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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

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It’s The Avengers (03x14)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 14: It’s Not What It Looks Like

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: ehehehehehe

Word Count: my anxiety was through the roof this time. and that too on the thing that I know was not achievable. But noooo my boss just wants results. Well, fuck you and your boss who gave me anxiety. You will know the pain of these tears soon.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar sports car shining in its red shade came to a halt right outside the door for Tony to get out and greet the lone camera covering him. "How's it going fellas?" He seemed comparatively chirpier than the last few days as he whistled his way to the boot of the trunk to take out five boxes of large pizzas along with a whole bag filled with soda and side dishes. "It's pizza party today, my lovely unicorn," he announced to the camera person; mostly because there was no one else in his vicinity.

Tony: *standing next to his car* I have come realise that I have been a bit hard on my team because of the anxiety I've been feeling ever since Y/N disappeared from right in front of me. Like last Monday. *camera switches to the video recording of Last Monday* Tony is seen in the kitchenette making detox juice for himself after a workout. Sam comes and grabs the coffee pot, looking around for a mug to pour himself some. The only mug hanging on the stand is your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed one. "Well," he mutters to himself, "no one's using this for a while." Just as he finishes the sentence, Tony's hand slips on the juicer switch and the green spill out everywhere in the space, making Sam yell for help. "You are excluded from my will," Tony announces while looking dead into Sam's eyes before pouring the coffee from his pot into the sink and walking away. *back to present* Tony: Pepper says I went overboard but Sam didn't have to say that now did he. *makes a cringe face* Anyways. This is my way of showing them that I have made peace with the situation for now and that I trust our alien friends to get my daughter back to me asap.

Tony walked into the facility to be greeted by dead silence. "Did I miss something?" he wondered out loud for the camera while looking around the lobby and the waiting area. "I am pretty sure we were not supposed to go out anywhere thanks to that stubborn virus." He walked up the elevator to be greeted by Clint coming back from the security room with his self-regulated watch, carrying two glasses of iced Americanos- one of which he offered Tony. "Pizza-" he seemed happy to see the boxes, taking the bag from Tony- "what's the occasion? Are you firing one of us? Is there a budget cut because of the 'Rona? In that case, just know that I spot a person without a mask from miles. And I can end them right there." Tony pressed the button for the lounge and waited for the camera to record his wink and smile till the doors closed to let the other handy camera in the elevator- following Clint- take over. Clint did a survey of the bag and was quite content with the contents. Tony, still with his glasses on, walked his usual walk that displayed well that he owned the place. "No one's getting fired unless they are eating my choco-chip ice cream." "You have set the bar pretty low." "It's pretty much up to the expectations I have from you all."

Clint shrugged and went on to agree with him, walking behind the Iron Man as the elevator dinged. The camera followed Clint and Tony out to film the scene unfolding in the Lounge. Manoeuvring away from their shoulders, the camera caught that deadpan silence in the room filled with nearly every Avenger staring at the screen with the seriousness of defusing a bomb that may go off any time. Peter was hiding under Scott's arm, peeping at the screen through his hands while Scott was biting his nails, nervousness dripping from his forehead. Wanda held Vision's hand while she muttered something under her breath- most probably a chant. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was watering the plants for the water-can was already empty and yet he still went on to pour the contents while his eyes were glued to the screen. Bucky's hands were busy brushing Zuko's fur- while the pupper took this opportunity to lay in his lap and snooze- monotonously, his gaze too stuck on the screen. "Come on, come on. Do it," Steve muttered while on the edge of his seat on the sofa. The camera swivelled back to Clint and Tony- both of whom had confused looks on their faces by now. Both of them turned to the screen in sync to witness what exactly was it that had all of them in such a grim state. And it was something like this.

On the screen was a barely lit space that seemed like it could have been a small closet under somebody's staircase. In that barely lit space, you could be seen from your abdomen up. There you were, panting, sweating, your hair a literal mess, your bra strap dangling out of your tank top's straps. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the camera was seemingly recording you from. And in that same dim light, a movement was discovered behind you. That movement was of the exposed muscles and skin that the viewers had never seen in their daily life. Well, neither had they seen that very person pant and sweat like this before as well. Green eyes shined in that bare light, as the familiar face came out from the shadows to apparently hover just above your shoulder. One pale hand was used to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go."

The iced Americanos created a crackle and bang louder than expected- thanks to the already looming silence- when they hit the floor. The pizza box and other snacks? Not so much. Every other person jumped where they were to turn and watch the colours from Tony and Clint's faces drain away by the second, their jaws unhinged, their hearts at a pause and their lungs just no longer working. Steve- the only one in the room to have deciphered what had just gone down in those Dad brains- got up and raised his arms till his chest as of sign of caution. "It's not what you think. Tony, Clint it's not-" The elevator dinged and out came Natasha and Bruce with four feet long bags of Cheetos and popcorn, the former quite excited to rush out into the Lounge. "We found the snacks from the pantry! Did we miss something? Did they put it in yet?" Steve winced just as Bruce blurted out those words. Tony was already heaving audibly, no air going into his lungs as he nearly collapsed on the floor if not for Natasha holding him up like she was used to it. Clint, on the other hand, had 'disgusted' written all over his face, judging every single person in the room before storming out. "OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GAAAAA~" the screams could be heard from outside while the camera zoomed in on Natasha's face- already bored and tired.

Natasha: If they had more than one working brain cell they wouldn't have fought like twelve-year-olds in the middle of an airport and then stopped talking for a whole year. *camera pans in on her face* *faces the camera* And to think they can procreate. .

One Hour Ago Eight Hours Earlier In A Galaxy Far Away One of the camera drones stepped over a stone wall and passed over a dozen guards, buzzing its best to enter the first window it could find. Passing over ogres guarding the small galleries, another drone accompanied the first one down the maze of hallways, parting at the stairway leading down to the dungeons and up to the meeting room. The way to the dungeons was one dark path that only lit up at the very end of the hallway- few lamps burning with constant flickers. The space was divided into walls and covered with iron bars. A few of these cells were empty while others housed creatures who are only spoken about with the name of their shadows. In the last cell was a shadow that seemed similar to that of a human sleeping under the lone ragged excuse of a blanket. If one tried to focus, they could hear light snores coming out of that creature too. The drone came to rest upon one of the iron bars, sending in the live feed to the cameraman behind this whole shebang. The other fly had already found the 'throne room'. The throne- as one could make out with the setting of the hall- was made out of a tree trunk burned till all that was left was an ash-covered dead piece looking up at the sky. The seat was carved right through the middle with one of the ashened branches housing a black adder with red eyes. And in the throne sat the one person no one wanted to see. "Aellae," you mumbled in the most derogatory sense, your eyes wanting to hurt her there and then through the screen in Javier's hand. And lo! Right then the God stepped in the frame, standing in front of the witch with his usual demeanour. Well, that's what it looked like. "Why do you have to bow to her?" You whispered at him a bit viciously. White entered the frame that was recording your end. Looking at the screen he furrowed his brows and wondered how you could tell that. "He stands straight," you stressed, already sensing the question from White, "and right now he is not. And he does not not stand straight for anyone." "I see you have found yourself a fine pair of pets on your galactic travels, my love," you and White hear Aellae from the screen, bringing your attention back to her. "Just a bunch of humans and a kitten to entertain me on my way," he chuckled and shrugged a little, that Asgardian charm resurfacing in his smile. Aellae smirked at him. "On your way to where?" The question had a hint of anger even when she added a wave of curiosity, something that was easy to catch of the one who was listening to layers in her voice. Loki waved his hands in the air. "You know how it is for me. Here and there, always on the move. A nomad exploring the universe." "No more," she announced, her head high, her stare stern, "now you stay with me. You will be my advisor in the day, guiding my army to every corner of this world, with nothing to spare." She got up from her throne to walk an inhumanly seductive gait to reach the God and place her finger under his chin. "And in the night, you shall be my pacifier," she whispered, making your whole face cringe for the camera to zoom into it. "You shall satiate all my bedly desires till I the very. last. drop." Something cracked on the other side, making Javier and White turn in every direction to look at the source of the sound. Lulu too was a bit confused. You were the only person not taking your eyes away from the screen.

You: I swear to God if she was not such a bitch, I would have asked her out. Would have even gone to lengths of being her *makes air quotes* bedfellow if she was not such a fucking bitch?? Javier: *turns the camera to himself with the dazed look on his face* *signs for the camera* I am supportive and all in for this but is now really a good time for her to be questioning her sexuality? When we can literally die for just breathing wrong???

"Now," Aellae snapped everyone back to the screen, "as for those pets of yours, I'll send someone to take care of them. They are just hindrance if nothing more." "Aellae," Loki's honey laden voice was now implying a sternness. "What." "They are not to be given enough importance to be-" Loki sighed and closed his eyes- "taken care of." "All the more fun to watch them die in misery." Her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of murder. "Especially that Midgardian who is living in the illusion of being your friend." Loki's jaw tightened. "If you decide to harm h-them, I will not aid you in your irrational quests, Aellae. Going after those weaklings proves that you are still the reckless stubborn creature that I left you." There wasn't an exclamation of surprise on her face but rather that particular smirk of the devil who has walked its prey right into its trap. "So, she does mean something to you." Loki kept mum. "Guards!" she yelled for the two orcs standing outside, "bring me the head of the woman!" "Aellae, stop," he begged casually. "Enough humour." "And do whatever with the rest of her!" she ordered with her eyes piercing through Loki's soul.

The next thing you know, the last fly drone that got lost on the middle floor somewhere was recording two orcs throwing Loki into a room before shutting the door behind him. His grunts echoed through the room with no windows. All around him were walls coloured in a dusty cream shade, lamps lining up the four walls with one dressing table sitting with one of the four walls, housing heavy chains, the purpose of which Loki did not want to know. He huffed as he stood up, looking at the door before letting his gaze land on those shackles on his wrist that now seemed permanent. The tension on his jaw did not go unnoticed by the tiny roommate before he slammed those bracelets- along with his wrist- into the wall in pure animalistic rage.

Witch's Den- Down the Hall Two orcs stood guard to the entrance coming to the floor via the stairs. One of them seemed to be snoozing with all the pressure sitting on his nose and brows while the other one was trying to drive away this one stubborn fly that kept buzzing around its head. Eventually reaching the threshold of irritation, he followed the fly out towards the stairs, his curved sword being swung into the air to strike the buzzing creature; only to be taken by surprise with a bright source of light. The next thing the fly was recording was the other orc waking up to the clunk of a sword dropping, this one finding gasping and taking an attack position before the camera went dark.

But not for long.

The fly in Loki's room recorded the God catching the sounds outside while he was in the middle of surveying the whole room for an escape route. The grunts and gasps of orcs outside have stopped, making him all the more cautious to the steps that steadily approach the door. He took one of the chains in his hand, with calculated steps, walked towards the door to catch whatever tried to come in next. With the sound of a heavy key twisted inside the keyhole, the wheels turned and the door opened a smidge to let someone in. Without losing even a second, Loki wound the chain around your neck from behind you, nearly choking you. "Not now, dammit!" you choked, trying to free yourself from the hold. "Y/N?" the surprise stirring along with confusion was a new shade on Loki that you would have appreciated any other day. "Wha-what are you doing here?" That God wasn't even able to squeak on realising it was you. The chains came off as fast as they had gone around your neck, giving you room to breathe and widen your eyes in horror. "No! No no no no noooo!!" You ran towards the door as it clunk shut, leaving you to pull at it with all your might to no avail. "The door opens from outside," you groaned with a sob, thumping your head on it with low winces before a tiny realisation hit you hard enough to stop and look back at Loki. "Ow!" He yelled at the hard slap that came for his back, looking at you in simmering confusion. "You could've waited to choke me after we got out, you fucking IDIOT!" The slaps and punches got more vigorous with each word until Loki had to gab your hands with his to stop you from wasting your energy anymore. "And what makes you think coming here was a good idea?" He struggled to keep your writhing form from hurting itself more than him. You were ready to kick him in his shins and you would have absolutely done that if Loki had not shoved you into the wall with him towering over you to restrict any movement of your limbs. The little buzzing drone came to sit over Loki's arm and capture the frame where both of you were flaming with anger and still trying to breathe enough to keep that rage alive. "I'd already told you were on your own," he grunted, his eyes drilling through your soul. "And I'd already told you I am a psychology major. I can see the denial routine from miles away, you stupid blob of six-foot galaxy brain! You think I haven't sacrificed myself to a professor for the sake of my friends?" "...what? Wait. What do mean by sacri-" "Now get off me and find us a way out of here." You pushed him back. Well, at least you thought you did. But he pushed closer to you, shooting emotions of mild surprise in your eyes before you caught yourself slipping. Fortunately, this little drone caught everything in 4K. From the veins popping in Loki's neck to the parted lips and wavering gaze of yours. "This world is not a joke, Y/N. There was a reason you were left behind. And you have done the exact opposite of that which is supposed to keep you alive." It felt as if Loki had to restrain from spilling that anger over the rim. To make that hypothesis true, he punched the wall to dissipate this emotion he did not want to be running him. And there he stood, his head hanging above you in defeat, his eyes closed and his breath wavering. "I was supposed to send you home safe," he was barely able to mutter. The drone focused on your hands coming around his torso, your arms taking as much of his frame in a hug as possible as you softly patted his back and soothed him. Loki's body twitched a little at this new touch, still like a stone before giving in with every wave of your soothing touch. "You're family, idiot. I'm not gonna leave you behind with some crazy bitch that isn't me?" A chuckle resonated through you and then the room. The next moment when you looked at him, he was looking lighter. "Now come on, use your muscles and drill through one of these walls." Raising his good brow, he judged you while tapping his fist casually on the wall. "What exactly do you take me for?" "A cheesy brooder who's all soft inside," you commented without skipping a beat, looking around to find some kind of a loophole in this square room. "Say that outside these walls and watch what this brooder does to you." "Sounds like an invitation," you sang under your breath, tapping the walls. It took a while. A while that was long enough for you to move around the room to come and sit on the lone drawer by the wall, feeling the heat of the room bursting out the sweat in your skin, other than turning your brain into an irritated mush. You groaned while taking off your top and throwing it on the floor. You wanted to cry out loud to blow off some of the unbearable heat but stopped short at the sight of that overcoat coming off. Followed by that black shirt. Muscles. No matter how he moved or what he did, his back lived in that moment to tease you with those muscles. And what was that? Sparkles? No, sweat, glistening in the dim light. Wait, why was it glisten- You looked around and realised the lamps were at their wick's end. "Same," you sighed as you looked back at Loki's back, only to find him turned around to face you. "Oh, Gods!" you jumped down from the drawer with quite the surprise in your eyes. "This is your first time seeing me shirtless?" It almost felt like he was genuinely curious. "What? No! I don't know. That wasn't the-look!" You signalled him to come closer and let your hand hang right above the drawer's top that touched the two corners of the wall. Loki mirrored you and realised it instantly. "That's a cold breeze." He looked at you with pupils expanding wide in that dim lighting. Taking over from there, he tried his best to get a look as to which section of the wall it was coming from. "There's an opening-" he immediately shifted his position to standing parallel to the length of the wall, his hands grounded on the varnished top- "we will have to either pull it-" he tried his best but the structure did not budge- "or push it towards the opening in that section." You got to work as well, standing next to him and giving your end of the small corner a good push that only ended up in failed grunts. "Okay, let's try another way," you inhaled, "I'll push the top, you be the bottom."

The drone was sitting on the drawer now, capturing all those failed attempts from every angle both of you thought possible before you nearly collapsed due to lack of air. "We're are clearly doing something wrong here," Loki huffed, his puffed-up chest, the centre of the camera's frame. You flipped your wet hair to show your tired face in the lone lamp that burned in the room. "There weren't any more of those BDSM chains inside it, were there?" Loki's breathing stopped for a moment. You looked at him for an answer. Both of you moved to open the drawers. The drone captured the disappointment in your own IQ in high definition before watching you both taking them out with nothing but pure spite. "Take a break, I'll try-" "No," you shook your head and wiped the forehead sweat, "let's do it together." Loki wanted you to stop but that you gave him was more than adequate to let anyone know you won't listen right now. "This time you stand behind me and let's use the wall behind as a supp....ort? Wait how is this room looking shorter?" You were looking around in dazed confusion while Loki closed his eyes. "It's not a normal room. Those two walls will keep closing in until..." He didn't have to say more. "Well, then what are we waiting for?" the drop of panic in your high pitched voice was evident as you positioned yourself- putting your palms on the edge. "Come on." Loki came to stand behind you, copying your position, just a bit more charismatically- and with a bit more skin- till he felt your hair come into his mouth. "One, two, three!" This time the push did budge the drawer chest a bit but your strength had been used for that movement of a centimetre. Your breaths almost felt like your lungs were on the verge of crying. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the drone was seemingly recording you from. Loki looked at your back, clearly concerned. This time he used his hand to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go." Both of you had your eyes stuck on the wall with a fiery gaze and an aura that would have burned this place to the ground. His muscles tried to take all that you could not. And just when the grunts were turning into screams, the drawer started to move from its place with a screeching noise. As soon as Loki noticed a decent enough opening in the wall to your and his side, he pushed you and himself in through the opening before the death walls came for your limbs. The drone fly followed. Both of you rolled through what seemed like a tunnel slide through the walls for a minute till that just did not seem to end. It did end though. It ended in a noisy fall of thuds and groans- you on top of him. "You okay?" you winced through your broken voice, not moving a muscle for the fear of breaking something. Also because it was awkward lying over him on your stomach. Loki replied with a quick wince. A ruffle came from next to you. Followed by a lazy groan. Your head turned to the noise. So did Loki's. "You two could have easily waited for another hour." The drone swerved around to bonk into the one that was already there, covering the dungeons. There under the rugged blanket, laid Carol Danvers, looking at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. She looked at her watch and put her head inside the blanket again. "Five more minutes."

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kitsu-rei · 5 years ago

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Shadows Calling - Dark Isles Races

ALRIGHT! IT’S HERE!

First off, I’d like to butt off some small and minor details; that being blood colors!

Forerunners have different colored blood, excluding the color red. The lower races have red blood, excluding the Kirin which have blue blood.

‘Lower races’ would be used a lot here. This is a term that the Forerunners use to call the races that live on the planets they create.

Forerunners, other than being called literal gods, are the ‘Higher race,’ being more powerful than any other being.

Forerunners have never been to a level where the lower races have more power than them. Even the most weakest of Forerunners are almost thousands of times more powerful than any of the lower races - be it a deity or benevolent ruler.

(Edit:) All of the Rulers of each race are descendants of the first beings that were put on Forerunner planets. Example; meaning, the queen ruling over the Kitsune race is a descendant of the first ever Kitsune put on the planet by the Forerunners.

There’s something to point out here. MY ENGLISH IS NOT THE BEST. Please comment appropriately and sensibly if needed. I was absolutely glad that there was more votes to do a manga because English, or anything related to typing and describing, is absolutely near-impossible for me.

Though, I’m hoping that you can understand everything I’ve written for every race.

Polite criticism is welcomed, any comments either private message me or comment on the post. I do aim to improve my writing skills.

Forerunner:

Forerunners are the first beings ever created and are like gods to the ‘lower races.’ Forerunners have their own language that is only passed down Forerunners, so the ‘lower races’ do not know of the language.

Known to be the most isolated race due to their long life spans; almost being considered to be immortal. It does not matter if it’s a high ranking Forerunner or a low ranking Forerunner, the shortest they can live for is over hundreds of eons.

High ranking Forerunners can control and create planets, these planets can then be inhabited by the lower races, like Fairies, Humans, Kirin, Elfven etc. Low ranking Forerunners have a duty from their queen, which is to protect and defend the creatures and other races inhabiting the planets that are created by the high ranking Forerunners.

The queen of the Forerunners is the creator of the whole galaxy and rules over all Forerunners as a caring mother, so she is highly respected. When she was young, her lover was a simple human, and she out-lived him, and continues to live on, wishing that she’d join him one day. Said queen restricts her children to involve themselves with the creatures of the planets that they create so that they don’t have to suffer the way she has.

Though, the Forerunners that deny their queen’s wishes are considered traitors, and are then called the Heuristic. Heuristics are Forerunners that disobey their original queen and destroy planets in their wake to stop the lower races to ever have a happy life. Some of these Heuristics even murder fellow Forerunners to accomplish their mission.

Forerunners are gender-less, or non-binary. The only way of reproducing is for two Forerunners to commit a “Reincarnation Mating Ritual.” This is where two Forerunners that no longer want to continue their life as separate beings head to the mating district on their home planet(s) to sacrifice both of their physical forms to create one being that will start anew as a child, but will have the memories of both the Forerunners from their past life and the more dominant Forerunner gene will determine the offspring’s powers.

The ‘clone’ or ‘offspring’ is incubated in a ‘P.O.D’ until they are ready to be born.

Forerunners that choose to singularly reincarnate themselves start anew as a different being as a lower race, but are stronger than the rest of their kind. This is because they will be considered to be a “direct descendant” of a Forerunner, and are worshipped and treated as nobles or royalty.

Forerunners are named differently by the element they possess; shadow type Forerunners will be called ‘Shadow-runners’, fire types will be called ‘Pyro-runners’ and light types will be named ‘Light-runners’.

● Shadow-runners are the creators of the Demon race.

● Light-runners are the creators of the Celestial race.

● Earth-runners are the creators of the Fairy and Human race.

● Hydro-runners are the creators of the Mer-people race.

● Pyro-runners are the creators of the Kitsune race.

● Aero-runners are creators the Elfven race.

● Void-runners are the creators of the Ghoul race.

The Didact King is said to have created the Kirin race when he was a Forerunner. But are now serve to work for him in secret to spy on the planets he chooses to control someday.

The Earth-runners shared data of a Human gene with other Forerunner types to create other races. Humanoid races are originated from a Human.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Sim (direct descendant), Rei (direct descendant), Danté (previous life), Cofu (Heuristic), Kofaiya (Heuristic), Kofei (Heuristic), June, Saral, Kunai (Heuristic), Faron (Didact King)

Demon:

Very similar to humans when they are not using their powers and can be mistaken for one at a quick glance, but can be differentiated by their black irises. They are born with a certain amount of darkness that they can later learn how to morph said darkness into weapons or shields to fight with. Some use their darkness for simple uses like clothing or marks that they can mark their ‘mate’ with. Demons have enhanced regeneration and can manipulate darkness to do their bidding.

Average demons can live up to five-thousand years whilst high ranking demons can live up to around double that of an average demon’s life span.

The only way that they can die is to be stabbed in the heart with a certain type of metal that can be forged to make a sword and is mostly used in battles and wars, used by the Humans, Demi-humans or Elfvens.

Some demons can learn how to shape-shift by using their darkness to change their body and form.

Demons live in the underworld but some can live up in the over world peacefully with the other races as they are not affected by the sun, but they simply just choose to stay away from the light as much as possible as they feel more comfortable in the darkness. They feel the cold more than any other being, this is because their homeland in the underworld is always warm regardless of the weather.

They are physically powerful and most demons have a lot of muscles to show off with it, however, rarely do they specialise in magic.

Demons mate for life, so they are very picky when it comes to picking out a single person that they’d like to spend their life with. When they do, the demon leaves a mark on their mate during mating, this mark will never be removed from the mate’s body.

This mark stays on them for the rest of the mate’s life, even after death.

The bond that comes with the mark cannot be broken. This bond allows both mates to fully understand each other to a spiritual level. They can sense when the other is sad, even when they’re trying to hide it. Which also counts to the emotions that they can share.

They can also mind-link to each other thoughts, and even memories by gently resting their foreheads together. A demon’s bond is very special to the couples as it helps the two become closer.

Nevertheless, there is technology created by Heuristics that can be used to break this bond, but it is still in the making and unknown to the public. Only a few occurrences have happened for the testing. When either mate dies, the other will grow weaker and shortly join them around a year later or become a ravenous monster called a ‘Corrupted Berserker.’

The characters that will be a part of this race: Cole, Tar, Muzi, Qi, Ben, Luna, April and Penelope.

Stellum:

A cross-breed between Demons and Forerunners. Only difference is their physique and they bare dark markings from overflowing dark magic from their power.

Even though Forerunners are non-binary, they can still mate with other races. The Forerunner would have to go through the same as a singular reincarnation, meaning the physical body of the offspring will be a clone to the original Forerunner but with the demon’s life force as the spirit and heart of the new offspring. Inevitably meaning that both the Forerunner and Demon would have to sacrifice their life to be able to procreate an offspring.

Stellum are extremely strong and are extraordinarily rare. Stellum appear once every millennia and are welcomed to the Demon race to be taken in as their new ruler. Very rarely do two or more appear on a whole planet. Reason why they are treated so highly.

They are considered to be royalty in the Demon realm or Underworld and are worshipped by the other demons. Normally, when a Forerunner undergoes a singular reincarnation, the clone would eventually gain the memories of its past life. However, this is not the case when it comes to Stellum.

This is because of the Demon.

There is a fifty-fifty chance that the offspring would eventually gain their past life memories, but because of the Demon’s spirit being present in the being as well, it blocks out some of the other features that would normally come out of a singular reincarnation.

Stellum cannot live as long as a normal Forerunner can, but they do live longer than any high ranking Demon. They can live up to a whole millennia.

Stellum also mate the same as Demons. So they can be very picky on their mate as they have to pick someone that they’d want to spend the rest of their life with.

Unlike Demons, Stellum take more of the Forerunner’s fighting style and generally have a weak physique, but they sustain immense power in magic. Stellum are often called the ‘Warlock King’ of the Demon race.

Unlike Forerunners, Stellum cannot create a new race or a new planet, nor can they manipulate them, but they are very strong when it comes to power and are considered the most powerful race.

Similar to Forerunners, they can survive out in space perfectly fine without any armour or protection from the vacuum.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Rei, Danté, Kahu, Kaoru, Jhin and Xael.

Fairy:

A Human like race, but with fairy like wings. Some have learned magic to hide their wings to appear more Human-like to adjust to society outside of their homeland.

Fairies live in the Great Forest, located below and near the planet’s equator. Fairies that choose to live outside of the forest hide their wings as some Demi-Humans and Kirin hunt Fairies for their wings to sell on the black market for a very good and high price.

Higher ranked Fairies have great magical power, lower ranked Fairies live peacefully with a normal amount of magic. The bigger their wings, the more magical power they possess.

Most Fairies live up to three thousand years, but some have gotten up to around six thousand years.

Fairies are completely hopeless fighting at close range physical battles as majority of them do not have any stature to deal with that type of situation or fighting style. In war, they are always at the back line firing powerful shots and using buffing magic to help team members become stronger or regenerate stamina at the front line.

Fairies are very close to the Kitsune, Celestials and Mer-People as they are all roughly in the same area.

Fairies mate the same way most lower races do, through a male and female. However, they do things a bit differently. As their homeland is a forest, whenever Fairies’ offspring are born, they have a festival as the baby rests upon the bottom ‘pedestal’ of the Great Sacred Tree.

Where The Great Sacred Tree gives magical powers to the child it blesses its powers to.

The highest ranking Fairy with the strongest magical power is considered the Fairy King, who receives a weapon out of the wood from the Great Sacred Tree filled with its magical powers. This weapon can be manipulated by the Fairy King’s magical ability; telekinesis.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Zuyi, Kinoe, Pha’abe, Haruko.

Kitsune:

Humanoid creatures with ears and tails of a fox. Some have magic to hide their ears and tails to appear more human-like so they can blend in with society in big cities.

Kitsune are very skilled magicians that can control the ‘spirit flames’ of a being. Which are magical flames that are generated by one’s spirit. The stronger they are, the bigger flame. High ranking Kitsune can manipulate their spirit flame to perform punishing attacks but can also be a protective healing flame to their allies. High ranking Kitsune normally have more than one tail, normally possessing seven or ten depending on their power.

The Kitsune are led by a queen, named Nanami. She has around ten tails and holds the record of having the most tails ever seen. No other Kitsune has had more than eight at most. This makes her very powerful and highly respected.

A Kitsune’s life span is relatively long, they normally live to various amounts depending on their power. Lower ranked Kitsune live around a thousand year, higher ranked Kitsune are predicted around three thousand years. Whilst the queen, who is the strongest Kitsune lived for five thousand years. However, she has not got a lot of time left until that time runs out.

When a Kitsune dies, their spirit burns and becomes an eternal flame that hovers over their grave.

A Kitsune mates for life, similar to the Demons, so they pick carefully for who they’d want to stay with. They do not have any marking though, but they do possess having bonds like the Demons. This bond can be broken though, and once one of the mates die, the other continues to live on until their time arrives to join them, with their mate’s eternal spirit flame hovering around them. Once the mate dies, the spirit flame of its beloved stays around their mate’s spirit flame for the rest of eternity.

A Kitsune’s spirit flame is said to never burn out and can keep burning for the rest of eternity. It can be sold for an extremely high price on the black market.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Rymia, Nanami, Celes, Jiro, Harunia.

Demi-Human:

A cross-breed between the Human and the Kitsune race. They have ears that resemble either a fox, rabbit, cat or a dog depending on how strong their Kitsune parent was.

If the Kitsune parent had more than five tails, their offspring will carry their gene, having fox ears. They would also be able to shape-shift into a fox form like their Kitsune parent.

If their parent had below five, but more than three tails, the offspring will have either a cat or dog set of ears. If their parents had less than three tails, then the offspring would have rabbit ears.

Demi-Humans possess magic, but not as much as a Kitsune, but has more than a human.

They die the same way humans do, their body becomes crippled and would need to be buried. They do not possess the power that an original Kitsune would have to be able to burn their own body to transform into the spirit flame.

What they do have is the power to understand and talk with animal life, including understanding their feelings.

Demi-Humans are rare, this is because Humans and Kitsunes do not get along with each other due to a past war. This is why Kitsune and Humans rarely live in the same cities or areas. On small occasions where the Human and Kitsune races do get along with each other, make possibilities for procreation for the Demi-Humans.

Demi-Humans can live up to around five hundred years at minimum, depending on their Kitsune parents.

Demi-Humans can mate with either a Kitsune or another human, as they have the genes of both, they will be able to carry on their bloodline. However, as the bloodline continues, the one carrying the Demi-Human gene will eventually become more recessive. Other races can cross-breed, but Demi-Humans can only mate with Humans, Kitsune or other Demi-Humans as their chromosomes do not match with other races – they are born with one less chromosome.

Demi-Humans prefer living in secret, they have a home in both the forest regions and the human cities; if they are cautious. Though, they are treated differently amongst humans as the Kitsune and Human race hardly get along – they are treated like outsiders if they do not hide their ears out in public. Demi-Humans are not treated as slaves in Human society, as it’s prohibited by the ruler, they are just treated below Humans and other races that would live in cities – getting lower payments and difficulties finding jobs. Although, they are treated better in smaller villages and some tribal camps.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Rari, Ai, Warren, Sam, Amé, Yuka and Yuki.

Elfven/Elves:

There are two different kinds of this race; the Elves and the Elfvens.

Elfvens: considerably much smaller than Elves, they are shorter and are extremely less powerful. They are very rare, as this is a mutation of some sort – they are often outcast by the Elves as monsters. Unlike the Elves, they have no ears – growing up to know the surroundings through touch and smell. They possess no magic at all which makes it harder to live out in the world.

As an offering, they are often sacrificed to Kirin and monstrous Ghouls that have lost all sense of mind to keep the Elven Garden at peace from raids.

Unlike Elves, Elfvens have relatively short lives, but some do live longer. Though, they do not live longer than an ordinary human – around thirty or forty years and that’s as long as they’ll live.

Some do not live long enough to procreate. If they could choose, their only option was to mate with another Elfven. As they are mutated Elves, their chromosomes do not match with other Elves or other races.

Elves: very much taller than an ordinary human; often hits the sixth-foot height at teen age. They are very recognisable with their long ears that point downwards to their shoulders. Elves use their ears sometimes to emphasise their feelings towards others, such as wiggling their ears up and down periodically when meeting a loved one that they have not seen in a long time, lifting their ears momentarily to emphasise their excitement or happiness or lowering their ears lower when they are depressed, frustrated or sad.

Elves possess the most magic than any other race. If one was able to disable all magic that flows through an Elf, they could inevitably end that individual Elf’s life in doing so. Without magic, they are useless. The Elf Garden, the Elves’ home, is full of magic, constantly filling the lives of each and every Elf in the Garden. There is no way of entering the Garden without an Elf, as the entrance to the province is closed by a magic seal that can hardly be broken easily.

In the Garden, there is a majority of female Elves than male Elves. The reason is unknown, but according to some Elves, it is because Elven foetus’ sex is heavily reliant to the male elves’ sperm – which is also connected to the male’s diet and bloodline. Their mating process is the same as humans.

To Elves, the Kirin, Ghouls and Celestial races are enemies because of the ‘Great War’ from thousands of years ago. In this war, Kirin and Ghouls teamed up. The Celestials tried to make an alliance with the Elf race, but were betrayed by the Celestial race through the assassination of the Elf Queen. Even after so many years, the races stays far away from the other races’ territory.

Other than a few scuffles, the Elves are a peaceful race.

Elves have a long life span, very rarely do some live up to at least ten thousand years. Nevertheless, most Elves live up to at least nine thousand years.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Line, Shurihi, Uraka, Iko, Koko, Kagemi and Zyuri.

Ghouls:

Can be easily recognised by their black eyes with gold irises. Though, this is only when they are using their powers. Other than that, they can be easily mistaken from a Human as they look identical.

When Ghouls feel threatened or are in a battle, they can materialise their blood into a weapon. This weapon can be hardened the more blood they bleed or choose to sacrifice for it. This weapon cannot just be any weapon they choose, ironically it’s a combination of their parent’s weapons. Depending on the more dominant gene that is from the mother or father, the weapon can appear similar to the parent’s blood weapon. If the mother’s blood weapon was a sword but the father’s blood weapon was somewhat of a scythe, then depending on what parent’s gene is more prominent, the offspring will have a combination of both their parent’s weapons. This is to vary the Ghoul race’s blood weapons.

Ghouls typically live in a peaceful area, among the Kirin. Ever since ‘The Great War’ broke out, the Ghouls and Kirin race has worked side by side. Their diet is pretty simple as they only consume Elfvens and other lower ranked species.

Rarely, normal Ghouls are manipulated by the Kirin. Weaker Ghouls are controlled by the Kirin to safely enter the human society and cities. Weaker Ghouls are similar to zombies, meaning they have lost all sense of mind and control over their actions – becoming mindless beings that eventually loses all power to keep standing.

Ghouls are not necessarily bad – quite the opposite actually. Most Ghouls live in peace in selected areas that consume already-dead corpses from the other races, as they only eat meat. Normal food doesn’t sit well with them, often weakens their immune system in the process. They can eat normal human foods; such as burgers and rice – but they commonly hurl it back up again to not let the food affect their immune system.

They normally live as long as a human does - around forty to ninety years. Some have gotten older than this range though.

Ghouls mate and procreate the same as a human does, through a female and a male. Though, same sex relationships are very rare amongst this race.

Ghoul offspring normally activates their powers around teen ages or at earlier ages.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Nova, Evangeline, Hana, Eva and Hope.

Celestials:

There are three types of Celestials, which are categorised under the same race name; Angels, Gods and Goddesses.

Angels have a single pair of white wings located around the hip or lower back region of the body. The wings are the most sensitive part of their body – often having magic flowing through the veins of them to keep them afloat without flapping their wings whilst in the air. Their wings are flexible – making them able to manipulate their wings’ size – becoming smaller when landed and become bigger when flying to have more force and control.

Fallen Angels are corrupted Angels that have not been blessed by the God King. They are still accepted into society of the Celestial sky city but are treated like outsiders. Fallen Angels have a single pair of black wings and are able to control darkness instead of light.

As Celestials, they are able to create weaponry from light magic and wield it in battles. However, too much damage to the weapon and it will materialise and break.

Angels live upon the floating city called Yunashi, which is where most Angels call their home.

Gods and Goddesses possess having more than a single pair of wings, according to how powerful they are, and the more wings they have. Gods and Goddesses are treated like nobles and royalty and are highly respected to the Angels.

Each and every Celestial is born through the Flower of Light. This is a gigantic flower residing in a temple in the centre of Yunashi. The flower’s centre produces a light liquid which then falls off of the petals, landing in the pond below it. This pond is full of the God King’s power. The Celestial that is accepted by this power is born as a God, Goddess or Angel. Those who are rejected and are then washed ashore the pond are Fallen Angels.

Even though Celestials do not procreate the same way as most of the lower races do, they still have the respective genitals for both sexes.

Though the wings are sensitive, they can also emphasise the Celestial’s emotions. Just like the Elves; if the Celestial is sad then their wings are lowered, if they are happy then they wiggle their wings up and down to show their happiness or excitement.

When with a loved one as they sleep, it is common for Celestials to wrap their wings around each other to keep each other warm and reassured that the other is always with them.

Celestials have a variety of life spans, depending on what they are. Fallen Angels have the shortest life span which can only count up for several thousands of years. Angels can live up to about eight thousand years. Gods and Goddesses can live up to a hundred thousand years.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Raphael, Azrael, Din, Nalu, Elden, Mayllena, Skye, Celestia and Faroe.

Kirin:

Taking the forms of different creatures from different races to be able to fit into each and every race society.

Kirins can also manipulate others by sacrificing their physical body, forcing their soul to pull the strings of their chosen creature’s body they wish to control – disabling the creature’s soul activity, inevitably putting it to a deep sleep. A Kirin’s soul cannot be easily seen whilst controlling their host, but some Demons, Elves, Kitsune and Forerunners are able to see them more vaguely.

Once seen, a Kirin’s soul would appear to be residing behind their host’s body as a single glowing orb, having strings connected to the limbs and head of the host’s body.

If damage is struck upon the body, it will damage the host’s soul as well; removing a limb or wounding it heavily will make the host’s soul weaker, making the strings connected to the Kirin’s soul harder to cut. If a limb is removed, the string that was once connected to the limb would readjust itself onto another part of the host’s body.

The strings that are connected to the body of the host is where the magic resides the most. if the host could not use magic before, their stats are boosted accordingly to the Kirin who is possessing them.

Theoretically, the longer the Kirin’s soul is ignored, the harder it will be to disconnect it to the body - by cutting the strings that are attached to it. The more damage the host’s body takes, the less chance it is for the host to live after the manipulation.

Due to the manipulation magic the Kirins possess, they are highly respected among the races that know of their existence. Races other than the Forerunners, Elves, Fairies and Ghouls do not know of their existence. The Kirin are well hidden and are said to live in another world of some sort. It is unknown where the majority of them choose to live, but some live among cities and towns by disguising themselves as humans or Demons.

Some Kirins choose not to use their manipulation powers and live peacefully, but no matter what, they will always be the most feared of the lower races.

Once, a Kirin, under the pressure of an interrogation, said that their race is working for the Heuristics and worship the Didact King as their God but was executed immediately by a Kirin assassin a few moments later after the interrogation. The Kirin who assassinated one who was interrogated has not been found.

Details about the Kirins are mostly unknown. However, the Kirins, which live peacefully in cities and towns, has said that the way they mate is something they have in common to humans and Ghouls. Their diet and what they consume to stay is something they have in common to the Ghouls as well.

The characters that will be a part of this race: Kakui, Hasa, Muzo and Daime.

#Original Series #OS #manga announcement #race descriptions #long post #sc-di

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ethanalter · 8 years ago

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‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ Postmortem: Bruce Miller on Offred’s Future

Elisabeth Moss in ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ (Photo: Courtesy of Hulu)

Warning: This post contains spoilers for the “Night” episode of The Handmaid’s Tale .

And so, at last, The Handmaid’s Tale ends as it began: with our heroine Offred (Elisabeth Moss) in the back of a vehicle, bound for what she hopes is freedom. In the premiere, Offred — still then known as June — was in the backseat of her husband Luke’s car, comforting their daughter Hannah as they sped towards the Canadian border, with Gileadean soldiers in hot pursuit. Now, in the Season 1 finale, “Night,” she’s escorted out of the Waterford home and into the back of a waiting van piloted by the republic’s secret service agency, the Eyes. Her “rescue,” if that’s what this turns out to be, has been orchestrated by Nick (Max Minghella), the man with whom she’s been carrying on a secret affair, and could potentially be the father of the child growing in her womb. As she boards the van and the doors close behind her, Offred speaks the same lines as her counterpart in the novel: “And so I step up, into the darkness within; or else, the light.”

That’s where this particular Handmaid’s story ends in Margaret Atwood’s original telling of her tale, leaving Offred in a state of suspended animation. (An epilogue, set hundreds of years later, does suggest that she made it as far as Maine, after which her trail ends.) But Moss’s journey as Offred is far from over; a second season will show us what happens after those van doors open again, and whether she’s bound for the darkness… or the light. Handmaid’s Tale showrunner Bruce Miller will be taking Offred’s story past where Atwood imagined, and it’s a task he doesn’t accept lightly. In this expansive post-finale interview with Yahoo TV, Miller discusses Offred’s next steps, what the future holds for Serena Joy and Fred (Yvonne Strahovski and Joseph Fiennes), and the one character you can definitely expect to meet in Season 2.

Moss and Max Minghella in ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ (Photo: Courtesy of Hulu)

Up until the episode’s final moments, I wasn’t sure if you were going to replicate the book’s last scene. That’s the same way I first read the book. I had no idea how it was going to end two pages before it ended! [Laughs.]

On the page, those final moments play out in a rush. You’re following Offred as she’s leaving the house, and there’s a pronounced feeling of momentum that sweeps you along with her. In this episode, director Kari Skogland replicates that by employing a Steadicam tracking shot that almost plays out in a single take. There was a lot of attention towards capturing the feeling of the end of the book, and the relentlessness of it. Like a lot of people who have read the book, I’d gone back and forth between being very frustrated with the ending and feeling like it’s great that the minute Offred’s point of view of the Waterford house ends, so does ours. It’s the perfect ending to the first season of a TV series because everyone has the reaction of: “What happens next?” Margaret gave us this beautifully constructed story with an ending that’s both infuriating and incredibly compelling. That’s what you want in the first season of a TV show.

How was that sequence choreographed? It’s two shots that look like one shot. Half of it is on a soundstage, and the other half is in the actual house we’ve used since the beginning of the season. Offred’s room and that beautifully curving staircase was constructed on a stage. It was a lot easier to shoot that because we built it with the idea that there’d be just enough room for a camera to make that curve. The staircase in the main house is a little steeper, and a little more narrow with more twists and turns. Our camera team is remarkable — we use lots of lenses that are not long lenses, and we get very close to Lizzie so the margin of error is very small. If you slow down when you’re on the stairs, Lizzie runs into you! I think I used the first take; we didn’t do that many.

From the very beginning, I had always thought about filming it as one shot, to give the feeling that once you’re on that train, you don’t want to get off. A cut gives you a little bit of a break, and we didn’t want that break. Also, in some ways, it’s a tour through this house that we don’t know if we’re ever going to go back to. Offred doesn’t know if she’s going to go back because she thinks there’s a good chance she’s dead! So she’s looking around for the last time, and I wanted to look around with her. This show is very much a point of view show; it’s June’s point of view and that feeling that we’re in her head is what makes the show work. We wanted to go back to that at the end of the first season.

I want to spotlight a line that’s crucial to the episode, and to the series as a whole, particularly in regards to how it departs from the book. Early on in the finale, Offred remarks in voiceover: “They should never have given us uniforms if they didn’t want us to be an army.” In the book, Offred goes from being a victim to a refugee. In the series, as that line suggests, her journey seems to be from victim to insurgent. Yes, and there’s two parts to that line. The first is not just this idea of an army as a fighting unit, but an army as a unit; the idea of relationships between women, and the power of normal intimacy among humans, who form a support web even when [society] is constructed not to. Human relationships are so important to staying sane in our world. Even though Offred in the book has a different journey, her relationship journeys are quite similar. She’s always trying to make connections, even if it’s delicately.

So that idea of them being an army is as much about them as a unified group who trust each other in some tiny little way. They’ve gotten to the point where they have a little bit of a connection. It strikes me that one of the ironic blindnesses in Gilead is that [the founders] though, “I’m going to take this woman, put her in my house and completely control her, and everything will be fine.” The have a tiger in their house! They’ve got someone they’re beating and raping and they expect her to be compliant. It’s sexism on such a blind scale, you hope they’re going to get bitten in the ass for doing that. These women are strong and smart; these are women of today. They’re not going to sit around and let you take away their liberties.

To that point, does it reflect how society and feminism has changed since when the book was written? The Offred we meet in the novel never seems to arrive in a place where she’s willing to fight back. In slight ways, it’s how women’s roles in society have changed. I’m no social historian — my connections with the women in my own life are how I judge these things, and how they might have changed. Our Offred is a slightly different character than the one in the book, and just by virtue of the things we want to show, she’s more in the center of the rebellion whereas in the book she’s on the outskirts. In a series, you want to have her at the center of the pieces of the story you’re going to tell. So it’s the difference between her being a different character, and also in terms of the attitudes of the women I know that I’m trying to extrapolate for this situation to make it feel more like current human beings.

Yvonne Strahovski and Joseph Fiennes in ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ (Photo: Courtesy of Hulu)

Offred demonstrates her power in the finale when she chooses to save Janine during the Salvaging sequence. But this is also an episode where Serena Joy reclaims her authority in her household, physically attacking Offred and putting Fred in his place by calling him weak. How does that presage where her role goes in Season 2? Yvonne’s performance has just been spectacular. The fact that you’re interested in Serena Joy, and that you feel sorry for her at times, is a testament to how complex her performance is. Moving ahead, I think it’ll be about her commitment to Gilead and its laws and rules — even the ones she doesn’t believe in — and how those butt up against her natural instinct towards dominance and intellectual contribution. She’s been reduced to knitting, gardening, and procreation, but you’re talking about a machine with a lot of excess capacity that’s got to go somewhere.

She’d also like to believe that she fought hard for Gilead, and it’s worth it. All those things tie together into such an interesting package of someone living in a prison of their own making. You can see lots of different futures for her. She could have a volcanic eruption like she has in this episode, and that’s enough to relieve the pressure for awhile. Or it could be the beginning of her deciding that a rebellion wouldn’t be such a bad thing. There are certainly people in Gilead who think it’s time to clean up Gilead; totalitarian states are always subject to purges.

In perhaps her cruelest power move, Serena Joy allows Offred to see Hannah in the flesh, but only through the window of a locked car. In the novel, she only shows Offred a picture of her daughter. It does make you wonder if Offred’s choice to get in the van endangers her child since Serena Joy knows where she is and can see her at any time. In the book, showing Offred the picture is also a power play. It was Serena Joy saying, “I have access to this information and you don’t.” There’s also a little bit of a perceived threat. So I was trying to bring that flavor here. The other thing is that I don’t think it’s a purely evil act from Serena Joy’s point of view. She’s bringing Offred there to say, “Your daughter is fine, you don’t have to worry about her. I’ll protect her because you’re doing something important for me.” I believe she’s doing something manipulative and horrible, but I don’t think she thinks that. Serena Joy has a twisted view of motherhood in general, and what the relationship between a mother and child should be. Here’s another example of that tone deafness. In terms of what it does to Offred, I think it focuses her mind a little bit. She starts to think, “How do I be a good role model for my daughter?” Getting taken away in the end is not something she does; what she does is not kill Janine. That’s her way of saying, “My daughter is alive and she’s being taken care of, and I’m trying to make the world a little better for her.” She’s not going to be in a world where her mom stoned a woman to death.

Names are such an important part of the show’s emotional fabric — the names given by the state versus the names the women cling to in their hearts. Given that, is there any significance to the names “Hannah” or “Charlotte,” Janine’s daughter? Neither child is named in the novel, so I was curious why you chose those specific names. Hannah has a Biblical connection I liked, but there wasn’t much thinking about it. Charlotte is named for Charlotte Brontë. I thought that was an interesting choice for Janine, who you wouldn’t necessarily think of as a Charlotte Brontë fan.

Back in the series premiere, you revealed that Offred’s real name is June, confirming a long-held fan theory about the book that Atwood has accepted if not necessarily endorsed. Did you realize the significance of that choice when you made it? I did because I was of the same mind. I had been thinking of her as June for years! It didn’t even occur to me that it isn’t [explicitly] in the book. After I wrote the script, people read it and were like, “Oh, you’re taking a stand on this!” [Laughs.] I said, “Yes I am, but I didn’t think of that ahead of time.” It’s also just very practical; you can only get through so many flashbacks where you’re not saying her name before it starts to sound stilted. Margaret didn’t balk at it or even mention it to me, but I know she’s not a subscriber to that theory.

You also chose to make Gilead a multicultural society to reflect the modern world. But I did find myself wondering all season long whether previous racial prejudices still exist in this environment. Is that something you hope to explore? We definitely want to explore race moving forward. In the first season, we had a lot to deal with, but I’ve been very interested in the conversations that have been taking place on social media about race in Gilead. They’ve been so thoughtful, thought-provoking, and respectful. We brought those conversations into the writers’ room to start discussing. I don’t think Gilead is a racism-free zone. They have the same blindnesses that we do, and the same good and bad assumptions we make. At the same time, I do think it’s hard to know what the society before Gilead might look like if fertility rates fell that quickly. I don’t think racial issues would go away, but they might fall down in terms of peoples’ priorities. I think it’s fascinating to consider the idea that the rules of Gilead are supposed to come from the Bible, and how does that affect someone who has a prejudice that doesn’t align with the rules? There’s certainly plenty of room for hypocrisy in a place like Gilead.

Offred’s mother has a substantial role in the book, but was only mentioned in passing in the series. I imagine that’s a thread that’s going to be picked up in Season 2. We’ve discussed it from the very beginning. She’s a fascinating character in the book, and ties so much into a certain kind of personality and activism at the time the book was written. You could do a whole show about June and her mother before Gilead. Remember: At the end of this season, Offred is pregnant and she also gets to see her child. It’s safe to say that themes of motherhood are going to be strong in Season 2. And Offred has a mother, so it seems like stories with that person would make a lot of sense.

I can picture the casting wishlists that are being drawn up right now. One of the wonderful things about having a show that has been getting this much attention is that the casting list could become a reality!

For what it’s worth, I’m putting in a vote for Judy Davis. I’ll write it down. [Laughs.]

Strahovski and Fiennes (Photo: Courtesy of Hulu)

Having ended the first season where the book ends, are you considering broadening the show’s canvas beyond Offred’s perspective in Season 2? The general answer is no. June’s point of view is the center of our show and we couldn’t be any luckier than to have Lizzie in that role. It’s that character’s story. We are going to delve into stories that expand the world of Gilead, but those stories are still important and impactful to June. In the first season, we had scenes that Offred was not witness to, but almost all of them had some sort of influence on her world and her chances of survival. We got one of the classic characters in literature, and we want to dig deeper into her. What’s fun for someone like who is a fan of the book is asking, “What else can we find out about Offred that we didn’t know before?”

Is there a chance we’ll be privy to other voiceovers beyond Offred’s? Right now, we don’t have any plans to feature voiceover from anyone else. The book is a voiceover; it’s Offred having recorded her memories and experiences of what happened to her in Gilead. We’ve maintained that conceit for the show, and I think it’s a very strong conceit; this show is either a dramatization or her actual recording of what was said. From a storytelling point of view, there’s also something delicious about the idea of a collection of audio tapes buried under the floor. [In the book, an epilogue reveals that Offred’s recordings are excavated decades after the fall of Gilead.]

Last question: Leaving aside what you have planned for Season 2, when you read The Handmaid’s Tale for the very first time, what did you think happened to Offred after the van doors opened? I read the book in 1985 when it came out, and I think I might have thrown it across the room! I was so angry and frustrated. I had no idea what happened to her, and that’s the trouble. Offred is written so beautifully, she does not prefigure her own future even though with the tapes she recorded, she would have known some of those answers. She’s good at laying it out in a way where she doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Did I hope she got away? Absolutely. I wanted that van to be an express bus to Canada. But knowing how hard it is to get out of Gilead, and how precious a pregnant Handmaid is, I didn’t think it was going to be a quick or easy journey. One of the great things about having the chance to make the TV show, especially in conjunction with Margaret, is that you can have those discussions about what she was thinking. For everyone who has ever read the book, the first question you want to ask Margaret Atwood is: “What happened next?” And I got to! [Laughs.]

The first season of The Handmaid’s Tale is currently streaming on Hulu.

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Read more from Yahoo TV:

#EmmyTalk: ‘Feud’ Star Susan Sarandon on ‘The First Time I Really Felt Like Bette’

‘The Handmaid’s Tale’: Margaret Atwood on the 5 Biggest Differences Between the Book and the Show

‘Nobodies’ First Look: You Wouldn’t Like Melissa McCarthy When She’s Angry

#_revsp:wp.yahoo.tv.us #drama #the handmaids tale #_uuid:65713368-2d43-3c54-97b3-309c2119ff61 #elisabeth moss #hulu #_author:Ethan Alter #bruce miller #_category:yct:001000086 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT #interviews

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kindabraveandlittlestupid · 7 years ago

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Kind of a reflective post on my past, upbringing, and shift of views over time. I have not always been an ally to the gay community, mostly because I was raised as a kid into Christian ideals which I admit established a prejudice in me at an early age. Even the most well-meaning Christians in my life, people who were of good moral character and generally the kind of men and women you want in your social circle to be a positive influence seemed to hesitate in some fashion or another when it came to the topic of being Gay or Lesbian. I was equipped with all the ‘Christian’ talking points down as a young man of 14 believing that by being different in their sexuality that something was ‘wrong’ with them; Adam and Eve, Sex for Procreation, Bible says its a Sin, etc. Needless to say, I was sort of raised in 'that’ bubble because of my parents, who were well-meaning were part of Baby Boomer generation that simply did not expose themselves to gay culture, community, or people the way that Gen X, Y, and Z did.

There were Gay and Lesbian students in my school at the time and they tended to stick with females or the stereotypical theater crowd which were safe spaces for them to be who they were. It makes sense that they did this sort of thing because teenage boys lacked both empathy and experience (or at least most of us did back then) during High School to know how to treat them decently (glad to see that’s changed over time). Of course, the Gay & Lesbian students were working out their own issues and lacked the clarity or vocabulary to make the kind of opinion changing dialogue needed to shake most teenage boys foundations.

It was thru community work with the county that I met Lauren (not her real name) and I started to get involved in non-profit work being an advocate against tobacco. She was a wild woman, like someone who refused to accept she was a grown up even though she was in her 40′s and already had a kid. Despite her colorful personality, she had the wisdom to see my background and make the proper tweaks to change my life. Working with her she started to have LGBTQ members work with us high school kids on projects, in particular, a group of gay men who were ranged from mid 20′s to early 30′s. These were the sort of guys who went to the clubs in Castro District wearing very little and partied the night away. You would never know it during the weekdays until few of them spoke with slight valley girl pitch that some gay men adopt (was always curious about how that develops).

They challenged me in a lot of ways during those days I worked with them. They asked pointed and articulate questions that chipped away from the prejudice I was raised in. “If Christianity was established on Love and Compassion, how do I justify calling them sinners or hating them?” The kind of logical shit that might have not have changed my opinion right at the moment but seeded my head with bigger thoughts that I imagine some churches would prefer not reach their flock. Just as important as their clear questions was the fact they NEVER attacked me on my beliefs, they never argued or screamed but instead held a steady approach of waiting for me to come around. Something I perhaps didn’t deserve because I was basically saying their lifestyle was wrong but their maturity was steadfast. Lastly, they were my friends, making fun of me from time to time, saying I had a cute butt when I was on a ladder making me climb down with a blush and laughing at my uncomfortable teenage sexuality that held tight to the masculine identity.

It took me about 2 years of working with these guys to shake off the prejudice that had been installed in me but each step of the way they did it with the love and compassion that you think Christians were supposed to be about. When I was finally 18, I signed the petition to legalize gay marriage in California which lead to a phone call from the organization pushing for that change. They thanked me for the support and asked for donations, only it was my mother who answered the home phone and not me. A big discussion came after and I found myself taking everything I learned from those men and holding my ground against my parent’s old fashion ideas (who once again… well-meaning but clearly wrong on this issue).

Years progressed and it became a lense in which I viewed the world. As society evolved and transgender community emerged more into the public spotlight it was easier to love and respect them without letting prejudgments cloud my thoughts of what compassion, love, empathy, equity, and inclusion were all about. Make it short they changed me in a good way. I am still a straight male but I sometimes visit the Castro with my gay friends and sit in at Harvey’s (Harvey Milk Bar) having a beer. I openly advocate and would defend them from anyone who wished to do them wrong. An when my brothers son IE my nephew, who is 16, started showing that similar history of prejudice that he adopting from his mother, I made my own effort to sit him down with my gay, lesbian and trans friends to give him the same exposure that allowed me to shake off the prejudice I had all those years ago. Thanks for the read.

Regards Michael California

#Gender #Politics #PersonalRant

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toddlazarski · 8 years ago

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The Bucks, PB&J’s, and Man’s Search For Meaning

Shepherd Express

“I made sammiches, fellas.”

It came across as a weird statement. Especially given our relative state of adulthood. Especially coming as it did, one workaday Wednesday afternoon, through our office’s Slack messaging ether, a forum reserved for quote requests and shipment follow-ups and tracking numbers, for the occasional cat video, a not infrequent ponder as to the likelihood of a collective Cielito Lindo trek.

But I’d spent the previous night slathering sliced brioche with Jif Natural Chunky and Bonne Maman Strawberry Preserves, compiling a venerable stack of PB&J’s, a ziploc bag tower of mushed bread-on-bread, berry bubbling its way through the creases like a razor-thin paper cut, feeling myself motherly all the while, getting nostalgic for childhood. Getting nostalgic, too, for high school senior year, where, despite being 18 and having little desire outside of finding beer access and listening to Zeppelin and putting distance between my person and my parents, how I had still, out of horomone-bursting hunger probably, allowed mom to make me a PB&J near daily. Even teenage too-coolness was overmatched by the sandwich’s essence of everyday art, it’s sort of ceaseless comfort. A meal anyone can assemble, but requiring, deserving of a certain ratio-ed touch. Quotidian, yet satisfying. Delicious, yet healthy enough that even the most Trump-budget-military-upgrade-caliber helicopter parents can agree. A benign, toddler-friendly foodstuff, still, endless in variations (i.e. the inexplicable calculus of the diagonal cut; the bewildering game-raising of toasted bread). It’s the “Misty” of school lunches - you’ve experienced it a million times, but where’s the guitar solo going this time? Is that peach jam!?

ESPN’s recent caloric journalism flight, detailing said comfort and the prevalent addiction rampant amongst seemingly all NBA players, has indeed opened up a very general sort of reminiscence. Of sandwiches, of school day lunches. Of a now-gone time of possibility ahead. Of a day when I stood in front of my 8th grade class, and when asked about plans for the future, put stoically: “I’m gonna play in the NBA.” How I had stared down scoffs, how they all laughed. And how I had doggedly, in my mind, flashed on Mugsy, my same height back then, back when I was the John Stockton of before-school open gyms, and there was no reason my prepubescent crossover wasn’t worthy of at least a scholarship. It was a time similar to, say, about last week, when driving and scooping layups, how I had reminded myself, again, now, that I’m currently the same height of 29-points-per game Isaiah Thomas, and subsequently tried to walk with his same Pesci-like, something-to-prove swagger. It also has evoked a type of hometown nostalgia, as the Bucks top the article’s list of team’s with the most gourmet PB&J offerings. I was eventually brought back to thoughts of a near-great Bucks year toward the end of said high school sandwich days. And really, for Milwaukeeans, the way you remember that ‘00-’01 almost-Finals team says who you are: If you think of Ray Allen, your life strives toward elegance, Glenn Robinson means fierce blue-collar pride, if like me, you think of Sam Cassell, you’re an underdog. Or possibly just an unrepentant basketball nerd.

Now, as the current young Bucks stand days from a seemingly important playoff birth, so we stand at 5pm on Wednesday’s, in anticipatory glow of post-work warehouse 2-on-2. And we start to swivel hips and test hamstring dexterity while still in office wear. Roll out necks and hear the creaks, try to conjure up Giannis-like limberness. We eventually dribble two balls at the same time like we see Steph Curry always doing in slo-mo, collectively scoffing at our aging and aged bodies in various states of shape and debaucherous misuse. We hash out postseason Bucks impressions in pregame loosening good humor. We double check text messages to make sure our others, significant or semi, know we won’t be around for dinner. Make sure they know that when we do emerge from the warehouse’s cavernous battle bubble, that we’ll be sweaty and worn, proud bearers of war tales, much deserving of many manly beer swills.

In our core there is Gino, the ubiquitous scrapmaster all good pickup games require. As the only non-employee on today’s lineup, he’s caught off-guard by my previous night’s culinary feat. But he’s rarely off-guard, as the hustle guy, the token tough, the rugby or futbol hooligan-type that doesn’t stop, the one who’s mostly-bald skull might appear exceptionally hard. It is. And I know this because over-leaning on post defense one Friday last summer caused a cranium-connection and gaping wound that looked like the 2nd round of a Rocky fight, required nine stitches, and left a one inch scar on my right eyelid. Day’s shortly after, someone at work called me “Scarface,” and it felt like an achievement I’d never realized I was yearning for.

There is also Andrew, who couldn’t wait to get into the break room fridge, correctly noting the article doesn’t specify exactly when NBA-ers down their youthful pregame snack. Thirty minutes prior to tip was the longest we could hold out. As a guitar player he has other goals, appetites, and also has fingerpicking fingernails, that sometimes make a reach-in foul leave a bit more than a slapping sting. He likes to mime Dellevedova floaters by faux announcing “Delly!” while putting one up. It often finds net, like it almost always does anytime he’s left even a smidge of an open window downtown, his bombed three’s yielding that feeling that good guitar player’s often do - a mix of head-shaking wonder and jealous annoyance. And he has to leave at a reasonable time, for a gig, to work more, to maintain his Shepherd Express-voted status as Milwaukee’s ‘Best Guitarist,’ to keep after continued validation that some voting systems in this country aren’t completely broken.

And there is Dylan, who good naturedly shakes his head at my insistence on bringing up the ESPN article, over and over, a reaction like his kid just learned a knock-knock joke that he won’t let drop. In fact, Dylan often seems the group’s symbolic father. Not because of the Harden-cum-wizard beard and his existence as an actual father of two, but because of the endless series of bank shots and shifty craftiness, crafty shiftiness. Sometimes his game is pure Tim Duncan. Sometimes it’s a type of old man one-step-ahead smirking mindfulness, where he goads you into shots he knows he can close on, block. Sometimes it’s a hard sell on a pump fake that you regret immediately as you leave pavement, then watch him go by at a casual pace for a layup that he never misses - being a dad, being a miniature big fundamental, having a personality directly corollary to his court skills, and vice versa. Like Magic Johnson - if he’s on your team. Like he’s Michael Jordan and you’re the Cavs if not.

Together, when the F-bomb’s fly, and the panting starts, and balls get smashed into the concrete floor in frustration, and you get your the first butt in the gut on a box out, and feel the familiar, exhausted hatred for a one-time - five minutes ago! - friend, we feel not so far off from what we watch on TV. From the Bucks, from the playoffs, from realizing all those school day aspirations. After all, I’m wearing Nikes. We’re all wearing Nikes. Except Gino, who is a soccer player, so Addidas are acceptable. But aside from that, anything sans swoosh seems senseless. I’m wearing the model of Cavs guard Kyrie Irving. Having decided at some point, for now, at least this year, “that’s my guy,” something moving deep within me as I watched him hit possibly the most clutch shot in NBA history, as I sat sweaty and expectant, hunkered in a dark sports bar on my first night in Rio de Janeiro, living out a different kind of dream, steps from the most famous beach in the world, amidst one of the most vibrant cities in history, thinking only of catching game 7, thinking on all the ones that got away from me, feeling late-game sympathy nerves. But now I tie and then velcro expensive Nike’s in his fashion and adorned in his ‘#2,’ and I can kind of mime that patented double behind the back dribble when I’m by myself on the court, in the warehouse. And that is something. But Irving also has the thick beard and sad eyes of my father. And that might be something else.

Now, with the sandwiches churning, leftover peanut butter chunks being tongued at in wisdom teeth nether regions, collectively we’re all even closer, thrown together in end of day release to re-live, reimagine our days of middle to middle high school ballerdom. When identity came from being good, kind of good, at something that made you sweaty. Before any of us knew each other. Before we had to go to work and get to know each other. In order to pay rent, and then mortgages, and then babysitters. To put food on a table. And then somewhere along the line it having to be somewhat healthy food. Before we had to make decisions, like whether or not it is worth it to pay for cable, so we can go home and watch more basketball.

At this point in our career we could play bald guys vs. hair guys, husbands vs. boyfriends. In alternate lineup iterations we can play dads vs. non-procreators. Oftentimes, if we go on Saturdays, we'll play through hangovers. Afternoon's, every now and then, somebody cracks a can of beer before the last game of ‘21’. And you know, when D-ing up, breathing deep sweaty man beer breath, then actually, purposefully, boldly placing your hand in the small of a back that is mostly just soaked-through dripping cotton t-shirt swatch - this isn’t about exercise anymore. At work on sore days after, we'll stand at each other's desk and bemoan sore hamstrings, treat ourselves to nachos, with ground beef, that come, today only, without guilt. We’ll play the showered, clean clothes, office game, but sipping Gatorade the whole time. Some of us - the dreamier sorts - maybe even going to a place of a fictitious postgame press conference in our head as we rehydrate like our idols.

But before games, lacing shoes too tightly, jogging in place and hoping for no unexpected pains, warming up with layups that we mostly make all of, here we are, with everything possible, with Marv Albert explaining to expectant at home audiences how “Lazarski has to be aggressive tonight,” with gentle butterflies birthing in the stomach, if only out of shared remembrance for when such athletic contests meant something. Meant everything. And there’s no difference, just like down the street, in that bigger warehouse on 4th Street, with playoff-virgin nerves pulsing. Once we start it’s all the same as it is for Malcolm, for Khris, the only difference that last-second call home, reminding again our significant others that we’ll be home late, that we’ll reek of body odor. But probably, hopefully, not bleeding, or needing any kind of ride from Urgent Care.

And tonight, I’ve missed a potential game winner. A 15-foot, pull-up jumper. My bread-and-butter, my PB&J. Staring stoically out the window of the 15, back toward real life in the night, it’s hard to let it go, to not punch my own thigh, thinking on all the times I’d practiced the shot for just such a moment. In all the driveways of my life. After school practices, with various stages of after-school friends. Solo sometimes, or in the rain like a motivational sports movie montage. On a court in Venice Beach with my uncle. With drinking buddies turned rivals. With rivals turned drinking buddies. With long forgotten one-time best pals. It all leading to this, the big moment, everybody watching, leaning forward, the time of “Kyrie for three!...”

But, we'll be back next week. If kids aren’t sick and hamstrings aren’t tight and workout clothes aren’t forgotten and anniversary dinners aren’t written in pen in the dayplanner. And I know where it went wrong, what can help. I know how to get it back. And Andrew mis-hears me on his way out, agrees anyway, says, “Yeah, it was great.” But it all seems so clear, the fix for the future, and I say it again: “next week, we’ll go with grape jelly.”

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