#boundless reads

[fromtheboundlesssea]

Listening to AGOT and another thought—more like a grievance.

I hate that Ned didn’t send Arya back to Winterfell after the Trident incident. She was not necessary for his cover and it was likely that a bigger issue could have arisen later (although it didn’t).

I also hate that the first person to use Sansa as a pawn for their own personal gain was her own father.

[johnslittlespoon]

hii happy pride month, have a little 'you're a dog (i'm your man)' chapter four snippet as an apology for radio silence <33

“Did I wake you?” Gale asks, glancing at John apologetically, but John looks up from his effort to avoid muddy puddles to shake his head. Gale supposes it’s a silly question; John sleeps like a rock, dead to disturbances made by anything other than his own brain.

“Just my sixth sense,” John says, shrugging and shooting him a small smile. Gale snorts.

“You got a radar for me?” He teases, and John smiles wider, eyes crinkling.

“Built in,” he answers matter–of–factly, raising a hand and making a fist over the center of his chest before dropping it, returning his vigilant gaze to the uneven ground. Gale stares for a moment longer, floored not for the first time by John’s apparent obliviousness to the weight of his sentimentality.

Even knowing John how he does, it’s always unexpected coming from someone who a stranger might assume to be brazen and surface–level; John’s loud mouth and wandering hands do him no favours in that regard.

But Gale does know John, like an extension of himself half the time, and still he manages to render him speechless. The way his heart flutters as the sentiment hangs in the air makes Gale want to reach down his throat and squeeze it until it never beats again.

[bellshazes]

been thinking a lot about people's varied reactions to the chaos & perceived inconsistencies around the rules of limited life and because i taught games professionally for a decade and have done a lot of reading on games academically, I have a few propositions for the fandom to consider.

proposition one: Your interpretation of gameplay events is not the same as a monolithic "the narrative" to which all players are equally subject.

Narrative is not what happened, but the interpretation and meaning attached to the events that occurred. Narrative is when we "give experience a form and a meaning." (Harris-Miller)

This construction of narrative - giving meaning to experiences - can occur in the way a video is cut an edited, as well as in the audience's interpretation after the video is released.

Social play is player interaction, both in the derived from the structure and rules of the game (being "It" in tag) as well as the social roles brought from outside the game. (1)

In transformative social play, players use the game context to transform social relationships.

Most players in the life game are more concerned with narrative as it relates to transformative social play - such as, what does this event mean for me, my alliances, my enemies, and the shifting of roles along that spectrum?

Narrative within the game is dynamic and always changing in response to ongoing events and shifting relationships. Viewers' narratives about the games are more static since they exist outside the game context and are not a part of ongoing social play.

Letting go of a single unified "narrative" lets us think about the differences, tensions, and resonances between players' in-game construction of narrative, the narrative constructed by the player's video edit, and the retrospective audience construction of narrative. (*)

proposition two: Fairness is decided by the players, not the rules.

Playing a game requires trust and safety with the other players. (DeKoven) Even in tic-tac-toe you have to trust that your opponent will take reasonable amounts of time per turn before you sit down to play.

We can distinguish between ideal rules (rules as writ, such as a physical rulebook) and the real rules (the general consensus on what playing the game should look like). (2)

Real rules can include how sportsmanlike behavior is defined, and when "breaking" a rule doesn't count; a common example is forgiving a player who genuinely made a mistake on accident and did not intend to "break" the rules.

The real rules are what actually matter in developed gameplay, and they can be negotiated and constructed inside the game as new events, situations, and dynamics occur. (3)

Brushing past Scar's "illegal" kill on greens is not him getting away with breaking the rules, it's the group coming to a consensus on the real rules of the game. Cleo asking Impulse if her kill on him can count and him finally agreeing is not the breaking of (ideal) rules so much as it is defining the real rules.

proposition: Players' own individual motivations and definitions of sportsmanship or interesting play inform their contribution to the general consensus on real rules and leading them to play "imperfectly" in favor of having more fun or staying true to something.

Purely optimal play is boring to the players and viewers, and taken to an extreme allowed by the ideal rules, would violate the real rules implicitly agreed to by the players.

"Optimal" gameplay in the life series could look like hiding in a hole underground for the entire game if the end goal is to survive the longest, but that would make a boring video and would likely be considered supremely unsportsmanlike by other players and their audiences.

Playing perfectly optimally is one motive to play a game, but is basically never the sole motivator if it's one at all.

Even if everyone in the life series has a goal to "keep playing the game as long as possible," that could mean being focused on winning, or being focused on making allies or not making enemies, or it could compel you to give up your life for someone else who's running out of time because to you to play the game is to play together. (4)

Scar is a perfect example of someone who consistently chooses "non-optimal" goals such as always having the enchanter and goes to great and stupid lengths to achieve it even if it means sacrificing winning.

This "non-optimal" play provides something for other players to play off of and react to, often leading to transformative social play, significantly meaningful narrative, or interesting negotiations of real rules. (5)

synthesis: The most interesting narratives are born out of situations where players negotiate the real rules, not ones where the (ideal) rules are broken.

The life series is inherently highly experimental - even as more seasons build on the experiences of prior ones, the constant addition of new mechanics mean the game is more or less always being playtested rather than simply played.

The "rule" against carrying Third Life into Last Life failed because it is basically impossible to eliminate the out-of-game contributions to social play, especially in a social deduction game where knowledge of other players' habits and behaviors is useful metagame (6) currency that can't be un-learned.

Some of the series' most iconic narrative moments - the end of 3L or DL, he loves me, etc. are born out of the tension between ideal and real rules, where players are forced to take a stand or advocate for something opposed to the "ideal" rules such as allying with reds, sticking with your soulmate, or that there can only be one winner. (7)

I'm offering the above as a way of showing that I think these imperfections and changes between seasons are actually the coolest thing about them and have the potential for transformative fan works in addition to transformative play.

if limited life's copious tnt minecarts via skynet and highly-manual, inconsisent giving and taking of time for kills which may or may not be deserved according to strict interpretations of the rules as stated aren't to your taste, that's just how it is sometimes! It's understandable to not enjoy ideal rules that are loosely defined or interpreted or are imperfectly implemented from a mechanics perspective, but understanding that the players of the actual game did agree and consent and get to negotiate the consequences and meaning of these imperfections is not some unfortunate side-effect but in fact an important part of any gameplay.

The various types of narratives and the various motives for playing mean there can't be a single unified narrative for all players - but thinking about these things in terms of tensions and synergies opens doors for talking about the many narratives and the relationships between them. you can hold multiple seemingly-conflicting narratives as a viewer and put them in dialogue and produce new meaningful narratives in their contradictions or overlap! go forth and embrace the chaos and tension between the chains of context that produce meaning and the freedom to look at that complex web and derive fuller meanings from it!

because this post isn't long enough, more citations and examples from the series below the cut:

Some footnotes:

(1) Social roles within the game are more artificial than the ones that exist outside of it. That doesn't make them less meaningful, but when we consider the consequences of breaking a social role defined by the game compared to a real-world breaking of a promise or law, it's hard to forget the artificiality of the game. The consequences are relatively minor; the morality of betrayal, for instance, during a game can be acceptable because of that artificiality where it would be reprehensible in real life.

(2) A few different ways to think about game rules that are not mutually exclusive but complementary to each other:

Three layers of game rules: the underlying constituative rules of a game, the operational rules that directly guide player action, and the implicit rules of proper game behavior, such as etiquette.

Piaget's developmental stages from the Moral Development of Children are useful background here: the first stage is loose play without rules, second is strict adherence to ideal rules, and the final adult-leaning stage is the understanding that the real rules are what matter. You could call putting ideal rules over the real ones juvenile.

"Ideal rules refer to the "official" regulations of a game, the rules written in a player's guide to Zelda or printed on the inside cover of a game of Candyland. Real rules, on the other hand, are the codes and conventions held by a play community. Real rules are a consensus of how the game ought to be played." (Rules of Play)

(3) "It is not that the basic rules of the game undergo a radical change; rather, they are experienced within a social context that decreases their value in favor of a socially-biased ruleset over which players have more control."

(4) I'm thinking of Bdubs in Limited Life session 7 here, since he gives time and stays alive, but if you take this concept a little further and more broadly you just get players like Skizz.

(5) Metagaming, defined broadly for my purposes as the larger social context of the game and not just the pejorative, could be its own too-long post, but I think it's worth mentioning as an avenue for thinking about the complex dynamics of the life series as social play. For example, Etho consistently is thinking from a metagame perspective, from stalling by accusing Cleo of metagaming or remarking that Scar's lost the dramatic moment so he can't attack now in Last Life, or threatening to break roleplay in Limited Life when he's mad at Scar.

(6) From Rules of Play: "Sutton-Smith's model for player roles includes an actor, a counteractor, and an overall "motive" or format for play. For example, if the motive is capture, the actor's role is to take, while the role of the counteractor is to avoid being taken. [...] In Sutton-Smith's model, the roles of actor and counteractor are both equally important in constructing the experience of play." I don't think this model is sufficient on its own, but it's a worthwhile point that conflict is part of the game and is in fact desirable within certain bounds.

(7) Scott in LL is really interesting narratively because his motivation is at odds with what the game asks him to do: he is extremely true to his word and chooses to take the penalty of being knocked down to red rather than trying to kill someone and making an enemy of them and/or failing and dying anyway. He's not breaking any rules, but his choosing to experience consequences because of his own motivation and social relationships is compelling. It pays off when he wins, and it pays off again when Cleo can't bear to kill him in DL - the metagame element of past social play relationships and player knowledge of other players contributing to the current dynamics of social play.

ETA: An important point I also wanted to make but didn't have space for up top is that Jimmy being a "canary in a coal mine" as a result of always dying first is not some immutable truth about fate that actually influences his games, but if you can accept that it's not actually fated then you can start to think about and react to the way that the in-game players construct narratives in response to the actual events of him always permadying first. Joel's futile attempts to prevent this are a product of previous seasons' social play, the transformative current social dynamics, and his own player narrative (again, narrative as meaning giving form to experiences).

Also, I strongly disliked DL's premise and thought the best parts were the chosen soulmates precisely because I think predestination is best left to Calvinists and choice, especially in opposition to prescribed rules or narratives, is the most interesting thing in the world. Of course Etho and Bdubs in Last Life is what hooked me and I am also smug that the players tend to refer to the series as "last life" even if 3L came first and it's been two whole seasons since then.

(*) On meanings:

I think that meaning is necessarily the complex web of relationships between any given things, and there is no objective meaning to anything. Words and events have no meanings outside of our interpretations of and dialogue about them - this is not nihilism, but a beautiful gift of communicating with other people. A real deep dive into semiotics is beyond the scope of this post and also my own abilities, but it informs this view. I don't think you have to read academically to know it; you can find the proof in arguments about whether a pop tart is ravioli. A stupid argument, but one that is negotiating the boundaries of words' meanings by drawing on the words' relationships to other words and the things those words represent. It's the act of making meaning, not uncovering it. So too is watching the life series and arguing about or making arguments for a certain narrative angle or emphasizing a detail etc. - I just think it's a loss not to celebrate the complex web that tugs in many different directions with many different motives. It's less simple, but much richer.

[runawaymun]

Six Sentences Some(mon)day

Rules: post six sentences of your WIP

Tagged by: @emyn-arnens - thank you!! :D I love being tagged in these. It motivates me to keep writing my WIPs so I have something to share haha.

From Beneath a Boundless Sky:

 Anyone who wasn’t a thane was hungry, and thanes still had stomachs; they too would starve if the food finally ran out. Unless one of them had some new and magical way to cure their barren fields, aid from their neighbors was their only option, and all of their close neighbors were elves. The þulir had been muttering over those fields for five years to no avail. The yield remained low every season. They said there was a sickness in it, some malice that rotted the crops or else stunted their growth. Many seiðmaðr theorized there were evil spirits devouring plants before they even had a chance to sprout.

From To Partake:

Beloved Tyelpe,  I apologize that I do not have much time to communicate! But I wanted to pen you a letter and tell you all of the comings-and-goings thus far of my time here in Mithlond. Many things have happened since last we spoke. Before you worry, know that the King has been good to me. I am happy. I am even making new friends…or at least, I am finding friendly faces. So is Erestor, it seems.

No pressure tags for: @jaz-the-bard @niennawept @polutrope and anyone else who would like to share. Just say I tagged you :)

[usefulquotes7]

I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets. Cynthia Hand, Boundless

[llondonfog]

Might I perhaps offer the idea of General Lilia learning the intimacies of food through a baby Silver? No longer is food a survival borne necessity-- No longer is it scavenged scraps, nor bottom barrel camp gruel. No longer is it meat stolen and seared by the ashes of a pillaged village, nor an unassuming toad, nor something cold, nor scheduled, and dull.

It cannot be.

The human wails and it is the screech of metal on metal. It does not often cry. Your error is extreme and grievous.

This vexes you.

The baby, of course.

Quickly now-- shut it up.

It is not old enough to consume solid foods. It has yet to bear fangs, or menace, and the flesh of its tongue is flaccid. This disgusts you. The human is not strong, nor smart, unable to not only defend itself with the simplicity of a bite, but unable to accomplish the base need of sustenance. You bear your own fangs, perhaps as a threat, perhaps of a (pleading) example.

You mash the food. What food? Well, you did resort to the toads before. If it wanted to live, surely it could eat the toad. No, you were told, (slapped, really, by warrior, daughter of Baul). Toads were unacceptable in either their nutrient fullness or mashed.

You worked hard to mash that.

Fine.

More for you.

It’s still crying.

Shit.

Fruits. Often a rare delicacy on the field. Wildberries were more-so cover than meal; more-so dare than comfort. Take it you damned human, and be grateful. You examine the pale yellows shoved towards your counter corner. An export, a gift from the golden bounties of the Scalding Sands, a gift from your Queen. Tsk. The expense far outweighs the cry of this human.

IT WAILS.

But perhaps it can buy you silence.

Your hand rises, meeting the hilt of your cleaver.

…

Your eye twitches…

No…

No, this will not do.

(Your weapon is clean, you fool! Meticulously sheen and prepped for immediate confrontation! To slice a simple fruit? Please.)

((The blood haunts your weapon. Pestilence haunts your weapon. The cries haunt your weapon– baby.))

(You cannot use your cleaver, it is far above such use for a human.)

You glare at it, and are proud to note its fear. One look, and you have calmed its torrent of tears, though, even now the salt escapes its eyes. But of course, it is nature for the weak to weep in the face of danger. Its eyes are wide and curious. It sniffles, and auroral skies bore into your reddened grounds. Eyes and souls and whatnot.

Look away.

You prefer it crying.

But, ah, there it is again. Soft hiccups, like the light rains of morning dew.

Fine, human. You win for now.

You peel the banana and it coos, birds joining along in song. Mash now… Mash more. More.

…More?

You squint at it. Human.

It blinks.

Yes, yes you. Can you eat… drink… eat this?

Its wide eyes are a nod.

A snarl. Annoying.

It is still lumpy. I shall mash it more, lest you choke and die.

Mash.

Mash.

Mash.

Giggle.

…

Giggle.

Silence, human! Were you not taught the value of patience?

Clapping.

A scoff. Of course not. You humans have no concept of nobility, let alone virtue.

You work at the meal in silence. The sun filters gently through your window. It catches on the boy’s hair, and the strands seem to dance with rainbows. Your arms do not tire from the repetitive motion– please. You’re a trained solider. A dinner cannot cripple you.

The boy smiles at you.

SLAM.

Fine human. Fine. Take your food. Choke.

And even if Lilia’s food is dog shit lol, and he half-way seems to be trolling you, I think there’s a genuine fondness when he prepares a meal. Learning/ *cough* experimenting with recipes seems to be a freedom for him. The freedom of leisure, of finding peace in a meal– fun! even! It’s fun to have the luxury of playing– emphasis on playing!-- with food! Because you can afford it! Because there is a surplus! And it's even more fun to share with your family! (Rip, lol.) And when that joy and (cackled) playfulness is reciprocated with a bite? When your peace has value, and your silliness appreciated? (Even if it’s gross? Lol? DESPITE it being gross?) Gosh, I– I think that genuinely touches him. Even if he’s amused by your (foolishness) bravery, there is a love there. And to have all of this born from raising Silver (obviously)? HA. HAHA. LOSER. HE LOVES HIS SON. WEIRD. LOVES HIM SO MUCH, ENOUGH TO THE POINT OF CHANGE AND EVOLUTION. POINT AND LAUGH.

(Yo, the thought of him feeding his young child? Bro. BRO.)

Anywho, thought you would enjoy this lil brain worm lol. (Idk if you remember, but I actually sent you an anon before! I wrote to you about Sebek and his lil Plover family :) its totally okay if you dont lmao, but just in case, hi!) I hope you’re having a fantastic day :) thanks for all that you write!! <3333

plover anon, you came into my house and ripped out my sobbing heart piece by aching piece— this was wonderful.

it is one of my FAVORITE things in the entire fandom when an author digs inside lilia's general vanrouge persona, particularly now that we do know the bitter, stark contrast of how he behaved prior to finding silver and malleus' birth. how would he have reacted to being the sole guardian of a helpless child, especially one of his enemies, and possibly the child of the very human royalty who were responsible for the decimation of his country, his home? there's no love here, no grief for what's been lost, no bond of loyalty as he shares with malleus. this is a wailing and useless pink, squirming thing— he could not love it less.

and to capture that begrudging, spiteful attempt to simply ensure the child's survival (not care yet! not nurture!) through the act of FOOD no less! the journey of food being so intertwined with the journey of love for his human son is KILLING ME AND I'M IN LOVE!! i am eating up (no pun intended lol) lilia's inner monologue and it is SO SATISFYING!! the way you kept switching between the act of giving sustenance with the same blade that took the lives of this baby's kin, the way that lilia keeps struggling to view the child as anything more than the species responsible for their misery, the fucking hilarious way he keeps getting riled up for thinking he's being bested by silver's refusal of his absolute awful dinner offerings!!!

(and you did it all in second person pov my fucking BELOVED POV!!)

the transition of food from necessity, fuel, a means to an end, to a luxury explored with others, the delight in seeing a loved one's face react to your uncertain attempts— the fact that lilia knows his food is shit, and watches that baby-now-young-man take a bite no matter how many instances he's been stricken by it and smile weakly at him through his grimace and say, perhaps a bit less vinegar, father (father! FATHER!!), the fact that this boy will never refuse him, will love him and his godawful dishes until the end of time!! what kind of love is that but unconditional!!! what has general lilia vanrouge ever done in his long, lonely life to deserve that smile!!!

[newvegascowboy]

Aus that are so divorced from the source material as to be entirely unrecognizable if the names were changed. Fic of Theseus

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

E01 of 西出玉门xi chu yu men/parallel world （倪妮Ni Ni, 白宇Bai Yu)

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 8: Jarra

I ordinarily say "Here there be spoilers for the whole Wheel of Time series" because it's a good catch-all, even if I don't regularly discuss stuff beyond the chapter we're in, but hoo boy do I go crazy this time folks so for real, don't keep reading if you don't wanna know.

This chapter begins with a wolf icon because Perrin is going to be meeting another Wolfbrother.

For an instant Perrin’s nose caught another odor, one he could not identify, a faint trail that raised the hair on the back of his neck with its vileness. Then it was gone. But he was sure something had passed that way, something—wrong. He scrubbed at his nose as if to rub away the memory of it.

Perrin is smelling a Grey Man. This shows that Rand's fleeing the camp was absolutely the right call; the boy was perhaps a week away from being found in the camp by a Gray Man if he'd stayed after the battle.

“I beg your pardon, good mistress. You have come far? Have you word of the Great Hunt? The Hunt for the Horn of Valere? Or the false Dragon? It’s said there’s a false Dragon in Tarabon. Or maybe Arad Doman.”

An unappreciated Aes Sedai oath loophole is found in how Lan answers for Moiraine, since he is able to lie freely and pretend that he doesn't know the Hunt is over and the Dragon is real.

Why, we’ve had a lifetime of weddings. A plague of them. All in the last two days. There isn’t a woman old enough to speak the betrothal remains unmarried, not in the whole village, not for a mile in any direction. Why, even Widow Jorath dragged old Banas through the arches, and they’d both sworn they’d never marry again.

I'm really curious as to what all the Wheel is weaving that needs this village's entire future genealogy (and legal inheritance, since Jorath and a few of the other ladies married probably aren't ever going to have kids but now set things up for heirlooms to pass down in certain ways) fixed by Rand. Will little old Jarra become a new Two Rivers, filled with channelers in just a few years with a lot of latent genes lining up properly? Will they produce a bunch of Wolfbrothers instead (they are in Ghaeldan, part of the Kingdom of the West Perrin never got)? Something new?

“That’s very interesting,” Perrin said when Simion paused to yawn again, “but have you seen a young—”

Perrin: I don't like to talk until I've had a second to think things over because I don't want people to think I'm stupid. I'm not stupid.

Also Perrin: Hello random stranger! Want to hear the exact reason I'm in town?

Loial had to duck low under the lintel, and the ceiling inside only cleared his head by a foot. He kept rumbling to himself about not understanding why so few humans remembered the Ogier.

It's because you all have a worse outreach program than the White Tower, which is saying a lot.

Master Harod got to his feet slowly, eyes fastened on Loial, smoothing his apron all the while.

It's not clear if Harod is fat, but given that he doesn't cause any real grief we should assume he's at least pleasantly plump like all the other good innkeepers except... whoever it was I pointed out that was something of an exception. I really need to be better at remembering stuff.

Master Harod began explaining about Ogier, making it sound as if he were quite familiar with them. Most of what Perrin heard before they left the voices behind was wrong. Loial’s ears twitched without stop.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm giving this place a five star review on Trip Advisor.

The man looked at her sharply before answering. Perrin did not think anyone else saw how sharply, in the dimness.

I bet Moiraine and Lan have a pretty good idea, Perrin, though it is odd to have such a strong reaction to such a simple question. Despite his later statement, this is the point where Simion's convinced than Moiraine's an Aes Sedai pursuing Rand (due to her intense interest in the Children), but he doesn't understand why.

Good master, you carry that axe like you know how to use it, but it isn’t so easy to face up to men with swords and armor and all, when all you know how to use is a broom or a hoe.

Perrin doesn't even reflect on this, unaware of how he's changed in this regard. He's way too focused on the supernatural parts of his journey to appreciate that he probably looks like a really scary dude at this point.

All these weddings and Whitecloaks are all very well, but I’d sooner know if Rand stopped here, and which way he went when he left. That smell couldn’t have been him.

I can't even blame Perrin for not understanding that all of this commotion is proof enough because Moiraine has never properly infodumped on ta'veren, Loial-- No, Loial would have told Perrin everything if he'd cared to listen so I can fully blame Perrin. But I'm still not going to, to be nice. He's being a bit of a jerk lately but it's hard to know what you need to take notes on and what you don't when you're running around with two different magical artifacts, the Messiah, and a bunch of characters who match the archetypes of all the fairy tales you've ever known.

“No reason, good master. He was an odd fellow, that’s all. He talked to himself, sometimes, and sometimes he laughed when nobody had said anything. Slept in this very room, last night, or part of it. Woke us all in the middle of the night, yelling. It was just a nightmare, but he wouldn’t stay any longer. Master Harod didn’t make much effort to talk him into it, after all that noise.”

Remember that Perrin and crew have been pursuing Rand for days at this point. Our boy's been in the woods, by himself, and dealing with Ishamael's latest campaign. All of this is clear sleep deprivation and the awkward position of knowing he's the chosen one and thus being able to find random asides much more meaningful than people think.

“I knew it,” Simion said, bouncing on his toes. “I knew she could help as soon as I saw you. Which way? East, good master. East, like the Dark One himself was on his heels. Do you think she’ll help me? Help my brother, that is? Noam’s bad sick, and Mother Roon says she can’t do anything.”

It's gotta be real awkward discussing taint madness with friends and relatives of the victim. Simion's quite relieved by his interpretation of what Perrin said, that they're pursuing Rand to gentle him.

Stupid question! The right question is, what does he mean to do about it?

There you go, Perrin.

“Of course,” the Ogier boomed. Simion gave a start when Loial’s hand swallowed his shoulder. “He will show me my room, and we will talk. Tell me, Simion, what do you know of trees?”

I'd say "Poor Simion, thinking that Loial is about to unleash Ogier violence on him in the most arboreal way possible", but anyone who could look at Loial for more than two seconds and see anything more than the world's most literate teddy bear deserves what they get.

Perrin squared his feet to face the Warder. That was easier than facing Moiraine’s glare. “How could we find out whether he had been here without asking questions? Tell me that. He left last night, if you are interested, heading east. And he was carrying on about somebody following him, trying to kill him.”

Perrin is zigzagging between somewhat wise (Lan is the lesser threat even though it's kinda like choosing between drinking cyanide or rubbing alcohol in practice), and then utterly stupid, not considering that an Aes Sedai would be perfectly skilled in getting the knowledge she wants without saying anything outright at all.

“Perhaps,” Moiraine said. “Perhaps not. No one knows anything about ta’veren as strong as Rand.” For just a moment she sounded vexed at not knowing.

Sorry Moiraine, but Perrin's right to be worried. Rand is going to be easily tracked, not just because of his ta'veren but through other means, and even Ishamael couldn't use the other means, he and the Forsaken are old hands at dealing with Dragon-tier ta'veren because they fought the first one.

Lan caught Moiraine’s eye, and for a moment they stared at one another. The Warder had the air about him of a wolf about to leap. Finally, Moiraine shook her head. “No,” she said.

Everyone needs a friend who is as willing to kill innocent bystanders for your convenience as Lan is for Moiraine. And also as willing to listen to vetoes. That part is crucial.

“He will not die by my actions,” Moiraine said. “But I cannot, and will not, promise that it will always be so. We must find Rand, and I will not fail in that. Is that spoken plainly enough for you?”

How many times in this series does an Aes Sedai offer to speak plainly and in fact plainer still if their words are not sufficient?

Lan nodded reluctantly, then gave Perrin a hard look. “See that you do, blacksmith. If any harm befalls her. . . .” His cold blue eyes finished the promise.

I really need to stop talking about how much I love Lan but I can't and you're all just going to have to live with that. Or stop reading, I guess that's an option too.

Behind those bars, a man lay sprawled on his stomach on the straw-covered floor. He was barefoot, his shirt and breeches ripped as if he had torn at them without knowing how to take them off. There was an odor of unwashed flesh that Perrin thought even Simion and Moiraine must smell.

Frankly Perrin your phrasing makes me think that his odor is "borderline but not actually overpowering", so that's pretty good for Noam's current conditions.

Perrin jerked back as he would have from a fire, sealed himself off. They were not thoughts at all, really, just a chaotic jumble of desires and images, part memory, part yearning. But there was more wolf there than anything else. He put a hand to the wall to steady himself; his knees felt weak.

Noam is... really not well. Even by Wolfbrother standards, I think. I wouldn't be surprised if in addition to his developing powers and the physical abuse we'll learn about in book 13 if he was also getting one of those late twenties mental health crises like schizophrenia. All of that mixed together plus the brief freedom and now imprisonment combines to make the dude we see here, who isn't coherent by either of the mental standards we could judge him by.

At her first step, Noam’s lips peeled back from his teeth, and he began to growl, a rumble that deepened till his whole body quivered. Moiraine ignored it. Still growling, Noam wriggled backwards in the straw as she came closer to him, until he had backed himself into a corner. Or she had backed him.

Moiraine is likely Compelling Noam a little bit as a part of whatever mental delving she's up to.

“Healing is not a simple matter, Simion, and it comes from within as much as from the Healer. There is nothing here that remembers being Noam, nothing that remembers being a man. There are no maps remaining to show him the path back, and nothing left to take that path. Noam is gone, Simion.”

With all the pressures Noam's under, it's no surprise at all that he happily jettisoned all the shitty memories. It is kind of impressive that they're entirely gone though, and again it makes me think that there's a lot more going on in Noam's head than we really get to see in this book or in the one ten books from now.

“He will die in here or out there, Simion. Out there, at least he’ll be free, and as happy as he can be. He is not your brother anymore, but you’re the one who has to decide. You can leave him in here for people to stare at, leave him to stare at the bars of his cage until he pines away. You cannot cage a wolf, Simion, not and expect it to be happy. Or live long.”

Perrin's one of those people who should heed his own advice, as so much of his misery will come from his desperation to cage himself.

“A Darkfriend wouldn’t care if my brother died in a cage. I suppose she found you soon after it happened. In time to help. I wish she’d come to Jarra a few months ago.”

I suppose this is as much as anything why the Wheel made everyone wait out the winter: it's not just making sure Rand only arrives at Tear at the same time as the Aiel do, but about making sure that Perrin frees Boundless so that he will someday pull his head out of his ass. Not that this was Jordan's intention, sadly, but it's nice that Sanderson was able to tie this together.

Next time: T'A'R!

[hollyyy555]

"hey hey did you know that some organisms have additional cones in their eyes so that they can perceive more colours than us?? THERE ARE MORE COLOURS!! what colours are they?? I need to know what they look like. like isn't that crazy doesn't that just drive you crazy doesn't that make you just want to smash in your own skull with a cinderblock?? :D"

fortunately for us both you don't require additional cones to perceive just how little I give a fuck about that information.

[mzannthropy]

Oft have I listened, and stood still, As it came softened up the hill, And deemed it the lament of men Who languished for their native glen; And thought how sad would be such sound On Susquehana’s swampy ground, Kentucky’s wood-encumbered brake, Or wild Ontario’s boundless lake, Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, Recalled fair Scotland’s hills again!

Mentions of Canada in Marmion, brings to mind L.M. Montgomery, of course (who had Scottish ancestry). She references Marmion in Anne of Green Gables.

[fromtheboundlesssea]

I am SCREAMING!

I forgot Catelyn wanted to give some sort of burial for the men who fell on the way to the Eyrie but was convinced not to and then Catelyn isn’t given any proper funeral rights either, neither is Robb. 😭😭😭

[kamil-a]

ai gangs all here

[runawaymun]

Christ alive I just realized Boundless Sky is already 20 (working on 21) chapters. Stars was only 27. We're barely into the beginning of the middle of my outline. Send help

[pachu09]

MadaTobi

Me thinking of an AU plot ( this could also be a Sentinel/Guide Au )

Where strong Shinobis ( called Boundless ) needs another Shinobi that would drain them of too much Chakra.

Shinobi that had the ability to drain Chakra ( called Voided )are few and far in between that's why they're highly prized.

Hashirama was lucky that he got Mito from his Marriage Alliance.

Madara not so much.

The Uchiha are scrambling to find a Voided in the newly constructed Konoha. But so far their attempts to find out if other Clans had one is unsuccessful.

Until one day, Hashirama fucked up and lament to all sundry how his Otouto as a Voided should really need someone to bond with.

Tobirama was absent from that Council Meeting. But it only took a day for everyone to know that the Senju Heir is a Voided.

~●~●~

Tobirama only agreed to be courted by Madara if the Uchiha ( as a whole ) won't get too possessive/batshit insane if he disappeared for hours on time. Also, Hashirama’s effective guilt tripping added to his decision to be married off.

[llondonfog]

my half of the fae deal is done, but. i will admit. i am being tempted. persistently.

CLAPS MY HANDS ALONG WITH MAL!!!! look at that devious little smirk, what kind of tribute to a fae deal would it be if we didn't comply? :)