash of real emotion on her beautiful face even if only for a moment.

“I can’t believe you’re my brother’s mate.”

“What? Why?” Feyre asked, slightly offended.

“Because he’s a colossal idiot and you seem to have a fairly smart head on your shoulders. And you’re much prettier than him.”

Feyre choked on her laughter. “I’m prettier than him? I think we might be talking about two different Rhysands.”

Lena shook her head. “Nope, same one, I’m sure of it. Tall, black hair, stupid arrogant face? That’s my brother.”

The two females laughed together until Lena froze, her smile turning into an expression full of sorrow.

“You know that’s the first time I’ve laughed in… almost 500 years.”

Feyre gasped softly, staring at the female that shared the same blood as her mate. Who had been stolen by evil itself after watching her own mother be killed right in front of her and then forced to stay away from her family to keep them safe. Who had done just that — and never wavered.

This was Rhys’s sister. And she had suffered more than anyone Feyre knew — more than herself exponentially.

Feyre was High Lady of the Night Court and she loved it more than anything in the world save for her mate. But Lena… she was the Night Court. It belonged to her first. Feyre couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for Lena to see this young female, only recently made High Fae, bear the tattoo that perhaps she herself had expected to wear one day.

Before Feyre even contemplated what she was doing and how Lena might perceive it, she was striding across the room and embracing her.

Lena tensed, arms at her sides in fists. A tear slipped from Feyre’s eye as she realized that this might very well be the first time Lena had been held or shown any real kindness in five centuries.

Lena cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you.”

“…Okay. Why?”

“Because I wanted to. And because you needed one.”

Lena didn’t say anything to that. Slowly, she raised her arms and gently patted Feyre on the back. But Feyre felt it, even if just for a second, the sigh that Lena let out.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Lena said uncomfortably. Feyre pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “I know you’re my High Lady now, but could you warn me next time you want to do that?”

Feyre laughed and nodded. “Of course.”

“So do you have any… questions for me?” Lena asked cautiously, looking away from Feyre’s gaze. It had been a very long time since she had been vulnerable with anyone, but if there was anyone left in the world she could be herself with at that moment without endangering them, it was Rhys’s mate.

“I thought that you would be the one to have questions for me?” Feyre asked curiously.

“Of course. But none that I can ask you.”

Feyre’s face screwed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Just ask me any questions you have, Cursebreaker,” Lena said exasperatedly.

“First of all,” Feyre snapped, “don’t call me Cursebreaker anymore. My name is Feyre. We’re basically family now so call me my name.”

Lena flinched. “Alright, fine. Feyre. Ask whatever you want.”

Feyre bit her lip, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“How exactly are you not dead?”

“When Tamlin’s father killed my mother he had made a deal with the King of Hybern to steal me away on his behalf.”

“But Rhys said they delivered your heads in boxes.” Feyre gave an apologetic smile when Lena flinched. “Sorry.”

Lena waved her hand at the apology. “The King killed some innocent girl from my court and glamoured her intensely enough to somewhat resemble and smell like me. Rhys didn’t think to look twice.”

“And your wings? Rhys said they were somewhere in this house—”

“Different question.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

Lena’s power flared once again, but remained in the confines of the room’s shield. “I said, ask a different question.” Her tone left no room for argument. Feyre swallowed.

“Okay. Well, you’re clearly powerful.”

Lena smirked, her anger gone in an instant. “Clearly.”

“How did Hybern keep you trapped? You have all of that power and you couldn’t get away from him at all?”

Lena’s face fell, transforming into what could only be described as pure rage and bitterness. And a hint of sorrow.

“The King has been putting me to sleep anywhere from a few weeks to a few decades at a time whenever he doesn’t have use of me,” she said simply, her hands shaking. “He uses ancient magic-cancelling chains to keep me secure—”

“I’ve seen those,” Feyre interrupted. Lena blinked in shock. “I’ve seen them, Hybern’s men used them on Rhys once. There are more?”

Lena’s eyes flashed then and stroms seemed to rise behind her violet. She took a deep breath, calming herself down before her magic could escape the room. Feyre held her breath, releasing it only when Lena spoke again.

“Many more,” she said. “Whenever the King needed me for something, he would wake me up. Send me on an... errand or two. Then back to sleep for me.”

“And those times when you were awake you couldn’t escape?” Feyre asked. Lena glared.

“Judgmental much?”

“I’m just trying to understand how the sister of one of the most honorable people I know just held herself back and didn’t at least try to get back to her family.” Feyre paused, expecting Lena to lash out at her, but she didn’t, only waited for Feyre to continue. “I wasn’t even alive when your mother died, or when Rhys thought that you died. But the sorrow that he has now over you… it must have been infinitely worse in the beginning. He had to become High Lord all on his own after losing you, your mother, and your father.”

Lena looked away. “You don’t know anything,” she said softly, almost inaudibly.

“I know enough,” Feyre hissed. Lena’s eyes flashed once again. Feyre was walking a fine line. “There must have been something — something that you could have done, could have tried.”

“There wasn’t.”

“All that power of yours and you couldn’t even send a message? Write a note?”

“It was impossible.”

“Why?” Feyre shouted.

“Because if I did then he would die!”

Lena had moved so fast Feyre hadn’t seen it, the female’s scarred face right in front of her own. Feyre’s breath caught in her throat and in the back of her mind she realized that Lena’s eyes were a shade darker than Rhys’s.

“Rhys?” Feyre asked softly. “Rhys would die?”

Lena froze for a split second before jerking away, turning her back on Feyre.

“I’ve been willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family and my Court for almost five centuries,” she stated simply. “I’ve done things that you could not possibly imagine. It has wrecked the very essence of my soul and I have learned how to accept that about myself. But I have kept my family safe. The best that I can.”

“You weren’t keeping him safe when he was trapped under that mountain with her,” Feyre snapped. She regretted the words the moment she said them. “I’m sorry, I—”

Lena silenced Feyre, whirling on her. “What do you mean?”

“When… when he was with Amarantha.”

“What do you mean with Amarantha?” Lena was in Feyre’s face once again. “I was only woken by the King a day ago. I was put to sleep right after Amarantha drugged all of the High Lords, what — what did she do?” Feyre was silent, her mouth agape as she searched for the words. Lena grabbed her by the shoulders roughly. “Feyre what did she do?”

“She made him her whore,” Feyre spat, her voice barely more than a whisper. Lena went completely still. Everything in the room froze — even the dust particles in the air came to a halt. A tear slipped down Feyre’s face. “She confined him to her bedroom, made him…” She took in a shaky breath. “He was playing a part, he played along to try and win her trust, to keep Velaris safe. He had erased everyone’s memory of the city, kept it completely safe. He used the last of his powers and charged the protection of Velaris to Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azr—”

Lena finally reacted then, pushing away from Feyre and bracing herself against the desk, gasping. She clutched at her chest, squinting her eyes tightly shut.

“Don’t,” she choked out. “Don’t say his name.”

“Who?” Feyre asked, running to Lena’s side. “I don’t understand, Lena. Cassian? Az—”

“I said don’t,” Lena hissed, whirling back on Feyre, who stumbled away at the sheer rage on her face. A beat passed and that look transformed to one of pure sorrow — and longing. Silver lined her violet eyes. “Please don’t, I can’t… I just can’t.”

Feyre didn’t understand what was there. What the sound of Azriel’s name did to Lena, but she nodded all the same. Lena slumped in relief, softly murmuring her thanks.

“There are a great many things you don’t know,” Lena whispered, leaning her back against the wall before sliding to the floor. Feyre gingerly moved to sit beside her. “And if I somehow, by the Mother’s grace, make it back to the Night Court with you, I will tell you every story there is to tell about my family and I. But until then,” she turned and looked Feyre dead in the eye, “you must swear to me that you will never tell them who I am.”

“I already—”

“I know you already did,” Lena interrupted. “But I need you to understand, Feyre. I don’t care if my brother himself has a sword at my throat, you can never tell them who I am. You must let me be the one to tell them.”

“Why?” Feyre asked softly. “Why keep them in the dark?”

“Because it will destroy them,” Lena said simply. “If they find out that I’ve been the King’s prisoner all these centuries, forced to kill and torture and kidnap, it would wreck them. They never even thought to look for me because they assumed they received my head in a box. No, I need to be the one to reveal myself to them if I’m given the chance. They need to see my face and hear it from my own mouth that I’m still alive. Do you swear that to me, Feyre? That you will let me do it?”

Feyre hesitated, but nodded. “I swear.”

“Thank you.”

The two females sat side by side, staring out the window at the moon.

“So you were really in love with Tamlin?” Lena asked suddenly. “Before you met my brother?”

Feyre sighed, but nodded. “I think I fell out of love with Tamlin when he locked me in this house. I didn’t fall in love with your brother until—”

“Wait, wait,” Lena interrupted, whirling on Feyre. “He locked you up?” She asked incredulously.

“Yes, that was when Rhys came and took me to the Night Court apart from our bargain, when I decided to stay. Well actually Mor was the one who came and saved me, but—”

“Okay stop,” Lena cut her off once again. “Clearly I have gotten some misinformation — I’m going to need you to start from the beginning. With details, please.”

And so Feyre did. She told Lena the whole story — the real story. She respectfully avoiding using his name, but Lena’s eyes flashed with sorrow every time Azriel was alluded to all the same. And when the story was done, Lena loosed a heavy breath and leaned her head back against the wall.

“So the Suriel was really the one who told you that you and Rhys were mates?”

Feyre chuckled. “Yes.”

“Figures. And now you’re here, and you’re all pretending that Rhys manipulated your mind to get you to stay in the Night Court and the King successfully broke your mating bond.”

“Also yes.”

Lena huffed. “When I see my stupid brother, I’m going to smack him so hard.”

“For not telling me about the mating bond?”

Lena scoffed at that. “Well I can’t exactly yell at him for that when—” She froze, shaking her head as if to clear out unwanted thoughts. “No, I’m going to smack him for everything else. That idiot has always believed he has to sacrifice himself for everyone all the time.”

“Well it seems to me like that’s a family trait,” Feyre shot back softly, looking at Lena to gauge her reaction.

Lena only laughed, bumping Feyre’s knee with her own. “You know what I take it back. I definitely believe that you’re my brother’s mate.”

~~~~~

Azriel shot up with a gasp, groaning at the lingering pain in his chest. Mor and the other healers had gotten all of the poison out of his system days ago, but the lingering effects made the healing process much slower. 

With a glance to his left, he loosed a breath of relief that Cassian was still fast asleep. His brother lay on his stomach, wings stretched out behind him with coats of healing salve on the membrane. He swallowed as he remembered once again how Cassian had sacrificed his own wings to save him.

With a grunt, Azriel hauled himself out of the bed, pausing as he waited to see if the healers heard him moving. When he believed the coast was clear, he walked slowly to the open window. 

He breathed in deeply, wincing as his chest expanded. But he needed to smell the air, to smell Velaris, to smell home. 

He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in decades. Since before Rhys had been taken Under the Mountain. They came sporadically, sometimes months apart, sometimes decades apart, but he could always count on them to happen. 

He would see her face. Lena’s face. Peaceful, asleep, as beautiful as ever as she lay at his side. And just as he would reach out to touch her, it would explode in flames. The floor would give way beneath them and she would scream, reaching out for him.

But he never caught her. He failed her every time. 

Azriel shut his eyes even tighter, blocking out the sound of her screams still ringing in his ears. Some days he wished he could just forget her altogether, but then the guilt would eat him alive.

He didn’t want to forget her. He just wanted the pain to be gone, he wanted to finally heal. It had been centuries since he had lost her. Since they all had lost her. And while he loved Feyre and was glad she was part of their Court and his High Lady... she wasn’t Lena.

Azriel would never forgive himself for the slightest bit of resentment he felt that the first High Lady of Prythian was Feyre and not Lena. She was supposed to be the one to have brought real change. She was supposed to be the one that broke down barriers and made a way for love and kindness and dreams to prevail. That was supposed to have happened 500 years ago with him at her side, or at the very least watching her from afar and holding her hand all the while. 

But she had died instead. The Cauldron had taken her, deigned the world better off without Lena in it. And that was something Azriel simply couldn’t accept, it was the reason he didn’t pray to the Cauldron anymore. 

He looked up at the moon and hoped that somewhere in whatever life comes after death, Lena was perhaps thinking of him too. 

~~~~~

After leaving Feyre’s rooms, Lena stepped outside of the Spring Court manor silently, the guards jumping as the infamous Hybern weapon appeared without a sound or scent. She laughed to herself at their fear and didn’t spare them a second glance. 

She made her way through the gardens with a grimace. She hated flowers. 

Well out of sight from any of the guards, she tilted her face to the sky. The only thing that gave her comfort anymore. Because no matter where she was, no matter what horrors she faced or was forced to commit, the sky remained constant. It was the same sky he looked at. 

And as she stared up at the stars and the moon, she hoped that wherever he may be, Azriel was perhaps thinking of her too. 

[plaintofu]

the way i was raised

Something is happening.

(I have so much to say, but I can’t think of how to say it)

I wrote on a post-it, a few weeks ago, a reminder: Did you conduct yourself with the confidence of a white man today?

This is stuck above my desk in my room where I am always reminded of the confidence I aspire to, yet maybe will never reach. 

It’s unfortunate, but I was not raised to be a white man. Maybe it’s old-fashioned, maybe it’s scientifically proven, but in my heart of hearts, I believe that how you are raised impacts who you are irrevocably. 

For a long time, I have, for the most part respectfully resented how I was raised. Where I come from. The memories I have, the thoughts that won’t leave me alone. The disposition I can’t shed. I love my Chinese culture as much as I hate it. It’s because of my grandmother that I think twice before asserting myself, my opinion, my intrusiveness. She taught me to take pride in being obedient, considerate—reserved. 

They tell me to take space. But I just want to let others go first. I just want to make as little of a disruption as possible. They tell me to be confident, to put my opinions out there even if they may be wrong. I just want to think twice. And again. And again. And make sure I’m sure of my words. That my words are adding something meaningful to the conversation. 

Words are not frivolous. I learned growing up that what you say—and don’t say—have repercussions. Most of the time, things were not said. It’s safer to speak only when spoken to. 

They tell me to celebrate my individualism, but I am not an individual. I am an amalgam. I cannot make decisions for myself, I never have. I was born with a pre-written narrative. I was born into a family fragmented by the disposition of history. My father is the original Chinese salesman that has now become a cliché. Starved by Communism, they were all so greedy in the face of the economic reforms, greedy for all the kitsch material things. Corrupt without style. My mother is the richness of ancient Chinese culture filtered through the restraints of the Cultural Revolution. She is bits and pieces of poetry and mythology, scraped together from smuggled books and curiosity. She is the idealism of the Revolution, quotations from Mao, optimism of youth and the clarity of disillusionment. She is the compassion of the boddhitsatva of mercy. She woke up one morning, took the cheap statue of Mao that rests on my bookshelf and, after decades and decades, had weighed his good and evil and found him to be evil. Unforgivable. I said to throw it away, but still she couldn’t bear to do so. Understandable. 

When I think of where I come from, I think of China and betrayal. Families betrayed by the state. Marriages embroiled in cold war. Death without closure. A culture eaten alive by materialism and kitsch. I am so disappointed. 

Why did you raise me this way? Why was I chosen as the time capsule for all the truths we don’t like to remember. I wonder if those in my generation feel this way; my sister, my cousins. I hope not. 

I feel like I was stripped of my youth. (I wonder if that sentence is too melodramatic) I remember lying on my back as a child thinking of death, thinking of selfishness. Thinking of the sacrifices that are made to keep people alive. I remember not being able to articulate my sadness as a teenager; why was I so depressed? Why me? What had I done to deserve this? Why do I need to grapple with the unnecessary, the shameful, the unspeakable. Why did I deserve to be silenced? Why did I have to re-craft myself from scratch? 

I don’t often like the things my peers like. I am not pre-dispositioned to like the things that are popular. Why would I? Sometimes I fall into inexplicable reveries like now. How do I explain that I’m busy because I need to grieve the lives I did not even live. It seriously cuts into my mission of trying to make lifelong friends.

I’ve tried, for a very long time, to change who I am. To conduct myself with the confidence of a white man. But of course, not to be perceived as arrogant. I’ve sought to adopt the interests, turns of phrases, timbre of the popular girls I admired. To keep tabs on the zeitgeist, technology and what matters and is relevant. To be likable but not too conciliatory. To be interesting but not to have too many interests. To be competitive and eager but not aggressive. To be smart but to know my limits. To fight the power but not so much that you get kicked out of law school—or, even worse, flunk out. To dream big, but make decisions realistically, pragmatically, practically. (It has to make sense on a resume)

It occurred to me recently how impossible it would be for me to embody the latter half of 20th century Chinese history and be an all-American girl (of color)(but sometimes color-blind when it’s to my advantage)(also are asians even considered POC? Like, in practice.)(It’s complicated). And, I guess, more recently, an officer of the court. A steward of the Constitution. Wielder of the tools of law. Champion of civil rights but also important commercial transactions, and of course, global human rights and international law. General purveyor of social welfare (though sometimes parasite of wealth and power?). Winner of meritocracy and networking.

It’s all just a game isn’t it?

When I look back on it, the fact that I’ve tried to play for so long and ended up now in the sub-levels of a law library is fairly impressive. I have clung onto the edges of society despite having been seriously confused, spatially, temporally, existentially, individually. I’ve somehow been given access to these restricted spaces of privileged knowledge and the hallowed classrooms where the secrets of legal doctrine are passed on from sage to pupils. I sound facetious, but I’m not trying to be dismissive. The part of me that doesn’t play the game really loves going to class. It’s comforting, in a way. I haven’t figured out why. 

When I stop playing the game, I am left with the person I was raised to be. There are some things, I’ve learned in my exhausting attempts to conduct myself with the confidence of a white male among other endeavors, that I just cannot change. Those things, I’ve finally realized, must be the foundations of capital-“I” Identity. I am resentful (see: above) of where I come from—of my grandmother, my family, my inherited emotional traumas from modern Chinese history, all the death I faced that made me a morose kid, the ordinary suburban shell masking all these things. But, if I was being truthful, I would also have to admit that I cherish these things. It’s like a collection of broken relics. A burden, if you will, worthless. But it’s my collection, it’s what came with me when I was born, and for some reason I can’t stop staring at them.

I don’t think I’m well equipped to succeed in society. I don’t know how to speak with confidence and I don’t like to take up space. I don’t always ask for the things I want and half the time I don’t know what I want. I’m probably not seizing my destiny. I don’t have particularly strong convictions or a dedicated attention span. I’m not particularly brilliant or creative. I have ideas but not enough follow through. I’m charming but not enough to navigate a great number of social situations. I don’t really make friends easily and I’m a world away from forming a “power couple.” My resume is just ok. My grades will probably be just ok.

I’ve sought to package all that I am into something other people would consider extraordinary but, I realize that is an impossible task. The things I came with—the way I was raised—it may not be extraordinary, but it’s interesting. I can’t stop ruminating over it and I am perhaps morbidly curious to see where being this person can take me.

[marcjampole]

If election proves country not ready for woman prez, we’re lucky to get Trump instead of someone on same page as Ryan & McConnell

I had the strangest dream last night. 

I was sitting on a bench against the wall in a large ballroom filled with people dressed in formal wear. I was watching the glitterati and listening to the band play swing music when Donald Trump sits down beside me, shakes my hand and starts to brag about what a great job he is doing to make the country safe. He stands erect, looking strong and in control in his blue silk suit, power red tie, large gold cufflinks and spit-polished black wing-tips. He’s friendly and self-assured. His eyes cast the kind of look people give to those with whom they have reached a complete understanding.

I start to rip him a new one. I tell him the country is already safe and that he is threatening the economy with his immigration policy, his threat of tariffs, his meddling in the Affordable Care Act and his desire to lower taxes on the wealthy. 

Trumpty-Dumpty looks shocked and embarrassed that someone disagrees with him. He winces at every fact I cite as if they were darts piercing his flesh. He tries to respond to me after I spout that all crime, violent crime, and terrorist acts have declined, but he can only manage to sputter weakly the words “carnage” and “Chicago,” then falls silent. His body, once projecting power, seems to soften and sink into itself.

I’m reciting a list of studies that prove public schools outperform private ones when suddenly he jumps on my lap and starts to cry. He bawls like a toddler, furiously kicking out his hands and feet, now suddenly short and stubby, and shaking his head. He turns to me, his lower lip protruding like a pregnant abdomen, his cheeks wet with running tears. 

That’s when I wake up. 

That’s the dream, exactly as I experienced it. 

The background to my nocturnal encounter with a Trumpian incubus was an epiphany I had earlier in the evening: that the country might be lucky that Donald Trump won the Electoral College vote. Ted Cruz, John Kasich, Jeb Bush, Mario Rubio or any other Republican would have been worse, because unlike Trump, all are vocal supporters of cutting back Social Security and Medicare benefits and all would have been happy to throw people off healthcare insurance or give them significantly worse coverage. Trump has said he is against cutting Social Security and Medicare and that his healthcare plan will give universal coverage at lower costs. Moreover, we already see that Trump’s unprofessional and chaotic style of leadership impedes legislative action. I imagine that Cruz or Bush would have taken a much more organized approach.

Trump has done many terrible things, to be sure, and is promising more. But other than immigration, we can be fairly certain that other Republicans would have done much of the same. Dismantling environmental and financial regulations, denying rights to transgender people, stopping investigations of police misconduct, building up the military, cutting social welfare programs—all the Republicans wanted these things. The difference is they were competently knowledgeable about how to get things done in government. They also seemed sane and therefore commanded more intellectual respect. 

The premise upon which I build my (completely facetious) case that Trump may be a blessing in disguise is that the United States is not ready for a female president and that any Republican—the oily Cruz, the mealy Bush, the self-righteous Kasich, the dim-witted Rubio—would have beat Hillary Clinton by virtue of the fact that they are men and she is a women. It’s a dismaying and horrifying thought—that so many men and women would refuse to vote for a woman, or would hold a woman to a much higher standard of conduct and achievement than they would a man. But how else to explain how someone with Hillary Clinton’s track record, beliefs, record of ethical conduct and obvious skills could lose in the Electoral College to an ignorant, inexperienced, erratic, racist, misogynistic and self-centered buffoon?

Large numbers of people voted against their best interest. They voted for their worst instincts. They voted for lies. All, so they could vote for a man.

Very depressing.

I think I’ll go back to sleep and verbally slap The Donald around a bit.                                                                                                                  

[conflictandscotchblog]

BIG MISTAKE

As I have mentioned in various parts of this blog, I received an engraved ipad with a personalized case from dozens of sorority sisters and friends. After all that has gone on with our struggles, I have been fairly open about it. I joined facebook just last year  because I needed a writing outlet and it was easier than verbally updating everyone.  When I miscarried in June, I immediately (as I mentioned earlier) booked an appointment  with a therapist. I felt it would not hurt. I had no idea what emotions would unfold after this latest failure. He had suggested I write. I have always loved to write. When my mom died, I wrote. I am seeing similar grieving patterns now that we lost our daughter as when I lost  my mom. Writing previously helped me. Why not give it a try? The problem is that I am  online all day for work. The last thing I want to do is fire up the 1995 computer we have  when I get home. I think I could turn it on, run a marathon, and it would still be warming  up when I returned home. Then, one night, I posted on my facebook page, “Dear Santa: I  want an ipad and a trip to Utah this year for Christmas.” It was meant to be facetious,  jovial and I never intended anyone to do anything about it (but I would not have been  hating on some hints to the husband from my friends). “He knows when you are sleeping,  he knows when you’re awake” kind of makes you want a restraining order, yes? 

 One week ago today, I was, surprise, at work all day. My husband said he was taking the  day off to help clean the house. So sweet. Then he sent me a text that I got a FedEx.  Odd. Why would he send me a text about that? Not exactly breaking news that I had  received a package. I had half a mind to tell him to open it, but then realizing I had not  ordered anything, my police wife mind thought, what if it is a bomb? So, I just responded  okay to his text.

 I left work at 4:00 and had a long commute and a million errands to run. My friend  “Mulligan” was coming in to town. If nothing else, I like to be a good hostess. I had to mail my nephew’s birthday gift (a Reds “Votto” jersey – holla!), get gas in the car, drop off a donation of old clothes, stop at Target to buy towels for the pool, go grocery shopping  and stop at the liquor store to stock up on some beer (not in that order). I sent Mulligan a  text asking her what kind of booze she wanted for the weekend. Yeungling Light. Noooo  problem. Meanwhile, I am getting all these texts asking if I am home yet. Nope. Not yet. 

 At 7:30, I enter the house with about 35 bags, my purse, my keys, and my phone. My  hands were full and as soon as I enter the house, my husband is waiving a box in my  face. I had not even put my bags down. “What did you get from FedEx? Open it. Open it.”  I was hot and exhausted and the messy house should have been my first clue that my  husband clearly did not take the day off to clean the house. He seemed so anxious I  thought maybe he had bought a bomb and was waiting for me to open it? I drop the bags  on the floor and hunt down the kitchen scissors. I open the box and there it is. A white  box with black “IPAD” staring back at me. I began to cry. I even now tear up as I write  this. I turned to my husband, completely clueless and ask, “What did you do?” He  responds, “I did not do anything. Call Deirdre.” “Why do you have Deirdre’s number?” My  husband, “We are having an affair. Call Deirdre.” Deirdre is my very best friend in the  whole wide world. I have 4-5 best friends, but she is my “go to” best friend. The cream of  the crop. We were in the same pledge class in our sorority. Deirdre is the friend I talk to  for hours and when I get the enormous phone bill, I pick up the phone and call her  despite the large bill to tell her how expensive the bill is. My mom would always say she  could tell when I was on the phone with Deirdre because all my mom would hear on my  end is laughter. I call Deirdre crying and say when she answers, “What did you do?”  Deirdre laughs that infectious, wonderful laugh and says something to the effect that she  did not do anything. Becky and Mulligan started this a week or so ago. She said I had like  forty (40) sorority sisters all waiting online on facebook for me to post something. And  then she says, “Of all days for you to run a marathon of errands!” 

 I post a completely inadequate thank you on facebook, still not knowing who all is  involved in this overwhelmingly thoughtful and moving gift. Becky then lets me in on this  thread of ongoing conversations from the idea of giving me an ipad completely through to  them all wondering why I was not home yet. Turns out, they contacted my husband (who  had been thwarting my attempts to buy an ipad repeatedly, and now I know why) and he  was home to sign for the ipad. I sat down and read all 87 pages of messages that night. I  was up until 10:30 or 11:00, which is way past this early to bed, early to rise girl’s  bedtime. I was and still am moved beyond words. My sorority sisters and friends, for the  past week without my knowledge, were writing things about me, what I have done for  them in the past, that I am amazing and inspiring, that they wanted to do something for  me given all we have gone through on the fertility and adoption journey. The messages  also made me laugh. At one point, as they are waiting for me to get home for the “big  reveal”, Becky wrote, “How much booze is she buying you, Mulligan?” I especially liked  the one digression in the messages, “Can you believe Kristen Stewart cheated on Rob?”  One sister wrote something to the effect of my children are starving, waiting for dinner, as  mommy sits on the computer waiting for IE’s reaction. Where is she? [Sidebar: They call  me IE. My name is Kellie, with an IE. This stems from when a certain college boy, who  shall remain nameless, met me and asked for my phone number in 1992. He wrote down  KELLY and my number on a piece of paper. You know, the old fashioned way, before  inputting people's numbers in your cell phone. I saw that and said, "No, it is Kellie with an  IE." He replied, "IE? That is like spelling Susie S-O-O-Z-I-E. OK. Well, IE it is then. I will  give you a call IE." For some reason, it stuck. 18 years later, I am still IE. That explains  the IE on the top of my blog.] 

 As I sat there and read these messages, I laughed and I cried. I am and was so touched.  This really, really got me. I did not think I mattered. No offense to my wonderful, charming  brother Colin and my dad (I affectionately call them the two boobs – which they will now  find out as I write this), but when my affectionate, kissy, complimentary mom died, I am  kind of left with an occasional pat on the back from the two boobs. If I want to see them, I  have to fly to see them. They don’t visit very often. They both have their own businesses  and sometimes I can erroneously take this personally and feel a bit unloved since my  biggest cheerleader has been in heaven for 18 years. I think even Colin will admit that  Mom sort of ruled the roost when it came to affection…and keeping us in line. She  proposed to my dad, just like I did to my husband (more on that later). Nothing personal  toward my dad, but Colin and I are very loving, emotional, giving and affectionate people  and I would strongly venture a guess that we inherited or learned that from my mom. I  inherited my work ethic, humor, being a morning person and my conservative nature from  my father. When I sent my dad a text about the ipad gift his response was: Can they send  your father one? I prefer to think I have a nice parental balance and I received the best of  both of them. My brother’s wife asked me once, “What was your mom like?” I said, “You  married it.” :) 

 The day I received this generous gift and read all those funny and loving messages is by  far one of the best days of my life. I felt loved. Loved in a way I had not actually, truly felt  in a long, long time. Don’t get me wrong. I feel loved by very few people in my life, my  husband being one of those very special few, but I can count the compliments on one  hand that he has said to me in twelve years. What is great about that though is that I can  remember every one of them and when my husband pays me a compliment, it is rare and  genuine. However, we Capricorns need constant reassurance that we are loved, kind,  pretty, etc. We may seem as strong as a keg of nails, but I also can be extremely  sensitive and insecure. I don’t want anyone to blow smoke, but I take notice when I get a  kind word or gesture. It makes my day and touches my heart in a way that is never  forgotten. One friend just said to me today, “You are by far and away one of the most nice  and normal persons in my entire life.” He has seen a lot of dysfunctional women in his  life, so I think I just smell like a rose by default. 

 After reading all the messages, I was so excited. I could not wait to tell my therapist about  the gift and the blog. As I sat in his office and told him this story, I again started to tear up.  He said something like, “This really got you”, sort of gesturing to his heart. In a word, YES.  I am a giver. I love to give others. I do. At Christmas, my joy is in making someone  happy with something thoughtful. When I have a guest at my home, I want to make them  feel comfortable and loved. I like to do random acts of kindness because it makes ME  feel good. It makes me think that my mom would be proud of me for going out of my way  to do something thoughtful or kind for someone, even if it is a tiny gesture and especially  if it is a stranger. It makes me think about when my mom said, “I should have had 10 of  you.” I choose to think she did not mean 10 girls or 10 children. She meant 10 of me. 10  Kellie’s. 10 IE’s. At one point during hell week in my sorority, I was tired and I said to my  mom, “I think I may want to quit the sorority.” I will never forget her two word, angry  response…BIG MISTAKE. 

 My therapist then said to me, and I won’t be able to articulate this as well as he did, that  sometimes the gift is in receiving. Since I am a giver, imagine what it would be like if all  those people I want to help or have helped said no thank you. That would sort of rob me  of the joy of giving. In receiving those messages and the ipad, I gave a whole boatload of  important people in my life a moment to feel really, really good about what they did. What  they did for me was unbelievable. They gave me love when I needed it most. And for  that, my friends and sisters, I can honestly say 1,000 thank you’s. I have a fortune cookie  message taped to my desk that has been with me for years. It reads, “Your good deeds  will never be forgotten.” Know I feel that about each and every one of you. My mom was  right. It would have been a BIG MISTAKE. 

 Thanks for reading. IE over and out. Socks ;). 

First published: Thursday, August 09, 2012    

To Read More of KLC’s work, click here

Photo by Marek Levák on Unsplash

[cordonianqueenie]

My Favourite Films Part 2 (1-5)

5. Lord of The Rings - Return of The King I remember watching the first LOTR film in the cinema and feeling like it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in film before. I was only 14 and not really a student of film so I couldn’t really tell you what it was about it that made me feel this way but it just felt bigger and it drew me into its world the way that fantasy on film had never managed before. It seems like a funny thing to say now when Game of Thrones is bringing epic fantasy to the small screen let alone the big one but at the time I believed that fantasy was best left on the page for each to conjure up in our own imaginations because I thought that when translated it appeared flat and unconvincing. LOTR proved me very wrong. Return of the King is definitely my favourite of the series which is why its the one I’ve put on this list. I enjoyed the mixture of epic battle scenes and small, personal stories; the battle for Minas Tirith is a masterpiece in itself and I could watch it as a standalone piece and still enjoy it massively. I know the ending gets a lot of stick, and as someone who was sat in the cinema kinda needing the loo believe me I get it - but in hindsight I wouldn’t cut any of them out; I NEEDED all that information.

4. The Social Network When I saw the trailer for The Social Network I turned to my friend and said something  along the lines of ‘They are making a film about Facebook and it has Justin Timberlake in it, am I in hell?” I have to hold my hands up and say how completely wrong I was. As a lover of The West Wing I guess I should have had more faith in Aaron Sorkin’s writing because he really produced some of his best work here in my opinion. The dialogue in this film is snappy and clever, facetious when it means to be but also capable of real heart and emotion. But it’s not just the writing either I think the casting is excellent, and yes I even mean Justin Timberlake, I’ve always found Jesse Eisenberg faintly annoying (no insult to him, I think it’s just a weird issue of my own) but in this movie that really works, I really believe him in this character and everything he does just makes me think ‘of course he would’! And finally I can’t praise the direction of David Fincher enough, as much as I love Sorkin’s writing I do think in the wrong hands it could have been a bit of a hot mess but here it all just comes together.

3. Elizabeth I’m a complete sucker for history particularly the Plantagenet, Tudor, Stuart period of British history. As a result there was every chance I would hate this film because it certainly does play fast and loose with facts but I also love fiction, coming of age stories, romantic intrigue, lush sets and costumes, and epic, sweeping drama. Elizabeth has all of this so I can forgive it for taking a few liberties. Cate Blanchett is excellent and the chemistry she and Joseph Fiennes have on screen is undeniable it just crackles. I always thought it funny that with this film and Shakespeare in Love coming out in the same year it is the latter that he gets all the praise and awards for, as far as I’m concerned this will always be his superior work. I do wish this film wasn’t marred for me by its God-awful sequel but I shall endeavour to rid that from my mind!

2. History Boys The History Boys is such an unimposing almost non-story when you try and explain it to people. It’s about a group of boys at a Grammar School in Sheffield trying to get into Oxford and Cambridge; except of course that’s not all it’s about friendship, the art of teaching and knowledge, understanding and handling one’s demons and how very messy human nature is. It is no surprise that this is a play adapted to screen it has that small story, big concept feel that I think you tend to get from theatre much more than film (see Easy Virtue for another fine example of that). What makes The History Boys so good in my eyes is the casting, I think quite a few of the actors were carried over from the stage version to the film and it shows; they know these characters inside out, up and down. Some of my favourite scenes are small moments where the boys interact with each other Samuel Barnett and Jamie Parker particularly stand out for me and watching this was the beginning of a lifelong admiration I have for both of them.

1. The Fall The other films on this list have moved around over the years, even day to day depending on my mood. Some films drop off and some new films I think may one day join the list but I hesitate to add them in case it’s just a passing infatuation I have with them. Not so with The Fall, the first time I saw it I instantly knew it was my number 1 and through the years that has never shaken I’m fairly confident it will never be supplanted. Every time I watch this film something new about it strikes me, I ask new questions and see new details. It is set in a hospital in the 1920s and follows a young immigrant girl with a broken arm as she meets a stuntman played by Lee Pace who has been paralysed as the result of a stunt gone wrong. The two strike up a friendship of sorts and Lee Pace’s character, Roy, uses storytelling to get the girl’s, Alexandria, unwitting help in his suicide attempt. For me the beauty of this film is in the details, whilst the story is told by Roy we see it through Alexandria’s imagination and this leads to some wonderful details, settings change as she understands more about what is happening and characters are the people who she knows around the hospital and informed by whether or not she likes them. This is where some of the small details I mentioned come in, at one point Roy introduces an Indian, from the story he tells about his squaw we know he means a Native American but in the film he is a turbaned Sikh because that is the only reference for ‘Indian’ that Alexandria has. I’ve heard this film described as just visually stunning but without the depth tho back it up and in my opinion that is just 100% wrong. There is no denying the sheer beauty of this film, made even more impressive by the almost entire eschewing of CGI, but anyone who thinks that is all there is to this story isn’t looking close enough. This is looking at the world through the eyes of a young girl, catching glimpses of the things she fails to pick up on but mainly just marvelling at her imagination and infectious personality and the effect it has on those around her.  I will never not love this film.

[duanecbrooks]

The Return Of Girls Gone Write     Further unmistakable evidence that women, by and large, are the superior writers: the former George W. Bush press secretary and current Fox News host Dana Perino's my-life-with-my-dog-Jasper memoir Let Me Tell You About Jasper...: How My Best Friend Became America's Dog and the large-screen sprite Anna Kendrick's personal/professional memoir Scrappy Little Nobody. These two books are, frankly, flat-out joys to read, the former being a frequently warmhearted, often humorous, always heartfelt telling of her life and experiences with her pet dog Jasper, who, as she convincingly claims, has become the real and true star of the Perino family; the latter being an engaging, sprightly, consistently witty literary self-examination of one of the modern-day American cinema's most succulent and most appealing chicks. To partake of these tomes consecutively, both from beginning to end, is to spend quality time with a pair of delightfully quirky, keenly aware, firmly articulate she-babes who, each in her own way, have a marvelous sense of proportion, a marvelous refusal to see themselves as having any kind of Greatness.             Before getting into just exactly why these superb books are superb, allow me to go into how I first became aware of Kendrick (If you'll remember, Perino first came into my life via her first-rate within-the-George W. Bush-administration memoir And The Good News Is...: Lessons and Advice from the Bright Side). Kendrick caught my attention, as do many other other folks and things these days, via YouTube. Specifically, first, during a compilation of Kathie Lee/Hoda's "best" Today "celebrity moments," wherein, when Kendrick was asked whether or not she'd like to play a game, she facetiously mimicked Nader and replied mock-earnestly: "No! I hate games! I hate fun, I hate laughing!" (Later, she was shown doing some mock-dirty dancing with said girls); second, during a trailer for one of Kendrick's more recent theatrical films, namely Get A Job, the aforementioned trailer's two highlights, for me, being 1) this scene where Kendrick's filmic character, Jillian by name, is sitting on the floor lamenting the fact that she spent almost all of the money she had on a BITCHIIN' pair of shoes, while clad in a pair of equally bangin' black toreador pants that, given her sitting position, magnificently show off her magnificently long, lean legs and her magnificently-proportioned bare feet; and 2) a long shot of Kendrick adorned in a man's white shirt and tie and black high heels and again displaying those stylishly long, lean legs. Thus I was already primed, due to being previously turned on by Kendrick, to favor her tome.             It's here where I'll deal with the highlights of both books, the places where our memoirists especially grab ahold of and, simultaneously, charm and delight us.               .Perino, on the vast network of fans/friends that has developed due to her having Jasper: "It is a bit wonderful that through television and social media, Jasper and I became friends with so many people across the country. I enjoy interacting with my followers and fans, and I really feel that we have modern-day friendships--people I've never met, but that I've come to know over time through short digital interactions. It has widened my circle of people I talk to, and it's deepened my appreciation for people from all walks of life. I now get a chance to communicate with people I wouldn't have ever known; the Internet has given us a way to connect and network that didn't exist before. We're all neighbors now (with the proper amount of fencing to keep things friendly).               "Often this new group of people has cheered me up or warmed my heart just when I needed it. Working in politics and live cable television can be stressful, and switching off at the end of the day isn't always easy. Jasper's following has actually given me a way to set aside the work portion of my day and exchange some messages with my electronic friends, which helps me keep grounded and cheerful."                 .Kendrick, on her brother Mike: "My brother is my hero. I've idolized him since the day I was born and I still do. He's responsible for at least sixty percent of my personality, for better or worse. I'm told that if you're an only child, you grow up thinking you're the center of the universe, and if you have tons of siblings you grow up with a healthy perspective on how small you are in the grand scheme of things. I'd like to think that my brother told me I was a worthless brat often enough that I got the same effect...     "Mike's main interests [when we were kids] were watching Star Wars, playing Magic: The Gathering, and avoiding his annoying little sister. The only time he happily included me was when he wanted to play 'Pro Wrestling Champions,' as I was an ideal partner on which to inflict moderate injury."           .Perino, on Jasper's television debut: "Jasper made his debut on The Five [Perino's Fox News political talk show] as a sleepy puppy at just two months old, and a star was born. I brought him on set and when we were back from commercial break, I showed him off for the camera. He looked right into the lens with his deep blue eyes (a Vizsla [Jasper's breed] is born with blue eyes that eventually turn amber). He snuggled into me. Hearts melted.             "Jasper has tons of personality and is as photogenic as any dog I've known. On Jasper's birthday, my [The Five] producer lets him come on the show and he sits on a chair, for the most part, wearing a bow tie collar, and you would think he knows exactly what he's doing when he looks into the teleprompter. He's certainly better behaved than [Five co-host Greg] Gutfield."             .Kendrick, on her early period as an actor: "Starting in theater gave me a basic work ethic that I may not have gotten if I started in film and television. I worked six days a week, eight shows a week (two shows on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Mondays off). It wasn't so much the schedule--I worked in accordance with child labor laws--it was that I was held accountable for my work.             "Once, during rehearsals, our director was playing with the shape of a musical number that involved most of the cast--which jokes should stay, where they should go, etc. He decided to try reinstituting a small joke I'd had in a previous draft, and we started the number again from the top. I lost where we were in the music and I opened my mouth to say the line, a measure too late. He was already shaking his head and signaling the pianist to stop.             "'Anna just lost a line. Let's go back to how it was before and start again.'"         .Perino, on her period as W.'s press secretary: "[B]ecoming the White House press secretary was the best thing that ever happened to my career. I learned so much--about policy, world affairs, management, and politics.             "But the most important lesson I learned working for President Bush was about character and how to conduct myself under stress and attack. I found out how to be productive despite obstacles, and appreciated how a communicator can help calm a situation, advance a negotiation, or lead to a solution.               "The press secretary is the pinnacle for a public relations professional--it was the opportunity of a lifetime.                 "But having worked in politics for so many years, I'd built up a fairly tough exterior. The daily battles can wear a person out, and in some ways, I became edgier and harder than I'd ever been.         "It was also a lofty position, and the surest way you can lose your way in Washington, D.C., is to let any of that power or prestige go to your head.             "Throughout those years [first dog] Henry kept me from losing sight of what was important in life: appreciation and gratitude for my health and blessings, and the love I shared with [hubby] Peter and our dog."     .Kendrick, on her early life as a struggling actor: "The next pilot season [for television series] was starting up, which meant I was usually sent on one to four auditions a day. I discovered MapQuest and wrote down directions by hand since I didn't have a printer. Between that and my growing knowledge of the city, I was only getting lost, like, six times a day. Pilot season is grim because you're sent in for everything, no matter how wrong you are for it. I kept a mountain of clothes and accessories in my trunk so I could go from the fourteen-year-old goth daughter on a TNT drama to the spoiled twenty-two-year-old receptionist on a workplace comedy. It's obvious now that splitting my focus made it responsible for me to do well on any of them, but I was in no position to turn down auditions.               "How do I describe my personal life during this time? I met funny, interesting people. I went to art galleries downtown, I performed a one-woman show for free on the street corner. Except none of that's true. I spent most of my time trying to find ways to occupy myself without spending money or ingesting calories."                     .Perino, on what she terms Jasper's "protest pee": "When I wrote And the Good News Is... I received a lot of gifts for Jasper, including an embroidered quilt with the Great Seal of the United States. It is beautiful and functional. [Peter and I] take it with us to our friends' homes if we are invited to stay the night, because, well, you try telling Jasper he can't sleep on the bed. With the quilt, we're covered. Literally and figuratively.                   "When we're at our place in South Carolina, leaving him in the house is even more stressful. For a while, whenever we'd go out, we'd come home and find that he'd peed on the floor. As soon as we'd walk in, we'd know something happened, because Jasper would grab a toy as he always does, but instead of frantic joy and butt wagging, his tail would be down and he'd look guilty. It was hard to discipline him because you're supposed to catch them in the act. [Hubby] Peter would get pretty made at Jasper, and I'd feel terrible.                 "'He's so scared to be left alone,' I'd say.           "'No, he's being a brat,' Peter responded."                   .Kendrick, on behavior at showbiz events: "There's a campaign called #AskHerMore, which was started by some thoughtful, intelligent females (Lena Dunham, Reese Witherspoon, Shondra Rimes, etc.). It aims to ensure that when women attend events, they are asked about more than their dresses. Men don't answer questions about their clothes; why should we [women]? A simple and understandable request.                 "However, if people could ask me less, that would be great. I would love it if we could limit my red carpet topics to my favorite colors, what sound a duck makes, and my thoughts on McDonald's All-Day Breakfast--blessing or curse?"                 Also: Nearly the final half of Perino's book consists of various @FiveFanPhotoshops pictures that very humorously show Jasper in a collection of quite colorful poses--Jasper painting a portrait of Perino's former boss, W.; Jasper as a race-car driver; Jasper and Perino involved in the Kentucky Derby with the latter on top of the former, et al. And Kendrick's tome closes with a "Bonus Reading Group Guide," wherein there are "a few questions to help you get the most out of your reading experience."(As an addend, Kendrick wittily 1] apologizes for the "fact" that her "Guide" offers no red meat for those of us who "happen to run a trashy celebrity news blog that requires you to peruse the content of privileged cretins like me"; and 2] gives us permission to "use these questions [in the "Guide"] as a template for creating misleading but juicy headlines." She winds up by, also wittily, summing up what she, so she claims, is conveying: "[F]amous white girls are really fun to be mad at") Among the queries asked in the "Guide":                                        .."Though every page of Scrappy Little Nobody is perfect in every                           way, which part is your favorite? Make a list (it can be a Post-it that                           says, 'Every part is my favorite') and tape it to your chest for the rest                                 of the day."                                        .."When Anna compares Zac Efron to Charles Manson, is she making                                 a joke or trying to warn us about a potential murderous mastermind?"                                .."In the sections about Alexa Chung and Olivia Palermo, the author                           viciously maligns two innocent and very fashionable girls. Is Anna a                           shady, basic bitch, or the shadiest, basic-est bitch?"                                       .."Anna makes a lot of bad decisions. Can you think of a time when                                 you've made a bad decision? Oh wow, really? We're gonna pretend                                   you can't think of a single example? YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER                             THAN ME?!"             And thus there are the books of Dana Perino and Anna Kendrick, the former being a greatly stylish, consistently witty, always loving paean to a dog who is not only a beloved pet but, as Perino very convincingly limns, one of the most well-known and well-regarded personalities in America (easily, happily, well above and beyond any yammering about "animal rights"); the latter being an engagingly lively, undeniably honest, unrelievedly funny self-portrait of a celebrity gal who is obviously on the sides of life and living, whose unflinchingly upbeat, never-say-die attitude comes through in literally every paragraph.                 In the much-lauded theatrical film The Magic of Belle Isle, the single Mom Charlotte O'Neill (Virginia Madsen), during an evening dinner with her daughters and that evening's guest, the renowned Western novelist Monte Wildhorn (Morgan Freeman), asserted: "I've always felt that a book does something no friend could: Stay quiet when you want to think." To partake of the Perino and Kendrick tomes as they "[s]tay quiet" is to have you "wanting to think" about them--always favorably and, very often, with unsheathed laughter.

[alienation2016-blog]

New Post has been published on Alienation

New Post has been published on https://alienation.biz/why-investing-in-humans-could-be-the-next-safe-haven-asset-class/

Why investing in humans could be the next safe haven asset class

Various, adaptable and ample: It may seem facetious to lessen human beings to a series of funding traits, however, by means of positive metrics, it is quite easily done… for all 7.5 billion of us.

That is what a developing variety of new start-ups seem to assume, as a minimum, raising new questions on what the destiny of investment might appear like.

Could you search for to make money from the person on the street?

Making an investment in humans is, of course, nothing new. We’ve got been Making an investment in humans as a body of workers since the earliest degrees of trade. An investment in a company is regularly as tons a punt on its group of workers as it’s far at the product itself.

Certainly, early stage Investing is based almost solely on taking a gamble on an entrepreneur’s today’s concept.

However, the emergence of recent businesses, which meld peer-to-peer lending with social impact Making an investment, recommend we might be approximate to go into new funding territory.

Take Prodigy Finance, for instance, a border much less in tech start-up which allows investors to provide postgraduate loans to worldwide students for an income. global students – specifically those from rising economies, who may not be eligible for a traditional mortgage – are capable of fund their educations, at the same time as investors can make ordinary returns from their funding.

Up to now, so like social effect Investing. However, without a bodily property to talk of, the mortgage is classed and accredited based only on human characteristics – particularly intelligence.stock trades

“students are assessed on their academic overall performance and anticipated earning potential,” Joel Frisch, head of commercial enterprise development at Prodigy Finance, instructed CNBC over the smartphone.Presently loans are open only to MBA, MPP, regulation and engineering students, so one can guarantee graduate salaries on the higher give up of the income scale. To this point, the company has a 99.1 percent loan reimbursement rate.

Tips for Developing Astute Investing Skills

Learn how to parent conflicting analyses, reviews, and records as you research making investment possibilities

As an investor, you need to make selections based on your look at, research, and private critiques and ideas. You ought to now not depend totally on the studies and opinions of others. There’s a good deal excellent recommendation and records to be had to you.

However, there may be additional loads of differing records which you must reduce through to make informed investing decisions. Here’s what you may begin doing now: online brokers

Apprehend selections made by using entities impartial of publicly traded companies

Preferred Electric powered (NYSE: mind-setGE), through its Power & Water division, GE Hitachi, gives advanced and complex technology for the nuclear strength enterprise. The GE Hitachi nuclear alliance unites GE’s layout knowledge and records offering reactors, fuels, and services international with Hitachi’s proven enjoy in superior modular production. That is all properly and suitable.

Though, formerly, the Canadian Press referred to that, “A Federal Court docket ruling has thrown out the initial approvals for a chain of recent nuclear Energy reactors in Ontario.” Consequently, This is a case of weighing agency initiatives in opposition to the piano mindset of the jurisdiction wherein they perform, or might also want to operate with new projects. You have to be aware of this whilst you invest.

Recognize the difference between enterprise outlooks and what is going on within the market

Cameco (TSX:C CO) (NYSE:C CJ), concerning its long-time period potentialities, became very high quality about its outlook and the outlook for the uranium industry in Widespread. The enterprise did say in its 2013 annual report that any development or enlargement of its ultimate tasks might depend on how marketplace conditions increase. Cameco’s purpose is to build up Cigar Lake and to enlarge the McArthur River/Key Lake operation.

Business manufacturing started in may additionally 2015 at Cigar Lake with a complete of eleven.3 million kilos (a hundred% basis) produced through the crease of the year. The expectation is that the increase in the licensed capacity of 18 million pounds in step with 12 months will be in 2017.

What’s’ going on within the marketplace? In 2014, Mining.Com stated that bad markets triggered Cameco to place its Millennium uranium mine on maintaining. The fairly prospective Millennium deposit is on the shorelines of Slush Lake in Saskatchewan. Cameco had asked the Canadian Nuclear Safety Fee (CNSC) to delay a hearing scheduled for June 2014 right into a licensed utility for the Millennium Mine venture. The estimation is that this project has in excess of 50 million kilos of uranium.

How About A Voting App So You Could Vote On Your SmartPhone

For the duration of this ultimate 2016 Presidential Election we mentioned a tremendous flip-out, however even that was best fifty eight.6%, which was a hundred thirty-five.6 million human beings, however, recognize which means 41.four% of our populace did no longer vote. The overall wide variety of eligible electorate within the US in 2016 become 231,556,622. What passed off to everybody who didn’t vote? Do not tell me they didn’t care. Perhaps we make it too difficult, Perhaps humans failed to need to robotically be signed up for jury responsibility. Maybe electorate is apathetic for different motives – but I ask what if it had been easier to vote, particularly in the presidential years?

We have been discussing this in our think tank and one person stated that the idea of a clever smartphone balloting app, a concept which has been formerly floated, wouldn’t simply be tremendous for Federal Elections;

I think this app would be brilliant for the government on the nearby level! A lot might be determined speedy and then carried out rapidly in a while

I also think that there would really be a window of possibility to vote after the mass textual content turned into despatched out. I suppose kind of forty-eight hours could be accurate, simply to provide absolutely everyone time to do remaining minute studies if vital.”could sentences

Certainly, in thinking about this myself, well, I like the 48-hours to vote once the app sends out the query because it’s now not goodbye groups can shower the media with ads, or the media can input the fray with unique programming, smart circulate, just lengthy sufficient to do a chunk of research, talk it over with pals and family after which “vote your thoughts” – speaking of which we genuinely are talking about YOUR thoughts, that is why those votes have to be stored privately and those need to accept as true with that, so no dishonest by NSA etc, that records is just not transferable regardless of what.

“Yes, maximum thirteen yr olds have a telephone, however, I Don’t assume they should vote just yet

I suppose as we become older we learn more and more approximately ourselves and approximately how we think our u. S . A . need to be. at the age of thirteen more often than not every kid remains beneath the political opinions of their mother and father so if we deliver them voting rights than its almost like giving adults with youngsters the 2nd vote. Thoughts on that?”

Oh on the 13 12 months antique element, well, I did not mean they might actually vote, extra so, allowing them to exercise vote and show their typical chances for all to see, then inside the future, they may have buy-in to the machine, and consequently, use it and vote inside the destiny. I agree their votes will most probably reflect that in their dad and mom for the maximum component.

Maybe we need a reconsider about how we vote and Maybe using all this new generation may want to definitely help us all take part in OUR authorities. think on this.

Health Clubs – A Haven For Loving Your Body

Pass in advance with poise. Flow ahead with a blazing spirit, with an ardor to invigorate your body. That is what I learned when I joined the Gym. It gave me the entirety that it promised to give.

I was quite doubtful and unwilling in the first section however as time exceeded it became my ‘Second Domestic’ and now I cannot believe a single day without doing some aerobics or walking on my preferred treadmill for hours.

It has given me the bliss, the confidence, and the extremely good shape that I usually dreamt.

The privateness could be maintained through sheets covering the glass in the instances of want and brutal warmth. That is a plus point due to the fact some decide on sweating their body inside the afternoon. The cooling equipment work for 24/7 and the gym never runs out of it.could vs would

The doorway would be spick and span and you will feel like you are getting into a web page-3 apocalyptic environment with the soft and hard beat of the music. As soon as you enter you will experience the energy building inner you.

There will be a relaxing and changing room for men and women and you can have a warm steam bath together with a grooming length.

After a hard middle session, you may slump down and take heavy breaths to calm your soul.

Coming to the workout gadget, they’re dazzling, well-maintained, and striking.