#making my way (slowly! very slowly) through harrow the ninth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sharkneto · 1 year

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For the ask game: Top 5 books?

I'm cleaning out my ask box! Slowly but surely! Let me respond to this from (checks notes) definitely not nine months ago!

It's also good I waited on answer this because I've read a bunch of books in the past nine months. So, top five books I've read this year, in no particular order:

Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir. Love this world, adore the characters, great little mystery going on. The usual tagline of "necromancer lesbians in space" does not do this series justice. It is way more nuanced than that, there is so much queer shit going on and none of it is like And Here Is Our Lesbian Character! This Character Is Trans! People are just people and sometimes (oftentimes) those people are queer. Also, the love and grief of this series is So Good. I listed Gideon here because it's my favorite of the series, but Harrow the Ninth has one of the best reveals in a book I've read in a long time and it makes me ache.

Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells. I'm counting the whole series as one long book. Loved, loved, loved reading these. Murderbot is the best, I love its friendship with ART and the humans, my favorite thing about it is how clearly its a person but it is absolutely not a human and that should never be forgotten.

The Goblin Emperor - Katherin Addison. My friend recommended this book to me because one of my favorite things in fiction is Just A Normal Guy up against not-normal circumstances, and this book is about A Really Normal Guy (goblin) suddenly thrust into being king thanks to all the successors ahead of him dying in a crash. It's a relatively simple premise but I love it for that. It doesn't try to be more than it is, I loved the main character and how he approached the problems of Suddenly Being King. I know there are more books in the series but I don't think they follow the King as the main character anymore and I loved him so much, I haven't had the heart to go try them yet.

Way of Kings - Brandon Sanderson. I would be remiss to not include one of the Stormlight Archive books, as I'm working my way through them. Do I complain a lot about how Brando Sando could use an editor while I'm reading these books because they're too damn long? Yes. Do I still absolutely enjoy them? Yes. Brando is really good at taking 800 pages to set up all his details so that you can have the most satisfying 200 pages of your life as every single fucking piece slams into place, each conclusion you've been waiting for for the past 400 pages hitting and it's So Good. I was miffed about the very end of Words of Radiance, but Way of Kings was a triumph the whole time. I love Kaladin - who doesn't? - and the world building and positioning to get everyone primed for where they need to be in the other character POVs is masterful.

Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo. I fucking love heists, and Six of Crows has a fucking great heist. Kaz is also exactly my kind of character, so it's no shocker I loved this book. I didn't read any of the Shadow and Bone books, I have no plans to, but I did watch the TV series first so I knew the basics of the world and Grisha and whatnot. Idk how much of a learning curve there would be if I hadn't done that first, but I doubt it would be much worse than the usual learning curve of a new fantasy series - but it was nice to be able to just jump in and hit the ground running. I cannot emphasize enough how satisfying a heist this was to read, though, excellent and interesting characters aside.

I feel like honorable mention time to some of the nonfic books I read?

Pageboy - Elliot Page. Was very good, with the incredible added bonus of that I got to see one of his author talks in person. He was an absolute delight to listen to. The book was a very interesting and enjoyable read, but I think he could have made his time jumps back and forth more purposeful. It felt very much like he was trying to emulate:

Man Alive - Thomas Page Mcbee. I read this one and Amateur, and I liked Man Alive better, probably just because it reflected me a bit more in where I'm at in my transition. His jumping between time points worked really well as he described figuring himself out around different moments in his life. Both really great explorations of gender and just what does it mean to be a man.

Into Thin Air - John Krakauer. My twin and I went on a hard binge of mountaineering disasters, and you can't do that without including Into Thin Air. A really tragic and gripping true story about the climbing disaster on Everest in 1996. An as honest as possible look into what happened and what went wrong that cost eight people their lives, and the even wilder details on how some of them survived.

It's been really fun to get into books again, this year. I was one of those kids who constantly had his nose in a book growing up and fell out of that when college hit. I refound audiobooks this year which have been a godsend to listen to at work, and physical books have snuck their way in, too, for more books happening. It's fun to be thinking about plots and new characters again and having opinions on how x or y played out (I still think about my predicted ending to Gideon, I think that would have been fucking incredible, not that the actual ending wasn't fantastic - I had the big beats predicted correctly at least lol).

My current book I just started is The Lies of Locke Lamora, which I'm already enjoying immensely and all my friends who recced it to me were like "what do you mean you haven't read that yet? you'd love it".

Anyone got any good book recs, hmu.

#i think i'm up to like 22 books read this year #i've really liked almost all of them #the last couple i read - nona the ninth and words of radiance - i overall really liked but they had some points that didn't hit for me #which was a bummer but allowed #i think my year of reading started with horse - which is another book that didn't hit for me for various reasons #so i'm glad the 20 books between then and now have almost all been fucking great it's made this so enjoyable #book club #that's what i'm preemptively calling this becaues i'm hoping i will have more chances to ramble about books later #ask response #long post

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porridgefeast · 1 year

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an undetermined number of people you’d like to know more

I did away with the “nine” because I’m not tagging anybody anyway. I was tagged by my dear @emotionallychargedtowel.

last song i listened to

The last song I know I listened to is this cover of the Karate song “Gasoline,” which I really love and find cathartic. Pelican is an instrumental band and as such they don’t have a singer, so they enlisted this guy Chris Hansen from a band called Pinebender. He does a great job—his voice isn’t completely unlike that of Karate singer Geoff Farina, but he has a different, very affecting yell-y quality that really pays off when the song reaches its climax. And it’s a very climactic song / version of the song.

youtube

currently watching

Uncharacteristically, I don’t have one main thing I’m currently watching. I should soon. I just finished watching Not Me for the second time. I’m partway through the new miniseries of Justified. Like many people, I watched the first episode of Only Friends earlier today. Already a lot going on there! And this evening I thought I’d take a look at Gay Ok Bangkok per @waitmyturtles and I guess I got sucked in because I made it all the way through the show’s first season. Oh, and Jun & Jun.

currently reading

I’m near the beginning of Harrow the Ninth, which I’m finally picking up. I read Gideon the Ninth ages ago but I felt like I needed to reread it before I attempted the sequel. I got a new ebook copy of that one & read it on my July trip to Washington. I had bought a hard copy of Harrow in June when my colleague had an event for the release of her first novel; I wasn’t going to buy her book because I already had a copy by then, but I made sure to buy one book every time I went to one of her events. Another book event was my excuse to buy a copy of The Art of Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz, which I’ve wanted for years. I guess I’m also reading that, just very very slowly and not from beginning to end.

current obsessions

I often have at least one cooking obsession but the insane heat where I live has made that hard to keep up. At a certain point, food is barely interesting. Closest thing I've got now is tofu scramble.

Making cold-brewed tea in the fridge.

Fermentation, as per my reading material. I want to try doing water kefir soon.

I've wanted to make a scarf like Kaito's (below) from Zenkaiger since I saw it, maybe 1 1/2 to 2 years ago. ("Like" as in stitch pattern, though I'd probably also do stripes.) It just looks really soft. I have yarn brain at the moment because I'm scheming about yarn for this and a knitting project.

Probably my biggest current fascination (of a non-media-related variety) is mending things and practicing mending. My bestie is an avid thrifter who wears clothes to pieces, so I have a near-endless source of mendable items to practice upon.

Organizing, if something can be both an obsession and a source of dread.

#personal ramblings #karate the band #9 people you want to know better

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mossy-kit · 1 year

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I was tagged by: @polkadotpatterson (aka told irl I was being tagged, lol)

current time: 9:37 pm

current activity: just got back from a fun day out walking and having coffee on the waterfront & dinner at a diner and am now hanging out on the couch with my beloved partner 😌

currently thinking about: I've been thinking a lot lately about the state of monetization/enshittification on the internet - eg, the ways twitter is failing, the horrifying overrreach of Meta, and why websites like Wikipedia have remained largely independent, and what the internet could look like without constantly catering to the currently evaporating shell game of making money off users of their sites via advertising or predatory methods (and how that might work - like can voluntary donation work for something like a social media?)

current favourite song: My current top song is a House in Nebraska by Ethel Cain (that whole album is great - sort of southern gothic tragedy that's both so doomed by the narrative in a meta sense but also grounded and visceral) but I also want to shoutout Death of an AI by yeule (ethereal innocence-as-tragedy in a sense)

currently reading: back and forth between Harrow the Ninth and a nonfiction called Effortless by Greg Keown, which I'm reading mostly to try and figure out how to spend less time doing my job lol

currently watching: watched one of the new episodes of black mirror recently and the concept was interesting enough, and then also slowly working my way through the Makanai, which is about a teenager living with her friend and acting as the cook for a house of maikos (entertainers in training) - very peaceful.

current favourite character: can't pick just one ofc, but I've been thinking a lot about the Salt universe Moist Talkers and their relationships with each other as they adjust to being on the team, as well as my fanteam in the same universe, the Vancouver Deltas - they're only side characters for the Salt, but I'm way too attached to them anyways and have backstories on all of them

current wips: work is killing and rending and murdering me so I've barely written anything recently but the next wips are going to be for the Salt when we get zine 2 going!

Tagging: idk I think Cynda tagged everyone I know who hasn't done it so anyone who'd like to please feel free!

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softness-and-shattering · 2 years

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I posted 13,762 times in 2022

That's 13,762 more posts than 2021!

163 posts created (1%)

13,599 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/borinquenaqueer

@/vaspider

@/pinnacle-ferring

@/hadeantaiga

@/on-my-way-to-lesser-things

I tagged 2,908 of my posts in 2022

#ntn spoilers - 302 posts

#nona the ninth spoilers - 152 posts

#the locked tomb - 132 posts

#nona the ninth - 130 posts

#nona save - 127 posts

#find later - 125 posts

#saveforref tlt - 111 posts

#tlt spoilers - 108 posts

#harrow the ninth spoilers - 106 posts

#nona spoilers - 97 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#plus the whole background of medical terms being used casually + negatively waters down the meaning + makes it insulting rather than neutral

My Top Posts in 2022:

I appreciate Wendell and Wild for saying ‘deadnaming isnt just some Special Snowflake trans issue, its shitty to call anyone a name they dont like.”

73 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

Ok so Hexum is smuggling same-sized crates that come from Wildemount.

Hytroga has what is meant to look like a damaged beacon.

Ashtons memory goes fuzzy from the moment the box opened.

Ashton seems to have their rages influenced by Dunamanctic powers.

What if Hexum is transporting Beacons?

Possibly Ashton is consecuted and like, came back to himself at that moment.

More interesting, maybe, what if they have a piece of Beacon lodged in their skull?!

Furthermore, this is wild conjecture, following the consecuted theory, maybe when the old soul started showing itself is when they started turning to rock? I dont remember if the soul comes back/makes itself known around puberty, or if its younger.

What if he has a piece of a beacon in his head y'all? He does always describe the head crack as the place the rage-specific colours come from.

With the help of @pinnacle-ferring

96 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

Let Me Further Break Your Heart - Gideon the Ninth Structure Analysis

Some Gideon the Ninth analysis by way of writing analysis, just for fun. No spoilers for Harrow the Ninth or Nona; for current purposes Im essentially treating Gideon as a stand-alone. Spoilers all the way through for Gideon the Ninth though. This is your enormous spoiler warning.

Intro:

Im slowly slowly getting back into writing after being very into it for a long time which was followed by a long break in which I was too disabled/tired/brain-fogged to write. So Im poking back around Writing Excuses and Im reminded of this* concept of (I think) Mary Robinette Kowal’s, that treats pacing a lot like programming.

The concept being, when you end a conflict, the timing of that resolution has to match the timing of when you introduced it. The example they use is an A-plot B-plot detective romance.

If the detective walks into the room, inspects the evidence, then notices a hot journalist also in the room, thats an A-whodunnit and a B-romance. The first conflict is the mystery, the second is the romance, therefore the romance needs to be resolved before the mystery is solved.

[requisite disclaimer that the rules exist as guides and you can always break them if it works better for your art, and that something does not have to be intentionally written a certain way for meaning to be drawn from it, within reason]

If the detective walks into the room, spots the cute detective, then examines the evidence, thats an A-romance and a B-whodunnit. That means the mystery needs to be solved before the relationship is confirmed.

And this works with as many plot/character/mystery threads as you have in a story, not just two.

Enter The Locked Tomb:

What I just discovered while pulling that quote was that my original framing was that Gideon escaping was the first conflict, and the epilogue is simply an epilogue, a teaser for the next book, and exempt from the bracketing system. But actually no, the first conflict, broadly speaking, is “Who the heck is this Lord, what the heck is this setting?”. And our final scene is finally meeting god and the promise of learning more about the world than just the Ninth and Canaan House. Huh.

So because my mind is in Locked-Tomb-Blorbo-Land, my mind immediately goes to the first line of Gideon the Ninth:

“In the Myriadic year of our Lord - the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the kindly Prince of Death! - Gideon Nav packed her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and she escaped from the House of the Ninth.”

Simple. Harrow is the Ninth. She is literally 200 sons and daughters of her house, their entire future. She is their youngest generation, the youngest person full stop, and their heir, their leader, their Reverend Daughter.

Back to Gideon: She’s a fighter, she’s practical, and well, she’s horny, and her objective is to get away from the Ninth. We soon learn this is her 33rd attempt of her lifelong objective to leave, because she absolutely loathes this place. If she doesn’t leave there will be no escape even in death, as her body will be used to work and clean and grow wilted food.

And yet, the last we see of her in this book is sacrificing herself, a ghost of herself helping Harrow, and then she’s dead and gone. How does that solve her wanting to leave the Ninth?

I was just listening to @onefleshonepod, episode 5, “What’s With The Skulls”, wherein Kabriya and Bailey point out that by Chapter 10, when Gideon rescues Harrow from the lab with Palamedes and Camilla, she’s thinking of Harrow as “her necromancer”, and does all in her power to save Harrow, even while thinking to herself that she would delight in Harrow’s death. She’s growing attached, but she is far from ready to admit that to herself.

And in the beginning, Gideon absolutely loathes Harrow, a feeling which is mutual. She hates the Ninth, she hates its heiress, she wants nothing to do with any of them.

But the thing is, with a story hook, it can go one of a few ways in resolving satisfactorily. The hook is that Gideon wants to escape. Possible resolutions are:

1. She physically escapes and has a life with which she is content.

2. She physically escapes but never psychologically is able to leave it all behind.

3. She does not escape and is doomed to eternal misery (that would be a straight-up tragedy)

4. She does not escape, but rather becomes content or happy with the status quo.

And number 4 is exactly what happens.

And they fight together seamlessly, proudly and aggressively of the Ninth, totally in sync with each other.

The pool scene is of course the central turning point, when Gideon finally has all the information it takes to truly understand Harrow, and to forgive her. Then of course by the battle with Cytherea in the lobby, Gideon is back with the trusty two-hander that she stashed away, and we get from Harrow “I said a necromancer alone. I have you. We bring hell”, followed by: “Nav, show them what the Ninth House does”

“We do bones motherfucker!”

And then, as she is about to sacrifice herself for Harrow, believing that this course of action was the only sensible thing left to do, we get this passage:

‘She mentally found herself all of a sudden in front of the doors of Drearburgh-four years old again, and screaming-and all her fear and hate of them went away. Drearburgh was empty. There was no Crux. There were no godawful great-aunts. There were no restless corpses, no strangers in coffins, no dead parents. Instead, she was Drearburgh. She was Gideon Nav, and Nav was a Niner name. She took the whole, putrid, quiet, filth-strewn madness of the place, and she opened her doors to it. Her hands were no shaking anymore.

‘WHAM-WHAM-WHAM. The structure bowed and creaked. Big chunks were falling away now, letting in wide splotches of sunlight. She felt movement behind her, but she was faster.

See the full post

120 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

I really want Asmodeus to be genuine. If he's playing Zerxus, thats a character and story we've all seen a million times before. A genuinely caring devil who possibly misunderstood what effect his gift would had, or thinks the effect is what he intended and is for the genuine benefit of humanity, who really truly believes that; thats a character Ive not seen before. Thats a different kind of tragedy. Someone trying to help and being scorned forever because his gift wasnt taken in the spirit it was offered. And thousands of years later he's still reviled, but he's not evil. Id really like that to be the story being told here.

131 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The Gau Dreshari Head Druid, around a century ago, to the head of the Magisterium: Look, I may or may not trust you personally but I certainly dont trust the wizards of your city as a whole. I will not answer anything more about the Arboreal Calix, please stop asking, thanks.

Laerryn Coromar-Seelie, who literally wants to stop the Calix doing its thing because its taking up "her" energy and throwing off her calculation of extraplanar travel (which may in fact be the entire purpose of the Calix): Im different, they would definitely trust me, Im worthy.

Patia Po'rco, granddaughter of the legendary wizard who raised the city, keeper of the Librarian Incatatum, owner/keeper of the Palazzo Po'rco, the family home/historical city monument where all the most important people in the city are currently partying; who earlier in the day had one of the seven rulers of the city with his apprentice fondly and confusedly recounting stories of her grandfather and showing personal interest in her work: People who've had everything handed to them dont know what its like to fight, so theyre weak; we have fought, we are worthy.

Look if theres something you can say about our wizard women, its that they have absolutely zero self awareness. Love that for them. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Ghor Dranas!

422 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#Tumblr 2022 #👀 thats a loootta posts 👀#Looks like up-to-date fandom theory gets the most attention #Untagging blogs bc self conscious

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thescrapbookingscientist · 1 year

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Biweekly Media Roundup

- Trigun (Anime) - Still hyperfixated, there’s some pretty good fics coming out for this fandom.

- The Vampire Dies In No Time (Anime) - I don’t have anything new to say about this one, it’s stupid but in an endearing way, John is adorable.

- Love Is War (Anime) - Now completely caught up, I definitely see why this is one of the top ranked romance anime, its very funny with super likable characters and creative setups for comedy. There actually seems to be quite a lack of fanrt for it though considering the size of the fandom, strange.

- Tengoku Daimakyou (Anime) - I’m not sure what to expect with this one which is a good thing, it’s got some genuinely interesting worldbuilding so far. Also a trans lead, which is pretty cool. I’m really interested to see where this goes, it’s been a while since I’ve gone so blind into a mystery like this.

- Dr, Stone (Anime) - Glad it’s back, the bread baking concept was fun, and I still love Senku as a protagonist.

- Oshi No Ko (Anime) - Well this show is. Interesting. I saw it trending pretty high on my anime list which I thought was strange given that idol anime rarely break out of their specific idol-loving fanbase, but then I read a summary on the first episode and yeah I get it now. There are some...weird elements to the story that I really don’t appreciate but the main plot is pretty engaging, and I’m really enjoying all the behind the scenes entertainment industry info and acting drama-Makes me nostalgic for Skip Beat!.I need more time to grow attached to the characters themselves but if they keep up the acting drama this could be a favorite for the season.

- Campfire Cooking in Another World (Anime) - Finished the first season of this relaxing cooking anime. I think it succeeded in being exactly wanted it wanted to be, and I can respect that. I hope it gets a 2nd season, as I quite like this little monster family and want to see their low stakes adventures continue. Also it made me really miss Japanese food with how good they made it look. I want katsudon so bad.

- The Locked Tomb Series (Books) - Well the end of Gideon the Ninth made me feel many emotions. I’m making my way through Harrow fairly slowly but the Ianth/Harrow interactions have been a blast. I miss Gideon though TT_TT Please let me see my lesbian himbo soon.

- Resident Evil 4 (Video Game) - Most of the way through 4 now, we’ve been watching the cutscenes with stupid outfits on Leon and Ashley which really changes the tone of them I’ll tell you. I forgot how short of a game it is but it’s been a ton of fun. Might buy it myself to replay a few times.

As usual I’m also keeping up with The Greatest Estate Developer, Land of the Lustrous, The Vampire Dies In No Time, and The S Classes that I raised.

Listening to: All Things End & Eat Your Young by Hozier, Stalkers Tango by Autoheart, Jesus He Knows Me cover by Ghost, The End of the Movie & I Hate Everything But You from Crazy Ex Girlfriend, This Is Not A Party by The Wombats, King of Anything by Sara Bareilles, Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives, Two Birds by Regina Spektor, They’re Only Human (DNtM OST)

#weekly roundup #My posts #this is late as I got a promotion and have thus been busier than usual

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kaetor · 2 years

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gay girls by pillow queens + literally any sapphic of your choosing perhaps :3c

I'm slowly but surely making my way through Harrow the Ninth atm so I figured I would draw my favorite poor little meow meow (harrow)

also this is the first ask i've finished where I haven't heard the song before! I think this song was very cool and it sounds a bit like a jungle exhibit at a zoo and also the height of summer. i like it c:

(id in alt)

#harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrowhark the first #color palette challenge #song palettes

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sylvanas-girlkisser · 2 years

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I do feel that some of your criticisms surrounding gideon, while valid, are resolved better within the sequel. Especially when it comes to how death is viewed. Its also important to not that this whole series is tied up in mysteries that slowly get revealed, a lot of gideon the ninth doesnt make sense, such as character motivation, because we havent fully seen the bigger picture.

Gideon the ninth is only a small part of a wider series / world, and its limited scope is very intentional.

Hey nonnie, I get that you don't mean this to come off as patronizing, but you're like the third person today who has told me that I'm just not seeing the bigger picture with regards to the story/character motivations, and until you give me the spoilers for what specific examples you're referring to its hard for me to respond.

Also, this feels like its not really understanding my criticisms, like I don't know how to say this in a polite way, but this is not my first novel. I know that I'm supposed to read between the line, I know the narrator is unreliable and that I won't get a complete explanation of character motivations up front. These are by now pretty standard aspects of modern fantasy, and aspects I really enjoy, my problem is with the execution.

To bring back the moment that annoyed me most: We're told, from the get go, Harrow hates Gideon, because Harrow is an ass. Obviously anyone who has read anything more challenging than stucky ABO can tell "that is not the whole story", and to confirm that there are clues literred throughout the story to confirm this. The takeaway here however is that Gideon clearly thinks Harrow hates her because Harrow is an ass, we are told repeatedly that Gideon sees Harrow as a hateful little creature incapable of compassion.

But then we get to Gideon's meeting with the Eighth, and Gideon explains that, no actually, her and Harrow have always been at each other's throat, but there was a specific moment when they were kids were that seemed to have escalated. That is a significant reveal, it changes the entire nature of their dynamic, however the fact that its not brought up until then, makes it come out of left field. Yes on a second read through you can tell that Harrow's parents and all the other kids being dead tie into this reveal, but on a first read through you have no means of knowing that there is information Gideon has, which the reader is not privvy to.

And this could relatively easily be solved, either by:

Making it clearer that the narrator is not, to use a fancy lit term, focalized through Gideon, by making sure their language was more distinct from that used for Gideon, and by having them occassionally downright contradict Gideon.

Making cryptic alussions to there being shared history, by adding a line somewhere in the story along the lines of "This reminded Gideon of that time she preferred not to think about with Harrow, so she quickly distracted herself".

wrt. It becoming more thoughtful about death, I will look forward to that in HtN, but remain frustrated that it didn't have a chance to fit into GtN. I guess that's the thing about new authors.

#valk yelling at bones #yes i created a tag for this you're welcome

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ollie-ollie-oxenfreee · 3 years

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then came the morning (aka: the post - canon cuddle fic)

The work in progress is finally done! I’ve been chipping away at it for the past couple weeks now, and it’s gone through many drafts / iterations, but I think I’m finally happy with it. :)

Title from an album by the Lone Bellow.

The first time the two of them “shared a bed” was about as awkward as one might imagine. The initiating circumstances were hardly any better.

The heating apparatus in their quarters had given out a week or so back in a spectacular fit of dust - laden wheezing. The engineering crew called in to inspect it informed them that it couldn’t be fixed until they could pick up the right parts at the nearest trading post (which was naturally thousands of klicks away on the ragged edge of nowhere). With the ambient heat from the nearby engine room seeping through the wall, the conditions were deemed “unpleasant but survivable.” They were issued two extra threadbare blankets and told in tersely formal military - speak to deal with it.

And they’d dealt with it really well for a while! They grit their teeth and carried on like a couple of champs: Harrow, having been thoroughly warned against using her magic too frequently, layering on spare cloaks and sweaters until she almost disappeared under a mountain of black fabric; Gideon curling up close to the engine room wall and wincing when the cold sent spiteful twinges shooting through her still-very-busted knee.

But then one night their grand flagship of the revolution chugged through a particularly empty sprawl of space and began to slow down. The heat from the engine room guttered like a candle flame. Frost spiderwebbed across the thin plex of their window. Harrow’s breath showed in thin wisps of vapor as she huffed, glaring down at the pages of her book like she wanted to reprimand the cold for daring to interrupt her studies.

Gideon had half a mind to encourage her to try (that glare could stop a full - fledged Lyctor in their tracks, who knew what other horrifying powers it possessed?), but thought better of it when she saw the genuine exhaustion in the other girl’s eyes.

“You doing alright over there, my vulturine vicar?” she asked. “I know it takes some time to absorb all that good bone knowledge, but you haven’t turned a page in like half an hour.”

The thunderous look on Harrow’s face darkened further as she set her book aside with an exasperated thump. “This is ridiculous. I studied in the depths of Drearburh for years without any issue, and yet here I am struggling to focus like a novice. It isn’t even that cold.” She bit her lip as a shiver ran through her at the words.

“Evidence seems to suggest otherwise, o mistress of melancholy. Do you want me to go ask that guy in the supply room for another blanket? He still owes me for his son’s fencing lesson.”

Supply room guy didn’t really owe her anything, but she knew that mentioning it would make Harrow feel better. If she could believe that the nice things Gideon did for her were actually for Totally Self - Serving, Debt - Settling reasons, she could accept them without feeling guilty.

(Guilt had haunted Harrow more than ever upon returning to her own body, making it hard to breathe on good days and leaving her shaking with sobs on bad ones.

It was one of those fun little things they had in common.)

From the way Harrow’s shoulders stiffened, though, it seemed that Gideon Nav’s patented Guilt Workaround wasn’t going to be as effective as usual. She shook her head - a stiff little gesture that made her earrings rattle - then sighed.

“No. Thank you, though, it’s kind of you to offer.”

The thank you was sincere, and that was admittedly pretty nice, but all the sincerity in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Harrow was still very obviously shivering. She looked miserable beneath her usual mask of face paint and stoicism. The dark red bead of blood-sweat trailing down her temple indicated that she'd probably tried using some kind of homeostasis theorem, but it wasn't working well enough.

There had to be a solution to this problem somewhere. Harrow's stubborn pride meant that she wouldn't accept help outright - she would sooner set her books on fire than admit what she thought of as a weakness - but if Gideon could play it just right, maybe she wouldn't have to. It would need to be done carefully - too sappy and she'd be uncomfortable, too straightforward and she'd balk. Casual, Gideon decided. Nice and casual was the way to go. It would just be a matter of execution.

"Soooo," she said at length, leaning back against the wall all cool and easy. (She folded her arms up behind her head as an afterthought, appreciating the way it made her still-atrophied-but-getting-there muscles stand out through the thin fabric of her shirt. Confidence boosts were going to be scarce and sorely needed in the conversation to come - she’d take them where she could get them.)

Naturally, Harrow did not appreciate the change in tack or the cool-and-easy-ness. She did, however, manage to muster up a look so steeped in wary disapproval that it cut through her earlier frustration like a hot knife through bone marrow. “So.”

“You sure about that blanket? Because really, it would only take me a second -”

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

“Then, um, did you want to borrow mine?”

Harrow blinked. “You need yours.”

“Yeah, I know! I meant that we could maybe - share. Pool our resources.” She patted the edge of her bunk gamely, then instantly regretted it when Harrow’s eyes narrowed even further.

“You want us to sleep together?”

"No? I mean, technically, but no. In the literal way. Not the other way.” Well maybe the other way sometime if you wanted to but that’s a whole other weird conversation that we probably shouldn't touch with a ten foot pole or we might explode.

"How exactly would that work?" The caution was still heavy in Harrow's voice, but some of the disapproval had ebbed away.

"I mean. We'd probably need to use my bed, since my sheets aren't covered in gross bone gobbets, but you could bring your blankets over and layer 'em over mine and then we'd have twice the blankets! And, you know, body heat. Which has its perks." Even Gideon's cool-and- easy-ness faltered at that, but she bravely soldiered on. "The point is, we'd both be warm."

"And it won't - make things weird?"

"Nope! Not weird. All perfectly chill, my shivering scion."

Harrow paused for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'll get ready for bed," she said at last, clipped and decisive. "And I'll think about it."

"Take your time. I'll be here."

Moments later, after the shivering scion had swept grandly out of the room, Gideon's Thinking Brain crashed unceremoniously into her Talking Brain. Things were not, in fact, going to be perfectly chill. There were going to be some logistical problems with this arrangement. Big logistical problems.

Big logistical problems namely revolving around the mutually exclusive facts that the midnight monarch was not especially comfortable with touch, and Gideon Nav, space - bee slayer and resurrected badass, was a sleep cuddler.

Or, well, she was in theory. She didn’t have much (any) “real world” experience to go on, but she’d woken up many, many times back on the Ninth with a bundle of blankets wrapped up in her arms or nestled close to her chest. The habit had never really embarrassed her back then - she actually kind of liked it. She felt warmer and less lonely when she had something to hold, even in the frigid emptiness of her cell.

But that was back then. Things were different in the here - and - now. Harrow was in the here - and - now, and Gideon would never forgive herself if she ruined things with Harrow right when their relationship was on the upswing. They were actually talking, slowly figuring out how to work together again. The furious, tearful intensity between them in the wake of their reunion had calmed and warmed into something almost like real friendship.

After all that had happened - everything that had gone wrong over the past year and a half - they’d found a fragile sort of peace. There was no way in Hell she was going to ruin that peace now.

So while Harrow swished about getting ready for bed, Gideon leveled with herself and laid down some ground rules. Don’t make this weird, Nav. Make sure she’s comfortable, give her her space, and don’t think about cuddling with her.

...even though it would probably be warmer, and she has shitty necro circulation and essentially no body mass so she needs all the warmth she can get, and she gets that kinda soft peaceful look on her face when - no, fuck, see? You’re doing it already. Even if she did like you like that, which she absolutely doesn’t because she’s got a good old-fashioned frostbite girl back home, that’s not what you’re here for. You’re her cav. Her sworn sword. You’re here to do your job and make sure she doesn’t get her thumbs bitten off again. That’s it.

“You’re staring.”

Harrow’s voice cut sharp as a bone shard through Gideon’s nervous thought - spiral. Having apparently completed her grim evening rituals, she’d settled lightly on the far edge of the to - be - shared bed, countless dark layers poofing out around her like the feathers of a posturing crow. Her face was flecked with dots of gray from scrubbing off her paint, and her short hair stuck up in messy licks of black fluff despite her increasingly irritated attempts to smooth it flat.

It shouldn’t have been endearing. It really, really shouldn’t have.

It was.

Gideon was so screwed.

“Shit,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face to ground herself. She glanced over to meet Harrow’s eyes (and wow, was that a mistake, they were as mesmerizing a swirl of black and gold as ever), then forced a smile like she wasn’t screaming internally. “Sorry. Zoned out a little. You good to go?”

The wryly exasperated glint in Harrow’s eyes made them glow even brighter in the dim light. “Yes, I’m ‘good to go,’ thank you. Are you, though? You look … troubled.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Think nice, normal thoughts. Don’t let her know. She cannot know.

“I’m always good, my chthonic countess,” she lied, smooth as could be, throwing in a roguish wink for good measure. That was distractingly stupid enough, it was bound to work.

Harrow frowned. “Why are you blinking like that?”

The roguish wink apparently had not worked.

“No reason! Just dust. In my eye. Lots of very rude dust landing right in my eye. Anyway. How are we doing this?”

A flicker of genuine, anxious concern ghosted over Harrow’s face as her frown deepened.

“Gideon,” she began, in that slow, reluctant way of hers that heralded Incoming Indignity. “I know that you were the one to suggest this, but I want to impress upon you that if you aren’t - certain about it, there is another possible solution.”

She cast around the room for a moment and reached for a massive, dusty tome at the top of a nearby stack, flipping determinedly through the pages. “I've had the idea for some time, but I only just managed to convince our commanding officer that I could use theorems 'responsibly' without their constant supervision, so I haven't been able to test it until now. Small - scale thanergetic fission reactions produce sparks of flame that, if handled extremely carefully, could give off enough heat - "

“Wait.” Gideon held up a hand, her own anxious brain jolting back online at the word flame. “Wait, wait, wait. Harrow. Seriously? The concern is sweet, don’t get me wrong, but your other solution is death - fire?”

“I said that it was a possibility,” she snapped back, that old brittle defensiveness calcifying over the vulnerability in her voice. Her posture straightened with a great rustling of robes: shoulders back, chin high, eyes gleaming with disdainful pride as the bones scattered about their room twitched to life. Looking for all the world like she had when they were ten - twelve - fourteen - sixteen, bitter and vicious and spoiling for a fight.

She seemed to realize it right when Gideon did. Her eyes widened, then closed. The bowstring tension in her shoulders slowly ebbed away as her half - formed constructs clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” she said at last, her voice a threadbare murmur. “I’m sorry. That was - uncalled for.”

“It’s a reflex. I get it.” And she did - she’d done the same thing countless times, had a hand on her sword and a barbed insult on her tongue without even thinking about it.

Another one of those fucked up things they had in common.

An uneasy silence settled between them, broken only by the rumbling hum of the engines, the thud of footsteps in the hall.

“I meant it, you know,” Harrow said, after a long moment. “About other options. It was a half - baked and immature attempt, but I wanted to give you an out if you were uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I know, my sepulchral sage. I appreciate it. Half - baked immaturity and all.” She bumped her shoulder gently against Harrow’s, then flopped back on the bunk to stare up at the low ceiling. “Are we, like, committing to honesty hour tonight? How deep into feelings do you want to get?”

“As deep as is comfortable.”

“That’s what she said.”

“It’s a reasonable thing for her to say.”

Another hush fell over them, marginally more comfortable than the last, as Gideon worried her lip between her teeth and counted the cracks in the ceiling above her. There were nine of them in total. Go fucking figure.

A bony finger poked her in the side after a few cycles of counting. “Were you going to elaborate, or was that all just a set - up for one of your charming jokes?”

“I can’t believe it took you eighteen years to finally admit that they’re charming, but no, that’s not why I said it. I’ll lay bare my tender squishy heart for you, penumbral lady. Because you asked so nicely.”

Because I think you might already have it.

No avoiding it now. Might as well bite the bullet and dive in.

“I was on board with the cuddle thing from the beginning, but I felt like you wouldn’t be, and I panicked. You probably already knew that because you’re way more creepily observant than you have any right to be, but there it is. Out in the open.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just run away and hide from the other girl’s piercing gaze. “I just don’t want to fuck things up with you, Harrow. I feel like we’ve got a kind of good thing going now. You haven’t called me a useless halfwit in forever, and I haven’t called you a heinous bitch in forever, and I haven’t wanted to. That’s unheard of for us. I don’t want it to go away.”

Her voice cracked, and the most damning words burst forth like flowers through concrete: “I don’t want to give you a reason to shut me out again.”

The memories of those nine months flashed in fragmented mosaic through her mind - the slick stone walls of the well, the freezing churn of the water, the burn in her muscles as she desperately thrashed up toward the surface and reached for someone who didn’t even know she was there. The gut - wrenching loneliness that defined her entire fucking life coalescing in that pit of brackish darkness. The chant rattling on loop in her mind as the water pulled her under: Harrow, what happened, what did you do, why the fuck did you leave me here, I had a purpose, I threw myself on that goddamned rail for a reason, was that not enough for you?

Was I not enough for you?

A cool, fine - boned hand laced with hers and squeezed, just once. The memories blurred.

“Gideon,” the voice that had haunted her all that time said. “You know - you have to know that isn’t why I did it.”

“Why did you, then?”

A tiny hitch of breath. A soft, almost incredulous laugh. Then:

“Because I loved you.”

The words hung heavy in the frozen air.

“You - what?”

“I loved you.” She said it so simply. Like it was something she’d come to terms with long ago. “I loved you beyond reason, and for once in my life I wanted to do right by you and keep you safe as you did me. The motivation doesn’t justify a moment of it, I won’t pretend it does, and I can’t even begin to erase the hurt it caused you. But I need you to understand that it was never because of something you did wrong. You are good, darling. Good to the core. You always have been.”

Bright spots bloomed before Gideon’s eyes as her reeling mind fought to catch up. Three thoughts sprang unbidden to the forefront:

Mmf.

And: Darling?

And:

“Loved. You said ‘loved.’ Why the past tense?”

She sat there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, half - expecting a don’t be presumptuous, Griddle or something even remotely normal, at least. What she got instead was another laugh, halting and shaky and suddenly deeply bitter. The hand in hers went rigid and drew away.

“I came to my senses. I remembered the countless awful things I’ve done. Saw myself for the leech that I am. I’ve taken and taken and taken from you, over and over again, torn away at your life like a scavenger, I can’t steal anything more - “

“Who said anything about stealing?”

For the first time since the grand awkward commencement of honesty hour Gideon felt a genuine smile bloom across her face. “Come on, Nonagesimus, give me some credit. You honestly think I would have stuck around this long if I didn’t know what I was giving you? If I wasn’t getting something out of it too?”

“What could you possibly be getting out of it?”

“You. I like you. Like, a lot. More than I ever thought I would. And I know the brain weasels are going to start yammering about how that’s impossible, and you don't deserve it, and we've still got a mountain of baggage left to work through, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I really mean it. Having you with me has made this whole shitty thing infinitely less shitty."

With a surge of sudden bravery and dizzy emotion, she reached out to take Harrow's hand again and, giving her ample time to pull away, pressed a feather - light kiss to the back. “If you want me here too, sunshine - as your cav or your friend or something else - then I'm not going anywhere."

Harrow closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, and - smiled. A real one, slow and hesitantly sweet, lighting up her careworn face. "I need to think about it - we both should think about it. But I do want you here, in whatever way you want to be."

"Yeah? Cool."

"Cool."

Silence settled upon them for the third time that night, but this time it was different. It was soft and tentative, fragile and new, like budding grave - flowers reaching for the sun. First flowers, the both of them, clawing up out of the grit and finding a way to bloom.

"Should we go to sleep now?" Harrow asked at last, her rasping voice low and quiet. "It's getting late."

"We probably should. Cam and Pal are gonna kill us if we're not up by 6:00 tomorrow. Are you still up for this, though? Like, the whole 'two girls, chilling in a military bunk, zero feet apart 'cause they're freezing and also maybe like each other' thing?"

"Yes. On one condition."

"Anything."

"This might be difficult for you."

"Seriously, Harrow, just tell me. Name it and it's done."

"No sex jokes."

She heaved a sigh, mock - exasperated and so stupidly fond. "As you wish, my dearest darling death omen. As you wish."

It took a while to get comfortable - with Harrow's knobby elbows jabbing Gideon in the stomach, Gideon's clunky knee brace getting tangled in the sheets, the blankets collectively giving up and puddling on the floor at least ten times - but eventually, like everything else, they made it work. They fumbled through the sleep - cuddling confession with an admirable lack of panic on both sides, culminating in a firm agreement that they would let each other know the moment they were at all uncomfortable and an "I trust you" from Harrow so pure in its sincerity that it would be ringing through Gideon's mind for at least a myriad.

Harrow was the first to fall asleep, curled up tight in a cocoon of black fabric, the dark crown of her head just barely brushing the sunburst scar on Gideon's chest. Her shallow breaths fell into an even, steady rhythm, interspersed with whistling snores that Gideon was definitely going to tease her about when her heart was less of a melted puddle of goo.

The minutes slipped by warm and slow as drops of honey as her own eyes grew heavier, fluttering closed. She gave her necromancer - her Lyctor - her beautiful baneful bone empress one last sleepy smile, and drifted off.

(When Camilla went to shake her sparring partner awake the next morning, she found the two of them still sound asleep, wrapped up in each other's arms and looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen them. She huffed a laugh, muttered "finally," and let them be.)

#the locked tomb #tlt #locked tomb trilogy #griddlehark #angst and fluff and love confessions oh my!#the girls are trying to do right by each other and it's a bit of struggle but they're figuring it out

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next

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Line of Duty is over, perhaps for good. It’s time to dismantle that evidence wall, file the exhibits away, and close the door on AC-12. With H unmasked, we can all rest our adrenal glands and get back to a healthy, Jimmy Nesbitt-free sleep pattern.

Once that’s achieved, if you start to feel the itch for more seismic shocks and sleights-of-hand, here are a few suggestions of what to watch next – eight TV thrillers that provide similar doses of double-dealing, truth-concealing, witness-squealing, case-breaking shenanigans. Add your own recommendations below!

Bodyguard

Bodyguard proved that there was life after the Red Wedding for Richard Madden. His performance as David Budd, a former combat soldier living a new – and equally dangerous – life as a Principal Protection Officer (PPO) in the London Met deservedly netted him a Golden Globe and a Scottish Bafta award.

Budd’s job protecting the abrasive yet vulnerable British Home Secretary Julia Montague (Keeley Hawes) is complicated by their conflicting ideologies, Budd’s fractured home-life and PTSD, and a wide-ranging conspiracy that brings together Islamic terrorism, organised crime, intra-governmental malfeasance and dodgy cops. Be prepared to watch from behind half-closed eyes, wincing in anticipation of the oblivion that’s promised around almost every corner.

Bodyguard has the kinetic ferocity and explosive twists of 24; the grim and gritty characterisation of a Jimmy McGovern project; and the ‘Oh my God it was them along… or was it?’ twists of Line of Duty, which follows as it was also created by Jed Mercurio and World Productions.

Watch on: Netflix UK

The Americans

What if you were so deeply embedded with your enemies that you were indistinguishable from them, both inside and out, and even started to become increasingly disillusioned about what side you were supposed to be on? That’s the central conceit of FX’s slick and superlative spy drama The Americans, set in Washington DC during the height of the Cold War. Russian operatives Philip and Elizabeth Jennings have fake pasts and fake identities, but they also have very real American teenage children, who have been raised oblivious to the devastating secret thumping Poe-like in their parents’ hearts. Other shows trading in similar tropes may well deal in deception and corruption, but the cross that the Jennings have to bear in the name of ideology makes even the biggest conspiracies in Line of Duty and Bodyguard seem like a fib told by a child to avoid punishment for stealing freshly-baked muffins from their mother’s windowsill.

The heat on the Jennings is turned up even further when an FBI agent tasked with uncovering Russian agents moves next door with his family; further still when the two families become friends, further blurring the lines between truth, lies, identity and loyalty.

Whom do you trust when you can’t even trust yourself?

Watch it on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

Edge of Darkness (1985)

Edge of Darkness is steeped in the same Thatcher-tainted, Reagan-ruled, greed-is-good, hyper-capitalist era as The Americans, but is a contemporaneous piece rather than a period piece, having debuted in 1985.

The tragic tale follows tortured policeman Ronald Craven (Bob Peck) as he tries to unravel the truth behind his eco-activist daughter’s murder, while he himself starts to unravel in a sea of lies, half-truths, hard truths and shifting allegiances. Craven snakes his way through a colourful cast of misfits, agitators, loudmouths, snobs, yobs and psychopaths, as the battle for power – nuclear, economic, hegemonic – and perhaps the survival of the earth itself, swirls and dances and ricochets around him.

It’s a series that’s unafraid to immerse the viewer in complexity; leaving them to fathom the ever-morphing labyrinth of motivations and revelations on their own; leaning heavily into ambiguity whenever it serves the shape and tone of the story. Often, the viewer is left as bemused and perplexed as Craven himself in the face of this deadly puzzle, but they will still find themselves – also like Craven – unable and unwilling to rest until the pieces fit together.

The late Bob Peck – whom many will only know as the game keeper from Jurassic Park, who utters his memorable final line, ‘Clever girl…’, seconds before becoming a velociraptor hors d’oeuvre – puts in a mesmerising, career-defining performance as Craven, effortlessly embodying the full gamut of the man’s grief, guilt, obsession, melancholy and mania. Craven seems at once mythical and otherworldly, and yet solidly, painfully, exquisitely human.

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

The Shield

“Good cop and bad cop left for the day. I’m a different kind of cop.”

So says LA Detective Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis) seconds before demonstrating his no-holds-barred interrogation technique to an obfuscating paedophile. It’s not that Vic considers himself above the law, more that everybody else is below his. He often does the right things for the wrong reasons, or in the wrong way, or the wrong things for the right reasons. Or at least for reasons that he thinks are right. And he’s got a justification for everything, from bribing fellow officers, to partnering with organised criminals, to even murdering suspects.

Impossibly corrupt, relentlessly self-righteous, fearless to the point of psychopathy, Vic is the badge-wearing heir apparent to Tony Soprano, but burdened with little of the gabagool-guzzler’s guilt. Viewers are left under no illusions about the lengths Vic will go to protect himself and his kingdom, nor about the sort of show they’re watching, when at the close of the first episode he executes an officer who has been placed in his Strike Team to investigate his corruption, framing a similarly deceased drug kingpin for the crime.

So begins the toxic, spreading rot of secrets, lies and double-dealings, each action an effort to cover over and stay a step ahead of the misdeed before. Vic’s three-man Strike Team would follow him into Hell, which is just as well, because that’s exactly where he leads them, along with his family, and anyone who ever associated with or went toe-to-toe against him. The Shield begins as a punchy, kinetic pop-corn spectacle of a series, but slowly evolves into an almost Shakespearian tragedy, rich in sadness, sacrifice and betrayal. The final act – hell, the final few seasons – will leave you in no doubt as to The Shield‘s place in the pantheon of small-screen greats.

Watch on: All4 (UK)

Celebrating Jimmy McGovern’s Cracker

By Jamie Andrew

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 7 Review: H Unmasked At Last

By Louisa Mellor

Dexter

If Internal Affairs set up an office in the Miami Metro Police Department, the last person they’d suspect of foul play would be the handsome, unfailingly polite blood-spatter analyst Dexter Morgan, doyen of the Homicide bowling team and daily bringer of doughnuts. Whereas Vic Mackey flaunts his corruption in plain sight, Dexter has to stay in the shadows. Dexter’s corruption is a little more extreme than Vic’s: he’s a highly active serial killer. That he only kills according to a strict ethical code – only other murderers, and only those who’d escaped, or would escape, justice by more legitimate means – makes him a complex, compassionate and compelling figure, one with whom we sympathise easily: perhaps too easily. Dexter makes us complicit by proxy. We find ourselves rooting for a serial killer, hopelessly lost in the hedge-maze of his amorality.

Dexter’s relationships with his sister, Deborah (Jennifer Carter) – a detective at his precinct – and Rita (Julie Benz) – first his girlfriend, then his wife and eventually mother of his son – are his only toe-holds on humanity, which is why the show regularly has them dancing on the edge of his dark secret. No more so than when Dexter has to help the department investigate the crimes of a serial killer the media dubs The Bay Harbor Butcher, a serial killer who just happens to be… Dexter.

While it’s true that Dexter came to a perfect natural conclusion after four great seasons, it’s also true that it limped on for another four seasons after that, capped by a finale that is quite possibly one of the weakest and worst of any drama series ever made. Thankfully, it’s coming back for a ninth season later this year, hopefully to right past wrongs.

Watch on: NOW (UK)

Cracker

If you only know the larger-than-life Robbie Coltrane as the much-larger-than-life Hagrid in the Harry Potter series, you’d do well to check out the mid-90s UK crime-series Cracker, and see Coltrane at his most searing, endearing, dangerous and iconic. Here he plays Eddie ‘Fitz’ Fitzgerald – quite simply the role he was born to play – a sharp-witted, full-blooded, foul-mouthed, fast-living psychologist who impresses (and largely imposes) his way into a consulting gig with the Manchester Police, helping them to solve their more grizzly and unusual crimes. The storyline that sees Fitz investigating one of ‘his’ own is perhaps its most harrowing and heart-breaking – a network of tragedies dovetailing into one other – with a denouement that casts a long, sad shadow over the rest of the series.

Warning: If you are a Harry Potter fan, and you decide to watch Cracker, do take the time to psychologically prepare yourself for the sight of Hagrid in bed with Harry Potter’s mum.

Watch on: Britbox (UK)

Luther

Detective John Luther (Idris Elba) has the presence of a bear, the heart of a lion, and the mind of Columbo. With his razor-sharp stare, long, lived-in coat and propensity to stick his neck precisely where it’s needed but never wanted, Luther’s ‘Oh, one more thing’ is just as likely to be a fist as it is a verbal death-blow.

Over the course of five seasons Luther is betrayed by those closest to him, mangled by loss, framed for murder and even strikes up an unusual but oddly touching relationship with a serial killer. It’s electric, captivating TV, and Idris Elba wears and lives Luther’s rage, sadness, regret and fuck-you-ness so intensely that you won’t be able to draw your eyes away from him. A barnstormer all round.

Watch on: BBC iPlayer (UK)

State of Play

The cast-list alone is enough to commend this early 2000s conspiracy thriller: John Simm, Philip Glenister (prior to the duo teaming up in Life on Mars), David Morrissey, James McAvoy, Bill Nighy, Amelia Bullmore, and Line of Duty‘s own Kelly MacDonald. Thankfully, almost everything else about this mini-series also screams excellence, especially the crackling, incisive and deeply honest writing from Clocking Off, Cracker and Shameless-stalwart Paul Abbott.

State of Play follows a group of journalists as they stumble onto the greatest story of their lives – ministerial corruption, contract killings, corporate greed, industrial espionage, illicit affairs – that pits the police, the government, and even their own friends and loved ones against them. It’s a twisting, turning, shifting, shocker of a masterpiece: a true titan of the genre.

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

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Line of Duty series one to six are available to stream now on BBC iPlayer.

The post Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next appeared first on Den of Geek.

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heartslogos · 5 years

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an oath to keep

Gideon is sitting on a dull ashy rock, boots covered in dull ashy dirt, staring out at a dull ashen sky as dull ash clouds puff around her. She is waiting for a drop ship to pick her up and take her away.

She is certain of two things.

One, when Harrowhark Nonagesimus gets her she’s going to be so mad at Gideon that she’s going to skip straight past frosty rage and into frothing at the corners of the mouth and she might try to pop each individual vertebrae of Gideon’s spine out through Gideon’s mouth like a candy dispenser.

Two, Gideon is deader than disco. Which provides a minor sliver of hope because disco has a weird tendency to dip its toe back into living every so often before being quickly shunted off into its shallow grave.

Gideon, in fact, does feels some minor, weird, buzzing feeling in the back of her skull that signals to her that she’s not all the way gone yet. Just ninety nine point nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine percent there.

She raises a hand and runs it through her hair, as she sighs, slumping down on the rock to stare up at the bleak sky.

Trust being dead to land her back at the Ninth. The afterlife couldn’t have something a little bit more interesting? Gideon’s no saint and didn’t have many expectations for what the other side would hold for her, but surely it wouldn’t be ye old homestead of eternal bleakness.

Figures that the bad place for the bad people is just the Ninth. It explains so much, honestly.

So far Gideon has catalogued three bits of good news while sitting on her old rock friend.

One. She’s got her two hander. Its familiar weight means that this place can’t be completely awful. Real hell would’ve been stuck in the afterlife with the little metal wand of a rapier and the kind of alright knuckles.

Two. Gideon also still has her glasses. Unscratched, unbroken, and in perfectly mirrored condition that she can see her reflection in them.

Three. Gideon’s existence in the afterlife is not a complete mangled wreck like it was when Gideon threw herself into it to start with. Her arms and legs work, her torso isn’t a sieve with a bonus chance at tetanus, and — not as great, but neither here nor there — her face paint looks fresh, sharp, and unblemished. Which also leads to the bad news that Gideon poked at her face a bit and could still feel the angry little zits on her forehead and the sides of her face.

Being dead, apparently, does not rescue a person from acne. Acne is a powerful curse that extends beyond life. There can be no rescuing from acne.

“Ninth.”

Gideon looks up and is somehow disappointed to see Camilla.

“Yo,” Gideon stands up, waving awkwardly. “Do I apologize?”

Camilla blinks at her, confused, “What for?”

“You’re here.”

Camilla looks around, and shrugs. “Not for long.”

They both look up at the sound of ship engines.

Camilla’s hands rest on her hips as they watch the dull clouds part, and the lights of a ship start to come closer.

“Thank you for what you did back there,” Camilla says as they watch the ship descend. “You do your house proud.”

Gideon shrugs, uncomfortable at the thought of making the Ninth House feel anything positive. The Ninth could suck it. It wasn’t really —

“The Ninth has less syllables than Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” Gideon says.

Camilla’s lip twitches upward at the corner. Gideon has a feeling Camilla already knew that.

“It was an honor to fight with you,” Camilla says as the ship completes its descent, landing off in the distance and lowering its ramp. She turns to Gideon and holds her hand out. “I’m going to join my adept.”

Gideon grasps it. “Hey, what was it that you were supposed to do?”

Camilla’s smile is grim and thin. “Finish it.”

Gideon’s hand tightens on Camilla’s. “And — ?”

She doesn’t now how to finish that question.

Camilla nods once. “It is done.”

They both let go of each other and Camilla turns to walk away. Gideon watches her for a bit before returning to her rock.

“Gideon!”

She looks up and sees Camilla, almost at the ship.

“You could come with us,” Camilla yells out towards her, “You’ve done more than enough. Our part is over.”

Gideon stares at Camilla, and then beyond her at the ship. She imagines she can see Palamedes in the shadow of the ship’s entryway. Boy that would be an awkward ride to wherever dead people go next. No thanks.

“Pass. I’ll wait for mine,” Gideon yells back.

Camilla is very still in the distance before she raises an arm and waves, then turns and completes the walk onto the ship.

Gideon watches the ship as it slowly returns to the sky and away from here. Her throat tightens and she tells herself she isn’t crying. She’s got no paint or brushes. If she messes up her face it’s going to be stuck that way for eternity. No thanks.

Gideon doesn’t know how long she’s been here. It could be minutes. It could be hours. It could be days or years or centuries.

She doesn’t feel tired or thirsty or anything. She’s got enough to do. Infinite laps to run, push ups, crunches, squats, sword drills. She even messes around with pushing rocks around the bleak landscape.

“You.”

Gideon groans, sheathing her sword as she drops her stance. She turns and she sees the hulking mass of Crux lumbering towards her, face grim and foreboding as ever.

“Come on, Crux,” Gideon gestures around them, “We’re dead. Can you drop being a giant wanker for like…a minute? I’ll even pretend I don’t know about the part where you rigged my ship so I would die as soon as I got off planet.”

Crux scowls, coming to a stop a few feet away from her, “Death is the least of what those who abandon their house deserve.” The formal marshal looks her over. “Ultimately you made up for your many flaws, though I can see that your disrespect and lack of manners remains unfixable.”

“Thanks?” Gideon hedges that this is supposed to be the most backhanded of complements, so backhanded that it goes right around to being a complete insult. “You know, Crux, I didn’t think you’d ever kick the bucket. Do I get to ask what did you in? Was it spite? Did you enjoy yourself so thoroughly on the news of my death that you kicked it to see if it was real? Did your dusty old bones just give in and send you collapsing to the floor in a puddle of skin?”

If Crux’s scowl gets any deeper it would threaten to become engraved onto his very bones themselves. Crux’s scowl is so deeply etched into his face that Gideon swears that you could pack the grooves like pockets.

“You wear the paint and patterns of the Ninth like an unattended toddler who put them on in the dark with their fingers,” Crux says. Overhead Gideon hears the sound of a ship coming.

“Looks like your ride’s here,” Gideon says, “Bet you hope that I’m not the one who rigged it this time, eh? Wouldn’t that be a nice turn of the dramatic? You want to offer me some skin mags? For old time’s sake?”

Gideon scrambles to hide behind her rock as Crux advances.

“You can’t kill me, Crux. I’m not scared of you, you old bag of dust,” Gideon says as Crux strides past her and her rock towards the ship, one hand on her sword just in case. The entire way the sound of his breathing and the rattling of his bones made Gideon think of a goody bag for necromancers with knuckles in it being shaken about. Gideon gives Crux’ back the finger.

“Gideon Nav,” Crux says as he walks towards the ship, “You have been a blot on the records of the Ninth since you fell onto our heads.”

Gideon is about to fire off a retort regarding the lack of heads in the Ninth in general, when Crux continues.

“But you saved the Reverend Daughter, and thus the Ninth. You may have been a blot on our records, but you will remain recorded, nonetheless. You were a cavalier worthy of service.”

Gideon watches Crux shamble all the way to the ship and get onto it, saying nothing in return.

Aiglamene comes around eventually, and Gideon is surprised to find herself sad to see her old mentor.

Her face is, dare Gideon think it? Fond.

“What’s up?” Gideon says, mustering up a small salute for the old woman. “You outlasted Crux! Good on you.”

“You are a wretch and a fool, and a legend of the Ninth House,” Aiglamene says. “It is good to see that despite the legends that came after your death and the amount of heroics involved in those legends, you are still Gideon Nav. When we heard word of what you did, I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. You did — “

“If you say I did the Ninth proud I’m going to throw myself down right here and have the biggest fit you’ve ever seen in your life, and since you’ve been around since the beginning of time it’s going to be one impressive fit.”

Aiglamene gives her a flat look that makes Gideon’s guts gurgle in protest.

“You did me proud, you thrasonical miscreant.”

“You got a dictionary for that one?”

Aiglamene sighs. “I can’t believe that I actually missed you.”

Gideon puts a hand over her heart, “Captain. You do care.”

“I regret the waste of emotion every second I spend looking at you. What are you wearing on your face?”

“Glasses and face paint. Don’t I look like a real proper Niner?”

“You look like a proper malignancy.”

It feels like it’s too soon when the ship comes for Aiglamene. Gideon wants to keep her here, ask her a billion questions about what exactly happened after Gideon died. About Harrow. About the Canaan House. About everyone and everything. About what it felt like to see Crux dead and do a jig over his body.

Aiglamene might even stay.

Gideon’s not so selfish as to ask that, though. So Gideon just gestures to the ship.

“No one’s rigged that one to blow, swear it,” Gideon jokes.

Aiglamene just looks at her, like she’s studying Gideon’s face. Gideon half expects the woman to command her to drop and give her some drills, make sure she’s fighting fit. Gideon expects that she’d do it on reflex.

“If you wait here, you will have a long time to go,” Aiglamene says. “You’ve done your service, Gideon. You did more than what anyone could have asked you, more than what duty asked. You’re free, Gideon. No one owns you, no one can ask anything of you anymore. You can walk away.”

That would be nice if it were true. But it isn’t.

“I made an oath, Captain,” Gideon says. “And I intend to keep it.”

Aiglamene starts to smile.

“You know, so when her lady of eternal gloom and dusk shows up I can tell her that this is what keeping a promise looks like.”

The smile doesn’t go away.

Aiglamene holds her hand out, Gideon grasps it, expecting a firm shake and a serious and slightly formal nod goodbye, but the old woman pulls Gideon in with surprising strength. Gideon is surprised to find that she’s actually taller than Aiglamene now. Which is weird, because one would think you would stop growing when dead.

“Goodbye, Gideon Nav,” Aiglamene whispers into Gideon’s ear. “And good luck.”

It takes a huge amount of effort to uncurl her fingers from Aiglamene’s robes as they part.

Gideon watches Aiglamene go. And when Aiglamene raises her hand to wave goodbye as the ship’s door closes, Gideon salutes. And she holds that position until the clouds have closed over the ship and the gray world is silent again.

There are others. Eventually Lachrimorta and Aisamorta kick it. Gideon takes great pains to make sure that she’s well hidden when she hears those two biddies coming. She’s there for a handful of nuns she recognizes, some other serfs and cultists, various laypeople. Most of them she doesn’t know by name. There are some she doesn’t recognize at all. She does her best to remain hidden for the most part. Gideon would rather not have to deal with them.

Time must pass, though Gideon doesn’t really feel it. It’s like all of time is a giant slush that Gideon stands in the middle of, unmoved and unmoving.

The temptation to get on one of those ships and get away from here is there, but Gideon has something stronger than that. An oath.

Gideon’s word is important. She can’t leave here until it’s completed.

So she waits. She practices drills with her sword, even though she doesn’t really need to anymore. It does keep her fit for running away and hiding from faces she doesn’t want to deal with, which is nice. She does laps. She does sit ups. Crunches, squats, one handed push ups. Clap push ups. Hand stands. Whatever.

She even does the motions for the drills with a rapier and knuckle using a stick she’d found.

Gideon waits.

It feels like not long enough when she feels the dreaded step of Harrowhark Nonagesimus on the horizon.

Gideon turns, hand resting on the pommel of her two hander, the other adjusting her glasses as the shadowy figure of velvet and lace and bone drowse closer.

She hears a ship in the distance.

“One flesh, one end,” Gideon whispers to herself as Harrow comes into close enough view that she can see the press of her thin lips, the coiled tension in her shoulders, and the spite flickering in her eyes. “Sup.”

“You,” Harrow snarls. Gideon holds her ground as Harrow picks up the pace, great clouds of gray dirt and ash puffing away behind her as her long robes hiss along the ground. “You impertinent, selfish, foolish, insufferable, malicious, contrary shit.”

“I feel like that this is just the prologue for an epic speech,” Gideon says, pointing towards the ship coming towards them, “You want to discuss this on that instead?”

“I’m not going to discuss anything with you Griddle,” Harrow snaps, but continues walking towards the ship, “I am not having a discussion. I am going to tell you exactly why you did a completely stupid and unnecessary thing. I am going to tell you exactly the many ways you were wrong and how idiotic you were. I am going to tell you, in great and exact detail, the many ways in which your choices negatively impacted me over the past centuries, and I am going to explain to you in a way that even your single brain cell — which, I imagine has much atrophied over time due to lack of any meaningful stimulus — can understand how incomprehensibly and stupendously ill advised your abrupt departure was and the repercussions of you disobeying my orders was.”

Gideon falls into step behind Harrow, folding her arms around the back of her head and grinning at the back of Harrow’s.

“Oh, you did miss me.”

“It was a cold universe without you, Griddle,” Harrow snaps. Gideon beams. “And I had to deal with it by myself. I had to hold a sword, Griddle. A blasted sword. Do you know how frustrating it was to do — to do laps? It took me years, Griddle. Years. Just to swing a metal stick. A metal stick. Did it ever strike you that I had better things to do? That such physical labor was meant to be delegated to one such as yourself? I doubt it.”

Gideon stops waking and just watches Harrow go at it, snapping as vicious and mean spirited and terribly frustrating as ever. She missed this. She missed Harrow.

And now she’s going to have forever with this.

Gideon’s smile feels like it’s going to crack her face. She’s a masochist.

“Are you coming or not Gideon?” Harrow turns about, one foot on the ship’s ramp, tapping impatiently. “I’ve been waiting for this end for millenium, Gideon Nav. How long are you going to keep me waiting?”

“You’d think with millennium to yourself you’d have learned patience,” Gideon says, slowly walking towards her. “Besides. Aren’t I worth waiting for?”

#heartsfic #gideon the ninth

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weatherfey · 5 years

Text

Small handful of Yuletide favorites! I was hoping to get all my reading done before the reveal, but I didn't even get close. I'm looking forward to discovering a few new authors.

Recs for Gideon the Ninth, God's Own Country, In Other Lands, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, Persuasion, Shakespeare RPF, Six of Crows, and Sorcerer to the Crown.

the blood of you bleeding as you try to let go Gideon the Ninth. 6K. Throughout her childhood, Harrow sees one specific ghost. Gideon is as helpful as she ever is.

Good Morning Gideon the Ninth. 1K. Gideon's Guide to Doing Some Push-Ups, At Least, Have You Never Used Your Arms, Nonagesimus?

And My Heart Starts God's Own Country. 3K, Gheorghe/Johnny A year has passed and Johnny and Gheorghe are slowly making their own traditions.

Be Bold, But Not Too Bold In Other Lands. 8K, Elliot Schafer/Luke Sunborn A dragon appears in the Borderlands, and Elliot Schafer makes it his first order of business to get kidnapped by it.

The Magicians of Starecross Hall Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. 35K, Childermass/Segundus Being a series of interludes in the life of John Segundus, newly practical magician, in the year following the disappearances of Messrs. Strange and Norrell. Including: a new school for young magicians, explorations of the King’s Roads, Lady Pole’s alarming needle-work, unanticipated trips to Faerie, and John Childermass.

tastes like the real thing Persuasion. 3K, Anne/Frederick Even as Anne watched a stream of thick, gleaming, melted white chocolate pout onto her sister’s cool, and formerly spotless, marble countertops, she was pretty sure that it was a bad idea.

Exits and Entrances Shakespeare RPF. 2K, Marlowe/Shakespeare Officially, Christopher Marlowe was killed in a bar brawl on 30 May, 1593, 10 days after his arrest for blasphemy.

Now Kit must decide who he can trust to make sure the record stays that way.

Come High Water Six of Crows. 1K, Kaz/Inej Kaz at sea. (Both literally and figuratively).

A Series of Discoveries Sorcerer to the Crown. 6K, Paget Damerell/Robert "Rollo" Threlfall The idea came to him like a bolt of lightning. (Rollo had personal experience with being struck by lightning, so he was confident in his simile. The weather in Fairyland is not only chancy but tends to the dramatic, and dragons are, in addition to being accustomed to fly through clouds in all weathers, more than usually conductive. Fortunately, they are also extremely difficult to damage.)

Living with his family was simply intolerable. Very well; so why not live somewhere else? Why not live somewhere quite distant from all his family? Why not, in fact, leave Fairyland altogether?

#yuletide #sorcerer to the crown #six of crows #shakespeare #persuasion #jonathan strange and mr norrell #in other lands #god's own country #gideon the ninth #fic rec

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talesfromthetabletop · 5 years

Text

Astara’s Tale Part One: The Iron Wind

“It looks like a dust storm might be coming”, Cara called up to Nex, who rode on top of the aneen ahead. The great beast swatted at the stinging flies around its face with its diminutive arms as it plodded onwards. Nex looked to the horizon, shielding the eye sockets of his mask from the midday glare.

He stared for a moment, the caravan lulling to a holt. He shot up suddenly, startling the aneen and the rest of the group following. “That's no Dust storm!”, he yelled jumping down from the creature. “That’s Iron wind!”

He pointed to a small cave opening a short distance away, his voice loud and authoritative. “Get to shelter! Move!”

Astara froze for only a second, her mind processing the danger that had sprung upon them. She turned and sprinted towards the hole in the rock face, her feet digging deep into the soft ground. The air around her became thick with drit and took on a coppery taste. The flavour in her mouth brought with it a memory from her past. A memory of burst lips and spitting blood. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to force the memory back when her foot hit a loose rock and her ankle gave way. She slammed into the ground with force, the air in her lungs knocked out of her violently.

She lay on the ground for a second, dazed, the pain in her ankle shooting up her leg. It took a few moments before her mind kicked back into gear.

I've got to move. Move or die. It's that simple.

She tried to scramble to her feet but the instant she put any weight on her ankle it gave way causing her to fall again and cry out in pain. She pulled herself across the ground, digging her nails into the earth and heaving herself towards shelter.

I'm not going to make it. The words screamed in her mind. I'm too slow. At this rate that storm is going to rip me to pieces.

She twisted around and stared in horror as the large dark cloud on the horizon drew rapidly closer.

Is this how I’m going to die? Here? Some dusty trail in the middle of nowhere? This wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could I die when I still had so much unfinished business? Maybe it was for the best. At least here I could see it coming, face it head on and be brave for once.

She closed her eyes and prayed to any god or power watching.

Please don't let this hurt. Please let me die quick

She drew her hand up, the blade she kept sheathed to her wrist flicked out. If I’m going to die then it would be by my own hand.

She closed her eyes and took in a breath. She placed the cool edge of the knife to her throat but just before she could rake it across her flesh, arms tucked under hers, wrapping around her and dragging her to her feet.

She let out a startled gasp, the sudden stay of execution stunning her enough to allow herself to be hauled backwards. Dumbfounded she looked up into the pale mask of Nex as he rushed her toward the shelter.

Once inside with the rest of the group, Nex let her drop against the cold stone walls. Spinning and reaching into his pocket, he threw out a small silver ball. It bounced across the ground before shimmering, a blue wall of light erupting from its center. It covered the entrance to the cave, sealing and protecting all those inside.

For a second they were still, quietly panting in the dim glow of the shield. The respite was short lived however, when a blood-curdling scream erupted from the other side of the blue light. All heads turned to see a silhouette still outside. Cara scrawled across the ground, desperately trying to crawl towards the cave fighting against the dark swarm that was slowly surrounding her. Her face was afire with pain and panic.

The youngest of the group, Anya sprinted forward, moving to scoop up the silver ball but Nex caught her sharply, pulling her to face him.

“We have to go save her!”, she screamed, trying desperately to pull her arm free from his gloved grip. “Nex please!”

“Anya”, he said softly, his voice low and gentle. “It's too late”.

“No it's not! How can you say that? You can see her! You can hear her, for Calaval’s sake!”

“Anya”.

“Nex, please! She my sister! She's all I have!”

Nex’s grip did not lessen.

Cara’s screams were becoming more guttural, the pained cries slowly giving way to loud gurgled howls.

Anya turned towards the barrier, her eyes wide and tormented. She pulled and clawed in vain against Nex who only pulled her closer, whispering soothing words as the young girl slowly crumpled to the ground.

Astara looked away, closing her eyes to hold back the tears she was fighting. Each pathetic wail from Anya tore right through her chest despite her efforts to keep her distance from the group. Quietly, she moved away, using the wall to help her limp over to a large bolder before sitting down. Once settled, she stared at her companions, each of which just sat quietly on the ground staring at the dirt with harrowed eyes.

It felt like a lifetime until Cara’s cries died away. the only sound left the rhythmic clicks of Vox’s mechanics and the muffled sobs that erupted from Anya every few minutes or so.

Deciding it was best to give her some space, Nex moved back, wrapping her in his long outer robe. Without speaking, he stood up and seemed to collect himself, running a hand over the dark blue fabric that wrapped around his head. After a second or two he straightened up and made his way over to where Astara sat.

“Can you stand?”

Astara looked up at him. “Sorry?”

“Your ankle. Can you stand on it?” There was something to his voice now, a soft strain. It was hard to tell but he seemed tired. Though after what they all had just gone through Astara guessed that was to be expected.

Astara bit her lip and tested her ankle out. Placing her foot on the floor, she tried to bare weight with it but sharp pain shot up the leg, causing her to wince.

“I'm going to take that as a no”. Nex signed, kneeling down in front of her. He reached out slowly, taking her ankle into his gloved hand. “Can you move it?”

She stretched out her foot and nodded.

He slowly pressed the muscles around her joint, stopping occasionally when she hissed in pain.

“Hmmm. Well it's not broken”. He reached into a small satchel on his belt and pulled out a wad of bandages. “Probably just a nasty sprain. Try to rest it if you can and if any of my belongings survived this storm, I’ll see if I can put something on it later that might help relieve any pain”.

He began to methodically bandage up her ankle and Astara couldn't help but notice how soft and gentle his touch was. She shook herself and took stock of what happened.

He had saved her life. Her. a complete stranger to him yet he had saved her life, risking his own life in the process. How was she supposed to handle that? No one had ever done something so selfless for her before. Growing up it was very much a battle to even survive. If you wanted to see tomorrow then you looked out for yourself and no one else.

Blushing, she turned away from Nex. Maybe he had an ulterior motive, keeping her in his debt until he can trade it in for his own gain. That was the style she was more accustomed to. “No one does anything out of the goodness of their hearts” her father would say. “Everyone wants something at the end of the day”

Did Nex have other intentions? If so she had no shins to give nor anything else of value. She had her body but she wasn't about to sell that again without good cause. Besides, he didn't seem the type so far to seek female company - or any company for that matter. She was already obligated to work for him so that couldn't be the reason.

She chewed on her lip as she thought.

She wanted to say something to him, to thank him for risking his life. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated it and how grateful she was to him, how much she would be in his debt. She wanted to say so many things but the words stuck to her teeth, refusing to budge off her tongue. Instead she looked away, a crimson glow working its way across her cheeks

“There”, Nex said, pulling the bandaging tightly. “That should at least get you back on your feet”.

He got up in one fluid motion and Astara could feel the words ‘thank you’ form on her lips but by the time she was ready to push them out he was striding away, off to check up on the rest of them.

Well done, Astara. First kind act someone has shown you in years and you can't even manage to say thank you. Aren't you just going to be little miss popular.

She dug her nails into her palm and cursed her own cowardice.

She didn't need friends. Not with the path that lay in front of her. They would only get in the way or get hurt.

She looked back over at Nex who was trying to inspect Taran for wounds.

These people had been hurt enough.

Hi!, Thank You for joining me on my first part in what i hope will be an on going story. please feel free to message me with any feedback or tip!

Glossary

Drit - Sand, ground up synth, metals etc. that make up the majority of the ground

The Ninth World - The world. As it after after eight other incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and moved away, abandoned the planet or died out.

Synth - Synthetic materials, primarily plastics. Not created by ninth-worlders.

The Iron Wind - A cloud of nanites which randomly change or destroy anything that comes in contact with it

Navarene - The country you are in, the Northern-most kingdom of the Steadfast

The Steadfast - The ‘enlightened lands’. Nine kingdoms in a fragile alliance who mostly pay fealty to the Order of Truth. Think of it as a subcontinent.

The Order of Truth - A quasi-religious organisation obsessed with the Numenera, maintaining order and control

Numenera - Artifacts left behind or forgotten from previous civilisations

Aeon Priest - Members of The Order of Truth, who oversee things in many smaller communities.

Abhuman - Mutants and sub-races. They are all bad-natured, the distinguishing characteristic from ‘normal’ mutants.

The Truth - The primary language of The Steadfast. Taught by aeon priests.

Cypher - One-use pieces of the Numenera, ranging from pills to grenades, ray-emitters to teleporters.

Shins - coins, shiny baubles, dials, buttons etc. that are used as currency. Minted coins are less common, but some places use them exclusively.

#numenera #roleplay #creative #writing #own work #original story #just for fun #montecooke #montecookgames #story time

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