#it’s a worse version of duncan from origins

[fabiansociety]

have you played veilguard?

my partner finished a shadow dragons run, and i’ve played through the intro as a veil jumper, but i’m trying to decide whether i want to do a full campaign or just let the series go. the game is a triumph of intent, i think, but i’m not really interested in a flip, action movie version of dragon age?

the game hits for a lot of people and i earnestly think that’s great. it’s just not for me

[bakerstreetbabble]

Granada TV Series Review: "The Red-Headed League" (S02, E05)

This week, I come to what is surely one of the most delightful episodes of the entire series of adaptations from Granada TV! "The Red-Headed League" has long been a favorite story of most Sherlockians, and was on a list of Arthur Conan Doyle's favorite Holmes stories as well. The Granada adaptation shows Jeremy Brett at the absolute top of his game, and is a real treat for any viewer. Fans of British comedy will certainly recognize the actors playing John Clay (Tim McInnerny from the popular Black Adder series), and Duncan Ross (Richard Wilson from One Foot in the Grave).

This episode really has it all: humor, adventure, and as always, the rapport between Holmes and Watson, played to such great effect by Jeremy Brett and David Burke. The episode give Sherlockians so much to enjoy, including Holmes's reference to the famous "three pipe problem" and the great shot of Jeremy Brett, knees up and smoking, a picture perfect reference to a Sidney Paget illustration from the original story.

There are so many entertaining moments from this episode, but a couple stood out for me, one of which was Jeremy Brett's leap over the settee as Watson enters towards the beginning of the episode, accompanied by a shout of "You couldn't have come at a better time!" (Fans of the I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere podcast will recognize the clip immediately from their intro sequence.) And then there's the reaction from Holmes and Watson as Mr. Jabez Wilson concludes his tale. Brett and Burke burst into laughter, which can hardly be helped, as Mr. Wilson tells them all the words he learned, transcribing the first volume of the Encyclopaedia Brittanica. Little moments of humor, some from the original story and others not, make the episode tremendously entertaining.

The episode also serves as a setup for the next week's conclusion to the first series, "The Final Problem." We get several scenes with Professor Moriarty, as well as fairly lengthy sequence in the bank vault, wherein Holmes and Inspector Jones discuss Moriarty's role in London crime. All this material, of course, is not from the source material, as "The Red-Headed League" was only the second Holmes adventure published in The Strand magazine, and "The Final Problem" came much later. But in the continuity of this first series from Granada, it works quite well to prepare the viewer for the big series finale.

As I prepare myself to watch "The Final Problem" next week, it's a bit of a bittersweet moment, as I know that episode also represents the final episode for David Burke as Dr. Watson. I enjoy Burke's Watson portrayal immensely. I don't know that Edward Hardwicke, who ended up playing the good doctor for much longer than Burke did, ever quite matched up to Burke's version. Harwicke was no slouch, of course, and he brought plenty of good moments to the role himself, but I suspect Burke will always occupy a special place in my heart.

As I continue this project of watching and reviewing all of the Granada Sherlock Holmes adaptations, I know that the quality of the series will have its ups and downs. As Jeremy Brett's health grew worse and worse over time, the overall quality tends to decline...or so I've always read. (And, having seen some of the later episodes, particularly the adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles, I'm inclined to agree with that appraisal.) Meanwhile, it's a marvelous experience to watch all of the episodes in order, and to be able to enjoy the performances when they were at the excellent level of "The Red-Headed League." It was truly a real gift to legions of Holmes fans. Please enjoy watching the episode below...

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Total Drama Changes: Action and TDA Special/Between Action and World Tour

Part 2. First I did Island and the special, along with a bit of the stuff that I imagine happens between seasons. And as a slight warning, I’ve never actually fully watched Action and only really know what I know from reviews and reading stuff on wikis/TV Tropes. Also, remember that this isn’t necessarily going to be changing every single tiny issue I have, but the ones that particularly stand out to me. Even still, this one is probably going to end up being on the long side.

Now, to begin with the changes actually made to Action (not including changes that happened in the Island special, such as Cody, Tyler, and Courtney being on the cast from day one of the new series):

Geoff and Bridgette don’t constantly make out. They’re still definitely the most openly and physically affectionate of the couples on the show (though the others still show love among them), but they’re able to go more than like five seconds without their lips apparently being magnetized to each other. 

Because Geoff and Bridgette don’t make out enough to annoy everyone else into kicking them off, there’s not a double elimination and they both would continue on the show for at least a little while.

There’s no jealousy on Trent’s part over the fact that Duncan and Gwen both like scary/alien movies, because Trent both has more faith in his girlfriend and realizes that just because two people have one thing in common, doesn’t mean they have a thing for each other.

Even besides the obvious change of Geoff, Bridgette, Cody, Tyler, and Courtney being included in the cast this time, the teams will be different. Haven’t fully decided if Gwen and Trent still pick their teams or if Chris does, or a mix of the two, but they will be different from the canon version.

Trent still gets booted early for “throwing challenges”. Difference is, here he doesn’t actually throw any; they simply lost, but Justin was able to convince enough of the others on the Grips that Trent was throwing challenges/sabotaging them that he got the boot during the elimination ceremony.

Courtney becomes the new Team Leader for the Grips following Trent’s elimination (to Justin’s annoyance)

Another change - when the original captains get eliminated, their spots are taken over by other team members.

The Aftermaths do still happen, but obviously Geoff and Bridgette aren’t the hosts, at least during Action. Not entirely sure who would host them in this season, so I’m open to suggestions.

Gwen stays on a bit longer, since she’s not basically forced to get herself booted to make up for Trent throwing challenges, though she’s still out at least a few episodes before the merge. 

Before Gwen’s elimination, her and Courtney do start to form a sort of friendship, albeit at this point it’s more just a case of them not really having too much of an issue with each other, and having a mutual friend in Bridgette. But it does lay the groundwork for the next season.

Haven’t totally decided the new elimination order, including where Bridgette, Geoff, Cody, Tyler, and Courtney would end up, though Bridgette, Geoff, and Courtney do all make it to the merge, or close to it.

OBeth gets voted off much earlier and doesn’t have that weird subplot of insisting she’s got a boyfriend while also flirting with basically every guy on the show.

Owen doesn’t come back after he’s eliminated, so the mole subplot either never happens or is done with another character. 

There’s a subplot with Harold and Heather forming a friendship of sorts and while it’s not the only cause, this is part of the catalyst for why LeShawna and Harold end up breaking up.

LeShawna does still say some bad things about the others while she’s on her spa day, though the tape everyone sees is a case of showing stuff out of context to both make it sound worse than it was, and remove any positive things she said. But she does still have to make amends to the remaining contestants. 

Because Owen got to keep his 100K from the previous season, his family doesn’t bankrupt themselves with the cheese-cellar, which adds to the reasoning for him not needing to come back.

Justin would actually be a bit more competent as an antagonist, though he’d still admittedly be weaker than Heather before him or Alejandro after. But because Courtney doesn’t replace him as the main antagonist, he’s able to grow a bit in the role. 

Haven’t fully decide the finalists besides Beth definitely not being one, but I do probably lean towards Lindsay being one of them, with the other plausibly being Harold, Duncan, or possibly Courtney

Speaking of which, Courtney and Lindsay would still have something of a rivalry, because you cannot convince me they’d be able to interact without there being any clashing, given their personalities

There wouldn’t be a vote to determine the winner - it’s just be a case of one person getting through the door slightly faster than the other. The Aftermath would still happen, but it’d basically just be an epilogue

Now for the stuff that would change from the Celebrity Manhunt Special....

Obviously the whole love triangle between Duncan, Courtney, and Gwen wouldn’t be a thing here, since Gwen and Trent never broke up in this version of “Action”

There also wouldn’t be the whole “jealous Bridgette” thing, or at the very least, she wouldn’t be violent about it? Maybe make some lighthearted jabs, but ultimately they’d make up with no major issues.

Duncan and Courtney might still break up, at least temporarily - partially because I can’t deny finding the whole thing of a custody debate over a raccoon kind of hilarious. Plus I still stick with my belief that they’d be the type of on-off couple who breaks up and gets back together every so often until finally deciding to actually stay together.

The Drama Brothers would still be a thing, but obviously the whole thing of Trent asking Justin to break up with his girlfriend wouldn’t happen

Also, Justin either wouldn’t be in the group or he would be in it, but that’d be a major source of conflict. Since in this version of “Action”, he was more of an actual villain than he was in canon

If Justin is in the group, he’d be the one insisting he should get a solo career, despite not having any actual musical talent. He’d literally just figure he’d be able to get by on his looks and having other people do things for him to make it seem like he’s got talent. 

The rest of the special probably wouldn’t change too much except for the end, where Trent, Katie/Sadie (not sure which one), Eva, and possibly Geoff would also be among the contestants taking part in World Tour. 

[teawinx]

do you have any opinions about the original concept of MLB, called the mini menace ladybug?

Well first of all, I think SOMEONE was watching a little too much Winx Club for this to be a coincidence

On one hand I have a lot of thoughts, but I also don't

We don't know much about these early stories, other than it was gonna have a much more mature tone (and gee lookie here one of the few things they kept from Mini Menace was sexualising Ladybug) But we don't know if the overall quality of the story was better or worse than canon. Buuuuut since it's Astruc, I feel confident that it was shit

I think the one thing that bothers me about the Mini Menace is that it absolutely shows that Thomas is incapable of changing his ideas. Aside from a changes (like whitewashing) Marinette and Ladybug's designs have barely changed at all from these early versions. I do like Marietta's outfit, the tank top, skirt and tall socks are a lot more unique than her canon look.

And it looks and feels like a French comic. Stuff like W.I.T.C.H, Tara Duncan and Totally Spies (Oh hai Thomas) where the names are what a French person thinks an English person thinks is cool, and just has an overall vibe that I love.

So good vibes, but guaranteed shit story

[carewyncromwell]

“Tender lumplings everywhere -- Life's no fun without a good scare! That's our job, but we're not mean In our town of Halloween!”

~“This is Halloween (cover)” by Marilyn Manson

x~x~x~x

Happy Halloween, all! 🎃

I’m currently sick in bed, but I still managed to make this present for all of you...a rewrite of the recent Pumpkin Johnny TSLQ, complete with some much-needed love for my favorite ghost boi and Carewyn’s unofficial brother-in-law, Duncan Ashe! 👻

In my version of events, “Pumpkin Johnny” was a tale circulated at Hogwarts back when Hagrid himself was a boy, a good fifty years ago. It originally was a cautionary tale the Prefects would pass around to keep bullies in line and protect younger students. The idea was that you might tell the tale to warn a group of students against bullying, but if someone was foolish enough to not heed the warning, the Prefect in that person’s house would give them a mild scare on Halloween by dressing up as Pumpkin Johnny and hexing their head into a pumpkin, in retaliation for their cruelty toward other students. Eventually, though, it fell out of fashion, particularly after Hogwarts started experiencing far more dangerous threats like the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and Voldemort’s rise to power. 

When Merula started bullying Ben, however, Hagrid couldn’t help but fall back on telling the old tale as a warning. Unfortunately Merula clearly didn’t get the hint, and Hagrid rather gloomily recounted the whole affair to Dumbledore at the Feast that evening. Who should overhear this, however, but Nearly Headless Nick? Ben’s house ghost was offended by Merula Snyde’s utter lack of respect not only for her fellow classmates (Ben) and teachers (Hagrid), but the dead as well, considering that she heard the story of a poor ghost boy who disappeared tragically after being bullied and thought to mock him. And worse still, he found out, thanks to Peeves snooping, that Merula had recruited Ismelda Murk to help her scare her fellow classmates dressed as Pumpkin Johnny. Soon Nick got the other ghosts of the castle enlisted in his effort to teach Merula Snyde and the students of Hogwarts a lesson. 

Peeves was particularly adept at causing some chaos, of course. First he took one of Hagrid’s pumpkins, smashed it open, and used its innards to draw a grotesque Jack-O-Lantern face on the walls, scrawled over the message, “Pumpkin Johnny is everywhere -- be kind to others, or beware.” Instead of taking the message to heart, Merula saw it as a golden opportunity to scare Penny half to death and hex her head into a pumpkin. She then subsequently did the same to Barnaby, thoroughly intending to hit all of the students who’d been planning to attend Hagrid’s Pumpkin Party, with Ben being dead last. 

So the other house ghosts started leaving messages inside of rotted pumpkins for Merula’s classmates to find -- Nick for Ben; the Friar for Penny and Tonks; the Gray Lady for Tulip; the Baron for Barnaby and Carewyn. The messages made them confront Merula, for they said things like, “Tell Merula Snyde Pumpkin Johnny is watching” and “Tell Merula Snyde Pumpkin Johnny wants an apology.” Merula tried very hard to play along, saying that clearly, she was a target now too, but she was growing anxious, even as she managed to get Carewyn pumpkined and had Ismelda pumpkin her as well to try to lead people off her trail. 

Finally the ghosts of Hogwarts had had enough. Duncan Ashe pilfered the costume Ismelda and Merula had used to scare their classmates from its hiding spot in the Forbidden Forest, leaving nothing but a small broken pumpkin with a note inside that read “Pumpkin Johnny isn’t laughing.” 

At this point, Ismelda and Merula were officially stuck. They knew someone had found their costume, so someone knew what they did and was now lording it over them, set to get both of them in super big trouble if they told anyone. And worse, they couldn’t even confront Carewyn and her friends for having stolen the costume (as Merula suspected they had) without exposing everything they’d done. And now...now Merula and Ismelda were seeing Pumpkin Johnny all over the place, when no one else seemingly was. 

Ismelda, becoming more and more convinced that Pumpkin Johnny was real, finally broke down and went to Carewyn for help, confessing everything they had done and hadn’t done and begging her to help them pacify Pumpkin Johnny before he hurt her or Merula. And sure enough, Carewyn, Ismelda, and the others arrived to “save” Merula just in time, for she’d collided with Pumpkin Johnny by the Black Lake. 

Merula tried valiantly to duel Pumpkin Johnny, but no blows seemed to affect him -- some spells collided with his pumpkin head or the fabric of his costume, but there seemed to be nothing substantial under them. And worse, there were so many more angry voices ringing out around her, seemingly from nothing, as Pumpkin Johnny swooped down on her -- “Pumpkin Johnny wants an apology” -- “Pumpkin Johnny wants an apology” -- 

"ALL RIGHT!” Merula burst out at last, her eyes flooding with tears of fear and remorse. “ALL RIGHT! I’M SORRY! I just -- I just wanted to scare Copper and Cromwell and their little buddies -- I didn’t want to hurt anyone! I’M SORRY!”

And that, as it turned out, was all it took. In an instant, the Pumpkin Johnny costume fell loose to the ground in a lifeless heap. 

Merula admittedly reacted a lot more tough after Pumpkin Johnny had vanished, insisting that she was not crying and that she absolutely had had that stupid ghost on the run and this whole thing wouldn’t have happened in the first place if everyone hadn’t gotten so into the story of Pumpkin Johnny. But truly, it was clear the experience had shaken her and given her a bit of a reality check about how trying to scare and bully other people could come back to bite her. And it was for that reason, perhaps, that she agreed to go with Ismelda to talk to Professor Snape about the whole thing the next morning, and that Ben, Penny, Barnaby, Tulip, and Tonks ultimately decided that they both deserved to just enjoy the pumpkin party that night and deal with the consequences in the morning.

After everyone else had left, though, Carewyn turned her focus onto the discarded Pumpkin Johnny costume on the ground with a quirked eyebrow. When she approached, a familiar voice emanated from it:

“Did you learn your lesson?”

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows. “Ghosts can be amazingly vindictive.”

A loud, low cackle came out of the costume as the bluish-white translucent shape of Duncan Ashe swept out of the pumpkin, making a face.

“BLEH! Pumpkin Johnny’s come for you next!” he crowed. 

Carewyn covered her mouth with both hands to suppress her giggling. 

“Duncan,” she tried to scold him, “that was really quite mean, you know. You scared Merula within an inch of her life.”

“Hey, that little witch deserved it,” Duncan scoffed. “And it’s not just me that thought so.”

He indicated the other Hogwarts ghosts materializing around him -- Peeves, the Bloody Baron, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gray Lady, the Fat Friar...even Moaning Myrtle and the members of the Headless Hunt. They all took some time to explain everything to Carewyn: how Hagrid had told Dumbledore what had happened and how upset they’d been about Merula’s behavior.

“Pumpkin Johnny was a story so many older students used to play out, to teach their younger classmates to treat each other kindly,” explained the Fat Friar. “I must admit, though, I lament that we frightened the poor girl so badly.”

Peeves blew a raspberry. “Lament? Lament? The Friar’s no-fun! Peevesy still wants more mischief done!”

“Enough,” said the Baron very coldly, and Peeves immediately quieted and hid cowardly behind the Gray Lady. The Gray Lady irritably flicked the Poltergeist away with a flourish of her hand. 

“Merula Snyde was very stubborn in her attempts to bully all of you,” said Nearly Headless Nick regretfully. “Truly, we’d expected her to give up long before we had to go quite this far...”

Duncan scoffed. “I’d say it’s pure justice, really. It was only when she feared for her own safety that she bothered to cop on and realize her actions have real consequences.”

Carewyn sighed. “...I guess that is supposed to be the message of the Pumpkin Johnny story, isn’t it? Your mistakes, and the way you treat other people, may come back to haunt you.”

“Wisely put,” said the Gray Lady with a very small smile. 

Nearly Headless Nick gave Carewyn a bow. “Well, I suppose we’d best leave you to your party, then. Have a lovely evening, Miss Cromwell!”

And with this, all the ghosts disappeared one by one, back toward the castle. Duncan, however, lingered behind, his lips twisted up in a smirk. 

“You’re really not that upset about all of us piling on Merula Snyde, are you?” he asked devilishly.

Carewyn gave a loud huff. “It was wrong of you to scare her, and it was really mean, as well...”

She paused. Then she smiled wryly.

“...But I admit...it’s really nice that you all wanted to do something to help Ben and Hagrid.”

Duncan smiled ever-so-slightly. “Hey, our hearts may no longer be beating, but that doesn’t mean we don’t feel.”

He glanced away a bit uncomfortably.

“...And well...after hearing she’d jinxed your head into a pumpkin too, just to try to lead you off her trail...I figured I really should go ahead and put a stop to it.”

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh come on, I know you didn’t fall for that gombeen’s bad acting!” Duncan said defensively. “I frankly don’t even know why you went with her...” 

Despite this, his translucent cheeks had darkened with an uncomfortable flush and he refused to look Carewyn in the face. 

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows coolly. “I went with Merula because I wasn’t afraid if I got my head jinxed into a pumpkin or not. I knew whoever was doing it couldn’t be the same person warning people to ‘be nice or beware’ -- Penny and Barnaby are two of the nicest people in school. And if Merula had an accomplice, I wanted to figure out who it was.”

“So you just walked right into that chancer’s trap, just to try to learn more about what was going on,” surmised Duncan. “And you claim you’re nothing like Jacob...”

With another tired sigh, the ghost turned away, so as to hide the strange smile that had wound its way into the corners of his lips.

“Well, I’m off. Enjoy your little Pumpkin Party...bloody hell, is that name ridiculous...”

The slight muttered jibe made Carewyn cross her arms, smiling dryly. 

“Happy Halloween, Duncan,” she called very coolly after him.

The ghost didn’t reply, instead simply disappearing back off toward Hogwarts castle, illuminated by the silvery moonlight. 

[couslie]

Alistair is not a ‘himbo’: discussion of the continuous mischaracterization of Alistair with disregard to his trauma.

Throughout the fandom, Alistair is seen as a ‘cheese-loving himbo,’ and his personality is narrowed down to these two factors. People often see him as stupid, to put it simply, and others see him as ‘annoying’ and ‘whiny’. However, Alistair is quite possibly one of the most in-depth and fleshed out character that BioWare has developed. He is not actually stupid, and he should not be labeled as ‘whiny’ or ‘annoying’ either. Under the cut is an in-depth perspective of Alistair, his trauma, and his personality. 

Disclaimer: this is not going to be a ‘callout’ post to the fandom in any way. It is simply a character analysis on Alistair and his coping mechanisms for his trauma and how it is often misperceived. Warning for length.

Firstly, what is a ‘himbo?’

A ‘himbo’ is described as “an attractive but stupid young man,” most commonly used in reference to Alistair in the Dragon Age fandom. While the jokes are funny, sometimes it is taken a little too far. I have seen many people truly believe that Alistair is dumb and incompetent, and honestly, at first I also believed so. Throughout Dragon Age Origins, numerous characters comment on Alistair’s intellect including himself. This is often misinterpreted that Alistair is indeed unintelligent since he says so himself, right? Not quite.

Trauma:

Anyone who has played Dragon Age Origins knows that Alistair is the secret bastard son of King Maric to a ‘serving-girl in Redcliffe’. Instead of being raised by King Maric, Alistair was hidden away with his half-brother’s uncle, Arl Eamon, in Redcliffe. Eventually, rumors floated around that Alistair was Arl Eamon’s son, a rumor that Arl Eamon’s wife believed. Consequently, Alistair was sent to a Chantry monastery to begin training as a Templar around the age of ten; ten years later being ‘saved’ by Warden Commander Duncan and conscripted into the Grey Wardens. This is the biggest subplot in DAO, and other than the Blight looming over Fereldan/Thedas, is a main point in DAO’s storyline. 

This alone sounds absolutely awful for a child to have to go through. But it gets much, much worse for Alistair. Traveling though Fereldan with Alistair and talking with him gets him to open up a little about what his childhood was like. Most of it is shrouded in humor; however, he lets some truth shine through.

From this we can confer that Alistair did not have an ideal childhood living with the Arl in Redcliffe. Especially since when the Arl would visit Denerim, Alistair would sleep with the hounds. Not only is it hinted that Alistair suffered child neglect, it is also hinted that he may have suffered verbal abuse. As Arl Eamon was one of the only people to know that Alistair was Maric’s bastard, the verbal abuse and belittlement most likely came from him. 

 Throughout Alistair’s life he felt uncared for, and was so ignored and neglected as a child that even grown up he feels invisible and unheard. 

So uncared for, that even the simple act of giving him a gift he acts as if he never had anyone ever give him anything (which is possible except for maybe a few times). 

Or, even just remembering that he mentioned something.

Or, even a simple compliment makes him feel unworthy.

No one would listen to him or what he wanted, and that is another main sub plot of DAO. Going to visit Goldanna, the player can choose whether or not to harden Alistair and basically tell him, “People only look out for themselves. It’s time you did, too.”

Alistair felt he was unloved, unwanted, and a general burden to his family (and especially felt this way after meeting Goldanna). The only person he felt may have loved him was his mother who he believed to be a serving-girl; a main reason he holds on to his mother’s amulet. She represents the only person in his life, up until Duncan, who he thought would have loved and be proud of him. 

Coping Mechanisms:

Now that Alistair’s trauma is laid-out, we can move on to how he copes with said trauma. Alistair uses humor as a defense mechanism to cope with his childhood traumas, and it is very common, especially self-deprecating and dark humor. According to G. Swaminath, “Freud postulated that humor [sic] works by means of two principal mechanisms, ‘condensation’ and ‘displacement’. Condensation entails an economy in thought and expression and conserves psychic energy, and displacement transfers this psychic energy arising from conflict or incongruity to a humorous anecdote, which brings relief. Freud believed that cultivating a sense of humor [sic] could help lift repressions (i.e. unconscious conflictual material) but could also be harmful, particularly in certain forms of sarcasm and irony, directed at the self.”

(source)

Most, if not all of Alistair’s humor, is directed at himself in a very self-deprecating manner. Whether to make the player feel better, to make himself seem unimportant, or because his self-esteem is truly that low.

For Alistair, appearing as an idiot was the easiest way to be under the radar. He never wanted to be King. He didn’t want people to treat him differently, either, for knowing that King Maric was his father. The best way to seem insignificant was to belittle himself and appear that he was an ‘idiotic nobody’.

On top of all this, the player can even callout Alistair for using humor as a defense mechanism and deflecting questions that he doesn’t really want to answer.

It’s not that Alistair is truly unintelligent or ‘whiny/annoying,’ he is using humor to cope and defend in the best way he knows how.

So, is Alistair actually intelligent?

Firstly, intelligence is hard to measure. One person’s definition of intelligence could vary wildly from another person’s. There’s also the perspective that intelligence can be categorized. For example, a person may be book-smart but not street-smart and vice-versa. Who is to say, however, that both are not equally as intelligent, but just in different categories? There is no basis for ‘intelligence.’ Everyone can be intelligent in their own way, and for Alistair, he is intelligent on history (specifically chantry), battle tactics, and knowing deception/people’s motives. 

(Alistair not being told what the dark ritual is for)

As @mahariel-theirin​ said: “Right from the start you can just tell Alistair is smart, and not just because of his wit. When the Warden asks him about the origin of darkspawn he says, “You want the Chantry version, or the truth?” When asked about the fight with the mage, he calls out the revered mother’s power play by using him as a messenger. Look at that insight. That awareness. And that’s just from the first 5 minutes of meeting him.”

End Notes:

Take out of this what you will. But Alistair is more of a ‘hunk’ than a ‘himbo,’ and shouldn’t be discredited. He was abused and neglected his whole life. I personally believe Alistair should be given more credit than he has been receiving, and BioWare for creating a character that is so in-depth and fleshed out they have deceived people in believing that Alistair is truly dumb. Which, ironically, is what Alistair wanted in-game. I am not in any way saying to quit joking about Alistair being a ‘himbo’ either! A lot of the jokes are quite funny. This was purely made out of the informational interest of some people not quite understanding Alistair’s character and truly believing he might be one of the most stupid people in Thedas (and potentially misunderstanding his humor/defense/coping mechanism as stupidity). If anything, Alistair is ‘himbo-passing’ at best.

Also, with special thanks to @planesofduality for their Dragon Age Compendium. It was tremendously useful, and I thank you for all the time and devotion you put in to it to make it possible. Many thanks! Also thanks to @sundogsandrainbows, @not-plaidweave​, and @irhinoceri​ for discussing this with me and encouraging me to make this meta.

[struwwelzeter]

For a variety of reasons, I got into a bit of a rabbit hole about Richard's guitars, and my brain went "oh I know someone who will probably have opinions on this" so essentially, if you feel like it, pretty please talk RZK guitars to me? Favourite? Retired one that needs to come back? (Though I probably already know the answer, that fancy black one?)

Allrighty, buckle up because this is gonna be long. After much consideration I have decided to split it up in two parts because I don’t think I can make it fit into one post that is still vaguely tumblr appropriate, and I really wanted to do it some sort of justice. I still feel like I don’t. But oh well. Full disclaimer, I am NOT a guitarist, but I lived with a few, two of my best friends are pro players and I’m a sponge so I kind of soaked some bits and pieces up over the last 15 years. But in case any lost guitar hero finds this and disagrees with me over the finer points of tone wood: I know honey, I oversimplified, and I am wrong. I tried? 💜 for easier read I formatted everything specific to Richard’s guitars normally and anything general about electric guitars in cursive.

My main sources besides watching about a 100 a month of guitar tube videos (that is youtube for guitarists) with my ex, my main sources will be this interview and this.

Richard Z. Kruspe (of Rammstein and Emigrate)’s Guitars - In Order of Appearance, Part 1/2

Diamant (Les Paul Style)

“I traded the acoustic for a guitar called Diamant, which was like a Les Paul version in East Germany.” - RZK

Now I’m skipping the acoustic he started out with, because it’s basically impossible to know what that was, and go straight into the electric. Now presumably, it would have been something like this, a soviet build Les Paul rip off. The irony is that these still go for several thousands up on reverb today for being historical and collectors pieces. The thing is, that while anything east build might have used cheaper materials, I would assume this thing isn’t worse than any of the beginner/intermediate models sold today, if not better, and kids all over the world do decent stiff with those.

Something general about electric guitars is that you don’t really so much play the guitar, you play an entire system. The instrument doesn’t make the sound, it only influences it. You play a guitar - but you even more so play the amp. Which makes this a bit tricky, because an e-guitar is a slab of wood and a copper coil, and amps are way more complex. You can make the exact same guitar sound so many ways. Still - there are tendencies. The fact how and why and to which degree the shape and wood of a solid body (a guitar without a hollow wood piece) influences the sound is highly debated and can get a bit esoteric sounding to sane people non-guitarists, but there are some differences in how the general set up and build of the guitar changes things, and tendencies how they are traditionally outfitted. Les Paul style guitars are normally humbucker guitars, Stratocasters and Telecasters normally are outfitted with single coils. Usually a guitarist can switch - between using the bridge, the neck, or both (or more) pick ups and depending on where the pick up is located they pick up different frequencies, different aspects of the sound. Humbuckers produce a richer, deeper or fuller sound than single coils. Very roughly speaking, think the Stones vs. Metallica.

Fender Stratocaster

“Then in East Germany, we had this imagination to get one of the great guitars, to me it was always the Fender Stratocaster because it was the Jimi Hendrix guitar. I didn’t know anything about pickups or humbuckers or whatever. So there was this guy that I met in a café in my old hometown and he was buying all these books because he could get all the books out through customs and he would store them in my apartment. So we became kind of acquainted. He would come over and pick up the books. So one time he came over and I asked him if he could get me a guitar and bring it over. In East Germany, if you exchange money from East to West it would be like 1 East mark and 20 West mark. SO everything I had, I changed it to West Mark and I gave him the money and I gave him the money and asked him to please buy me a Fender Stratocaster. I gave him the money and I didn’t hear anything for like three months, nothing. I wasn’t able to call because we didn’t have phones and stuff like that – it was a different time. So I thought fuck, I gave him 1400 west mark and now he’s gone and never coming back. [...] Then my imagination was so high, I thought the guitar would just play by itself and I wouldn’t really have to do anything, which I found out was bullshit. I was really happy that I had the guitar but it wasn’t really the sound that I had in mind.” - RZK

The first time I heard that story, I literally went “no, no, no, don’t be stupid, don’t give him your money, you won’t even like that guitar, stupid, lost dumbass.” I can not, for the life of me, imagine him play anything other than humbuckers. He apparently does use single coils for some things today again in the studio, but still, it’s so obviously wrong. He did play one again sometime during the late 90s, but I couldn’t find anything on the pick ups he used with that, but can hardly imagine he kept the original, unless he needed it for a specific sound maybe in one or two songs. I get it though. For many, many people the Fender Stratocaster is THE guitar. Jimi Hendrix is the main reason for that, but it’s also the countless idols that picked it up after him for the same reason, people who ended up plastered on the walls of angsty teenagers in their own right. This totally has to do with the whole amp thing aswell. You see your idol play that type of guitar ... but it’s not even half of the sound, and it won’t sound the same. Maybe probably they changed the pick ups, they have an effect rig, the spend hours fiddling with the knobs on an amp you can never afford. It’s never the same. Which is why ...

Fender Telecaster Black Gold

Then I had a guitar that I was very fond of. It was an older black and gold telecaster – there weren’t very many of them made at that point. I put a Seymour Duncan Jeff Beck SH-4 in there, like a humbucker. I remember it was like my beauty guitar and I needed someone to put that pickup in and I was with Paul and he had more experience with that stuff than me so he would get out a hammer and a chisel and he start banging away on it and I was like ‘Fuck! Fuck! Don’t do that!’ but we put the thing in there and it was one of my favorite guitars” - RZK

... this one first didn’t really make sense for me for him. It’s even more a classic single coil guitar than the Strat is, and it only really started making sense for me when I learned he Paul indeed put a Humbucker in there. It’s a stunningly beautiful guitar, and weirdly non-modern for him. I don’t know why and this is completely instinctual on my part, but I find it fitting he played it during that time after the wall came down, which seems to have been a rough time for him generally, it seems like a somehow super emotional guitar, this relic. Telecasters were some of the first electrics ever build, it’s such a pioneer, but it’s also one that alot of punk bands used, possibly because they were old and cheap in the 70s and noisy and people customized it and put other pick ups in. The whole putting a chisel to it and adding a humbucker into it is such a “I’m gonna make whatever I have fit for me, and I’ll love it” move. If you look at it, a double coil pick up is really something you have to force to go in there, you really have to break it open. There is also this:

“... and then I think I had to sell it because I needed drugs or something. I was really sad that I sold it because I was at a very low point in my life.” - RZK

If I would get the chance to do one thing only for him to thank him for his music, I would go back in time to that Richard who is just sad about selling that guitar and hug him, and tell him he doesn’t need to worry, because they will name guitars after him in the future. It breaks my heart so fucking much. But of course, it’s what opens the doors to what happens next, which is ...

ESP 901

“That led me to my very first convention in Frankfurt. With guitars, it is like with women, you have to fall in love. Sometimes you get a guitar and you fall in love later but there has to be some sort of connection with it. So I was walking around that convention and I saw that guitar hanging at the ESP stand. It was a 901 ESP Sunburst and I was looking at it because it was such a beauty. And I was walking around for hours – they probably thought I was some weird guy who wants to steal the guitar. I bought that guitar and that’s how I got connected with ESP.” -RZK

He might have fallen for it because it is pretty, but it did come with a ESP double humbucker set up, with an added condensator to muffle up the sound, although not yet an active one (more on that later). It was a 90s metal guitar, one of those things marketed to the Metallica generation, something loud and heavy and full. Also, and this is where I will put in another general insert, there is something else about the choice of electric guitars that we haven’t talked about yet.

Now, I’ve discussed that you can push or pull the sound of a electric quite far in one or the other direction with what pick ups you use, what effects, what amps. But what this ignores is that especially standing up a guitar is a really shitty asymmetrical piece of equipment. And what that does to your body is that it needs to fit you, your hands, and your playing style. Some people prefer it chunky, others like sender. Guitarists, especially the 80s shredders, like to talk about a “fast neck”, which is another one of those things that get slightly esoteric, but which usually means a slimmer neck and slightly bigger frets, that need less way for your fingers to press until the string gets stopped. Someone who plays very bendy blues might dislike that and prefer something to dig in their fingers more down to the fretboard to get more control over how they bend the string. There are different neck profiles, there are different neck lengths, and all of it contributes to how comfortable someone might find their guitar.

I am mentioning this, because until today, Richard’s guitars are build very similarly to that ESP 901. His Eclipse Model is a tad different (again, more on that later), but the one he uses the most, the RZK I, has the same neck scale, similar frets, and that comfortable ESP slender neck. Even the shape seems to be inspired by turning it upside down. He has said in interviews that he hasn’t got very strong hands, and it makes perfect sense to me. I bought my own electric (again, more on that later) purely because I wanted to own one and not even so much because I ever had any real ambitions of learning to play it, but my friends at the time (10 years ago now) forced me to try out alot (!) of models (despite me knowing what I wanted), and the only guitars that I tried that had slimmer necks were Ibanez guitars, which in turn were wider. Ironically Frankfurt is my hometown, so the place to try a lot of different models is That exact convention Richard went to, and I haven’t skipped a Musikmesse in the last 15 years. I was at atleast one were Richard was too (I just didn’t care at the time, yikes), and it somehow greatly pleases me he found “his” guitar at that particular convention. Things have changed in recent years, but electric guitars always were in Hall 4.01, with ESP being left of center in the middle, and I don’t know, I can just see him walking in circles around it, and it makes me so emotional for him because it’s what musicians do at that place. It’s really loud, everyone is playing, there is someone better noodling around at every corner, and it can be quite an intimidating setting I think. And every year you see that one kid coming back and back again to that same stand, staring at that one guitar until they finally work up the nerve and ask to try it (or the staff takes pity on them and offer). And it’s the same everytime, they think “oh god they must think I am crazy” but really, nobody does. Everyone in that hall who owns a heart knows what those dreams are made of, and all it maybe does inspire is a “oh god, I hope that one makes it”. I digress. I think it’s more common now to look for different neck styles and companies started caring about it, but especially coming from Fender and Gibson guitars, that neck is honestly just very, very nice for weaker hands.

This is where I will stop, because it makes a good moment for a break and this post is honestly getting too out of hand otherwise. There will be a part 2 - where Richard starts using active pick ups, starts playing my favorite guitar in the whole wide world (and stops playing it), and finally, set up his own signature.

This is him with that 901 though: when he must have had it pretty much brandnew, while he used it, and right before he sold it.

[romantichopelessly]

Not a Cinderella Story

This is my contribution to @dukexietyweek 2020! The prompt was Fairytales and I followed it... very loosely. This is also a bullet fic because I scrapped my plot no less than three times over the course of writing this.

Pairing: Romantic Dukexiety, Implied/Background Mociet

Words: 2072

Warnings: jealousy, misunderstandings, toxic behavior

Synopsis: When Remus, Roman and Virgil were young, they were inseparable. They always played pretend--castles and princesses and dragons. But everyone has to grow up. Things change.

----

Remus Sanders and his twin brother Roman have always been close. “Attached at the hip” some would say. Specifically, their mother, neighbors, and preschool teachers.

They always do the same things. They like the same juice. The same snacks. They play with the same toys, and they always laugh at the same things.

Their bond is unbreakable. They are the perfect duo. They never need anyone else.

Until they meet Virgil Storm.

They meet him early in their second grade year. Virgil is… a weird kid. He wears a purple jacket with cat ears on the hood in the middle of August. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone at lunchtime. He wears different colored socks and carries a lunchbox with cartoon spiders on it that says “Happy Halloween” even when it isn’t October.

He’s odd.

Remus loves him. And because Remus loves him, so does Roman.

The three of them make quick friends, underneath the tree on the playground, sitting in the grass and sharing easy smiles, as children do.

Roman suggests that they play a game that he and Remus invented all on their own--Knights and Dragons.

Virgil is quick to agree, because young children don’t have anything to worry about beyond silly games with their peers.

Remus believes that Knights and Dragons is a much more fun experience with three people. Sometimes Virgil is a knight, with Roman, and they both chase Remus around the school yard, giggling and waving sticks like they’re swords. And other times, Virgil is a dragon with Remus, and the two of them roar and yell and flap their arms like wings.

Virgil makes Remus laugh in ways that he thought only his brother could. Virgil laughs with him, not at him.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and soon, for the imaginative boy that was Roman Sanders, Knights and Dragons is not enough.

Knights and Dragons are boring in the eyes of a third grader.

Roman suggests one day that they add a princess to their game of Knights and Dragons.

Remus (rightfully) thinks that this is a very stupid idea. Princesses are for Disney movies and fairytales. Remus Sanders most definitely does not live in a fairytale.

But Roman loves fairytales. And Roman loves Disney. And, unfortunately, so does Virgil.

So they add a princess to their game. Oftentimes, this princess is played by Virgil, but sometimes Roman steps into the role. Remus is just glad that he gets to stay a big scary dragon.

That is… Until just a princess being kidnapped by a dragon and saved by a courageous knight is not enough for young Roman Sanders.

No, Roman wants more. Roman wants to emulate his favorite movies and his new favorite theme of said movies--

Romance.

So Knights and Dragons and Princesses turns into… Playing Cinderella.

There definitely wasn’t a dragon in Cinderella.

Remus is quickly shoved into the roles of the ugly stepsisters and stepmother. Don’t get it wrong! He loves playing the villain. He loves laughing maniacally and calling his brother funny names and getting away with it without punishment, because it was just pretend.

He doesn’t so much like sitting in the grass of his own backyard, watching while Roman and Virgil twirl around, holding hands and “dancing” to imaginary music while they “fall in love.”

It’s boring.

He’s almost glad when Roman’s phase of playing pretend Disney princesses ends.

Except that he can’t be. Because it ends with the three of them turning twelve and entering the dreaded halls of middle school. It ends with Roman joining the school theater club and making a whole bunch of new friends.

It ends with Virgil and Remus suddenly being left to walk home from school alone one day.

Despite his brother’s popularity, both Remus and Virgil are… outcasts of a sort. And since they just downgraded from a trio to a duo, their friendship is a bit more… strained. They still have the closeness of five years of best friendship, but there’s something… missing.

Cue Janus Duncan.

Janus is also an outcast. Janus is like a fairy godmother who comes in to save the poor outcasts at the last second, turning bleak days into wishes come true (if eating school lunch under the bleachers and snorting with laughter as they mix all the slushie options at 7-11 into one cup can be considered wishes come true), and wearing a super cool leather jacket that was two sizes too big, but definitely influenced Remus’s punk phase.

Because, oh yeah. They definitely both start their punk phases after meeting Janus Duncan.

Honestly meeting Janus really is a wish come true for Remus. A miracle among the comedy of errors that was his teenage years.

Because after about a year of Virgil, Janus and Remus being the perfect trio 2.0, Remus starts to… notice some things.

One thing is the way that his heart seems to inflate like a little balloon in Remus’s chest when Virgil smiles at him. The way that his guts squirm when Virgil laughs at one of his jokes, true and bright. The way that Remus catches himself staring at Virgil’s crooked smile, or his chipped nail polish as his fingers twirl around in his hoodie strings.

The second thing has… a lot of the same signs honestly.

Because Remus starts to notice how Virgil always watches Roman when he’s over at Remus’s house. The way that Virgil always smiles and waves at Remus’s twin brother when they pass one another in the hallway at school, his pale cheeks flushing a soft pink.

It makes a terrible, sickly green emotion curl in Remus’s stomach.

Jealousy.

So when Virgil tentatively brings up trying out for the school play, and asks Remus if Roman would mind running some lines with him, Remus does something he isn’t proud of.

He snaps. He tells Virgil that he shouldn’t try. That he won’t even make it. That he isn’t popular kid material. That Roman isn’t his friend anymore, god, Virgil, can’t you take a hint?

He watches it happen like he isn’t the one controlling his own body. He sees the shock take over Virgil’s features. The years of easy trust crumble before his very eyes as Virgil reels back in horror. He can taste the jealousy on his tongue.

As Virgil leaves, Remus knows that he is the villain of this story.

He can see it as plainly as if he had shattered Virgil’s dreams right in front of him, like so much of a shattered glass shoe on the palace steps.

That night, Janus comes over and lets Remus have it.

For about five minutes, before Remus breaks down and tells the truth to his now one and only best friend and lecturing quickly turns to comforting.

By the time that they start high school, the original trio has withered down to just Remus. The other two thirds are nearly distant memories. One a locked door down the hall, and the other three lockers down, speaking to new friends.

Anyone would choose the prince over the ugly stepsister. He couldn’t blame them.

The spring of their sophomore year, the school announces that they will be putting on a production of none other than Cinderella.

Roman auditions, of course. He gets the role of the Prince.

Virgil doesn’t audition, but he offers himself up for the role of stage manager.

Virgil and Roman’s friends Patton and Logan audition. They get the roles of mice, but they don’t seem at all upset by that fact.

Janus auditions. He gets the role of the fairy godmother.

Janus asks Remus to audition.

Remus refuses. He doesn’t want to play a campy version of the ugly stepsisters in front of the entire school. He may not care about this hell hole, but he isn’t going to make his remaining two years any worse than they have to be.

Janus drags Remus to rehearsals anyway. Kicking and screaming.

By some miraculous happenstance, Remus suddenly becomes the set designer for the show.

He may be imagining things, but he is pretty sure that that has something to do with what Janus, Roman and the director were whisper-arguing about in the first week of rehearsals.

Remus is grateful for it. Not that he plans on saying so. He still can’t bring himself to apologize to Virgil, but watching him from afar still brings those butterflies to Remus’s stomach.

One night, after rehearsal, Remus is putting the finishing touches on the carriage prop, which has quickly gone from inconsequential to him to his very own magnum opus. He’s just testing out its mobility when he hears soft laughter.

Naturally, he follows the sounds.

Stage left, hidden in the wings, Remus sees his brother, in full costume, standing across from Virgil, who is chuckling and gently smoothing his hands across the front of Roman’s costume.

Remus sees green. His old friend Jealousy curls around him like the dragon that he used to love to play.

He barely restrains himself from breaking the very set that he worked so hard on.

Funnily enough, that is progress.

The night before the play opens, there is a house party. Remus isn’t quite sure who is hosting, but the cast and company are the only people invited.

Remus doesn’t want to go.

Janus makes Remus go.

Begrudgingly, Remus has a good time. He has a good time drinking soda and watching the other stage hands tell stories about past productions. He has a good time laughing at Janus as he unsuccessfully tries to flirt with the boy in the bright blue sweater who plays a mouse.

He is still having a good time when the girl who plays Cinderella herself caps a plastic bottle and places it on the ground, calling for everyone to gather around for a game of spin the bottle.

Remus finds himself sitting between Janus and his giggly mouse boy, and some other techie who wears sunglasses indoors.

There are a few fun rounds. Roman has to kiss the girl playing the stepmother. One of the mice has to kiss Cinderella. It’s all in good fun.

That is, until Remus isn’t really paying attention and the mouth of the bottle is suddenly facing him. He blinks.

From across the circle, the studious looking mouse speaks up. “Janus clearly touched the bo-” The hand of one of the set designers covers the mouse’s mouth.

Remus blinks again. “So who’s the lucky bastard I’m making out with?”

All eyes turn to Virgil, who looks like a startled mouse himself.

Shit.

Virgil is up before anyone can say anything, backing away from the circle and spinning on his heel before making a beeline for the kitchen. Remus follows, standing up before his mind even catches up with his body. He sees Roman making to stand up too, but he holds out a hand.

Even after years of not being close, Roman can tell what he means without a word.

Remus follows Virgil into the kitchen and finds him leaning against the counter.

“Didn’t want to kiss the ugly stepsister that badly, huh?”

“What?”

“You… You know, Emo, like that stupid game Roman always made us play when we were ankle biters.”

“Wh- First of all, you and Roman are identical twins. You look exactly the same. That was just a game.”

Remus shrugs, as if he hasn’t carried that game and all it implied with him for the entirety of his teenage years.

“And… No. It wasn’t- I just didn’t want to kiss you in front of everyone.”

Remus pretends like that doesn’t make his heart shatter into a hundred tiny pieces.

Virgil seems to see it anyway. “I mean that I don’t want to… have my first kiss in front of all of them. It’s nothing against you, they just- they just all know about my crush.”

Virgil says it like it’s something stupid. Like being in love is something shameful. Like liking Roman Sanders isn’t something that literally everyone in that room except for Remus has in common.

“Your crush on my brother?”

Virgil looks at him like he’s the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.

He probably is.

Because he doesn’t see it coming for a second when Virgil steps closer, cups Remus’s cheek in his hand like he is made of something precious and priceless, and closes the gap to kiss him.

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

Shit I have recently read, #2 Chapterhouse: Dune (vol.6) by Frank Herbert

Aka my final encounter with the Original Dune series written by Herbert Dad. Am I masochistic enough to start the continuation written by Herbert Son, basing the story on his Dad’s notes? Probably nope. But I already bought the prequels, sigh, so I probably will read them one day. Because I’m dumb. And the story is about Grandpa Leto and I love him

Going to be eternally butthurt that Herbert Dad died before he finished the series, I feel it was a middle of the story and he had a lot to tell more. And from what I have seen, you need to be a masochist to read what the Herbert Son and Co have written as continuation.

Not going to try to sound smart about this whole series, because everything is already written by the series fans. But what I have learnt/liked/got intrigued by the 6 books

-There are many examples in the history of so called charismatic leaders that were leading the blind masses into the void. EVEN after their deaths. Aka the more charismatic person, the more you should question his or her motives. Also, don’t trust any government. Question it. Be suspicious. Don’t follow people, without asking questions.

-History? Be cynical about it. It is always written by the winners. The other side usually saw things differently. Also, ever wondered why we really don’t have in the textbooks anything about women who STAYED and tried to survived while the sons, husbands and fathers were dying in the mindless battles? Yeah. Also, the historical records ALWAYS are written to make some groups happy. It’s quite obvious, but we tend to forget it.

-A lot of things are simply relativistic. In on society they may be taboo, in other something normal and in other something people are going to die for. What does it mean for us? Especially now, when we can talk on internet with people from so many countries and cultures? Once again, pretty obvious, but we like to ignore it while judging others.

“Revenge is for children and the emotionally retarded.” –I’m staring at Lena so, so, so hard.

-The whole conception of getting rid of AI and high technology (because some wanted to use them against humans) and dealing with life on “billions of planets” was intriguing and he made it believable – I can believe in that universe. Also, super humans (called mentats) with some super abilities gaining with genes and training, being living computers, being able to tie facts in milliseconds and make conclusions it’s awesome too.

And ok, maybe because I read grim fantasy, so incest, rapes, some super questionable sex scenes etc. don’t faze me, so I did not have a problem with a lot of… weird stuff in the series, still some things made me wonder what was a writing choice and what was the author’s… believes:

-Bene Gesserit and their eugenic plans to make humanity better… yeah, we have seen it a few times in history, right? (say hi to Nazis and that horrible thing that was happening in usamerica not so long ago).On the other hand, treating humanity like cattle was… funny in a way. But still disgusting.

-But seriously, why there was soooo many talks about SPERM. Like? Thanks, TMI. Also, a drinking game: take a shot  every time Duncan Idaho say he is not a sperm donor or something like that and enjoy your hangover. Also, the fact he became one from my fave characters to  someone I basically hate with passion was an achievement, thanks  Herbert *sarcasm* I mean, maybe it’s hard to talk about him like about one and the same character, when he becomes a ghola on some point (aka a clone that has possess the memories of the original body), still he simply pissed me off too many times. He’s just… the same sappy, mopping idiot in his every version and the fact his EVERY romance ends the same doesn’t help. I don’t know, maybe that was Herbert way to say everything comes back and universe works like a wheel that repeats everything all the time.

- I liked how, mostly, the most powerful characters that behave like mature adults with a plan are women. Bene Gesserit aka witches are basically kicking asses bitches with a plan. Guys? Emotional babies or annoying “I’m better than you” dudes you want to throw outside the window and enjoy their screaming. The only exceptions are Leto I and Teg.

-Also, sigh, there is TOO MUCH shit about SEX that became … ugh…, but the fact some group powerful women called Honored Matre, use sex as something to control and brainwash males into lap dogs is, one again, amusing.

-Herbert in a way was worse than George Martin. You like that character? Cool, he or she died OFF PAGES.

-Interesting how Jews and their story was included in the series. They are still on the run, they are still suspicious, they still are waiting for a disaster.

-There were some controversial lines and characters that smell like homophobia and hate against women.

-The way it’s written. You just read through mountain of dialogues and inner thoughts about philosophy history, politics, sociology, there is almost no action and you still sit and read, intrigued for 500 or more pages and you still like it.

Basically, I can’t say every line of this series is a masterpiece (like some fans say) but it’s super solid, amazingly written universe that makes sense. A must read for sci-fi fans as for the rest, you can try at least the first volume. It’s worth the hype.

[missnight0wl]

What is your opinion on all the different trios throughout the game? I’m not sure if I remember all of them. Before Penny & Bill, it was mainly MC, Rowan, & Ben in Year 1. Merula had her own trio with Barnaby & Ismelda in year 3. Year 5 had Ratepick create a trio with MC, Merula, & Bill. The original golden trio came together after they fought a troll and year 6 tried to do a darker version of that where MC, Merula, & Ben came together because they all lost and shared an awful experience.

Ah, yes. Jam City seems to enjoy trinities, don’t they? Almost like Rowling herself. All right, let’s start from the beginning.

The Original Trio: MC, Rowan, Ben

I love them, and the fact that we didn’t get more content with them – both in the earlier years and when they were going through all the changes – is a true crime. I’d argue that even when Penny appeared, it was mostly about those three, simply because of how much in common they really have. They’re just three outcasts brought together: MC with Jacob’s reputation, Rowan with their social awkwardness, and Ben with his belief that he doesn’t belong to the wizarding world. But they also have their unique strengths, and they just… make it work. This is such a good basis to build a story. If the writers didn’t neglect it, the current events would be more meaningful, too.

The Slytherin Trio: Merula, Barnaby, Ismelda

I’d say that it’s kind of the opposite situation to the Original Trio. MC befriended Rowan and Ben because they were outcasts, and they ended up benefiting from each other’s powers, while with Merula, it seems like it’s a benefit which brought them together (Barnaby is one of the strongest wizards at school, and say what you want, but I believe that Ismelda is pretty powerful as well). I also know that quite a lot of people want to know more about their history and whatnot, but honestly… I don’t care much. We saw that Merula treated both Barnaby and Ismelda like rubbish (she kind of still does), and I don’t really need to learn more about that. The only thing I want when it comes to that trio is to actually see Merula acting decently towards the other two.

You know, the dynamic that interests me more is Tulip’s relationship with Barnaby and Ismelda when she was still hanging out with them. I remember that when the Animagus TLSQ started with Tulip and Barnaby, I had almost an epiphany moment: “Oh, right. They kind of were friends even before, weren’t they?”. Tell me that story. What about Ismelda? Their relation wasn’t addressed at all, either as positive or negative.

Rakepick’s Apprentices: MC, Bill, Merula

Hm, now that I think about it, I have to say… I don’t exactly see them as a unit, not really. I mean, the formation of this group was one of the first things that happened in Y5, but then, it was kind of… forgotten? Usually, Rakepick was meeting with MC one on one. Then, with Knockturn Alley, Jae was temporarily added to the group. The trio got more attention by the end of the year, but we still had one additional person going with us to the Vault (plus Ben). Overall, I feel like we didn’t spend enough time with them to even notice clear relationships forming between them, especially when it comes to Bill and Merula. They tried to give Bill a mediator role during our meeting at the Three Broomstick, but that’s also where it ended if you ask me. In most of the later interactions, Merula was quite disrespectful towards Bill, but he was sort of ignoring that.

The “Ones Who Saw Rowan Die”: MC, Ben, Merula

I really don’t like it. First of all, I kind of hate it that it’s totally ignored that Merula destroyed any confidence that Ben could’ve had otherwise, from the moment they were at the Hogwarts express. She fixated him on the fact that he doesn’t belong to the wizarding world because of his blood status, and nothing else could reach to him. And now, it’s just being swept under the carpet because “trauma and revenge”. It doesn’t help that both Ben and Merula are being written sloppily. I love Ben’s arc in years 1-5, and I do want to love New Ben because I think it could’ve been a very interesting plot. But the execution of it is becoming worse and worse. 

Also, I think that their relationship is not healthy for anyone in this trio. There’s no balance or even benefits. Both Ben and Merula are currently very narrow-minded which is a problem for MC’s plan of working together. The whole thing is an emotional disaster as well. Ben and Merula need therapy which is NOT MC’s responsibility. MC, on the other hand, needs support and reassurance, and they won’t get any of that from those two. Merula straight up put the blame on MC in the recent chapter, and Ben is just an additional reason to worry with his guilt.

 I can think of two more trios I’d like to address here.

The Forgotten Trio: Jacob, Duncan, Olivia

Even though we know extremely little about them, I think they’re very intriguing. It’s more territory of theories and speculations, but this ask reminded me about another post I made over a year ago where I compared this trio with Rakepick’s Apprentices. I feel like it’s still pretty relevant, so you might be interested in reading it: here.

The Cursed Trio: MC, Jacob, Rakepick

I called them “Cursed” mostly because I do believe that the siblings are cursed for real due to their connection with the Cursed Vaults. I don’t necessarily think that Rakepick is also cursed, at least not in the same way, but frankly – who knows. Either way, this is the most fascinating trio, in my opinion, and the main thing that keeps me playing the game. The comparisons made between them are scattered throughout the story, but they were never explained properly. And I’m dying to know the truth. Also, I committed once yet another post I can recommend in this place: here.

[hippriestess]

Part 3 - “ I thought we had some kind of agreement but with you it was just prurience”

So, where were we. Ah yes....Record Store Day 2019.

It was, perhaps inevitably, a heavy day for Fall fans. Lead-in times both for the manufacture of vinyl records and for participation in RSD are such that Smith's death came too late for the impact to be evident in the 2018 event but for 2019, we were absolutely flooded in a way that caused some, quite rightly, to question the judgement of the organisers in allowing so many obvious vultures to swoop in for an easy bite. 

The “monitor mixes” from the 2CD edition of “The Unutterable” were pressed to vinyl for the first time. “Whoo-fucking-pee” quoth the faithful and you will have absolutely no difficulty acquiring it today should you be down to few enough marbles for it to seem like a good investment. BMG hold the rights to the group's Rough Trade recordings and went with a box set of five 7” singles under the awful title “Medicine For The Masses”. This was the exact same format as “The Rough Trade Singles Box” from 2002 although with the bonus of containing the correct Peel Session versions of “Container Drivers” and “New Puritan” (Castle/Sanctuary had updated the 5 disc CD edition once they had acquired the rights to the BBC tracks but the vinyl edition of Italy's Earmark Records retained the Grotesque and Totale's Turns versions used in the initial pressings). Given not only that none of this material is any way scarce but that an excellent single LP release had been given to all 10 tracks in the box (Peel takes included) by US imprint Superior Viaduct in 2018, it was perhaps inevitable that “Medicine For The Masses” pretty much flopped on the day and can now be acquired brand new for a good £10 less than the asking price on the day itself.

Ah yes, Superior Viaduct, let's not forget them. A well-regarded reissue label with a smattering of current artists, they had already issued some Fall vinyl in 2016/2017, putting all the studio albums up to “Perverted By Language” back onto vinyl as well as the first 2 singles and the eternally category-defying “Slates” 10”. Following Smith's passing, they have (almost) completed the task with the aforementioned “Rough Trade Singles” LP and a new pressing of “Totale's Turns”. These editions have been very well received and have been praised for the quality both of the mastering and of the pressings but they remain largely inaccessible to UK fans due to licensing restrictions preventing the editions from being imported. As such, you'll hafta pick these up on a one-to-one basis off your own bat.

Right, back to Record Store Day 2019. We also had the “opportunity” to buy a number of live albums. 5 of them, in fact. All of these had previously been released on CD towards the end of 2018...so this was going to be called Crap Rap Part 14 but it's now called “Stop Releasing Every Gig You Can Find On Some Mouldy Third Generation Maxell C90 on a double LP”

Live albums have always been canon with The Fall. “Totale's Turns” was their 3rd LP release, “Live In London 1980” was issued by Chaos Tapes with the group's permission in 1982, “Fall In A Hole” was allowed until copies were exported. We had “Seminal Live” and “The 27 Points” mixing live with studio, as did “I Am Kurious Oranj” with several tracks recorded during the original Edinburgh run of the ballet. Even the “Perverted By Language Bis” video was largely live material. Even once the shark was jumped in the late 90s/early 00s with the endless recycling of those outtake/live compilations, there were official live missives, such as the excellent “Last Night At The Palais” in 2009, the wonderfully titled but patchy “Uurop VIII-XII Places in Sun & Winter, Son” in 2014 though to the terrible “Live In Clitheroe” in 2017. So, all in, it comes as no surprise at all that over 20 more live albums have been added to The Fall's discography since Smith's sad departure from this realm.

There were no less than 5 live albums dumped merrily onto the shelves for RSD 2019, 3 of them doubles. On their own, this would have been an outlay of over £100...in fact, if you wanted the full RSD Fall, you'd have had little or no change on the day from £250. For exactly no unreleased music. No unreleased music? What were these live albums then? Let's wind back to late in 2018... (I told you this was tough to do in any kind of linear fashion).

Arriving via the PledgeMusic site, “Set Of Ten” released by “Cog Sinister”, worked like this: 10 previously unreleased live recordings were contained in a sturdy square box with spiffy new artwork from Pascal LeGras. The tariff? £100. Ouch. Now, a handful of them were announced as separate releases, however, if you bought the box you would receive an exclusive disc – a recording from Derby, 1994. Cometh the hour, the Derby CD was one of the first to be released on its own. Huh.

A small amount of digging revealed that this set was the work of Rob Ayling. With the dates running from 1980 to 1999, the general opinion re: Set Of Ten was that these tapes were very likely to be in Ayling's possession due to the “Live From The Vaults” series on Voiceprint, Ayling's previous imprint, from 2005. When that series was announced, the five releases were said to be simply the first batch.  It could therefore be deduced that these tapes had been destined for future batches. At the time, there was a minor dust-up over them and no further volumes were issued. Whatever the motivations, presenting an 11 CD set of old bootlegs with so little quality control being put into the audio and asking £100 for it felt like cold ash in the mouth. Worse still, PledgeMusic went bust before many customers could receive their sets, leaving them to either claim chargebacks on their credit cards or simply out of pocket as ordinary creditors to the failed business. It must have been galling for those who lost money to see the CDs arriving on their own and several cut onto expensive vinyl.

I've picked up a couple of the CDs separately and these have been largely fine. Recording quality is listenable but obviously audience derived. The best one by far of those I've heard is “Live 23rd June 1981 @ Jimmy's Music Club New Orleans”, a great recording of a full-tilt Fall performance from a critical time in their existence (pictured) . There's a palpable tension, possibly due to the return of Burns, brought back not just out of practicalities but also to even the group up a bit, now that Smith was beginning to reconsider the wisdom of having a team of childhood friends for a group. Rehiring Burns was designed to put some grit back into the machine and it worked. Having a full set from this line-up is a worthy addition to the canon and it should be snapped up before it vanishes – this is the only one of the “Set Of Ten” CDs that seems to be thin on the ground. The artwork and credits show the level of care taken over the release; that is – pretty much none. The CD artwork has the 6 piece “Hex” line-up – Karl Burns is the only drummer here as Paul Hanley was at home doing his O Levels. However, the sleeve credits Paul Hanley and not Burns, adding a credit for Duncan Burndred, who was the group's driver at the time. The info had been sourced from the “Slates & Dates” press release which credited Burndred with “the rest” (ie anything other than music and management). Likely pilfered from thefall.org, this missive was retooled for the artwork without any real consideration.

However, it seems there was sufficient demand out there and, cometh the tail end of 2019, cometh another Set of Ten, given the snappy title...”Another Set Of Ten”. They must have been up all fucking night thinking of that one. Again, it has 11 discs. It does get interesting here insofar as most of the tapes come from between 2009 and 2013 suggesting not only that there wasn't much left from the original “Vaults”- destined batch but also making it unclear from whom these tapes were being licenced. They are, of course, under no obligation to discuss such matters publicly and, indeed the current incarnation of Cog Sinister would likely feel aggrieved at having the question asked. They are, after all, a legitimate enterprise. 

A quick skwizz at the Discogs page tells you that “Another Set Of Ten” is not a triumph; all the tapes are listed as being audience tapes, one disc has just six songs from the gig and several others are also incomplete and/or mislabelled. The main contributor to the Discogs entry (to whom, hello!) notes that the tracklistings appear to be taken from photographs of setlists uploaded to thefall.org's justly revered and thoroughly sublime gigography but, where the setlist didn't match what was played, no attempt has been made to correct this. They haven't even matched up the content with the tracklistings!!! At time of writing, these ones are just starting to slip into the shops on their own, possibly Covid delayed as you could get them via online retailers for a while. The cover for a Manchester gig from 2009 looked like a sick joke and it was hard not to think similar (albeit at lower pitch) about the inclusion of an infamous Motherwell gig at which MES was completely plastered and Brix had quit the band an hour or so before the show. What's next? Worthing? Brownies?

Yet it is very hard not to be continually tempted. There's some juicy setlists in these discs and the artwork at least has some effort – Pascal LeGras has done a very fine job here and his art certainly gives the right feel to the releases. I'm guessing that was the plan. I’ve got my eye on a few. It’s a disease this, I tell you...

Anyway, one way of the other, 5 of the “Set Of Ten” discs found their way onto vinyl on RSD, courtesy of reissue imprint Let Them Eat Vinyl and all of these are still easy to score, should you wish. The whole Gonzo/Let Them Eat Vinyl hookup is interesting for scholars of who-owns-what in terms of The Fall's catalogue. As above, we know that BMG have the Rough Trade recordings but LTEV's “Grotesque”, issued in 2017, states it is licensed by Sanctuary.

LTEV have also been putting some of the other lesser releases from the catalogue onto vinyl, including 2 mid 90's live albums (Phoenix 1995 and “The Idiot Joy Show” - nothing that was wasn't available for buttons on CD in the early 00s) as well as “Interim”, the demos and live cobble-together that attempted to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in 2004. The latter had never been pressed to vinyl before and with bloody good reason.  Yr mileage, as always, may vary.

Whilst not The Fall, acolytes will doubtless want to know that Ed Blaney issued a 2CD edition of “The Train”, containing the full 40-minute “(Part Three)” CD, a similarly lengthed alternate version and a clutch of remixes. Blaney also uploaded a properly touching tribute to Smith on YouTube, including reminiscences with other friends of Smith.

One more part to come, in which we burn the spotlight of shame onto a couple of the worst products ever to have had the name The Fall unwillingly emblazoned upon their sleeves and take a quick look over some of what we know is in the pipeline.

[darthlordcommie]

Alistair

You know, as far as companions go, the first one you get is usually fairly 2-dimensional. Alistair isn’t. 

What I find most interesting about Alistair is that he was brainwashed by the Chantry during Templar training, and (either by his own realization or by Duncan’s help) he knows it. He actively improves on his views of mages, and is open to criticism when he messes up about it. What I find most telling is that he was introduced in DAO, before Bioware started trying to sell a grey morality regarding the Templars and mages. And if you look at his interactions with mages, it’s actually pretty interesting. Yes, the mage you see him talking to first wasn’t treated the best, and yes, he did bring up turning in Morrigan and Flemeth. But that changes pretty quickly. His and Morrigan’s constant bickering is based mainly on their personalities, and differing views. If I remember right, her being a mage rarely comes up, if at all. Alistair also gets along incredibly well with Wynne. He comes to see her as a surrogate grandmother pretty quickly (and that has implications I’ll talk about later). If you’re a mage, other than a couple jokes at the beginning, and a couple statements you can correct him on, he never treats you badly because of it. Now, on to other parts of Alistair’s character. 

Alistair’s backstory is two-fold: the backstory that everyone knows, and the actual truth. The truth, that only a select few know, is that Alistair is the half-elven son of King Maric and Fiona, an elven mage who is also a former Gray Warden. As Fiona couldn’t raise him, since her life and future was questionable at best due to her circumstances, and Maric may have been avoiding succession problems by not raising him, Duncan was the first to take Alistair into care. However, as a Gray Warden, Duncan couldn’t raise Alistair, so he had to find someone to raise him. Enter Arl Eamon, the brother-in-law of King Maric, and one of the more loyal Arls. He agreed to raise Alistair, and Duncan left Alistair with him, knowing that Alistair couldn’t be raised among the Gray Wardens. At this point, the “public” version of Alistair’s origins was told: Maric knocked up some poor maid at Redcliffe, she died giving birth to him, and he was being raised at the castle. Unfortunately, Duncan made a mistake trusting Eamon with Alistair. 

While he kept Alistair safe, fed, and alive, Eamon was anything but a good caretaker. As Alistair said himself, he often wound up sleeping in the kennels with the dogs, and once locked himself in the dungeon for a whole day without anyone finding him. That, combined with the growing dislike Alistair was often exposed to from Eamon’s wife Isolde, meant he did not have a good childhood. Interestingly, we hear of multiple times when Alistair was a rambunctious child with a temper, and, despite his levity, did in fact yearn for a connection to his family. Why would Eamon take in Alistair, yet do so much to beat him down emotionally? Because he wanted to use Alistair. For better or worse, Alistair was, after Cailan, the heir to the Theirin line, and as we’ve seen in DAO, that does count for quite a bit in the eyes of Fereldan, even if it’s not a guarantee to the throne. 

Ultimately, however, between Isolde’s insecurity regarding Alistair, and Alistair’s own unbending spirit, Eamon wound up sending Alistair away to be trained as a Templar. There he would remain, living as a Templar, possibly broken by lyrium addiction and Chantry harshness, until such time as Eamon may need him. Then came Duncan. I suspect that Duncan’s recruiting of Alistair into the Gray Wardens had 2 reasons: First, to bring in a willing recruit who had the Templar training in order to counter magic-wielding darkspawn. Second, to improve Alistair’s lot in life, and fulfill his promise to Fiona. (How do you think Duncan felt, when Alistair was so willing to devote himself to what is essentially a long-term death sentence, and how quickly he bonded with the other Gray Wardens?) 

So, this is where Alistair’s at when we meet him in DAO. He’s timid in many ways, constantly deflecting his feelings with jokes, and avoiding anything to do with leadership as much as he can. He’s also compassionate, dedicated to his duty, and intensely caring. His personal journey within DAO does depend on the player, but very much involves coming to grips with his grief over the loss of his family, (both in the Gray Warden’s deaths, and in his inability to have any relationship with his brother and who he thinks is his sister), and dealing with the responsibility of being one of the last 2 Gray Wardens in Fereldan. 

[blackswaneuroparedux]

James Bond and the Vesper Martini

“I can’t drink the health of your new frock without knowing your Christian name.”

“Vesper,” she said. Vesper Lynd....”

“I think it’s a fine name,” said Bond. An idea struck him. “Can I borrow it?” He explained about the special drink he had invented and his search for a name for it."The Vesper,” he said. “It sounds perfect and it’s very appropriate to the violet hour when my cocktail will now be drunk all over the world. Can I have it?”

“So long as I can try one first,” she promised. “It sounds a drink to be proud of.”

- Casino Royale by Ian Fleming (1953)

In 1952, British writer and former spy, Ian Fleming, penned what would become the first in a series of novels featuring a British secret agent named James Bond. In Casino Royale, published in 1953, Bond meets his American counterpart Felix Leiter for drinks and orders a very unusual martini. Bond’s instructions to the waiter are detailed and specific.

“A dry martini,” Bond said. “One. In a deep champagne goblet.” “Oui, monsieur.” “Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet.  Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?” “Certainly, monsieur.” The barman seemed pleased with the idea.

Bond initially tells Leiter the martini has no name, but later in the book Bond invites a beautiful Russian double-agent named Vesper Lynd to dinner and again orders his favorite cocktail. Increasingly smitten with the Russian beauty, Bond decides to name his unique martini after her.

But can the drink essentially be reproduced today exactly as author Ian Fleming envisioned it at the time?

It’s remarkable that this drink has become so famous when you consider that for more than half of its lifetime it has been impossible to make it properly. The enigmatic ingredient that Bond calls for, Kina Lillet, is notoriously hard to get hold of.

A French wine-based aperitif that first appeared in 1887, Kina Lillet became immensely popular, particularly in American cocktail bars. Technically categorised as an aromatised wine, it’s made by fortifying a Bordeaux wine, Semillon, with liqueurs, then barrel-ageing. The number and flavour of the liqueurs is a closely guarded secret, the company only conceding that they use sweet and bitter oranges and lemon.

Unfortunately, the original 1887  recipe was reformulated in 1986 when the original quinine was removed to create a lighter drink, leaving fans of the Vesper bereft.

However, Cocchi Americano is considered a reasonable alternative.

But some simply replace Kina Lillet with Lillet Blanc, which works well, but others say it is not as good. The main difference between the two spirits is that the Kina Lillet contained quinine, a component which makes the liquid extremely bitter, therefore dramatically altering the taste of the cocktail.

Finding a bar in London that had Lillet Blanc used to be a problem, unlike in France. But over the years more and more bars in London started stocking it after the release of the 2006 Casino Royale movie.

It gets worse for Vesper Martini fans. The gin that Bond drank has changed. Indeed the proof of Gordon's Gin was cut in 1992. But thankfully there are alternatives out there.

To top it all off, the vodka also posed a problem for the Vesper Martini drinker. The recipe calls specifically for Russian vodka which in 1953 almost certainly meant Smirnoff. But the Smirnoff available in England today is mostly not made in Russia either - most of it's made in Scotland.

However it can be argued that a Vesper isn’t a martini at all, because a martini must be made with vermouth. Whilst aromatised wines and vermouth have much in common they are distinctly not the same. Further, reputable drink mixologists will argue that the martini should only be stirred and never shaken

Sorry, James.

Incredibly, Ian Fleming also admitted in a letter to the editor of The Guardian newspaper, published in 1958, that he, “proceeded to invent a cocktail for Bond (which I sampled several months later and found unpalatable)… The gimmickry grew like bindweed and now, while it still amuses me, has become an unfortunate trademark. I myself abhor wine and foodmanship.”

As is so common with authors, a story is often conceived off the back of a real-life experience of which the truth is of many shades.

It may well be Fleming told a little white lie that he actually invented the Vesper Martini. In actuality, the book version of the Vesper was created by Fleming's friend Ivar Bryce. They were childhoods before they went to Eton and both served in British intelligence during the war. They were bosum buddies for life. 

In Bryce's copy of Casino Royale Fleming inscribed "For Ivar, who mixed the first  Vesper and said the good word." 

In his book You Only Live Once, Bryce details that Fleming was first served a Vesper, a drink of a frozen rum concoction with fruit and herbs, at evening drinks by the butler of an elderly couple in Jamaica, the Duncans, the butler commenting, "'Vespers' are served."  Vespers or evensong is the sixth of the seven canonical hours of the divine office and are observed at sunset, the 'violet hour', Bond's later chosen hour of fame for his martini Vesper

Whoever actually invented the Vesper Martini we do know Fleming was inspired by a real life Vesper.

Fleming’s background was in British naval intelligence, and it was during his time as part of World War II that he was introduced to Krystyna Skarbek, or Christine Granville. Christine was a Polish who worked as a British secret agent for Special Operations Executive (SOE). 

She became celebrated especially for her daring exploits in intelligence and irregular-warfare missions in Nazi-occupied Poland and France. She was awarded the OBE, George Medal and the Croix de Guerre for her outstanding services.

The beautiful Christine had many alias’, one of which was Vésperale. It is thought that Fleming may have had a brief love affair with this agent, but even if he did not, it seems likely that she was the muse for the very first Bond girl and subsequent potent cocktail.

Casino Royale is in fact the only time Ian Fleming has James Bond order a Vesper; in the other books he drinks regular vodka and gin martinis. But 007 gave the recipe with such inedible conviction, that it’s become an enduring part of popular culture.

As Bond famously noted, this cocktail is to be very well shaken until ice cold. It’s generally accepted nowadays that this was foolish from a mixologist’s perspective. Shaken drinks tend to be those that include juice, egg whites, or cream; cocktails with those ingredients need to be very well incorporated, and even a little frothy.

Cocktails that include purely alcoholic ingredients should rather be stirred in a glass of ice then strained out into your glass, as shaking will make the drink cloudy and can excessively water it down, as the shaking melts the ice.

Perhaps Bond thought that shaking would chill the cocktail quicker (he does prefer his pre-dinner drinks “very cold,” after all), and actually liked it a bit watered down, given how strong it is.

We’ll never know, but since 007 insisted on shaking, that’s what we’re going to do too in the following recipe that I do for friends and guests. 

Peel a wide strip of lemon zest. I rub it all around the glass edge first. Then I put it in the glass. When you pour the drink, this allows the essence of the peel to be more evenly incorporated throughout the drink rather than just plopping it in at the end.

Fill your shaker with ice.

Add all liquid ingredients to the shaker. Rather than making the uber-boozy drink that Bond requested, I did half measures. Since the recipe is listed in parts rather than specific measurements, it’s easily scalable. The cocktail is still plenty strong, don’t worry. Of course, if you’re feeling plucky, feel free to go with Bond’s full measures.

1.5 oz Gin. Go with Gordon’s Gin or Beefeater’s Gin.

.5 oz vodka (again, preferably a grain vodka) I use Beluga vodka, a very fine quality vodka still distilled and bottled in Russia.

.25 oz Lillet Blanc  or Cocchi Aperitivo Americano.

Shake it up! Hold the shaker in both hands and vigorously shake the cocktail for a slow count to 10, or until the outside of the shaker gets cold and frosty.

Pour into your champagne or cocktail glass. Interestingly, Bond requests a champagne goblet as his vessel rather than a standard cocktail glass with a stem and wide triangular bowl. It’s up to you champagne goblet or cocktail glass.

Enjoy!

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 2 of 26

Title: City of Saints and Madmen (Ambergris #1) (2002)

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Weird, Short Story Collection (kinda), Horror, Fantasy, Metafiction, Mushroompunk (yeah), LGBT Protagonist, First Person, Second Person (sort of), Third Person, Unreliable Narrator.

Rating: 8/10 

Date Began: 1/7/2020

Date Finished: 1/17/2020

This edition of City of Saints and Madmen is a collection of 4 short stories and a massive “appendiX” of other stories/notable worldbuilding pieces, all of which explore a fictional city called Ambergris. Ambergris’ world is not unlike our own, with technology that somewhat mirrors ours, but is nevertheless distinctly surreal and fantastical. One Ambergris’ most notable elements are creatures called the gray caps (or “mushroom dwellers”), who are basically humanoid mushroom people that play a role in each of the stories. 

More details and a look at each of the stories under the cut. 

Surely, after all, it is more comforting to believe that the sources on which this account is based are truthful, that this has not all, in fact, been one huge, monstrous lie? And with that pleasant thought, O Tourist, I take my leave for good. 

I’ve read VanderMeer before-- the Southern Reach trilogy (which he’s most well known for) is one of my favorite series of all time. While I haven’t seen it yet, the film Annihilation is loosely based on the first book, and I hear it’s quite good as well. This will be my first foray into other stuff he’s written.

While this may put some people off, one thing I really liked about this book was it DIDN’T paint a clear picture of Ambergris. Each of the stories focus on particular details their respective protagonists find important, so the view we have of the city is always incomplete. There are tenuous and sometimes contradictory connections between the stories that often made me wonder what’s true/real, a recurring theme throughout the stories. Several of the stories are works of fiction within Ambergris, which skews perceptions even further. To me, all of this made the setting much more interesting, and the actual revelations more rewarding.

My personal favorite stories were The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris, The Transformation of Martin Lake, King Squid, and The Cage. I’ll go into more detail on all the individual pieces under the cut, but rating them individually doesn’t much sense due to the weird format.

The Main 4 Stories 

Dradin, In Love 

An unsuccessful missionary priest named Dradin comes to Ambergris to plead assistance from a former mentor. However, when he spots an unknown woman through the window of a shop, he becomes convinced he is in love and becomes obsessed with her. As an event called the Festival of the Freshwater Squid looms, the city itself begins to change in startling ways. 

From what I can tell skimming other reviews, this one trips people up because Dradin is just... a piece of shit. He’s terrible. There are some sympathetic traits to him -- he’s a fish out of water with no one to help him, he had a traumatic childhood, etc. But the more you learn about him the worse he becomes. He believes he’s superior to pretty much everyone he meets, has committed various atrocities you gradually learn about in the story, and he believes he’s in love with someone he’s never met and spends a great deal of the story fantasizing about her and their future relationship. It’s pathetic-- but it seemed pretty clear to me I’m not supposed to like him, so I read the story knowing that. 

Anyway, this wasn’t my favorite, but it is an interesting introduction to Ambergris. It’s from the perspective of an outsider, so alongside Dradin you learn things about the city such as the various religious sects, the gray caps, and the Festival. It is jarring when the Festival starts out as this whimsical parade and then goes full Purge for the rest of the story. That feeling pretty much lasts the rest of the book. 

The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris 

The conceit of this one is that it’s a travel pamphlet written for tourists to provide a quick rundown of Ambergris’ early history. But the writer Duncan Shriek is so obsessed and passionate about the subject that he goes into way more detail than necessary. He also makes extensive use of the footnotes (often longer than the actual page) to (1) insult the reader, who he assumes is a stupid tourist who will skip them, (2) go on long rants about various other historians, and (3) go into intricate, intense detail or speculation about seemingly innocuous things in the main text. Honestly relatable. 

Personally, I love a good history text, so a well-done fictional one is lots of fun. The stylistic choices are engaging and a great characterization tool. The “story” really came together for me in the third act. Super eerie and surreal, and a lot of details about the gray caps and a vast underground kingdom-- but there’s still a sense of unreality, because the account exploring this may or may not be a fake. Anyway, I really enjoyed this one. 

The Transformation of Martin Lake

This one is technically two stories at once. Martin Lake is an unknown painter looking to make his big break in Ambergris, when he receives an anonymous letter inviting him to a beheading. Alternating with these novel sections are excerpts written by art critic Janice Shriek (recognize the name?) which analyze the creepy and grotesque paintings made by Martin Lake-- Ambergris’ most famous artist. 

This piece was by far my favorite of the main four. Janice evaluates various paintings created by Lake and speculates on the meanings behind them. The Gothic horror story sections star Martin, and the events within reveal the true origins of each painting. The horror story is very creepy and well written, and I really like Martin more than most of the protagonists. It’s also amusing to see just how incorrect Janice’s analyses are. Overall this was a very well structured and entertaining read. (Side note: to whom it may concern, this is where the LGBT Protagonist tag comes from.)

Also, Janice and her brother are apparently the central characters in the next book? I enjoyed both of them so I'm excited for that.

The Strange Case of X

A psychiatrist interviews a mental patient known simply as X, who believes he has invented the world of Ambergris, and he’s actually from a place called Chicago. 

I'm torn on this one because I feel I accidentally ruined it for myself. The premise sounds like a pretty cliche setup, but there's a  twist at the end that keeps it interesting. The only problem is I went into the story assuming that twist was the case. It's not even like I guessed it or picked up on hints or whatever... I just assumed the twist for whatever reason, so I got to the reveal and was just like "...yeah?" 

Anyway, this one’s a good read, just not my favorite. X is obviously a fictionalized version of VanderMeer. I didn’t find him as important in the context of this story, but notes found in his cell make up the appendiX. I *did* really enjoy the story excerpt within this one that starts like a children’s book with very simple sentences, then slowly evolves into more complex language over time until it’s like the rest of the book. The swap between third and first-person in the story, then the narrator commending himself on how clever he is, was pretty funny and good characterization. 

The appendiX 

Dr V’s Note + X’s Notes 

Technically this is 2 “stories” but they’re presented together. Dr V’s note is just an outline of the stories in the appendiX, which are apparently various notes, pamphlets, writing journal excerpts, and pieces of paper he found in X’s cell. He speculates on the meaning behind some of them. It’s a handy reference that I turned back to a few times. X’s Notes are literally just some misc author’s notes/ideas. The final note, though, draws back to the surreal scene I mentioned from The Hoegbotton Guide, which implies it is in fact real. 

The Release of Belacqua 

This one is about an actor named Belacqua who’s been typecast into a specific role, which he plays every single day. One evening at his hotel room home, he gets a super weird phone call from a woman looking for someone named Henry. Based on what happens in the story, I’m guessing Belacqua was probably supposed to be a character in one of the stories but got scrapped, and this story is literally about scrapping him. It was kinda meh for me. 

King Squid 

No, I’m not transcribing the entire title of this one -- it’s, uh, quite long. This one is sort of like The Hoegbotton Guide, except it’s a biological treatise written by a man named Frederick Madnok about the King Squid, which is Ambergris’ main economic staple. Like The Hoegbotton Guide, the author goes into intricate detail on what he considers important and makes extensive use of footnotes. The thing is, Madnok is clearly going through a nervous breakdown as he writes, and the footnotes and tangents grow weirder over time, often delving into vague memories and details about his home life as a child. 

I think this one really shines when you get to the bibliography and notice it’s longer than the rest of the story and seems to list every single book Madnok has ever read. Personally I found a lot of the titles funny, but you could be forgiven for skipping them. However, certain titles have side notes, supposedly to point out notable things about them. Some of these, however, are disturbing and clearly unrelated to the title. Eventually, Madnok goes into a full breakdown and starts to describe himself transforming into a squid -- a phenomenon he described earlier in the text. His breakdown, juxtaposed with the absolutely immaculate formatting of the story, really made this one stand out to me. 

The Hoegbotton Family History

The Hoegbottons are a merchant family. Their company Hoegbotton & Sons is basically the Wal-Mart of Ambergris and is present through multiple stories. This text is interesting for some context for the next story, but not particularly notable on its own. V’s notes at the beginning say as much. 

The Cage

One of the early Hoegbottons visits a mansion which has been condemned after an attack by the gray caps to purchase the remaining assets to resell. Among the items he finds a strange, seemingly empty birdcage which he can’t stop obsessing over. 

This was my favorite story by a long shot. It was insanely creepy and surreal with the best visuals in the book. There are references everywhere to fungi and decay, and there’s something very odd going on with Hoegbotton’s blind wife that defies explanation. And obviously, the cage itself and what’s going on with it is very disturbing. Contains very very very good body horror which is apparently just A Thing for me. Of all the stories this one had the most Southern Reach-y vibe. 

In The Hours After Death 

This one describes what happens to a man after he dies, and it’s not quite what you think. It’s a short piece and I liked the writing; very melancholy and surreal. It’s one of those stories that just incidentally takes place in Ambergris, but would be a good story outside of it, too. Until the end, that is, which ties it back to the gray caps in another creepy way. Thanks. 

The Man Who Had No Eyes 

This one is notable because apparently, in the original release, it was written entirely in code. You had to use page numbers, paragraph numbers, and lines in the rest of the book to decode it. Because this edition is an updated re-release which shifted the pages and format around, it doesn’t work anymore. Instead Dr. V provides a decoded version. However, some of the words are wrong, and the final paragraph is still in code (supposedly because V was afraid to keep going). I had to look up the story online to get the full picture. 

Anyway, I suspect this story is foreshadowing for stuff that’s going to happen in future installments. It describes the gray caps taking the city back over and flooding it, and how they mutilate a writer living in the city so he has to find alternative ways to keep writing. It mentions the goddamn cage again. It’s kind of fever-dream creepy. 

The Exchange 

Depicts a short story about the Festival of the Freshwater Squid (remember that?). Apparently this story is provided by Hoegbotton & Sons for people who purchase a safe house to avoid getting straight-up murdered during the Festival. The story itself is entertaining and has a great twist at the end, but what’s interesting is someone’s made extensive annotations to the piece describing the fallout between the author and illustrator. I found it most fun to read the base story, then go back and read the annotations-- it felt like I was seeing the same story from very different perspectives. 

Learning to Leave the Flesh 

This one’s referenced in The Strange Case of X. Unlike every other story, this actually doesn’t take place in Ambergris, but our world. However, like The Strange Case of X mentions, details and names from Ambergris seemingly appeared in the story even though he had no recollection of putting them there. 

Honestly, it’s an OK work of fiction but was probably my least favorite. Mostly it felt like lengthy flavor text for a story I’d already read. The ending was pretty good, though. 

The Ambergris Glossary + A Note on Fonts  

Putting these two together. The Glossary actually answered a lot of questions I had and clarified some events from the various stories. (”What the fuck is with the Living Saints. What the absolute fuck-- oh.”) It’s implied that some of the entries are written by Duncan Shriek. Hi, again. 

A Note on Fonts describes the various fonts from different stories as if it’s a wine tasting, which was hilarious. 

[vmficrecs]

WEEKLY FIC ROUND UP

All of these fics were provided courtesy of some friends of vmficrecs: Elise, Kris (@rogue-rook) , Maddie, and Shelby (@jessicajoned)!  

Previously on VM Fic Recs:

ShanghaiLily, “Follow the MacGuffin,” T, Post-series AU 

After a botched FBI case sends Veronica scrambling back to Neptune, she decides to lick her wounds while working at Mars Investigations. What starts out as a simple cheating spouse case for one of the city’s most notorious residents, quickly goes awry and triggers a series of events that unravel a twisted plot leading her to the last person she’d expect to find.

bryrosea, “Stay With Me Series,” M, Post-series AU

An unexpected emergency brings Veronica back to California a little earlier than planned. AU, set about two years before the timeline of the movie.

nevertothethird, “Reunions,” T, Post-series AU 

Sometimes it just takes a little longer to get things right. Two high school reunions and a birthday party should do the trick.

Shelby’s Note: SUZANNE i'm convinced she wrote this just for me even though we didn’t know each other when it was published but mmmm logan/wallace friendship? yes please. drama? pining? dancing? gimme it ALL. one of my fav versions of logan thank you so much

My Note: SUZANNNNNNNNNEEEEE 

youcallitwinter, “i knew you were trouble when you walked in,” E, Post season three AU

And, it’s just— Logan had always been her intense high-school romance, sure. But she had, somewhere along the way, in some secret corner of her mind, convinced herself that was all he was; a high-school romance. Explosive, powerful, passionate, and bound to burn itself out eventually.

anjou, “Into the Blue,” M, Post season one AU 

It’s almost summer, and Logan is sinking into the blue.

Note: This note is purely technical. Not only does this fic link to the imkait lovecember links of death, but THEN if you manage to get routed correctly over to that list, the link Kait has posted on the original recommendation is a deadlink, just to keep all of us on our toes. THIS is the correct link. Also god bless this fic thanks. This was recc’d by Kris for todays post but ummM when Logan tells Mrs. Narvarro to tell Veronica when she calls that he needs to do whatever for a while and then Veronica cries on the phone and Mrs. Navarro is mad at Logan for like four chapters after?? BEAUTIFUL. Also oh god. There’s another element to this fic that is sheer beauty and I’m hoping y’all can hivemind with me and figure out which bit I’m talking about because!!!!! y’all. 

wily_one24, Molasses and Taffy, PG-13, Season 2

No matter how bad things get, they always said, it could always get worse.

Kris’s Note: This one is kinda dark but I really like that it explores the fallout that must have happened after the s2 finale. i like fics where dick has to acknowledge his bad behavior and this one has that even if it's p hard to read at some points. 

New to VM Fic Recs:

Could This Be Happening?  Author: christykq Pairing: Logan/Veronica Rating: T Genre: Romance, Family Setting: Season 3 AU  Spoilers: 3.05, “President Evil”  Chapters: 57 Word Count: 244, 196 Status: Complete Summary: A LoVe story about being pregnant which begins right before 3.05 President Evil and continues through S3 my way, with tons more LoVe. Elise’s Notes: I liked that it shows LoVe spending S3 creating a family together, instead of the angsty unhappy season it actually was for them.

Reclaiming Normal Author: CubieGirl1723, VeronicaJeanSummers Pairing: Logan/Veronica; Ensemble Rating: M Genre: team detecting  Setting: Season 2 AU Spoilers: 2.01, “Normal is the Watchword,” all season 2 Chapters: 13 Word Count: 104, 118 Status: In Progress Summary: Normal girls are supposed to have typical jobs and want nice guys. Nice, normal guys probably don't burn down community pools or live in luxury hotel suites. But when you’re framed for murdering gang members, school buses mysteriously crash, and bodies wash up on shore with your name written on them, it's time to create your own definition of normal. A Season 2 Fix-it fic. Elise’s Notes: I really like that it includes Logan developing some great friendships with other VM characters, particularly Jackie and Weevil. (My note: I haven’t read this one, but the summary alone has me hella excited and so does Logan + Jackie and Logan + Weevil friendship!!! I can’t wait to read it now. And bonus it’s one chapter away from being completed and it was most recently updated last night!! Love that for all of us). 

The Duncan Dies Drabbles Author: ladydisdain225, lex_83, lostt1, mastermia, mutinousmuse, queen_hag, txtequlianights, sadiekate, shizam23, truemyth Pairing: Duncan Rating: R Genre: Crack fic, dark humor  Setting: Season 2 AU Spoilers: 2.11, “Donut Run” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 976 Status: Complete Summary: Duncan Dies. A lot. Maddie’s Notes: This is one of my favorite fics of all time. i remember reading it when I first watched vm and it killed me like i was laughing so hard it was so ridiculous. i'm not usually one for outrightly funny fics but i love it and rec it to people who haven't even watched the show. (My note: The Simon Cowell one....y’all....I lost it.) 

Ad Infintium Author: MachaSWicket Pairing: Logan/Veronica; Carrie Rating: T Genre: friendship, flirting!!! Setting: The Movie Spoilers: The Movie Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5,051 Status: Complete Summary: without end or limit; again and again in the same way, forever. Logan kisses Veronica on the forehead and walks away. Set mid-movie and, therefore, contains movie spoilers. Shelby’s Notes: nothing gets me quite like adult logan inner monologuing about teenage logan and how much more he's grown and changed and his insight into veronica as well. macha just fucking GETS IT 

Sweet Dreams ‘Til Sunbeams Find You Author: chesirecatstrut Pairing: Logan/Veronica; Logan/Lilly; Duncan/Veronica Rating: M Genre: romance, smut, friendship  Setting: AU Spoilers: seasons 1-2 to be safe i guess Chapters: 1 Word Count: 15, 771 Status: Complete Summary: Logan Echolls doesn't believe in better tomorrows. Kris’s Notes: Explicit and hot as hell. (My note: I haven’t read this but i’m skimming it right now and: “He can’t deny he’s fond of her; beautiful, mischievous, untouchable Lilly, warm-hearted with a wandering eye. She’s loyal as hell, when she doesn’t feel trapped, and she keeps his secrets well. Duncan holds the ceremonial title, but Lilly’s his true best friend.“ MY HEART. Lilly Kane is the best always and I’m crying). 

[lostinfantasies38]

Sun Touched - Chapter 2 The Tower of Fuck All

Dragon Age Origins

Rating: Explicit for violence and language

Sirra Brosca/Alistair Theirin 

They returned to the same part of the ruins where she met Alistair earlier, but they moved further back to the overhanging tower that would send someone tumbling into the canyon, if they happened to slip over the edge. Everyone was somber: subdued, anxious, ready for it to be over, yet dreading it at the same time. She had subtly observed Alistair on the way over and his mood was very telling. Sirra steeled herself – she may be a duster, but she wasn’t a coward.

Her time on the surface hadn’t been anything like she’d imagined. She knew nothing about the customs or the people or even the animals. Duncan made sure on their journey to Ostagar that they didn’t encounter any hostile wildlife, so the wolves earlier were a complete surprise. Their viciousness reminded her of stories of the tezpadam – deepstalkers – in the Deep Roads, but she had never actually fought off a pack of hungry predators before. Not counting the Carta thugs she and Leske escaped from after the cock-up in the Provings. But they were back-stabbing lackeys and deserved to die slow for working for that bastard. Too bad she’d been on a timeline and had to kill them quick.

Yet, there was something exhilarating about being topside. None of the humans gave a damn about her caste or lack thereof. When she asked Duncan about it, he explained that humans might have racist sentiments, but they did not have a caste system. It dawned on Sirra then that she could start over. She was free to live a life without worrying that she would be told to “know her place” and keep her head in the dust where she belonged. Sirra smirked to herself when she recalled the uproar she caused in the Provings; besting all the warriors of the Warrior Caste easily like she was one of them. If she could upset centuries of tradition underground, just imagine what she could do up here…well, as soon as she stopped getting nauseous from staring at the sky for too long.

Even though she missed the security of a ceiling, Sirra did love the sunlight. It stung her eyes after a lifetime underground, but Duncan assured her that would pass with time. Even so, she loved the way the light changed colors during the day and played through the leaves on the trees, seeming to dance on the ground. The Warden-Commander had patiently explained the flora to her on their two-week journey to Ostagar from Orzammar. And with stone being in short supply on the surface she had taken to occasionally touching a tree, sensing the strength and rigidity in them during times of insecurity. She may be casteless – doomed to live and die without honor or returning to the Stone, but on the surface, trees didn’t reject her and she took some solace in that. Maybe it was stupid, but it made her feel like she belonged topside. Or maybe she was simply sun-touched and her brains were addled by exposure.

It was full dark when Duncan approached them, interrupting the squabbling between Daveth and Jory that she had tuned out. He was holding a large goblet and Sirra’s blood ran cold as pieces began to fall into place. She could see that the men hadn’t caught on yet. Flicking her gaze to Alistair, the warrior quickly turned his head to avoid her pointed stare.

 Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, nug shit!

The Warden-Commander explained to the men what she had already figured out and Sirra clamped her mouth shut, willing herself to keep the lunch she ate hours ago down. She didn’t want to find out if the stew was just as disgusting coming back up as it had been going down. Her ears pricked up when Duncan informed them that drinking darkspawn blood could either kill them or leave them “forever changed” – whatever that meant.

Sirra was a dwarf. She’d heard stories of men exiled to the Deep Roads and left for dead, only to be discovered years later by Lord So-and-So on an expedition as tainted, twisted versions that could never be returned to the Stone. It was the closest thing to a dwarven nightmare that the castes could imagine. Sirra had never put much stock in the stories, mainly because she was casteless, but she knew that the other castes could not imagine a worse fate than being denied the Stone’s embrace when they died.

Yet, now she was here, about to drink darkspawn blood and either die like a worthless duster or prove the shits in Orzammar wrong again. She was determined to do the latter.

Sirra was tempted to ask for the goblet first after Alistair’s melancholic Grey Warden intonation, but Duncan passed the chalice to Daveth first. She held her breath anxiously when her fellow rogue took a big gulp. He shoved the cup back to Duncan with a grimace, forcing himself to swallow and blinked back tears. Within seconds, his hands flew to his throat scratching with his blunted nails down his neck, gasping for air until he fell to his knees and keeled over. Sirra stepped back in horror, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. Alistair stood against the wall almost folded in on himself wearing a pained expression, still refusing to look at her. Her blood ran from cold to ice instantly.

Ser Jory was no better, scrambling to get away from the body of their short-lived companion, until he found himself backed against the wall. He argued with Duncan and refused to partake of the ritual. Sirra squeaked in spite of herself when Duncan unsheathed his sword and solemnly declared, “There is no turning back.”

Jory tried to fight him off, but Duncan was faster with his longsword than the knight was with his two-handed one, and ran the younger man through. Ser Jory’s blood pooled quickly on the stone heading straight for her boots from his slumped corpse on the ground and she leapt out of the way, only to come face to face with the stern glare of the Warden-Commander.

Thrusting the goblet at her, she tried to ignore the bright red stains on his normally immaculate white armor. Flicking her eyes to Alistair, he finally met her gaze and she saw the hope that swirled in his amber eyes that she would be the one to see it through. Steeling herself again, Sirra calmed her trembling hands to take a sip of the foul concoction without getting it all over herself. Her eyes burned with tears as the blood scalded her mouth and left a blazing trail of molten lava down her throat and dropped into her gut like a hot stone. She could feel the flames licking through her veins, burning away what was there and replacing it with something darker. It traveled to her heart and seared her like a brand, then it pumped the new substance from her heart to the rest of her body. Darkness descended as the fire stormed the gates to her brain and flashes of darkspawn raced through her mind.

Sirra screamed.

*~*

When she jerked awake, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Sirra only knew that her head felt like it was going to explode and there were lingering visions of what might be an urtok – a dragon. Duncan and Alistair were both leaning over her, concern etched on their faces as Alistair helped her stand. Their lips moved, but she was having a hard time making connections and Duncan merely patted her on the shoulder in understanding. After a little more time on her feet clinging to a nearby pillar, she felt strong enough to walk around and the movement cleared the shadows that still clung to her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, halting in surprise almost immediately. Her voice was hoarse and jagged, more so than usual. She clasped her throat, resisting the urge to clear it, somehow knowing it wouldn’t help. Duncan smiled gently and shook his head.

“It’s not permanent. The blood always burns the vocal cords. In a couple of days, your voice will return to normal or you can drink a healing potion, if you don’t want to wait.” Glancing back at her pack, Alistair beat her to it and passed her a red potion bottle with an understanding smile. Yanking the cork out of the bottle she chugged it and sighed happily as it went to work healing her raw voice.

“Thank you,” she murmured to both of them when she felt it was safe to speak. They nodded and Duncan asked her again how she was feeling. “I’m…fine now.” Sirra wasn’t able to meet his gaze, aware he knew she was lying and too proud to admit that while she was trapped between life and death she had done nothing, except scream in her mind as the change took place. The older man sighed heavily, his eyes full of pity and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he curbed his tongue with a weary shake of his head.

Alistair broke the weighty silence and passed her a pendant on a leather cord full of blood from the Joining chalice and explained that it was worn in remembrance of those who didn’t make it through. He’d obviously wrapped the wire attaching the pendant to the cord himself – she could see the indents in his forefingers and thumbs from bending it repeatedly to make sure the pendant and its contents were secure. With a teary nod at the heartbroken expression on his chiseled features, she clutched the necklace to her chest and listened to Duncan explain that she was wanted at a strategy meeting with the King. With a sorrowful smile, Duncan passed her a new set of leathers to replace her damaged ones before he took his leave.

Sirra grabbed Alistair by the wrist when he turned to go and she swallowed hard. “I want to wear it, but I don’t trust my hands to put it on right now.” Raising her hand, Sirra showed him how unsteady she remained after the events of the night and he nodded as she passed him the cord. He towered over her when he was this close, her head barely coming up to the center of his broad chest, but his height didn’t put her on edge like some humans. Gingerly he laid the pendant in the hollow of her throat, shifted her braid over her shoulder, and tied the leather in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

He didn’t touch her, but he lingered in his position behind her and whispered solemnly. “They will be remembered, Sirra. I-I am glad you made it through. You had us both worried that…well, just goes to show I shouldn’t doubt you.” Alistair chuckled mirthlessly in the dark and she turned around to peer up at him curiously. His warm hazel eyes were captivating and lit within with something she couldn’t put her finger on, but it buoyed her nonetheless.

The taller man seemed unnerved by her scrutiny, no doubt bewildered by her ability to see in the dark, another feature Duncan informed her that humans did not possess. Sirra read every minute facial tick for signs of deceit and couldn’t find it. Surprising, she mused. Relenting at last, Sirra let her mouth relax into a light smile. “Thanks. I’m not used to people having positive things to say about me.”

Alistair scoffed, his eyes widening. “You-you’re serious? I just watched you take down at least fifty darkspawn and wild animals today. In my books, that qualifies as a massive accomplishment and definitely deserving of recognition.”

Sirra shrugged and hoped the shadows hid the flush on her pale cheeks. Praise was indeed rare, but sincerity was rarer still. Where she came from, praise was only given when someone wanted something in return, usually paid in money or sex and she wasn’t sure she’d ever been on the receiving end of genuine sincerity. She didn’t even know how to respond to that. What did you say to people when they were being honest and kind without hope of reward? When they were simply nice for the sake of being nice?

“Alistair, I-I –“

The warrior smiled softly, patting her shoulder awkwardly as he skirted around her smaller frame with a reminder that the King awaited her presence. Sirra nodded dumbly and waited for him to leave the tower before quickly changing and dashing down to the strategy meeting. Duncan flashed her a minute smile at her arrival and she gave him a clipped nod as she focused on the battle plans.

King Cailan hailed her and congratulated Sirra heartily on joining the Grey Wardens, which she had the presence of mind to only acknowledge with a short bow, catching Duncan’s nod of approval beside her. Sirra was surprised when the king requested that she and Alistair be the ones to light the signal fire. Yet again, she inclined her head at the leader of the human lords and left the meeting with Duncan who waved Alistair over from the far end of the camp. The young man clapped a fellow soldier on the back with a warm laugh and the sound of it caught Sirra off-guard. It was too bright and comforting to fit in with the oppressive darkness that held the promise of rain for the coming battle. More than that though, she was surprised by how it wrapped around her like a blanket and lifted her lagging spirit.  

 Bleeding Ancestors.

The warrior stood on her left as Duncan filled them in on the plan for the fight and Sirra was more aware of him than she’d been before. She tried vainly to ignore the heat that radiated off his larger body and the dulcet tone of his voice as he argued with Duncan. Alistair was not happy with their orders, but he grudgingly accepted them, like a good soldier. Unlike them, however, he couldn’t resist a teasing jibe about wearing a dress if the King asked him to dance and Sirra couldn’t help snorting at the absurd mental image.

“I think I’d like to see that.” Sirra smirked at her fellow Warden, raking her eyes down his body and trying to visualize him in a gown. Alistair grinned broadly and her stomach flip flopped at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, knowing she’d been caught ogling him.

“For you…maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress,” the warrior teased. Duncan groaned, but Sirra was outright chortling now and Alistair chuckled lightly beside her.

Duncan rubbed a hand wearily across his forehead. “Head to the Tower of Ishal. Alistair will know what kind of signal to watch for.”

Having laughed away some of their battle nerves, Alistair turned serious again. “Duncan! May the Maker watch over you.”

Their Commander looked at them, almost sadly, for a moment before he replied. “May He watch over us all.” His eyes turned to her. “And may the Stone guard you, Sister.” Sirra’s eyes widened in surprise and she inclined her head, too stunned to answer. She was casteless and he knew it, but he still treated her with respect and afforded her the traditional words of honor for those with a place in the Stone.

Finding her tongue at last, Sirra gave him a traditional farewell. “Atrast tunsha, Duncan.” His lips curved into a smile then, which she returned as they all separated to their places. His on the front lines – theirs as supporting roles in the battle. She followed Alistair to the bridge that she crossed into the ruins earlier that day and he pointed out their destination, yelling over the sound of the catapults that they needed to reach it quickly.

Sirra didn’t need to be told twice. She ran across the bridge as fast as her short legs would allow, barely reaching the other side when a fiery projectile from the enemy plowed into the bridge and killed a couple of sappers where she had been standing mere seconds ago. Alistair steered her gently away from the carnage, his face twisted painfully in an expression that surely mirrored her own.

A Circle mage and a solider almost bowled them over, explaining that darkspawn claimed the tower, having dug through the lower levels. Sirra shared an uneasy glance with the warrior and they grabbed their weapons simultaneously, recruiting the mage and the soldier to join them in retaking the tower so they could fulfil their duty. The mage enchanted their weapons with fire and the flames warmed her hands in the freezing rain allowing Sirra to keep a firm grip on her daggers. She was thankful for the heat and the additional damage it did to their foes as they fought through a couple bands of darkspawn before they even reached the base of the tower.

She wasn’t adept at feeling them in her mind yet, but there was a sliminess thrumming steadily in the back of her mind whenever they were near. When the shrieks erupted from stealth at the doors of the tower, Sirra shouted and leapt back, letting a throwing knife fly, not even bothering to aim in her terror.

“Sorry! Damn, I forgot you can’t tell them apart yet,” Alistair yelled over the sound of his shield slamming into one of lanky creatures.

“’S okay!” Sirra shot back while burying her daggers to the hilt in the back of one preparing to rake the mage with its jagged claws. Whirling, twirling, sidestepping her way through the new darkspawn, Sirra covered the more vulnerable party members, knowing that Alistair could hold his own. Until a hurlock alpha charged towards him with its massive greataxe raised, heading directly for the warrior’s unprotected flank.

Growling in anger, Sirra tossed a shock bomb, temporarily blinding the hurlock and ending his single-minded charge at her fellow Warden. Alistair turned around as his foe fell under his blade and focused his attention on the hurlock that was denied victory. Ganging up on the alpha, Sirra slid along the wet stones and sliced up from the darkspawn’s Achilles heel into its calf. With a roar it collapsed on the ground and Alistair’s sword whistled through the air, cleanly removing the head from its shoulders and sending it flying.

They were saturated in black blood. The rain rolled the congealing blobs in between the seams of their armor, but neither of them cared. Panting heavily, Alistair froze and stared at her still on her knees next to the hurlock corpse and she returned his frank gaze with her own. She should not feel this strongly about a random human she met that very day. Normally, she wouldn’t, but today was turning out to be anything but normal. Maybe she was losing her damn mind now that she was topside. But she knew that wasn’t true – it was him.

Sirra may be a dwarf, but she wasn’t blind. Alistair was incredibly handsome with features that were so perfect they could have been carved by the finest stoneworkers in Orzammar. Long, noble nose, strong jaw dusted with stubble, hard panels of pure muscle making up his torso and arms that she had been all too aware of when he’d collapsed earlier. And Ancestors, he was tall! Taller than Duncan, taller than most of the men in the camp, and for some reason that was incredibly attractive. Even more than his Stone-hewn good looks though, was the kindness that precipitated his every action and the surprising gentleness in a man so large. Not to mention his humor and penchant for teasing. She swallowed hard as his golden eyes bored into her.

Breaking their staring contest, she tried to stand, but the slick flagstones kept her from getting purchase and she was forced to accept his arm to regain her footing. When she continued to slip even then, Alistair slid his arms under her armpits and easily lifted her out of the slippery goo she’d been trapped in and deposited her carefully a few feet away.

Once back on her feet, Sirra dashed up the ramp and pushed the heavy wooden door of the tower open, hoping the gloom would hide the furious blush that stained her cheeks. The men followed her silently, Alistair taking up the rear, and she tried to concentrate on what they were doing. They crept slowly around the curve of the room, but she raised her fist and indicated with hand signals that there was a trap ahead. An obvious sheen covered the floor and Sirra saw the wire in the flickering torch light that would ignite the barrels and set the grease on fire. Alistair asked the mage a question that she couldn’t hear and the mage nodded with a small smile. Sneaking a little closer, the mage cast a layer of ice over the grease and Sirra carefully disarmed the trap, so the four of them could finally rush the unsuspecting darkspawn.

“Emissary!”

“I got him,” yelled Alistair and Sirra focused her attention on the archers. They moved quickly through the lower level, even cutting down the rather surprising gang of darkspawn by the ballistae with ease. Sirra realized that she and Alistair were becoming more in tune with each other’s fighting styles while the mage with his fireballs was a welcome addition for taking out large groups.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair panted when they reached the second level. “What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the horde?”

Sirra shook her head and hissed, “Weren’t you complaining that you wouldn’t get to fight?” He chuckled at her teasing.

“You’re right, there is a silver lining to this after all. But don’t forget we need to reach the beacon.”

She lifted two fingers to her temple and flicked them in silent salute. He smiled even as he jerked his chin toward the next room and flashed his hand twice to indicate the number of spawn ahead of them: ten. Sirra nodded at they crept as silently as possible to maintain the level of surprise.

Five spawn were in the main room lined with cages holding back the war hounds Alistair told her about. He pulled a lever in the room that opened all the cages and she involuntarily shrank back, remembering her encounter with the wolves and still not a hundred percent sure of these ‘hounds.’ But she needn’t have worried. The dogs headed straight for the darkspawn, knocking them over and shredding them with claws and teeth, while the humans stabbed and burned their way through the rooms in the hallway, flushing out the remaining darkspawn.

Another room at the end of the hall held three more guarding the staircase. Once dead, they climbed to the third level and repeated their annihilation of the disgusting creatures, clearing the floor. They reached the next staircase and Sirra stopped to catch her breath.

“For the love of all the nugs! Why do humans insist on climbing into the sky? Please, tell me this is the last floor?” The shorter woman wheezed from her bent position while kneading her fingers in her quivering thighs.

Alistair shrugged guiltily and sucked in a deep lungful of air. “Andraste, I hope so. Come on, let’s find out and light the beacon. I’m sure we missed the signal.”

They barreled in, but Alistair’s arm grabbed her shoulder almost instantly and reeled her back a few steps, his hazel eyes wide as saucers. Sirra followed his gaze and threw a hand over her mouth to swallow the squeak that almost spilled out at the sight of an ogre sitting on his haunches. It was eating…something. Human or darkspawn, she couldn’t say, but she didn’t really want to know, either.

The room was completely circular and there was zero cover. The beacon was just behind the giant darkspawn. There was no hope for it – they would have to fight him in order to achieve their goal. Alistair squeezed her shoulder quickly before he hefted his shield with a dark glint in his eyes. At the last minute, he bent down and breathed in her ear, “May the Stone guard you, Sirra.” She jerked at him, mouth agape. What was it with humans surprising the shit out of her today?

Gathering her scattered thoughts, she managed to stammer quietly, “May the Maker watch over you, Alistair.” Sirra had heard the phrase many times already during her two-week journey with Duncan to Ostagar. Yet to see the way his amber eyes shone like polished bronze when she repeated it flawlessly, was the first time she was grateful she’d been paying attention to human pleasantries.

Ducking into stealth, Sirra crept close to the ogre, trying to avoid the slick blood and crunching the bone fragments that littered the floor. She hoped to land at least one solid hit before it realized it was not alone. It was not to be. Something caught its attention and it whirled angrily on the three men huddled near the stairs. She tried to follow after it, but it moved too quickly with its massive legs and she watched helplessly as it raked its meaty hands along the ground, sending them careening in opposite directions.

“NO!”

Sirra screamed when Alistair landed hard, his head snapping up and cracking back down on the hard stone, leaving him splayed out like a broken doll halfway across the tower. Her stomach fell like a boulder to her feet; a repeat of the dread that descended on her when he collapsed hours ago with blood spewing over his lovely lips. The ogre turned when she yelled and charged her next, but she dove to the side avoiding him. A movement by the stairs revealed the Circle mage standing on shaky legs and attempting to sneak through the shadows to Alistair’s side. His cool blue gaze met her determined one and she nodded imperceptibly.

“Well, a duster’s gotta die sometime. Might as well be today,” Sirra muttered.

Reaching into her pouch on her belt, she pulled out a fire grenade and threw it directly in the beast’s face. It roared in anger, rubbing a giant hand against an eye, she smirked to see that it was damaged. Of course, that only pissed it off more. Its good eye zeroed in on her and it slammed the ground with its fists, throwing her off balance and almost causing her to lose her grip on her blades, but she ducked into a roll to move out of range of its hands. It bellowed angrily when she stood and yanked a section of the ruined stone floor to hurl it at her.

Sirra’s eye widened and she disappeared in a cloud with half formed prayers to any ancestors that might listen for help, as a casteless girl tried to fight an ogre on the surface with only two daggers and her wits. The creature tossed the stone easily, the force shaking the entire floor and knocking her teeth together with a clack. She managed to sneak behind it, but she had to act fast – its eye had landed on the mage and Alistair. She couldn’t spare more than a glance to reassure herself that her fellow Warden was alive before she launched herself from the shadows to slam her blades deep in the ogre’s sides, twisting them with a snarl for extra damage.

It reached for her, furiously trying to snatch her in its massive grip and crush her like a Deep Roads beetle. Using her daggers as climbing holds, Sirra slowly crawled up the middle of its back, just out of its reach; taking pleasure with each bite of her honed weapons into its thick skin, finding courage in its screams of rage. If she could just get to its neck, Sirra planned to rip open its jugular and send the Blighted creature back to the Void where it belonged. She kept up with her ascent, ignoring her exhausted arms and the burn in her lungs from the exertion.    

“Sirra! Get down – I’m going in!”

Thank you, Ancestors, she thought and her eyelids fluttering shut for an instant in gratitude. With the last of her strength, Sirra made sure the hold on her daggers was secure and yanked them out with an upward swipe when she backflipped off the ogre and rolled halfway across the floor. Glancing up from her position on the ground, time seemed to slow as she beheld the warrior in amazement. Alistair flew through the air with a snarl of pure hatred, sword arm cocked and shield back, while the ogre roared at the new opponent with streams of blood coating its backside.

The strike was true, burying his sword deep in its neck and the momentum of the large human sent the ogre to the ground in its weakened state. Alistair didn’t lose his hold on his weapon, locking his legs around the creature’s neck to ride out the fall with ease. Alistair ripped out the blade, sending a rush of blood across the stone and slammed it to the hilt through the ogre’s open maw and twisted the blade until its arms stopped moving. With a satisfied grunt, he yanked out his sword from the mangled mess of the darkspawn’s head and jumped nimbly off the massive carcass.

Sirra managed to push herself up on her knees and breathed slowly as blood returned to her arms in a rush of pins and needles. Alistair sank to the ground in front of her and lifted her head, his mouth moving with questions, but her fuzzy brain was unable to process anything besides the fact that they were miraculously alive. Her companion paused his torrent of words; instead, he gripped her by the shoulders and squeezed – reassuring and strong, like the Stone. Sirra smiled as she stared into the gore smeared face of the crazy human who took down an ogre and chuckled. His eyes widened, his large hands fluttered across her form again, checking for hidden wounds or blood loss that would explain her hysterics. Which only made her laugh harder until tears of relief and mirth mingled with the thick layer of blood coating her features.

“You…you…” Sirra wheezed through her laughter, her hands tight on his forearms for support as she struggled to speak through her chortling. “You killed an ogre! It was…ogre-kill!” Alistair’s brow furrowed slightly and she breathed deeply to be understood. “Like overkill, except it was really ogre-kill!”

The dwarven woman crowed as all of the stress of the night leeched from her body. Alistair laughed softly, gradually increasing in strength along with hers until they were clinging desperately to each other, laughing and crying through the myriad of emotions that crashed over them. The tension finally shaken from their bodies, Alistair pulled Sirra to her feet and waved the mage over to light the beacon while he pulled a couple of rags from his pack so they could remove the evidence of battle from their faces. Now, they just had to wait for the battle to end. Afterwards, she planned to meet the other Wardens and maybe get something better to eat than that stew she had earlier.