#wait i also used a line from the page for three act structure

[roridomyces]

Triptych

#do. do you see my vision #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #aj arts #orv spoilers #i guess #anyway this was very fun #wikipedia poem #yoohankim #text is from the Wikipedia pages for: #lichen. star system. polaris. black hole. author. protagonist #and tripartite #lichen can be a symbiosis of fungi and algae or cyanobacteria; or it can have all three #gravitational lensing is the term for the visual distortion around black holes as it bends light. some of it gets mirrored #youll see it in artist renditions of black holes #wait i also used a line from the page for three act structure

[brooklynmuseum]

Closing out National Poetry Month, our Spring Interns paired some of their favorite poems with works from our collection. We hope you enjoy!

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas

Image: Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770). Page From Haru no Nishiki, 1771. Color woodblock print on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Peter P. Pessutti, 83.190.1

from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” [Excerpt] By Claudia Rankine 

/

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

/

— Halle Smith, Digital Collections Intern Catherine Green (American, born 1952). [Untitled] (West Indian Day Parade), 1991. Chromogenic photograph, sheet. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 1991.58.2. © artist or artist's estate 

Ode to Enchanted Light by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.

Consuelo Kanaga’s black and white photograph captures a dazzling, yet fleeting moment from everyday life. Three textured glasses cast shadows whose patterns are almost kaleidoscopic in effect. We can imagine Kanaga passing by her kitchen table, as she is brought to a halt to take a closer look at, and ultimately to photograph, the simple beauty generated by the play of light and everyday objects. The close-up scale of this image emulates the singularizing framing techniques deployed by Surrealist photographers, who also took parts of everyday life and blew them up in the photographic frame, thereby encouraging their viewers to look at life around us from a different angle. It is a way of saying: Here, take a closer look. Viewing the world with wonder, along with the joy that this act brings, are encapsulated in Pablo Neruda’s poem Ode to Enchanted Light. The speaker observes the way light passes through trees and creates enchanting patterns. He not only observes, but feels the beauty in the simple details of life, from the way light falls from the sky, to the sheen of leaves, to the buzzing of cicadas. Approaching life through such a hopeful lens evokes a glass-half-full perspective. In fact, the speaker is so hopeful that he believes “The world is/a glass overflowing/with water.” I think Kanaga would have felt the same way. 

— Kirk Testa, Curatorial Intern, Photography Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Glasses and Reflections). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.25

Easter Wings By George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

      Though foolishly he lost the same,

            Decaying more and more,

                  Till he became

                        Most poore:

                        With thee

                  O let me rise

            As larks, harmoniously,

      And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

      And still with sicknesses and shame.

            Thou didst so punish sinne,

                  That I became

                        Most thinne.

                        With thee

                  Let me combine,

            And feel thy victorie:

         For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings by George Herbet and Martin Bach’s flower vase from the Brooklyn Museum’s Decorative Arts collection reveal the interrelationship between form and function. In Easter Wings, Herbert strategically varies the line length to create an image that enhances the meaning of the poem; when you turn the poem on its side, it resembles the wings of a bird, of which are symbolic of the atonement of Jesus Christ. In doing so, the author is not only telling us his message, but he is showing it visually as well. Similarly, the vase takes the visual form of its function. Its floral design amplifies the meaning of the object, as the vase is meant to hold flowers. In both instances, we see how aesthetic properties of a work echo the meaning and function of the work itself.

— Amy Zavecz Martin Bach (American, 1862-1921). Vase, ca. 1905. Opalescent glass. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Zoebisch, 59.143.16. Creative Commons-BY 

I am the Earth (Watashi wa chikyu) [Excerpt] by Kiyoko Nagase, Translated by Takako Lento

I am warm, moist soil  I am a single supple stalk  I draw my life  all the way up into corollas of wild berries on the roadside 

I am amazed at  a breast of water welling  to flow into the inlet of a muddy rice paddy  I am amazed at  myself being  hot steam blowing fire and sulfur up  from the bottom of the great ocean, deep indigo.  I am amazed at  the crimson blood flow  covering the earth’s surface in human shape;  I am amazed that it swells as the tides ebb and flow, and gushes out monthly under distant invisible gravity … I am the earth.  I live there, and I am the very same earth. 

In the four billionth year  I have come to know  the eternal cold moon, my other self, my hetero being,  then, for the first time, I am amazed that I am warm mud.

The vivid imagery conjured up by Kiyoko Nagase’s poem is beautifully visualized by Emmi Whitehorse’s painting. The emphasis on deep Earth tones and abstract corporeality in both the poem and the painting really creates an intense metaphysical link between the environment and the self.

— Amanda Raquel Dorval, Archives Intern Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo, born 1957). Fire Weed, 1998. Chalk, graphite, pastel and oil on paper mounted on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Hinrich Peiper and Dorothee Peiper-Riegraf in honor of Emmi Whitehorse, 2006.49. © artist or artist's estate

Seventh Circle of Earth by Ocean Vuong

On April 27, 2011, a gay couple, Michael Humphrey and Clayton Capshaw, was murdered by immolation in their home in Dallas, Texas.

Dallas Voice

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As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his hands? / Another torch

streams through / the kitchen window, / another errant dove. / It’s funny. I always knew / I’d be warmest beside / my man. / But don’t laugh. Understand me / when I say I burn best / when crowned / with your scent: that earth-sweat / & Old Spice I seek out each night / the days

refuse me. / Our faces blackening / in the photographs along the wall. / Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each thimbled throat / & made it sing

until the notes threaded to this / smoke rising / from your nostrils. Speak— / until your voice is nothing / but the crackle / of charred

bones. But don’t laugh / when these walls collapse / & only sparks / not sparrows / fly out. / When they come / to sift through these cinders—& pluck my tongue, / this fisted rose, / charcoaled & choked / from your gone

mouth. / Each black petal / blasted / with what’s left / of our laughter. / Laughter ashed / to air / to honey to baby / darling, / look. Look how happy we are / to be no one / & still

American.

Ocean Vuong’s “Seventh Circle of Earth” has persisted as one of the great, affective moments of poetry in my life since I first heard Pádraig Ó Toama’s gorgeous reading and discussion of it on his podcast, Poetry Unbound. I decided to pair Vuong’s poem with Mary Coble’s Untitled 2 (from Note To Self) because both works are urgently immersive into the violence and experience of LGBTQ people in the U.S., and for how each work uses text and physicality to address presence, pain, and erasure. Vuong’s poem is actually footnoted to a quote from a news article about a gay couple murdered in Texas. The page is thus blank, absent of text. The reader has to sink below the main stage, the accepted space of word and story, to find the voices of this couple and the depth of their story’s tenderness, eroticism, and utter devastation. Coble’s piece foils the structure and effect of Seventh Circle of Earth by taking what was subverted by Vuong—text and the narrative of violence—wholly to the surface. Her photograph captures her own legs tattooed without ink with the names of LGBTQ individuals victimized by hate crimes. I cannot help but think of Franz Kafka’s short story “In the Penal Colony,” in which prisoners’ “sentences'' are inscribed by the needle of a “punishment apparatus” directly onto their bodies. I was struck by how the curator’s note for this photograph describes Coble’s artistic endeavor here as “harrowing.” The needle in Kafka’s short story is indeed called “The Harrow”. The noun harrow is an agricultural tool that combs plowed soil to break up clumps of earth and uproot weeds and clear imperfections. The verb to harrow means to plague, and in the story’s original German the verb for “harrow”, eggen,  is also translated as “to torment”. Kafka and Coble conflate these definitions of “the harrow” in their respective works: they use a needled device, like the true noun definition, as an instrument of torment because of someone else’s idea of punishment and justice. Here, violence is brought to the surface, intimate in as much as we are brought right up to the artist’s skin and into the presence of her and her community’s pain. Together, one can see how each creator physicalizes their respective artistic space to tell the stories of LGBTQ people, of what is tender and harrowing, below the surface and written into the skin. 

— Talia Abrahams, Provenance Intern, IHCPP Mary Coble (American, born 1978). Untitled 2 (from Note to Self), 2005. Inkjet print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 2008.10. © artist or artist's estate 

To my daughter Kakuya   by Assata Shakur  

I have shabby dreams for you   of some vague freedom   I have never known.   Baby   I don't want you hungry or thirsty   or out in the cold.   and I don't want the frost   to kill your fruit   before it ripens.   I can see a sunny place  Life exploding green.   I can see your bright, bronze skin at ease with all the flowers   and the centipedes.   I can hear laughter,   not grown from ridicule   And words not prompted   by ego or greed or jealousy.   I see a world where hatred   has been replaced by love.   and ME replaced by WE   And I can see a world replaced                                       where you,   building and exploring,   strong and fulfilled,   will understand.   And go beyond my little shabby dreams. 

This poem is featured in Assata Shakur’s memoir, Assata: An Autobiography. It details her hope for a better world that  her daughter can grow up in. This poem is positioned in the book when Shakur is facing increasing prosecution as a result of her  activism and affiliations with the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation army. Being written more than 30 years after this picture  was taken, the poem summons me to think about the trauma that many Black women face and how much of that trauma gets passed  down to their children. The black and white photo of a mother and daughter provides a nice visual to the poem. “The image of a Black  mother and child sitting on their luggage reflects the little-discussed history of segregated transportation in the northern United States. Through the 1940s, Penn Station officials assigned Black travelers seats in Jim Crow cars on southbound trains” (Brooklyn Museum). The photograph of train passengers waiting outside of Manhattan’s Pennsylvania Station especially echoes the verse “I don’t want you  hungry or thirsty or out in the cold.” The overall optimistic tone of Shakur’s poem alters our relationship to the image as we imagine  the mother pictured above hoping for the exact same things

— Zaria W, Teen Programs intern Ruth Orkin (American, 1921-1985). Mother and Daughter at Penn Station, NYC, 1948. Gelatin silver photograph, sheet: 13 15/16 × 11 in. (35.4 × 27.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mary Engel, 2011.22.3. © artist or artist's estate

Crunch.  By Kailyn Gibson 

I retch as a mass of sinew lies between my lips.  The sensation is unbearable.  Fortunately, the jar of flies has gone missing again. 

Slowly, surely, and yet never sure at all,  the quiet of buzzing rings through the in-between. 

It is a symphony wrought from blood and bone. 

Saliva drips from bleeding, hungry gums,  And the crunch of glass echoes the grinding of molars.

If I proffered a sanguine smile, would masticated shards look like teeth?  Would they gleam just as prettily?  

The flies ring,  and the rot calls. 

— Kailyn Gibson Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917). Portrait of a Man (Portrait d'homme), ca. 1866. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Collection Fund, 21.112 

Excerpt from Autobiography of Red A novel in verse by Anne Carson

7. If Helen’s reasons arose out of some remark Stesichoros made either it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) or it was not.

8. If it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) either this remark was a lie or it was not.

9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way we are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.

10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.

11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.

12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.

13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.

This excerpt comes from Appendix C of Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red, a novel in verse. A translator and classicist herself, Carson mixes fact with fiction in her unconventional retelling of the myth of Geryon and Hercules, beginning with a roundabout introduction to the poet Stesichoros. Autobiography presents a captivating example of recent Queer projects that take up Classical material as their basis. A fascination with the Classical past has pervaded our modern conception of sexual identity politics, down to the very etymology of the word “lesbian.” In this fascination, I see the same desire to capture Classical imagery as cultural heritage which has also pervaded American museums, albeit with significantly different aims. The fresco pictured above comes to mind, which passed through many collectors and was even purchased by the museum before anyone pegged it as a modern piece—not an original Roman fresco. John D. Cooney, a 20th century curator of our Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art collection, wrote that “the unclad and somewhat winsome charms of the lady [probably] diverted objective glances.” Both in the case of the fresco and Carson’s novel, the “unclad and somewhat winsome charms” of the Classical past shape and reshape our understanding of history.

— Kira Houston, Curatorial Intern, Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Modern, in the style of the Roman Period. Part of a Fresco, early 19th century C.E. Clay, paint. Brooklyn Museum, Ella C. Woodward Memorial Fund, 11.30.

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

— Shori Diedrick Brackens (American, born 1989). when no softness came, 2019. Cotton and acrylic yarn. Brooklyn Museum, Purchased with funds given by The LIFEWTR Fund at Frieze New York 2019, 2019.12. © artist or artist's estate

Jaguar By Francisco X. Alarcón

some say                                    dicen que ahora                  I'm now almost                           estoy casi extinto       extinct in this park                      por este parque    but the people                            pero la gente who say this                               que dice esto don't know                                 no sabe that by smelling                          que al oler   the orchids                                 las orquídeas in the trees                                 en los árboles they're sensing                          están percibiendo  the fragrance                             la fragancia of my chops                              de mis fauces  that by hearing                          que al oír the rumblingc                            el retumbo of the waterfalls                        de los saltos  

they're listening                         están escuchando          to my ancestors'                       el gran rugido   great roar                                  de mis ancestros

that by observing                      que al observar     the constellations                      las constelanciones     of the night sky                         del firmamento 

they're gazing                           están mirando at the star spots                       las motas de estrellas    on my fur                                  marcadas en mi piel that I am and                            que yo soy always will be                           y siempre seré the wild                                     el indomable

untamed                                  espíritu silvestre living spirit                               vivo de esta of this jungle                            jungla

While the author of the poem speaks about animals, their words can also speak on behalf of the erasure of indigenous peoples in South America. Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions and culture are very important to life in South America. Despite their marginalization, Indigenous peoples throughout the Andes used coca leaves to help with the altitude. The use and cultivation of coca are criminalized throughout most of South America despite it being essential to indigenous cultures. This vessel was used to contain lime which would activate the coca leaves.  Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions are also faced with endangerment despite being woven into the fabric that is Latin America. Through the opposite man and woman figures, the vessel shows the duality that is important to the Quimbaya people which is still relevant to Colombians today.

Aunque el autor del poema habla sobre los animales, sus palabras también comunican el sentimiento común de la supresión de los indígenas en Suramérica. Con la mención del jaguar, se puede entender en el poema que la cultura y las tradiciones de las personas que son indígenas son sumamente importantes para la vida en Sudamérica. A pesar de su marginación, los indígenas en Los Andes utilizan la hoja de coca para ayudar en la altura de las montañas. El uso y el cultivo de la hoja de coca fue criminalizado (penalizado) a través de Sudamérica, aunque su uso para los indígenas era vital y esencial para su cultura. Este recipiente que se utiliza contiene limón lo que activa la hoja de la coca. Similarmente al jaguar, las tradiciones de los indígenas siempre estaban en peligro aunque estuvieran entrelazadas en las telas de lo que sería Latinoamérica. A través del hombre opuesto y las figuras de mujeres, el recipiente muestra la dualidad de lo que es importante para las personas que son Quimbaya, algo que todavía hoy es relevante para los Colombianos.

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas Quimbaya. Poporo (Lime Container), 1-600 C.E. Tumbaga. Brooklyn Museum, Alfred W. Jenkins Fund, 35.507. Creative Commons-BY 

#national poetry month #poetry #art #poems #art history #brooklyn museum #bkminterns

[heavenaintaniceplace]

so i found my mother’s copy of the jw (new world translation) bible and i decided to yoink that shit for disposal but not before i realized there is a lot of lines highlighted in the book from when she was being manipulated by the jw lady that convinced her to do “bible study” for years. and what do you know if the lines the lady had my mother highlight weren’t the same lines that jws use to justify their cult beliefs! all the lines are cherry picked, no actual study, just the lady manipulating and priming her to accept their beliefs by presenting so called “biblical proof.” so here is some of the things that stand out before i finally rip this thing to shreds and through it away.

literally the whole book replaces every instance of the tetagrammaton with “jehovah” because they want people to believe its been “removed from the bible thousands of times because they don’t want you to know the true name of god”. the whole thing is translated with an agenda to make them look right and everyone else wrong and to make people believe they have some secret hidden knowledge (they don’t they’re liars). putting this under a read more because its very long.

heavy TW for everything related ro religious trauma, the jehovah’s witnesses, bible passages and christianity. incredibly long post. i plan on burning the jehovah’s witness copy of the bible, no joke.

the imago dei part of genesis to try and convince her that humans were super special to god

genesis chapter 3, the serpent convincing eve to eat the fruit of knowledge so that she would accept their version of the original sin doctrine and that women are cursed

chapter where cain kills abel to convince her that this was the first murder in human history (obviously incorrect)

highlighted the part where god kills everything on earth with a flood to groom her into expecting god to do it again later and seen as fair and just and part where god “gives” noah every living creature (because fuck other organisms apparently)

part of leviticus where (in their version) theyre like “no soul must eat blood” (what the fuck) to justify not allowing life saving blood transfusions

deuteronomy part about “jehovah being one” to justify being non trinitarian (they don’t believe jesus is god or that the holy spirit is god, this is meant to lure people who are already christians away from their denoms and into theirs)

“thou shall not kill” is highlighted for some reason and i don’t know why

highlighted job 1:12 to emphasize that they believe satan is in control of the world because god allows it and job 26:7 that has a note saying “the earth hangs there” when talking about sheol to convince her of where earth is relative to “heaven” and using a bunch of “face of the waters” creationist language to make it vague as possible. job 27:5 to make her believe that “no one is righteous” and that saying so is sinful

part in psalms that assures that “wicked people will be no more if you just wait a little while longer” (this is the apocalypse imminent narrative they use to groom people with fear of dying or leaving but also to get them warmed up to the idea of mass death). “the righteous will inherit the earth and live forever” narrative so they believe that jws will live on earth forever after being resurrected while everyone else (whos not a jw) is killed by god

psalms 91 to drive home the fact that these people think theyre invincible in every meaning of the word, to natural disasters and disease etc

proverbs 6 part about “false witnesses”. jws believe that three jehovah’s witnesses have to be present to verify that a crime (like domestic or sexual abuse) actually happened or the governing body and elders don’t care. literally. the “false witness” narrative is used against survivors and people they want to silence in their organization and emphasizes how much jehovah hates “false witnesses” aka people brave enough to talk and victims

proverbs 12:18 about “wise and unwise tongues”, basically anyone that speaks out against the jws are “unwise” and harmful

proverbs 22 about raising children (”train up a child”, if you don’t know it already this is a child abuser dog whistle) that implies that indoctrination will last until adulthood if done right. this is especially bad because this copy is from the early 2000s when i was in kindergarten. this woman had been lurking on us since i was an infant.

proverbs 27 about how neighbors near is better than brothers far away. the implication here is that fundamentally family who aren’t jws don’t matter

ecclesiates 5. i genuinely think its warning people to not ask too much of god or risk his anger, thats the vibe im getting here because the wording is confusing as fuck

isiah 40:22 trying to hammer in the notion that god is greater than anything especially “worldly” governments (except the governing body ofc /s). isiah 43:10 the “you are my witnesses” to justify the name “jehovah’s witnesses” and shoehorn the idea in

daniel 2:40, the idea of an indescribable kingdom, the whole kingdoms in the “last days” conspiracy they use to convince people the “last days” are coming

matthew 4:8 where jesus is persuaded by satan by offering every kingdom on earth. the point in text is “don’t worship anyone except god” but the point of the jws is that nothing on earth actually matters

matthew 6:9 (nice), the our father, meant to make the reader to ask god to hasten the kingdom of god or as we ex-jws know hasten the apocalypse and the death of people they dont like

matthew 16:24, meant to convince people to leave everything behind and join the jws, “disown yourself” aka “die to yourself” toxic bullshit repackaged

matthew 19:9, to convince people that divorce even in instances of domestic abuse is wrong because the governing body won’t allow it and loves to control women

matthew 24:4-14, “anyone who doesnt speak for the jws is a false prophet” and warms people up to the notion that war is necessary; also that evidence of war is a sign of the “last days” and that this is supposed to be good news. ongoing war and the hope for global genocide is “good news” to them.

matthew 24:21. this one is meant to make people feel the apocalypse could happen at any time and to be afraid of it, a great war is coming and only the “chosen ones” (jehovah’s witnesses) will survive when everyone else dies. there’s a paper bookmark on this page. makes me wonder.

mark 8:34. the “die to yourself” bullshit, the idea that the cross was a “torture stake” because jws believe that wearing crosses is idolatry and they want other people to believe their quirky beliefs so they accept heavier things

matthew 10:28, “anyone who follows jehovah and jesus will literally live forever!” but also that “no one is prepared to leave their family for jesus and thats shameful because you should want to sacrifice your entire family!”

mark 11:24 “anything you pray for earnestly you get”. this is spiritual bypassing btw. and :25 “ask for forgiveness and be automatically forgiven no matter what you did” is also fucked

matthew 15-23: jesus (almost) gets wasted while being crucified etc, not sure why this one is highlighted unless im missing some jw bullshit here

luke 20:27. don’t understand this one but they’re threatening “heavier judgement” on people

john 5:28, promising resurrection through jesus after people die but only for the Good tm people (the jws)

john 6:15. how jesus is about to be arrested but goes to a mountain. dunno why this on is underlined

john 11:24. bringing home the same “jesus will save you from dying if youre a jw” bullshit. john 14:6 “jesus is the ONLY way ever! there can’t be anything else except jesus” indoctrination tailored to make you co-dependent. john 17:3, hook line and sinker of promising resurrection and “eternal life” again

john 17:15. here is the “we aren’t of the World tm” shit meant to make you feel outcast from everyone else who isnt a jw, setting up “the world” (everyone else) as other

acts 15:25. “follow the jw rules because the holy spirit you to”

romans 10:10, spread jw beliefs and witness as much as possible. romans 12:9 “hate everything jehovah hates so you’re not a hypocrite” basically means hate other people the jws don’t approve of

corinthians 6:9 (nice but not so nice this time) “anyone we don’t like won’t inherit the earth” translation: anyone we don’t like won’t survive the apocalypse thats definitely happening soon so always be afraid. “homosexuals” are changed to “men kept for unnatural purposes for this one.” still homophobic.

corinthians 7:6, the idea that everyone has a gift that needs to be exploited and used by the jws

corinthians 15:33. “don’t participate in any activities with any outsiders because it will lead you away from jehovah!! fun is ‘drunkenness’, you’ll loose your resurrection if you do!! non jw people are bad influences!!”

2 corinthians 7:1. your body and flesh is defiled, you need to be cleansed in order to be good

galatians 5:20. “having human emotions is sinful! struggling is sinful! being angry is sinful! having a bad day is sinful!” basically that being human is inherently wrong or something

ephesians  3:14. tries to make people believe everything is owed to god only and that obedience is good so they fall for cult power structures later. 4:28 here is just the top of the page being labeled “new personality” and thats all we need to know about indoctrination and cult personality vs actual personality. also “let not the sun set with you in a provoked state” being used against people still angry about being wronged and hurt by others and its been used against me a lot of times

ephesians 6:4. make sure the jw fathers provide the most discipline to children, literally uses the phrase “mental regulating of jehovah”. it couldn’t be more cult like at this point.

timothy 5:8 makes people believe that men alone are expected to provide and if they don’t they’re worse than “those without faith”. no pressure though!

timothy 6:19. wants people to neglect everything actually happening in favor of the “real life” (”eternal life”) instead and to constantly prepare for that instead of actually living life. dedicate your whole life to jw activities

titus 2. women need to be subjects to their husbands but also homemakers, live to glorify their husband, chaste and definitely not mentally ill or showing any symptoms. what the fuck is titus i never heard of this shit until today.

hebrews 1:7-14, trying to convince people that angels live to serve god but also has some superseccsionist/replacement theology (antisemitism) vibes going on

james 2:23, wants people to believe that god “putting people to the test” is actually a way to become “jehovah’s friend” and that being put to the test (read: suffering) is actually a good thing because it primes them to accept suffering as their fault later on. james 4:7 “everything evil will vanish if you rebuke it long enough!!”

peter 3:9 the “god’s timing is always right” gospel bs and encourages people not to do things themselves but to wait and also that jehovah will be on time when its time to start another global genocide. how encouraging! peter 3:13, the same “end of world near” scare tactic, “new heavens new earth” promise to eradicate everyone the jws dont like as that is jehvoah’s “promise” to the witnesses

1 john 3:8, their version of the original sin doctrine, the devil is the source of all evil scare tactic etc

short detour: every instance of “servant” is replaced with “slave” in this version. it makes me feel ill.

revelations 7:16, wants people to believe that god will take away all their pain and that they won’t need food or water to survive anymore (bullshit). also the jehovah’s witness 144,000 chosen people bullshit is here too but not highlighted

revelations 12:7-13, a depiction fo michael drop kicking satan and the implication that satan has always been in charge and not god because they want people to believe that. also that the devil will fall to earth and try to eat jws

revalations 14-4: virgins get dibs on heaven and god i guess. i dont know what the fuck is going on. 14:6 an angel yelling fear god from above, probably where the jws get most of their apocalyptic imagery from that they use to scare children into believing they could die at any minute

so now that we finally got to the end of that mess, their version of revalations ends with jesus saying “yes, i am coming quickly” and “may the undeserved kindness of jesus christ be with the holy ones.”

joking aside, everything highlighted in this copy of this book has been used against me and my mother for years and is a huge part of the reason i have religious trauma now. everything she was told or encouraged to highlight aided jehovah’s witness indoctrination and propaganda, her own indoctrination and eventually mine which apparently started even earlier than i thought.

#ex christian #haanp.txt #ex jehovah's witness #ex jw #exvangelical #religious trauma

[flufflepuffle296]

Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

#lila salt #adrien salt #class salt #marinette deserves better #alya salt #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #kagami tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #heathers au #beautiful heathers #songfic

[clownao]

Rereading Korosuu Chapter 4 (the ChibaHaya chapter) from the perspective that Hayami has feelings for Chiba

And boy, is it a ride.

Check out the previous post

Listen, I’m a big ChibaHaya shipper but I never believed they liked each other romantically in canon. One of things I like the most about their dynamic is how great they are even without the typical shippy stuff like blushing, stammering etc. They work well both platonically and romantically.

So I never tried to go MiDDLe ScHOoL cHiBaHaYa is CanOn but then I read the Chinese translation Ch4 of Korosuu. And boy oh boy did it make me think Hayami has ✨feelings✨ for Chiba. (And he doesn’t.) I literally did not expect that, but once I saw things from that perspective, I can’t stop lol.

Keep in mind I’m analysing a Japanese -> Chinese translation in English, and I don’t have the Japanese raws, so the word choices may be off. And I am probably overanalysing but yes, I will eat these ChibaHaya crumbs for the tiniest bit of information.

Also keep in mind manga Chiba is more social than Hayami (you can check Fumiko’s posts for more information, she’s the Chiba expert haha). So while these two may have the same responses (eg. smiling because of what the other said), it weighs differently.

So Hayami was originally going home, but stopped when she saw Chiba trying to figure out a problem. And so she helped him pump the balloons to act as Chiba’s targets. They discussed for a bit, then they both said they were surely getting closer to their “answer”.

And then they both smiled. The translation is “速水露齒而笑。千葉也回以微笑。” which is “Hayami grinned, and Chiba returned with a smile”. But notably, the translator used “露齒而笑” (literally: grinning with teeth) for Hayami and just “笑” (smile) for Chiba. “笑” and “微笑” (which also means smile, but a little softer) are used five times in total, and considering they’re interchangeable in Chinese, the translator probably used them to add variety. But “露齒而笑”? That’s different. That’s the only time the translator used this term to describe someone smiling. And “grinning (with teeth)” feels more joyful than “smiling”. And it’s used to describe Hayami’s reaction.

Hmm.

By the way, let’s count how many times they smiled in this chapter. Hayami smiled 3 times, Chiba also 3. And literally every time they smile it’s in response to something the other did/said. Chiba smiles more than Hayami in the manga, so the fact that Hayami is smiling so much in front of Chiba... hmmm...

As mentioned before, Hayami stuttered when Chiba praised her. In the translation, she barely stuttered anywhere else. Hmm.

After a very long time, Chiba lifted his head and turned to Hayami.

“Hayami, you’re brilliant! So it was like this all along! Why have I never noticed something so simple?”

“Wh-what?”

Yeah. She stuttered after Chiba called her brilliant/amazing.

And then, of course, the most telling paragraph follows.

Hayami felt bewildered upon seeing the suddenly agitated Chiba. Even though she had always been looking at him in E class, she hardly recalled seeing him so delighted.

She had always been looking at him. Whoa.

The Chinese translation is “雖然一直在E班看著他”, special focus on “一直” (always) and “看” (look). Like, okay, it could mean “from her daily observations, she didn’t recall seeing such an expression” or “looking after him” or “knowing him from school” but this phrasing just makes me think she’s staring at him in class. And you know what, Chiba actually sits behind Hayami in another row. So she has to turn around to “look” at him, which is a deliberate action. Of course the translation used “E class”, which also means training and other misc stuff and not just conventional lessons.

Either way, she’s been observing him. She’s ALWAYS been observing him. Continuously. And she knows she’s never seen him so joyful. And the translator (and maybe Matsui?) felt the urge to point it out.

After complimenting Hayami, Chiba proceeds to explain his new theory. And thus the passage:

“So what do you think?”

Chiba turned to Hayami, a smile quirking on his lips. He lightly prodded the pages of his notebook with his mechanical pencil.

“That’s brilliant!” Hayami also used an excited tone to reply as she looked down at the diagram.

“If you weren’t there, I probably wouldn’t have thought of it. Even though it’s really simple once you notice it...”

Hayami used a smile to respond to his words.

The word “也” (also) is used in Hayami’s happy response to China. Granted, it may be a translator thing, to add word variety and connectives, but the sentence makes perfect sense without the 也.

From this we can infer Hayami’s mood is affected by Chiba’s, and probably vice versa, but Hayami’s case is specifically mentioned.

Next day, Chiba stays behind to practice again. And he looks sad because he’s failing.

Hayami thinks “I suppose even people like Chiba will feel uneasy when thinking about official operations” (一旦設想正式行動，即使是千葉這樣的人類也會感到不安吧。) This makes me !!!! because it sort of implies Hayami thought Chiba won’t be nervous. She thought of him in a positive light, only for him to disprove it. Also, the use of “吧”. “吧” is commonly used in dialogue, so here it implies Hayami is thinking the whole line despite the lack of speech bubbles, not some omniscient narrator saying it.

Then Hayami tries to encourage him.

“Relax. If you think it’s right, then it has to be.”

“Even though hearing you say that makes me happy...”

^ this is one of the most mutual shippy moments in my opinion. Hayami has total faith and trust in Chiba, and Chiba literally told her that her trust in him makes him happy. It just feels... kinda shipbaity. The sentence structure “雖然你這麼說讓我很開心啊……” (Even though hearing you say that makes me happy...) feels like something out of a romance novel (especially in Chinese), even though the words don’t exactly have a romantic meaning.

Chiba says Hayami’s words makes him “happy”, but he’s still troubled by the shooting problem. Hayami trusting Chiba despite Chiba not trusting himself makes him happy. Oho. That... can be interpreted in a shippy way.

When Hayami sees that Chiba is still troubled, she “nonchalantly” says “to fill in the gaps using intuition” (看著無法消除不安情緒的千葉，速水若無其事地說。”無法確定的地方，用直覺填補就好了喲。”)

I believe there’s a typo here, since the next line is “千葉帶著的表情抬頭看著速水”, which is “Chiba lifted his head to look at Hayami with a xxx expression”. So the translator accidentally left out his expression (the sentence doesn’t make sense otherwise), but we can easily infer Chiba’s feelings from the following lines.

Chiba basically thinks “Intuition? What? She’s talking about things unrelated to this shooting problem again.” He doesn’t say it out loud (no speech bubbles), but he probably shows his doubt through his facial expression that the translator unfortunately left out.

And Hayami wants to prove him wrong.

So Hayami roughly glanced around the classroom, and quietly uttered, “Vase, tape, Korosensei.”

Before Chiba could ask “what are you talking about?”, Hayami swiftly pulled out a pistol from her thigh and shot three bullets with surprising speed.

Hayami hits all three targets without aiming precisely. Naturally, Chiba is in awe, calling it a “miracle”. Chiba says even though he, out of everyone in 3-E. can shoot the furthest target using calculations, he can’t imitate Hayami’s perceptual(?) type of shooting.

And then:

Hayami shot a stunned Chiba a smile.

The word for “stunned” (目瞪口呆) literally means “eyes wide, mouth frozen”, but that’s just a Chinese phrase for being stunned.

Honestly, to me, I feel:

Hayami wants to help Chiba -> Chiba is in doubt -> Hayami wants to prove him wrong and show off -> she quickly shoots her targets based on intuition/emotion, not even waiting to hear what Chiba has to ask -> (she wants to show off lol) -> when she sees he’s in awe, she smiles (smugly?)

ALSO, Hayami may have gained confidence after Chiba praised her by saying she’s brilliant, and that may be why she shot so quickly (since the adrenaline rush or something.)

Hayami then says something:

“And if at that time, you’re not confident in your theories, in the end, I’ll still shoot according to my gut feelings. (Basically saying if you can’t do it, I can do it for you.) We can do what the other cannot do. If we team up and become partners, there’s no target we cannot hit.”

Chiba gazed at Hayami’s face for a moment, then smiled and said, “Thanks.”

Wow. What surprised me is that Hayami’s the one with the speech— she’s the more serious and reserved out of the two. For her to say something so “sentimental” when she’s usually like “I respect you”, wow...

By the way, “凝視” (gaze) is used. It can mean stare, but it usually means gaze. Also he gazed at her face (臉). This is specifically mentioned. Mmmmm.

And I can’t get over “將兩者合為一體的話一定能順利地進行”. It means “if we combine two into one, it’ll definitely proceed smoothly”. They’re... MERGING lmao. It’s so shipbaity.

There’s also more stuff, like how they agree on something without speaking, but that’s... typical ChibaHaya stuff. And that’s it.

SO:

Possible hints of Hayami’s feelings towards Chiba:

1. Hayami immediately helped Chiba with practice even though she was intending to go home

2. SHE LOOKS AT HIM IN CLASS. Bro. I can’t make this up.

3. Hayami is happy when Chiba is

4. SHE STUTTERED WHEN HE SAID SHE’S BRILLIANT

5. She wanted to prove him wrong by showing off (this is a stretch)

6. She low-key put him on a pedestal (?) because she thought he won’t be nervous (this is also a stretch)

Possible hints of Chiba’s feelings towards Hayami:

1. He was very noticeably happy, perhaps a side he only shows to people close to him

2. Chiba says Hayami praising him makes him happy

3. He gazed at her face. Yes, her face.

But I don’t think Chiba likes Hayami that way. Like, he didn’t stutter when she praised him, he just said he’s happy. Hayami is usually very chill and calm, and even quieter than Chiba, so when she stutters because of Chiba, hmm...

Of course all of this is immediately disproven by the mini comic, with Ritsu claiming they reply to their emails a day late and their heart rates don’t go up when next to each other. Psssh. Okay, Ritsu. I mean, we can always hc Ritsu is protecting her friends’ privacy by lying about them. And of course Chiba and Hayami can stay as purely friends. I like their dynamic either way.

This concludes my rambling overanalysis of them. If you read till this point, I congratulate you <3 also reblogs appreciated :DD

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #chiba ryuunosuke #hayami rinka #chibahaya #ryuunosuke chiba #rinka hayami #korosuu #spent too much time on this #chibahaya brainrot is real

[xbaebsae]

Changes and Deleted Content Part 2 - Far Cry 5: Features and Missions

This is a small passion project series of posts where I share some insight of what’s hidden in the game(s) files, but also some general observations. The main focus will be on character changes or deletions with a few words about functions and deprecated missions.

What will not be touched upon are a lot of the things the Resistance Mod on PC restores, namely deleted store weapons and clothes, weather systems and general gameplay related things like skinning animations. I also won’t go into audio files and their content, as @lulu2992 is already working on an amazing series for FC5 that summarizes them per character.

This part will be significantly shorter Edit from post finishing-Angy: This post turned out really damn long despite only discussing some scrapped or changed features and a couple of deprecated mission strings. I still hope you find this as interesting to read as I found writing and investigating it :)

1. Changed and Scrapped Features

1.1 Guns/Fangs for Hire

Just for reference, the release version of the game has 9 unique GFH/FFH available + 3 slots for random specialists you can hire throughout the world.

Among the game’s UI textures for tutorials is this image, showing an earlier version of the GFH screen.

What this indicates is that the planned amount for active GFHs you can have was originally 4; or the top row could function as some sort of favorites tab. We will probably never know for certain. 

Interestingly though, this version has slots for 20 GFHs in total, 18 either filled a character icon or a locked symbol, suggesting the originally planned unique GFH count was 18.

Considering almost every NPC in-game has spawn-able archetypes with battle audio fully in place it is possible that we were supposed to be able to recruit more of them. I will return to the matter of recruitment shortly.

Another thing I’d like to open up for consideration is that there may have been plans for (ex-)cultist GFHs or at least areas where they act friendly towards the deputy. Reason for this assumption is the fact that cultists have recorded lines for when you meet them (spawn them), aim weapons at them (the taunts GFH and friendlies do too), along with idle lines when you use mods to spawn them as friendly followers. The game has no purpose for most of these lines, as you never walk into peaceful cultists outside of the intro. In the intro you have no weapons to aim at anyone, making it impossible to trigger these lines. 

You may argue they were recorded for the arcade, but the Seeds are also featured in it and have none of those. However, they may also be a leftover from scrapped missions that would feature cultists that don’t shoot you on sight. 

Additionally to that early menu screenshot, I have also found an old reddit thread discussing the game’s Uplay page near release because of the following image:

Unfortunately I was not able to find this particular page myself anymore, and knowing how short lived everything is nowadays, it might be lost in time forever. The commenters discuss that the three additional slots here refer to potential DLC characters, but we don’t get to use any of the DLC companions in the main game (nor do the DLCs share the main game’s art direction). So, this might be another indicator for additionally planned GFH/FFH we never got to see.

One of these was likely the Eagle FFH called ‘’Freedom’’ (Character/Unique/FFH_Eagle_Freedom), which was partially restored through mods on PC as its loaders and everything are still present. It is unknown why this was scrapped.

It also appears that there once were inventory (purchaseable?) items for almost each GFH (Boomer and Jess have none), as these placeholder icons exist inside the game’s ui\icons\inventory folder:

Possible functions: Quest items you needed to obtain to recruit them (implying changed missions); Gift items (for potential level up?)

Now to return to the matter of recruitment: Deprecated mission strings suggest that originally you had to hire unique GFHs similarly to random ones; and that was part of quest lines. These lines appear in ‘oasisstrings’, the game’s main language file(s):

HIRE Jess RECRUIT Adelaide Drubman ADD Adelaide to your squad

In light of the old GFH screen I actually looked up the definition of ‘Squad’, and on wikipedia it is listed that a Squad is a team of 5+ members, further strengthening the theory that originally you could have 4 active GFH (plus the Deputy they’d be 5, therefore a squad). 

1.2 In-game Wiki menu

Some of the previous Far Cry titles have a sort of wiki menu that features short bios of characters, explanations of locations, resources and weaponry. New Dawn sort of brought part of this back with the ‘Survival Guide’ (accessible from the pause menu), but 5 does not have this at all. However, in the ui files there are still texture leftovers, implying this feature was planned and it had sections for Animals, Base Jumps, Characters, Destructible Structures, Fish, Locations, Parking Spots (Garages), Plants and Treasure Hunts. The following image shows the ‘undiscovered’ symbols arranged in that order.

Again, no text entries along with a lot of duplicate and unfinished images imply this was scrapped early.

You can view the additional images (minus characters, because they will be handled in the next posts) here.

2. Abandoned Missions

This section will focus on mission strings that still exist in ‘oasisstrings’. For the sake of readability I removed the style code the game uses and the line numbers. You can easily find them by searching part of the text in the files or website listed in References. Please keep in mind that only the mission titles themselves are 100% like that in the files, any assumption as to what they might have been used for is purely speculative, but I attempt to always provide a reasonable explanation with evidence for the theories presented. Also I am not perfect, so it is possible I missed something in-game. In that case please do correct me!

2.1. Investigation Type objectives

There is a set of objectives listed that imply a different setup for Willis Huntley’s mission. It introduces the objectives PHOTOGRAPH, TAG, LISTEN and INTERROGATE:

PHOTOGRAPH potential property PHOTOGRAPH an animal slaughter TAG the target PHOTOGRAPH the target LISTEN to the conversation INTERROGATE the target PHOTOGRAPH cult signs and rituals: BRING the photos back to Willis

The release build mission has you tail someone and steal a VHS tape. None of the above objectives appear. It’s interesting to see that at one point there were mechanics in consideration that included intel gathering.

2.2. Quest centered around Melvin

The only Melvin I could find in relation to Far Cry 5 is Nadine Abercrombie’s grandfather. Melvin Abercrombie joined the cult. It isn’t assured that these objectives refer to him, but if they do it’d mean a potential mission where you speak to a lower ranked cultist.

Please Note that mission strings are not always in correct order.

TALK to Melvin LOOT Melvin's corpse REACH Melvin's house WAIT for Melvin to arrive GO MEET Melvin

2.3. The ‘Redeemer’ Objectives

At some point there was a quest-line revolving around something called the ‘Redeemer’ in Holland Valley. I could not find out what this thing really was supposed to be, but it sounds like it was either a boat or a submarine (???). In this line it appears that the garage in Fall’s End had actual relevance.

FIND a similar engine BRING engine to Mary's garage TALK to Mary's assistant TOW Redeemer Back the Garage (this typo is also in the file) SUBMERGE the Redeemer FLIP the Redeemer upside down GET IN the Tow Truck PUT the Redeemer on the Flat Bed

What this also implies is the inclusion of tow trucks and that there was a ‘Mary’s assistant’ character.

2.4. A few seperate Entries before we focus on plot relevant ones

In light of the afore mentioned wiki menues there is also an objective type that goes very well with its character section:

DISCOVER this character.

This could be attached to unknown entries in the character list.

There also is an unused objective called:

FIND the cow in the field

Which at first glance made me believe it was related to the mission at Cattle co., but it is not used there or anywhere else. I suppose we will never find out what was so special about this mysterious cow.

TAKE Joseph's writings

is also an interesting entry, as it is not related to the mission where you burn his book. This is again an unused string with unknown original purpose.

2.5. Mary May and John Seed

There are two particularly interesting unused mission objectives in relation to these two characters. 

For one, it looks like originally we were supposed to rescue Mary May from John’s ranch:

RESCUE Mary May From John Seed's Ranch

This could either be a replacement for saving her in Fall’s End or it is a mission that appeared later on in which John possibly captured her. It gets more possible applications with the next one, though.

FIND John and Mary May's secrets

Now, this one caught my attention immediately, because there are two big things that come to mind in terms of possible application. It could refer back to the novel Absolution in which Mary May gets captured and tattooed by John, heavily implying that part of the plot that made it to the novel was originally intended to be shown in the game (we will get back to this in the character episode when talking about Holly). 

Additionally, keeping the previous objective in mind, it could also imply that Mary has been converted during her capture (or her capture was planned) and played a different role in the story overall. Of course, all of this is only speculation as we will probably never know, but the objective specifically says ‘John AND Mary May’s secrets’, refering to shared secrets, not just one of Mary herself (which would fit more into the tattoo theory). 

   If you have ever even considered the possibility that Ubisoft might have cut a lot of stuff from the Whitetail region of the game, the rest of this Mission section should finally prove this to you. I’d like to make clear here that this is unbiased. I have tried to dig up deleted content equally in all regions but it just turns out that this is the one they really went wild with. There is nothing that stands out in terms of deleted or changed missions in the Henbane area and the Holland Valley content is mostly not that plot relevant minus the last examples just mentioned.

2.6. Eli and the Wolf’s Den

In the final version of the game we are told that Eli is an important character, but he is not very active in any way. Where Mary May assists you on the way to John’s Ranch and Tracey and the others at the prison fight by your side in defense missions, Eli will stay at the Wolf’s Den and have you run his errands for him. Just like the other mentioned characters he has full fight capabilities though. His AI is capable of using that bow, despite him never leaving the bunker.

As it turns out, he used to be a far more active character and there were multiple ways you could encounter him for the first time. For reference: In the game as it is now you will only meet him when he and his people rescue the deputy after Jacob’s first trial. You cannot enter the Wolf’s Den prior to this point.

Inside the game’s animations folders are these three subfolders including the respective files (JJ and Key03 is how Eli is often referred to in the files, I will get back to this in the character post):

This means there were three ways that you would encounter Eli: Inside a cabin, through being captured in a net or by being released by Perkins. This was most likely Doc Perkins, giving her a bit more significance in the game.

The main cutscene files for these are not present anymore, only the animations remain so I could not find out where the exact locations for these were supposed to be at. I however, loaded these animations into a game cutscene so we get to look at them anyway. I have chosen Jacob’s death cutscene for the simple reason that there’s only the player + 1 NPC, it is daytime and there’s no intrusive DOF blurring everything. The video below shows all of them. 

Keep in mind that only the player animation matters in the first two! Ignore the rest. The third one features Doc Perkins and has her animation applied to her. As you can see it is very very unfinished, but it shows that she possibly unties the deputy or opens an animal cage, then drives away in a car.

This unused mission string supports the theory of these different ways further, as it implies that you met him somewhere and he would guide you to the den:

FOLLOW Eli into the Wolf's Den

There are several other objectives that suggest a more active Eli, who might have accompanied you on some missions:

WAIT for Eli to arrive GO with Eli GO inside the Wolf's Den

2.7. Jacob and the Veteran Center

Before swan diving down a very deep rabbit hole, let’s address this unused mission string first:

TALK to Deputy Pratt

Sounds very unspectacular and like something you would do at some point, but this is never an objective in the game. The intended function will forever remain unknown most likely, but possibilities are vast, especially with the upcoming abandoned objectives.

There are hints at an alternate useage of Jacob’s bunker (specifically called bunker here and not armory). Mission strings are:

FIND a way out of Jacob's Bunker LEAVE Jacob's Bunker

Again, on first sight you’d think these are just what’s there in-game. But they aren’t. During the final mission it goes from RESCUE Deputy Pratt straight to ESCAPE Jacob’s Armory. There is no indicator that you’d need to find a way out. The objectives above hint that it was similar to John’s and Faith’s bunker initially, where you had to do a few more things before escaping. 

An observation derived from the game’s subtitle file is that at one point there might have been a differentiation between ‘Armory’ and ‘Bunker’ as, most likely, a random NPC says "I don't know where Jacob's bunker is. I'm not sure anybody does, but it's out there somewhere." The armory is (other than John’s and Faith’s bunkers) directly next to a main road, next to McKinley Dam. It is quite impossible to miss. Therefore this statement, along with the inconsistent switch between calling it ‘armory’, ‘bunker’ or ‘gate’, could mean there was originally a different bunker and the armory really functioned as such. 

Before moving on to more mission strings, there is one more subtitle entry worth mentioning: "When you tried to arrest Joseph, Jacob got wind of it and things got real crazy here in the Whitetail Mountains." It heavily implies that at some point, Joseph’s family might not have been intended to be present during the opening, and they instead found out about the arrest afterwards. As far fetched as it sounds at first, it does check out with the inactivity and absence of the three heralds after you cuff Joseph (and in case you ever wondered what the three of them are doing while you guide Joseph outside, they de-spawn and are gone as soon as you turn around).

But enough about that and let’s get back to more missions we never got to see.

For instance there is:

GO TO the Veteran's Center

Which, as most of you know, is impossible during the game because you get repositioned everytime you attempt to go close. This string implies a different kind of mission at some point. 

HUNT Jacob

No, this also does not appear in the game. The final mission goes from DESTROY Wolf Beacons to KILL Jacob Seed. Possibility in combination with the previous entry is that you were supposed to follow him back to the Veteran Center and that’s where the final fight would be. It could also imply a different kind of trial.

Small observation because we are talking about the final fight: The Prima Games’ guide (based on a pre-release build of the game, it will be featured more prominently in the next post) depicts Jacob at the bottom of the mountain during this encounter. WIth a lot of perseverance I’m sure you can somehow manage to replicate this in-game. But it is interesting regardless that they chose this image. It might imply that at some point he was not positioned on top of the hill, and instead closer to the area he finally dies in.

Before we move on, here are a few other interesting unused strings:

TRAIN TRAIN yourself INTERACT with Jacob for finishing takedown TALK to Jacob

They imply a different way to end the fight along with the possibility to talk to Jacob at some point (unrelated to each other mind you). I have no clue in what kind of scenario you were supposed to talk to him. The only explanation I have is that trials were possibly supposed to be different at some point and maybe they had more intentions to explore the whole brainwashed aspect of it to the point you casually took strolls around St Francis. Now before you say I just made that up, I implore you to wait till after the next part to call me out on it, because there are reasons I offer that possibility up for discussion here.

TRAIN and TRAIN yourself might not be linked to this region at all. But it is interesting to have these sort of objectives as they form the ‘Train, Hunt, Kill, Sacrifice’ part of the region’s theme, when you refer back to other mission strings: TRAIN (yourself), HUNT Jacob, KILL Jacob Seed.

Now to get to the main part. If you ever used mods on PC that let you access the Veteran Center, you will have noticed that the AI acts very strange. Your assigned GFH might wander around, aim at nothing or even attack civillians. Cultists inside the area will not always attack you, while civillians will do. This is most likely why the developers were so quick to patch out the tricks to access the region without mods.

I have seen multiple speculations circling around, but the one that always struck me as the most plausible one is that there was some kind of mission after Pratt rescues you from the cage. It is a very discontinuous cutscene, in which you transition from the cage directly to the top floor of the Veteran Center, implying there were no problems for Pratt and the Deputy to get there, despite having to cross the entire guarded frontyard and going through multiple building floors to get to the office. So, naturally I wasted some time of my life trying to dig up stuff that proves this theory right and I...well I did find something.

Important note so you understand what’s going on here: It is very common in games to load objects underneath the map (outside of sight of the player) to assure they are properly loaded in when they are needed. I have seen posts circulating around which depicted Pratt underneath the building, suggesting they eventually had an area planned there. The more likely case is that Pratt was loaded there for later use in a cutscene.

Why am I saying that? Well, this following screenshot was taken underneath the map during the cutscene where Pratt rescues the deputy and it transitions to the top of the building. I have changed the time to daytime for a bit better visibility.

What you see here is an entirely unused set of either cutscene or gameplay elements. A truck, Jacob (who’s absent in the cutscene we see), Pratt, a random NPC, a bag, a small table (unseen in cutscene), a single door (unseen in cutscene), a double door and 3 small pieces of paper (only two are in cutscene). I have kept watch on these assets for the entirety of the cutscene and none of them were moved into place. Meaning that all of these were here to be used in either a different cutscene or even a gameplay segment.

It brings me back to the mission theory, where there was a potential stealth segment between leaving the cage and entering the office.  Maybe there was an alternate cutscene for the case where you’d be caught and the one we see in the game is the one after successfully sneaking up there? We will never know for certain again but it is one possible explanation as to why these assets even still exist. It would also check out with the TALK to Deputy Pratt mission string, as you maybe had to speak to him after reaching a certain area.

Here are also some additional screenshots of the room in front of the office:

It was modelled and filled with a few detail props we never get to see much of.

Another potential mission, which would explain the broken AI behavior better, is the already mentioned theory that they might have planned to do more with the whole brainwashing aspect. Cultists inside the Vet Center area do not shoot and are allied, while civillians act hostile, implying while the player is there they are considered to be allied to cultists. TALK to Deputy Pratt, TALK to Jacob or TRAIN (yourself) could have taken place during this also. Something that could support this theory is also this unused timelapse marking days passing:

3. The Game’s Title and Closing Words

Internally the game is often called ‘fc zeta’, ‘zeta’ or ‘fcz’. So *sigh* of course I tried to find a deeper meaning behind it all and came to the sixth letter of the Greek alphabet ‘Zeta’. If you count Far Cry: Primal as a real standalone title, Far Cry 5 is the sixth Far Cry release. But because the Greek were special snowflakes or something, the sixth letter actually has the value of 7. So Zeta is actually 7 despite being the sixth. If you count Blood Dragon as a Far Cry release it’d mean FC5 is the 7th release. However, these theories exclude all the expansions and stuff for earlier Far Cry games.

Another indicator that Zeta might have been more than just a number, is this texture used as a decal on some clothing materials:

I have not found someone in-game who has this anywhere, and they might just disable the transparency and use it only for the American flag. But still, why would they make such a decal texture in the first place? Maybe very early name of the cult or resistance group? 

Before closing this incredibly long essay, here is an old, unused version of the logo found in the files :)

Phew, we finally reached the end. If you made it all the way down here: CONGRATULATIONS you just read a long af essay! Again, i’d like to remind you that a lot of what you’ve read is pure speculation. I tried to prove my arguments as best as I could with evidence that I provided but only Ubisoft knows what really happened. And they are unlikely to tell us.

The next post will focus on the expansive character list and I may split it into parts because there is a lot to say and show about some characters. 

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading ♥

_______________________________________________________

References:

text.farcry.info (website where you can look through Oasisstrings yourself!) languages\english\oasisstrings.oasis.bin languages\english\oasisstrings_subtitles.oasis.bin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_cabin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_net animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_release domino\user\fcz_proto_ld domino\user\zeta_dlcm ui\resources\textures\04_menu\tooltips ui\resources\textures\06_icons\inventory ui\resources\textures\05_hud\tutorials\_images __Unknown\XBT\AE800D066AB2E84A.xbt __Unknown\XBT\FD080AA2BBABE691.xbt Zeta on Wikipedia (english) Squad on Wikipedia (english) Prima Games guide (2018, collector’s edition, print and digital) reddit.com/r/farcry/comments/89nsf1/so_theres_3_missing_guns_for_hire_here_maybe_3/ __Unknown\BIK\C6AB10EDBC81E933.bik

#far cry 5 #gameinfo #obligatory longessay tag #if you ever wondered how much of a nerd i am #look at these essays #and know that i enjoyed writing and capturing footage of every second of this

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Magic Circle

A JSE Fanfic

Hey, who’s excited for my first non-AU piece in a long time? Who’s excited for my first one-shot in like forever? If you’re excited for either of those things, then this is the piece for you :D I took some inspiration from Marvin’s video on Halloween to come up with this. Here, Marvin meets a magic group for the first time. Let’s see what happens :)

It’s a bright summer day outside. The sun is still high in the sky, despite it being almost five o’clock. There are people walking around the city streets, either going somewhere or even just taking a walk. Birds are chirping on top of the power lines and in the trees planted along the sidewalk. And Marvin was locked inside his room trying not to break something in frustration.

“Oh my goooood.” He puts his head down on the desk surface with a bit more force than necessary. It hurts, but he doesn’t mind. “Fuuuuuck offffff.” The desk before him is lit up with a lamp, despite there being sufficient light coming from the window. The lamp shines down on a laptop, open to a Google Docs document, and a leatherbound book, open to blank pages. Marvin drops his pen down on the desk. “Fuck it.” And with that, he pushes his chair back and heads over to the room’s door, unlocking it and heading outside.

He goes down the hall to the stairs, then down to the first floor. For a moment, he stops and blinks. His eyes feel...weird. Well, it makes sense. He’s spent almost all day staring at a computer screen or a blank page. The only time he wasn’t was when he was going to the bathroom. That probably wasn’t good for his eyes.

According to the wall clock in the downstairs hallway, he’s been trying for nearly five hours. That explains why he’s so hungry. Marvin heads into the kitchen and starts looking through the cabinets for something quick but filling.

Someone knocks on the doorframe behind him. Marvin jumps, and spins around. JJ is standing there. He waves. Hello, Marvin. Did you finish?

Marvin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I wish. I’ve done like...three pages. God. Fuck.”

Oh dear...JJ frowns. What’s wrong?

“I dunno.” Marvin rubs his eyes. “I just keep getting distracted. Opening up YouTube and stuff. God, it’s just so boring. Why do I even need to write it all down in a book? All my spells and shit are saved online.”

Some people are sticklers for tradition, JJ points out. But anyway, maybe you should take a break. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?

“Uh...no. That’s why I’m here.” Marvin resumes rummaging through the cabinets. “Do we have any crisps? I’m thinking of making nachos.”

You’re not just going to eat nachos, you haven’t had anything since you woke up at ten. JJ walks over and slowly pushes the door to the cabinet closed. Here, go sit down in the dining room. I’ll make you something.

“C’mon, JJ, you don’t have to. You were probably doing something else, don’t stop that for me.”

I was going to make dinner anyway, JJ shrugs. I know you don’t eat until later, usually, but please make an exception. You can’t work on that grimoire if you collapse from hunger.

Marvin sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.” He bumps his shoulder against JJ’s—a sign of affection that could easily be mistaken for clumsiness—and heads into the dining room.

He wishes he’d never found out about the greater magical community. Ever since he had, all it meant were problems. He had to learn all about the structure of this community, about how this organization called the ABIM made laws, about how certain spells were supposed to be regulated, about how things like wands, crystal balls, and other magical aides were supposed to be made certain ways. Marvin had always done his own thing. He didn’t exactly think he was the only person in the world with magic—after all, if that was the case, who wrote down all the spells he found online? But it hadn’t exactly registered that they were probably organized somehow, and that he should probably go look for others. Thanks to his total lack of searching for other magicians, the ABIM hadn’t realized he existed until about two months ago.

But now they know. And Marvin has to learn and keep up with a bunch of rules and regulations. The one that’s giving him the most trouble is the existence of a “grimoire.” Apparently, magicians are required to write down all the spells they know, and keep them in one place. And no, the document where Marvin had copy-pasted all the spells he’d found online doesn’t count. So now he’s spent the last week or so struggling to transcribe the online document into the book he’d purchased. Progress is...slow. Marvin just can’t focus on something as unstimulating as copying words down. There’s not even any new information to process.

Luckily, eating dinner helped him get some energy back. But when it’s all said and done, and he pushes away his plate, he’s dreading going back upstairs to try and ultimately fail some more. “Thanks, JJ,” he says.

You already said so, and you’re still welcome, JJ says. Then he pauses. Is there anyone who could help you with this? Other magicians lately?

Marvin groans. “Yeah, I guess I know some, but...I don’t wanna.”

Yes, we know, you’re very stubborn, JJ signs patiently.

“I can figure this out,” Marvin insists. “I can do things on my own!”

Except for making dinner, apparently.

Marvin can’t help but laugh. “Ah, ya got me there.” He sighs, and stares absently out the window. “Look, all the magicians I’ve met so far are part of this government group. And I don’t like them.”

Well, if you ask them for help, perhaps your opinion on that would change, JJ suggests.

“Well I wouldn’t be doing this in the first place if it wasn’t for their stupid fucking law!” Marvin snaps. Then he winces. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just...tired.”

JJ nods. Maybe you should stop for the night. It could be easier in the morning.

“Maybe.”

And also, if you keep getting distracted, have you tried putting on music? Or perhaps doing something with your spare hand while you write? That helps me.

“Maybe.” Marvin’s still uncertain.

JJ pushes his chair back and stands up. Also, can you please do the dishes?

“What?! But you cooked!”

Exactly, and we both ate it, so it’s only fair we both do something about it.

“Oh come on, I’m all tired, please?”

JJ merely folds his arms and stares at Marvin.

“Alright, fine,” Marvin relents. “I’ve been sitting all day, might as well do something a bit active.”

Oh thank you! JJ says, beaming.

“Heh, act like you didn’t twist my arm,” Marvin mutters, shaking his head affectionately.

———————

Later that night, Marvin finds he’s having trouble going to sleep. He keeps thinking about JJ’s suggestion, the one about asking other magicians for help. Sure, he isn’t exactly fond of the ABIM magicians he’s met so far. But maybe someone else...then again, perhaps the problem with transcribing his spells is just with him, and not with the actual subject matter.

Still, it can’t hurt to get a second opinion, right? But how to find the magicians?

An idea starts to form in his mind. Marvin gets out of bed and walks over to the desk. His laptop is still set up from that day. He powers it on. The time on the computer clock reads 11:20pm. Wow, he’d only been trying to get to sleep for an hour, he thought it was longer. Anyway, he goes back to the document of his spells, searching through them for one specific spell.

Yes, there it is. The title is “Magic Minds,” a tracking spell he’d recently picked up. It’s supposed to be able to guide a magician to other magicians. Marvin hasn’t used it yet, since he had no real reason to. He didn’t want to run into magicians before, but why not now?

Marvin grabs his phone from where it was charging, and quickly changes out of pajamas and into regular clothes. He pauses, then also grabs his cape from his closet. There’s no real reason to wear it, but it would make him feel a bit better. And with all this, he heads downstairs and outside.

The spell is easy enough to cast. He’s done tracking spells before, and they all require the same basic steps. An incantation or a few gestures, then you follow whatever visual cue the spell uses to find your target.

He turns his wand over in his hands, flicking it upward, downward, side to side. Green sparks left behind by the movements make a cross, +, hovering in the air. Technically he could have used his hands, but he likes the wand. And with the cross sign hovering there, Marvin whispers a word, and blows on the middle of the cross. A wisp of green light dances out from the breath, and hits the cross. From the spot of impact, the cross turns from green to white, and falls down to be horizontal, parallel to the ground. It spins, reorienting itself, then one leg of the cross turns red as the cross settles, pointing somewhere. Marvin heads in that direction.

The cross acts as a compass, pointing in one direction. He hopes it’s not too far away. People would think it’s weird, seeing one guy with a magic compass in a cape wandering around the city at night. But unfortunately, it turns out to be far enough that he regrets not taking the bus. Then he remembers that the buses don’t run this late at night, and regrets not doing this in the daytime. How is he simultaneously the most impulsive and least impulsive person he knows?

He makes his way to a section of the city full of identical, red-bricked terrace houses. The compass starts glowing brighter. That must mean he’s getting closer. Though, looking around and seeing nothing but residential buildings around, he’s not sure he wants to break in to someone’s house. This situation doesn’t exactly call for it. He’ll probably just write down the address.

The compass flickers, drawing him out of his train of thought. It locks onto one direction, flares brightly, and then dies. Marvin growls, frustrated. This isn’t the time for the spell to fail!

“You couldn’t have waited to put it on?”

Marvin jumps a bit at the voice, and ducks into the nearest alley way. He glances around, and sees a pair of people on the other side of the street, walking. Oddly enough, one of them is wearing a black cloak. No...it can’t be this easy...

“Oh, who’s out to see it?” a different voice says. “It’s late.”

“It’s a busy city, you’re just lucky no one’s out in this section,” the first voice snaps.

The pair walks up to one of the houses, standing on the doorstep. They continue to whisper to each other, too quiet for Marvin to hear on the other side of the street. After a while, the door opens, and the two of them disappear inside.

Strange...Marvin walks out of the alleyway, staring at the house on the other side of the street. What’s this all about? He glances around, making sure there are no cars or people coming, then runs across the street, stopping outside the house. He pauses, then glances into the window quickly. The inside doesn’t look any different from an average house, but he’s not sure since he ducks away quickly so nobody inside will notice him. Though strangely, there aren’t any people inside, even though there must have been at least three. He glances back in, just to make sure they aren’t anywhere.

It’s then that he notices something strange. The image through the window is...shimmering. Like a heat wave in the air. But the glass isn’t warped or anything that would cause that effect. On a whim, Marvin presses a finger to the window pane.

And surprisingly, the window appears to shiver. A wave of warm yellow light ripples out from the point of contact, just like water across the surface of a still pond. Slowly, the effect ends, and once it does, Marvin can see people gathered in the living room. And they’re all wearing black cloaks.

What was this? A magic gathering? Marvin’s curiosity grabs a hold of him. He has to get inside. But how?

He gets out his phone, looking through the spells he has gathered again. There should be an invisibility one here somewhere. He hadn’t used it since his days as a stage magician, but he must still have it. Though it takes a while of scrolling, he does eventually find it. It’s just an incantation, but it requires the magician to use absolute focus as long as they want to remain invisible. He always had trouble with that part, which is why he gave up on using it as soon as his career ended. Until now, he thought it was only good for escape tricks.

Scanning the incantation a couple times to make sure he knows it, Marvin takes a deep breath. He puts his phone back, then rings the doorbell and quickly whispers the incantation. A rush of cool flows over him, like suddenly walking out of a heated building into a cold outside, and when he next looks down, he can’t see his own body. He gasps in triumph, but then he sees his body flicker, and returns to concentrating on staying invisible.

The door opens, and a man in a cloak looks around. Marvin ducks past him, and luckily just barely avoids brushing against him. “Hello?” the man calls. A few moments pass, and the man shakes his head and closes the door.

Marvin finds himself standing in a living room, decorated in warm colors. At least ten people are gathered, all wearing black cloaks, though it appears they’re wearing regular street clothes under them. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room, with a few various desserts lined up on it. A low buzz of chatter fills the air.

“What was it, Callisto?” a woman asks.

The man who opened the door shakes his head. “Nobody was there. Probably some kids’ prank.”

“In the middle of the night?” the woman asks doubtfully.

“You don’t know this neighborhood,” the man—Castillo—grumbles.

“You should have taken the cloak off before answering!” Someone else says.

“Shut up Basil, nobody would’ve cared,” Castillo snaps.

Marvin walks closer into the gathering, trying not to be distracted by the various conversations. It was difficult. Words kept sneaking into his awareness despite his best efforts. No, stay invisible. Stay invisible. Complete focus.

“Why does everyone keep bringing desserts to the meeting?” A woman nearby complains.

“Because it tastes fucking good, duh,” another woman next to her says.

“Can we get started already?” asks a man. “Hey Castillo! Everyone’s here, right? Can we get started?”

“Jeez, who lit the fire under your pants, Leo?” Someone mutters.

“Hey, I’m only pointing out that it’s almost midnight, Lily,” Leo says. “We’re running out of time!”

“Alright, Leo’s right, we’re getting close to the time,” Castillo sighs. “Alright, listen up everyone! We’re heading down to the basement to get started!”

A wave of chatter breaks out, and everyone files out of the room. Marvin rushes to the side in order to avoid anyone bumping into him. He watches silently as they all move into the hall and then down a set of stairs. What are they doing? He hesitates, then follows cautiously. A bunch of people in cloaks heading down to a basement for some sort of ritual? Every movie, book, and game ever says that’s a shady thing and should not be checked out. Yet he’s so curious. Is this what other magicians do?

The staircase isn’t too long, and it opens up into a large, wide room. Marvin was expecting a concrete floor and visible rafters, but it looks more like an entertainment room. The walls were painted a pale yellow, the floor was mostly carpeted, there were sofas and chairs and even one of those huge beanbags. It’s lit up by lightbulbs mounted directly into the ceiling, which makes it look just like any other household room. The only thing different is a square section of dark hardwood floor with a circle drawn on it in, well, what looks like salt. A few tall candles sit around the edges of the circle, in alternating purple and orange colors.

Marvin walks closer to the circle. There are some symbols drawn around its edge, also in salt. He’s surprised to realize he doesn’t recognize any of them. They’re not part of any runes he knows. But he does feel like he’s seen them before, somewhere else. Maybe it’s a different runic alphabet? But what does this mean?

“Hey, did you see that?” someone asks.

“See what?”

“I dunno, I thought...nevermind.”

“C’mon, Morgana.”

“Well, I just thought it looked like a person out of the corner of my eye.”

Marvin inhales sharply and goes back to concentrating on staying invisible. This is the last place he wants that to wear off.

“It’s five minutes to midnight!” Castillo calls. “Everyone in position!”

There’s a bit of awkward shuffling as the group moves to stand around the circle. A few people whisper about watching the edge of the salt to make sure it doesn’t get knocked out of place. “Someone get the lights,” Castillo says.

“Uh, shouldn’t we light the candles first so it’s not dark?” Basil points out.

“Oh, I have a lighter!” Morgana volunteers.

“Oh yeah.” Castillo nods. “Mor, you light the candles. Uh, James, you’re closest to the lights, knock them out, will you?”

“Everyone watch their hems,” Morgana says as she starts going around the edge of the circle and lighting the candles. Once they’re all lit, a man dashes over to the wall and hits the light switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the candlelight.

“Hands, everyone,” Castillo instructs. Everyone grabs their neighbors’ hands, forming a connected circle. “Two minutes to midnight. Time to start. Make sure you chime in at the right time.”

Silence falls. Marvin holds his breath, waiting for something to happen. And soon, the circle starts murmuring. No, it’s not just that, they’re actually chanting, all in a low, quiet voice. More voices join in, and they all get louder. Harmonies break off as different strings of words jump in, until the group is singing, their voices echoing off the walls.

Lines appear on the floor inside the circle. Lines of orange light, each one starting at the feet of one of the magicians, then ending at the feet of another. There were so many, connecting each magician to every other member of the group. The light coming from them grew brighter, and then—

SNAP!

Sparks flew into the air in the center of the circle. Quicker than what should be possible, they grow into a fire, hovering about three feet off the ground. The flames start orange, and then flicker between different colors—red, yellow, green, purple, blue, pink, white, and everything in between. It was as if a firework had gone off in the room, completely contained within a small part of the air. Marvin couldn’t help but gasp. And, as he stared closer into the fire, he realized there weren’t just colors...there were images as well. Shapes of people and objects forming scenes. They pass by too quickly for him to fully make out.

The chanting reaches a crescendo, and the fire breaks down into small balls of flame. Each one shoots toward one of the magicians, disappearing into their chests. For a moment, all the magicians glow with the colors of the fire. And then it fades. The lines on the floor disappear, and the magicians slowly stop their chants.

There’s a brief moment of quiet, like the heavy sort of silence one hears after having finished a good book and absorbing the story it contained. And then: “James, can you get the lights again?”

The man from before walks over to turn on the light switch. Everyone gasps and blinks in the suddenly bright room. Idle chatter starts up.

“Hey wait a minute, who’s that?!”

Marvin gasps as one of the magicians points at him. They all turn to look, and he realizes too late that he’d forgotten to concentrate on the invisibility spell.

“Who are you?!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“How’d you get in?!”

And Marvin panics. He turns and runs up the stairs, hearing the magicians shout behind him. Skipping the last step, he bursts out into the first floor hallway and starts to sprint for the front door.

Someone shouts something, and there’s a burst of red light. Then only blackness.

———————

Marvin only realizes he lost consciousness once he starts regaining it. He groans, feeling a headache spike in his temples, and opens his eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A man is sitting next to him, wearing a black cloak. It takes Marvin a moment to recognize him as the Castillo guy. But upon recognition, he bolts upright. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down!” Castillo holds his hands up, slightly pushing Marvin back down. “You’re not in any trouble. Persephone hit you with a blackout spell, but she’s sorry about that.” He glares to the side. “Riiight?”

Every other cloaked magician is standing nearby. They’re all back in the living room from before, with Marvin lying on one of the sofas. “Uh, yeah, really sorry,” a woman says. “I freaked out and acted on instinct.”

“How are you feeling?” Castillo asks, turning back to Marvin. “Some people have allergic reactions to blackout spells. Are you having any trouble breathing?”

Marvin doesn’t answer, looking wide-eyed at the people around him. Now that he’s actively facing the prospect of talking to other magicians, his throat has closed up. It’s probably made worse by the fact that he technically broke into their secret meeting.

“Uh, sir?” Castillo reaches out and makes to grab Marvin’s arm.

“Don’t!” Marvin flinches away. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Oh, okay, sorry!” Castillo sharply withdraws. “Just wanted to be sure you were breathing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine, so don’t touch me,” Marvin grumbles. He shifts awkwardly, glancing around at the others. They’re starting to mutter among themselves. He can’t tell what they’re saying, and that makes him nervous. Are they mad at him? It would be understandable. But he’s terrible with tone of voice, so he can’t even tell, and the uncertainty makes him even more worried.

“I got it, no worries.” Castillo gives a friendly smile, no doubt meant to reassure Marvin. “But you are okay, right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Marvin mutters.

“That’s good,” Castillo nods. “Um...do you mind if I ask how you got here? This house is warded from any teleportations.”

“Yeah, if you guys tell me who you are first,” Marvin countered.

“We’re the Magic Circle, duh,” one of the other magicians says.

“Well I’ve never fucking heard of the Magic Circle, so excuse me for not knowing!” Marvin sits up on the sofa, scooting away from Castillo.

“Huh? Really?” Castillo looks puzzled. “Well, specifically, we’re the Mirygale chapter of the Magic Circle, it’s a nationwide organization.”

“Are you guys like a coven or something?” Marvin asks.

“We’re just a group, man,” another magician says. “We meet up, cast spells together, not that hard to grasp.”

“I’ve never heard of magic groups,” Marvin says warily.

Castillo blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well, I know the ABIM guys,” Marvin admits. “But that’s it.”

“ABIM is different,” Castillo says dismissively. “They’re like a government, and a loose one at that.” He pauses. “Are you...self-taught?”

“Yeah. Why the fuck does that matter?” Marvin demands.

It must have mattered significantly, because a chorus of “ohhhhhh” passed through the group. “Ah, that explains why you don’t know about magic groups,” Castillo says. “You’re a bit old for being self-taught, though. Most magicians from outside a magical family find—”

“—find out about the greater magic community when they’re in college, yeah, I know, I’ve heard that speech before,” Marvin says through clenched teeth. “So I’m a few years late, I was busy. Anyway, what are magic groups? Just like, magicians gathered together? Is that allowed? What do the ABIM think?”

Castillo laughs. “The Magic Circle is much older than the Association, they couldn’t get rid of us if they wanted to.” He shrugs. “Well, magic groups aren’t too hard to figure out. It’s just a bunch of magicians gathered together.” He sweeps his arm around the room. “Spells cast by a group are more powerful than just a single magician alone. We share spells with each other, come to each others’ aid in times of magical crisis, study magic together...they say two heads are better than one, you know? Stronger in numbers.”

Marvin nods slowly. “So...what were you doing in the basement?”

“That? That was a combination divination and prosperity spell,” Castillo explains. “Something like that you can only get in a group. It shows us significant events in the next year, then gives us good luck.”

“Never heard of a good luck spell...” Marvin mutters.

“Well, you’ve been practicing on your own, and doing luck spells on your own is a tricky business,” Castillo says. “So now it’s our turn. How’d you get inside?”

Marvin shifts uncomfortably, then reluctantly explains the whole thing with the Magic Minds spell and the invisibility.

“Ohhh, I know that spell!” One of the magicians says excitedly. “But you’re supposed to include your target’s full name in the incantation, otherwise it’ll just lead you to the nearest magician.”

“Why were you looking for magicians?” Another one asks.

Marvin looks down. Now that the time has come for it, he’s kind of embarrassed. “I dunno, I...sort of wanted help with this grimoire thing. But it’s stupid. Nevermind.”

“Huh? What kind of help?” Castillo asks. “You know the Magic Minds spell and an invisibility spell, you seem pretty knowledgeable.”

Marvin scowls. “Well, apparently, it needs to be in a book, not online at all. Which is fucking dumb. Why do I have to copy it all over?! It’s all already there!”

“Have you tried listening to a podcast while doing it?” One of the magicians suggests. “It gives you something to focus on.”

Castillo chuckles. “Well, if it’s a problem with focus, I don’t know if magicians specifically could help.”

“Shut up,” Marvin mutters. “Maybe there’s a spell to copy it all over for me—”

“If you found one, let me know, will you?” Castillo jokes.

Marvin glares at him, then stands up. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting your Magic Circle shit, I’ll just go now, because clearly this was a stupid fucking idea—”

“Hey wait!” Castillo stands up as well. “What’s your name, bro?”

“Don’t call me bro!” Marvin growls. “But it’s Marvin. Marvin Moore.”

“Wait holy shit like Marvin the Magnificent?!” A magician says excitedly. Marvin recognizes him as the James one. “You had real magic the whole time?! No wonder people couldn’t figure out your tricks!”

Marvin can’t help but smile proudly at that. “Hell yeah, people loved it.”

“Well, Mr. Moore, you have some powerful magic in you,” Castillo says admirably. “You bypassed all the wards I set up here without even trying.” He walks over to a table with drawers, pulling one open and taking out a pen and notebook. After scribbling something down, he tears out the page, and walks back over to hand it to Marvin. “This is all our information, and my personal phone number. If you ever have a group you want to join, call us, okay?”

“Oh! Do it!” James encourages. “Then we’ll be thirteen, it’ll be the ideal number for most spells! And we’ll have a famous guy in our chapter!”

“Hey, let him make his own decision,” a nearby magician says.

Marvin scans the information from the paper. There could be benefits to joining a magic group...one of which being that he’ll finally have more than five people to talk to. And were these spells cast by groups really more powerful? A familiar feeling starts to grow inside him, a feeling of wanting to know, of wanting to be the best. That feeling led him astray in the past, got him mixed up in branches of magic he probably shouldn’t have been involved in. But if he’s with other people, it’ll be different, right? He hesitates for just one moment longer, then asks, “Hey, so uh, what if I’ve already made my decision?”

———————

The next day, Marvin finds himself sitting at his desk once more, with his laptop and his unfinished grimoire before him. But there were also a couple other things as well. A slim book, its cover decorated with the same sort of symbols he’d seen written in that circle of salt, and a sphere of black crystal. “Consider these your entrance-level gifts,” Castillo had said. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the types of magic the Circle likes to use, so this’ll be your beginner’s course.”

Marvin actually isn’t familiar with these branches of magic at all. And that makes this book all the more fascinating. It contains a guide to the symbols they use, the principles of the magic, and a few basic spells. Interestingly, it seems to be derived from alchemy. Or maybe it is alchemy, Marvin doesn’t know. He’d never had any reason to look up what alchemy was before this.

He sets the book down, taking a moment to pick up his new crystal ball and look it over. He can already think of several uses for this, but that might have to wait until later. For now, he really needs to at least make some progress on the grimoire.

And where better to start than with the new, interesting spells? It’s sure to keep his focus if he’s copying down information he’s never heard before. Marvin puts the crystal ball down and picks up his pen. But before he starts writing, he puts on his headphones. Listening to a podcast, huh? Maybe that will help.

He can feel that something new is in the air. Something is changing. Marvin had never worked with other magicians before. The prospect is both exciting and a little nerve-wracking. But however this ends, he knows now that things will be different from here on, in some way or another. And he’s certainly excited to find out.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #marvin the magnificent #brigid writes fanfiction

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Leithian Reread - Canto VI (Beren in Nargothrond)

While The Leithian-related plot of this canto focuses on Beren in Nargothrond, almost the first half of it is a brief summary of the Silmarillion from Return of the Noldor through to the Dagor Bragollach. Which I love, since those events for the most part aren’t coverered in Tolkien’s other poetic works, and I prefer the poetry structure of the Leithian to Tolkien’s other (non-rhyming, more Rohirric-sounding) pieces of epic poetry.

This is a good place to note, for readers who are new to the poetic Leithian, that some names are different from the Silm (Tolkien started a revised version with Silm-consistent names, but he didn’t get very far with it). The Noldor are referred to as the Gnomes - a rough transliteration of their elvish name into a human language, drawing from the Greek for ‘knowledge’. Tolkien later rejected this on the basis that the word was already too associated with entirely different mental images, but given how transformative his use of ‘elves’ was (typical fantasy elves are now almost all inspired by his ideas of tall, beautiful, long-lived immortals), we might have completely different concepts of ‘gnome’ now if he’s gone ahead with it. 

The second big diiference is that Finrod is referred to exclusively as Felagund - his Dwarven honorific - whereas his father Finarfin is referred to as Finrod. Tolkien had a lot of difficulty with Finarfin’s name and it went through a pile of different iterations. There are also other minor differences, like Finwë being referred to as Finn.

Returning to the poem - it’s hard to pick a favourite part of the summary section; I love so much of it. This is the closest I’m ever going to get to the Noldolantë (Tolkien wrote a couple pages of another poem focusing on the Return of the Noldor, but I don’t like it as much).

The mists were mantled round the towers

of the Elves’ white city by the sea.

There countless torches fitfully

did start and twinkle, as the Gnomes

were gathered to their fading homes

and thronged the wide and winding stair

that led to the wide echoing square.

There Fëanor mourned his jewels divine,

the Silmarils he made. Like wine

his wild and potent words them fill;

a great host hearkens deathly still.

But all he said both wild and wise

half truth and half the fruit of lies

that Morgoth sowed in Valinor

in other songs and other lore

recorded is.

There’s such a wonderful sense of place and of mood in those lines; the Return of the Noldor has always been one of the most compelling parts of the Silmarillion for me. In the same way that Elves have a different sense of time than Men, Valar must have a different sense of it than Elves; they’re acting, but within their own sense of time, and for the Noldor, in the wake of the Darkening, the desire to do something rather than wait around for the Valar (who are looking more deeply fallible than they ever have before) to fix things must be extremely powerful. And Fëanor’s presence and words and fury, brought into that environment, is like fire to oil. To be active and purposeful in the face of disaster, rather than passive and directionless - that’s a powerful force. The poem also acknowledges that Fëanor’s not entirely wrong (“half truth and half the fruit of lies”), however deeply distorted his ideas about both the Valar and the Secondborn are. As I’ve said before, I think that Eru intended for the Elves to be in Middle-earth, not Valinor; the entire Leithian is centred around the value and importance of an elf-human relationship that continues to affect the history of Arda down through the Third Age (and, in its symbolic meaning, even further).

There’s also a line about the Oath: Who calls these names in witness may not break his oath, though earth and heaven shake. The texts on the Oath are somewhat contradictory on its breakability, though they are united on its importance and severity (it is decidedly not just words, or something that can be casually laid aside). The Silmarillion says “so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world’s end”. But that contradicts itself - it it can’t be broken, then there can’t be oathbreakers. Maedhros and Maglor’s final conversation at the end of the Silm is more illuminating to me: it’s not a matter of the Oath being physically or psychologically impossible to break (if it was, how did they go the 400 years of the Siege of Angband without actively attacking Morgoth?), but of fearing the fate they have called down upon themselves (the Everlasting Darkness) if they do break it. (Plus a lot of sunk cost fallacy, by that point.) Which is considerably less sympathetic: murdering innocent people in order to avoid the consequences of your own bad decision is, ultimately, the choice that innocents should bear the cost of your own choices, which is ultimately a form of cowardice. (Not to mention the inherently contradictory nature of saying “I’m going to do evil so that I won’t be damned,” which Maglor eventually realizes.)

(More of my thoughts on the Oath here.)

This is also one of the few texts we have that actually states the Oath (or rather, part of it; the invocations are not included) rather that describing it. I think all the ones we have are in Tolkien’s poetry; there’s no prose version.

The Kinslaying is not mentioned in this Canto; that’s saved for the Duel of Felagund and Sauron in the next one. But this canto does include possibly the only poetic rendition we get of Fingon rescuing Maedhros from Thangorodrim:

Fingon daring alone went forth

and sought for Maidros where he hung;

in torment terrible he swung,

his wrist in band of forgéd steel,

from a sheer precipice where reel

the dizzy senses staring down

from Thangorodrim’s stony crown.

The song of Fingon Elves yet sing,

captain of armies, Gnomish king...

They sing how Maidros free he set,

and stayed the feud that slumbered yet

between the children proud of Finn.

After describing the Siege of Angband and the Long Peace, the narrative moves on to the Dagor Bragollach, and specifically Barahir’s rescue of Felagund. (And in this account, as in the Silm, Orodreth is Felagund’s brother, not his nephew.) From there, it returns to the main story and Beren’s arrival in Nargothrond. It could not be more different than his reception in Menegroth:

When the ring [of Barahir] was seen

they bowed before him, though his plight

was poor and beggarly...

Fair were the words of Narog’s king

to Beren, and his wandering

and all his feuds and bitter wars

recounted soon.

Regarding Felagund’s fulfillment of his Oath to Barahir, and the betrayal by Celegorm and Curufin, and the abandonment by the Elves of Nargothrond, I’ve already written a fair bit in my (much earlier) posts on Finrod & Nargothrond and Celegorm & Curufin. I’ll add a few additional points here.

First, I do not think it was irresponsible of Felagund to leave Nargothrond to go with Beren. If his presence as king of Nargothrond was important (and I think it was; basically all of Nargothrond’s decisions after he leaves are bad, and he’s been the peacemaker and diplomat between different elven and human groups throughout the Silmarillion up to this point) that is all the more reason why Nargothrond is indebted to Barahir and his descendents, since Felagund would already be dead if not for Barahir’s actions.

Secondly - and I’m getting this from Philosopher at Large’s Leithian Script, which emphasizes it very heavily - Felagund, as liege-lord to the Bëorings, has certain obligations to them even outside of his oath, including providing military assistance in times of need. Usual chains of communication have been cut since the Bragollach, so Felagund’s only just now finding out that the Bëorings have, aside from Beren, been basically exterminated; and that Barahir and later Beren spent years fighting a very long-odds guerrilla war without ever asking or recieving assistance, while Nargothrond was safe and largely inactive. This is going to strongly enhance Felagund’s (legitimate) sense of indebtedness to Barahir’s kin.

Thirdly, Celegorm is often treated as something of a meathead (because he acts like one; all his decisions are terrible in both moral and practical terms), but this sequence makes it clear that both he and Curufin inherited their father’s rhetorical abilities; his speech is specifically compared to Fëanor’s speech in Tirion (Many wild and potent words he spoke, and as before in Tûn awoke his father’s voice their hearts to fire, so now dark fear and brooding ire he cast on them...) But ironically, the direction of Curufin’s speech is opposite to Fëanor’s - while Fëanor’s was about rallying the Noldor to fight Morgoth, Curufin’s is about discouraging them from fighting Morgoth, by frightening them, and he does it so effectively that it’s unlikely Nargothrond would have showed up at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad even without the additional motivation of being furious at the brothers. And continuing on that theme, the brothers are setting themselves against the first real attempt anyone has ever made to regain the Silmarils from Morgoth. A mission that resulted in Beren and Lúthien having one Silmaril, and the Fëanorians having the other two, would obviously be better in terms of their goals than all three remaining in Morgoth’s posession, but they don’t appear to even consider it. This is part of a long thread throughout the Silmarillion - every action taken directly in service to the Oath aids Morgoth and harms the Eldar.

The people of Nargothrond, by the way, really do not come off well here - they’re rejecting their king for someone who has just threatened violence against them all (Celegorm’s speech is basically threatening them with another Kinslaying here and now).

And as a final point - what Celegorm and Curufin do here is one of the worst crimes imaginable within their society. The sacredness of the relationship between guests and hosts (and they are guests in Nargothrond, having fled there from the Bragollach) is a major theme in a lot of pre-modern societies. People familiar with A Song of Ice and Fire will remember its importance there; for a more historical source, Dante places ‘traitors to guests and hosts’ in the ninth circle of hell in the Divine Comedy and goes beyond that to state that people who betray their guests or hosts go directly to hell even before they die, while their body becomes inhabited by a demon for the rest of their life. From this betrayal, to the usurpation of Nargothrond, to the attempted rape of Lúthien, to the attempted murder of Lúthien, to Celegorm’s servants leaving Eluréd and Elurín - young children - to die of exposure, everything we see from the brothers from this point on is them committing crimes that are literally unthinkable to elves. Which is to say that the Eldar might have found Dante’s explanation pretty credible.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fëanor #sons of fëanor #beren #finrod #celegorm #curufin #nargothrond #oath of feanor #lay of leithian #leithian reread

[fireproofheart]

Endgame Speculation

So I accidentally wrote a three page essay.

Tldr:

Caleb is consecuted,

the city(tm) is full of evil mages doing blood sport who want to unlease the chained oblivion,

Molly and Lucien are totally separate souls,

The empire knows more than it should about the beacons and the city

Ok so I decided about ten years ago that the astral city was actually where the souls that are stored in the beacon exist while they’re waiting to be reborn. Initially, I’d thought that they’d find Molly there, but clearly his body is already up and running. Anyways I think the city is some kind of phantasmal double of Aeor that they created to store the souls of mages who had reached umavi. Now I know there’s been lots of talk of a god killing weapon, but what if it’s that all these super powerful mages souls are in the city waiting to be unleashed. And then if you take to alpha and alpha to be a reference to the rebirth cycle (I go into that in this post) “We trek 'til homeward bound we be” makes sense as something like we drag ourselves through life after life through the rebirth cycle until we reach enlightenment and head back to the city and I think Lucien has figured this out, but Vess hadn’t (remember she was so close to figuring out the book).

I also think it’d be fun if the mages do actually have a god killing weapon up there but what they have is that they think they’ll be able to control the chained oblivion (I don’t think they actually can) but like what if they want to set it free so that it will destroy the divine gate and go kill a bunch of gods so that they can ascend? They might not even think that they can control it, they might just be banking on becoming gods and being able to defeat it.

So like what if there’s all this talk about umavi and perfecting your soul in the Dynasty, but that’s not it at all. What if it’s actually go through lives until you get powerful enough that the mages in the city are like oh hey come on in. We also know sometimes if you go through too many of these cycles you can go nuts. So like I wonder if the black city mages are just nerfing people who get too powerful and who aren’t good candidates to join them, or if they’re like trying to shape a world they want to come back to.

Like maybe ‘umavi’ is really just a shitty club running around hunting shit, like Halas had dreadnaught chained up in his basement essentially and also was messing around with using astral projection to achieve immortality, so why wouldn’t other mages be doing similar bullshit? We know something related to the city is hunting through the planes like Vokodo was Terrified. And if these beings are so enlightened why would they be sitting on top of like some kind of literal hell and engaging in blood sport??  Also what if the wizards knew it would be a hell city so they're all asleep and everyone who wasnt prepared to go is having a miserable time being hunted through an otherwise empty city? And this also works with Matt’s themes about false gods and blind faith!!

So, If we follow the line of thought about the city, it makes sense that the beacons are ancient Zemnian artifacts, created by the mages to ensure their immortal life. Halas was obsessed with immortality, so I think this tracks. I also have a suspicion that nine eyes is related to the governing structure that the mages used pre-calamity, possibly like a Cerberus Assembly type deal, like one for every school of magic.

Anyways! I think at least one of the assembly members possibly more have figured that out and that’s what they’re actually trying to do with the beacon. I think that initially, the assembly thought that the beacon was the ancient weapon, but I think they’ve realized it isn’t. So I think Trent is trying to recreate the consecution process so that they can continue using the rebirth cycle. That man has made some weird comments that hint about immortality, like how he doesn’t ever plan to leave his office, how he wants caleb to kill him etc. I think this raises the possibility that he’s already figured out consecution I also think it’s an interesting possibility that Trent himself is consecuted and has the memories of a pre calamity wizard, but probably the only way that’s possible is if he wasn’t that powerful, otherwise he’d know all these secrets the Empire is trying to decode.

I think what he is doing is looking for Zemnian kids who might be consecuted souls. We all know Trent loves to fuck with memories, he does this shit constantly. So he’s picking up kids he thinks might be cycling souls and trying to extract or trigger their memories while he trains them to be loyal to the empire, so he can command some real powerful mages. I think it’s also very possible that some of the experiments he ran on them were to try and discover or recreate this consecution process. We know he was up to some Bullshit, but not what exactly. We also know that he’s doing all this when they’re teenagers, which is when their memories are supposed to be returning.  

My guess is that only Caleb is actually one of the souls from the city. Also it’d be super fun if he was the soul of Mr. Destruction council member because I think that’d be a fun motive for Trent to be beating destruction magic into him (aside from the practicalities of course). But if Caleb is consecuted, it explains his dream when he slept near the beacon. Where he saw a dark sphere, which I think was the city, and multiple versions of himself. Matt  also  particularly said there were 17 selves which is a high number of rebirths (the bright queen has like 8 and shes starting to lose it) which goes to my theory that he has a super powerful soul. Also aligns with Trent telling him that ‘he has unlimited potential, unlike Astrid and Eodwulf’. And another thing he saw which tends to get overlooked, is a flame and when he looked at it, it felt familiar and overwhelming and he had to stop focusing on it bc he could feel all of his selves pulling at him. Which brings me to my next point.

Trent said that he traumatized Caleb to help him grow and that man basically never lies, he just talks around the truth. He also said that he thinks Caleb could be an assembly member and that other assembly members have been through similar situations. In the Dynasty, the memories don’t come back automatically, it’s just little flashes and then you have to have someone train you to remember your past lives. But the Empire doesn’t know about that process bc its super secret, so they have this other one that uses trauma to trigger the memories.

So I have two thoughts, one that maybe this works for some of the other souls that have gone through it, but if Caleb is one of the Pre Calamity assembly members who had reached a state of ‘umavi’, there was too much information coming through and his mind broke. And now he can’t access those memories at all, not because they’re magically supressed, but because they’re too wrapped up in his trauma. He started freaking out a bit in the dream when he felt the souls pull at him and looked into the fire and I think until he deals with allll that, he’s not going to be able to remember, if he ever can.

Or! I think it’s also possible If his soul was up there in the party part of the city and was like oh hi I don’t feel like hunting people for spORt anymore and got reborn on purpose and actively doesn’t want to remember.  Who really knows.

But if this is the case and Trent was trying to run that process, it would also makes sense as to why he would keep Caleb around for that long in the asylum if he was still trying to dig them memories out. If the second possibility is right it also provides an interesting possibility that the woman in the asylum went nuts when she healed his mind, because if she tried to heal the second part and his soul was actively resisting and lashed out… like heyooo. Caleb being secretly super powerful and evil in his soul, but choosing to act against that also is a nice tie in with the themes around identity that we’ve seen so far.

Where do Vess and Lucien come into this?

I think Vess is trying to release the souls from the city and hadn’t quite figured out how. I think that she used Lucien as a test run for being the nonagon and sent his soul to the astral plane to go into the city using the book and then as part of the ritual, cut the tether to his body so he could go off and do whatever. So it tracks that he killed Vess if he thought that she tried to kill him/did kill him/didn’t tell him that he could die or whatever. It also wouldn’t surprise me if she was prepared to be the nonagon herself even at that point, but wanted to use Lucien because the risk of death was so high.

So anyways, the ritual failed technically, because an ‘umavi’ mage didn’t pop into Lucien’s body to come tell her how to release the souls (possibly by unleashing the chained oblivion lmao) When you cut someone’s tether, they die instantly so I think she did that, a soul didn’t appear and she went fuck ok so that didn’t work. They tried to resurrect him, didn’t work, so they left. But I think the ritual did work in a way. I think they called a soul from the city, just not the one they  wanted and it took longer than they’d expected.

So Molly wakes up, has no memories of this nonsense, because as he said the entire time he was alive, whoever he was before isn’t him. And if the souls can’t interact with other souls there and they think it’s an empty hell city what if that’s why Molly came back saying empty because that’s how it seemed to him??

So Lucien accidentally gets stuck wandering around with all the other trapped souls. And what if that speaks to Lucien’s motivation to try and bring them all back. Like he’s been wandering around the shitty part of the city for years while Molly was up and running and the black city mages have promised him that he won’t have to go back there if he brings them back to the material plane. So I think Lucien mostly knows how to do this and like maybe needs that book for the technicalities, but I also think he’s going to Aeor to go find another beacon to use for the ritual. And obvi when Kree resurrected Lucien, he actually came back this time because his soul was willing and Molly’s wasn’t.

So I think Vess was trying to figure out how the ritual had failed, but I think after the nein told her about Molly and shit, she’s probably figured out that really the only piece she was missing was how to get the soul she wanted.  I think that missing piece is probably a beacon and that you could possibly use them to communicate in a way or draw the specific souls from the city. But I think it took her too long to figure it out because the beacons are super important to the peace effort, and I don’t think she’d be able to sneak off with one right now, so I think she was going to Aeor hoping to find another one. I think if she had, she would have become a vessel for an umavi mage and she would have learned how to bring back the city and I think right now, we’re in danger of Lucien doing exactly that.

My final point is that a lot of people have been saying it feels like we’re getting into the endgame of the campaign with the stuff that’s happening now. I agree. I also think it would be very tidy if Matt had wrapped Molly and Caleb’s story arcs around each other to end the campaign. Also having them defeat the literal past, the assembly and possibly a god would be a baller way to end it.

#critical role #critical role speculation #critical role conspiracy theory #cr speculation #cr meta #meta #cr conspiracy theories #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #vess derogna #trent ikithon #the astral sea #cr spoilers #c2e114 #me #criticalrole #critrole #c2 #end spec #caleb #molly #vess #lucien #npc2

[butterflydreaming-writes-fic]

“And the One Time They Did”

“And the One Time They Did“ by Looks-Clear (that’s me, yo!)

Word Count: about 3,400     Rating: Gen

@sweetness47​, here is my gift to you for the Profound Bond Discord gift exchange! I hope you actually find it amusing. This is a “five times plus one time” fic, and since that’s such a well-used trope, I thought it would be funny to title each of the sections with an AO3 tag.

-o-

1. “that trope where it's a relationship told from an outsider's point of view”

The money is good, but the competition for gigs means that you take that delivery order even though it’s to a house way outside of town. Houses are good, though. Around here, that means honeymoon tourists and vacation renters, which might mean a better tip. “J. Page” is waiting for his order from Great Greens, so you pick up the bags from Yolanda’s new salad cafe and head out in your Jeep onto the river road.

The house is secluded on the less popular side of the river, off the narrow road that splits from the main. You don’t even see the black Chevy Impala parked along the side of the house until you’ve driven to the end of the tree-lined driveway. The two-story house is the kind of place you would love to live in if you wanted a lot of privacy. It’s well cared for to attract the short-term renters your town gets all summer. The house has a good roof, freshly painted siding, and healthy potted plants around the door you’re knocking on.

An upstairs window slides open with a thunk. Taking a step away from the door, you look up. 

“Oh, hey.” The man leaning out the window has a smile that immediately puts you at ease. The frame catches at his flannel shirt, exposing a flash of skin above his faded jeans. He’s tall, with long hair, and the breadth of his shoulders make you glad you took the delivery job. “Would you mind… there’s a kitchen door at the back of the house. I’ll be down in a sec.” He pulls back in before you can respond.

You hesitate, thinking about the seclusion of the house and potential danger, but your gut tells you it’s OK. Nothing about the house or the classic car gives you that red flag feeling. The sun isn’t down yet. Plus, your holding an order of salads and cheesy rolls, Yolanda knows you’re delivering them and to where, and you can’t imagine it’s the dinner order of a creeper.

Things are a little unexpected when you get to the back door, though. The tall man — and he really is tall, six-four you guess — is pulling the curtain away from the window beside the kitchen door, but the door remains closed. “I have your Great Greens,” you say, lifting your two hands. You glance at the receipt and tell him the total. The food was paid with a credit card. You’re starting to despair about your tip, the line left blank to fill in.

“Great! Thanks. We really appreciate it,” he says, from the other side of the window glass.

There’s a dog door in the house door. The man disappears from the window and the door flap lift up. An envelope flips out. The man appears at the window again.

“If you could, um, put the order through the flap?” he asks.

“You don’t want to open the door?” Gingerly, you poke the dog door inward and push the bags through one at a time. The envelope turns out to have a few bills in it, a nice cash tip. You straighten up again and dust your hands off on your jeans after folding the envelope and tucking it into your pocket.

He laughs. It’s a breathy laugh, embarrassed. He ducks his head. “Can’t,” he says. “We’re, uh, sort of under quarantine.”

A surprised “Oh!” comes out of you before you can stop yourself. You wonder who else is with him in the house.

He’s quick to reassure you. “It’s not contagious. We just can’t leave the house yet.” He gives you one of those quick smiles again. The effective is magnified from being eye level and within three feet of him. You're a little glad there’s a window between you for protection.

“Thanks again,” he says.

“No problem,” you answer. With a small wave, you start back around to the front of the house, and your Jeep, only glancing back for a moment. The tall man is turning toward others entering the kitchen.

Before the curtain closes, you glimpse two other adults. You can hear them plainly through the window. A deep voice is at first excited about the meals. But then, suddenly:

“Sonoffabitch! SAM! What is this? Salad? Where’s the real food!?”

Back at your Jeep, just as a precaution, you rub your hands with the lavender scented hand sanitizer you keep in the glove box.

2. “(in my head the reader is a female but i didnt specify ir anywhere so ye)”

It’s Friday and a busy night, but when you see the delivery request come up for that same address, you take it. This time it’s for burgers from Jen’s Magnificent, which is locally famous for the MegaBurger, a four-patty monster with the works. You’re not surprised when the bags are heavy with three megas, fries and onion rings. What else would anyone order from Jen’s? The name on the credit card slip is “S. Denny.” You are wondering if the hot tall guy knows he’s not getting any veggies that aren’t deep fried.

Of course, you can guess what happened, and when it’s a different man at the front picture window asking you to go around to the back of the house, your guess is confirmed. The one with the deep voice is tall too, not as tall and not as lean, but still with nice muscle structure and also in a flannel shirt. Brothers, probably. You can see some familial resemblance.

As with the first delivery, you meet him at the back window. It’s earlier than last time and still full light out. He’s pretty anxious for the food, bouncing a little on his feet as he waits for you to slide the burger bags through the dog door.

You can’t help yourself. “Where’s the other guy?"

"Which?"

You pass the food through, straighten up and assess him. The cute one. Your brother?”

The man is already into one of the burgers. He shoves it in his face — you can’t take a bite out of a mega, you pretty much have to smash it into your mouth — and the moan he produces is, frankly, pornographic. This is a man who loves juicy meat.

You kind of want to leave him alone to it.

“The cute one," he repeats with a snort. He wipes a napkin across his mouth. "Researching,” he answers you, chewing on a mouthful. “This burger is awesome. Have you had these?”

“Actually, yeah. She makes good shakes, too.”

“This is going on my list of best burger towns,” he states. The burger disappears and when his hands are free, he wipes them on a fresh napkin. “You a local?”

You nod. He asks you a few odd questions about the town, a little bit about the history, and some information about how often tourists come through. You end up talking about your Jeep Renegade and auto maintenance, which helpfully gives you some points to go over with Roxy at the garage.

You’re back an hour later with another delivery from Great Greens, a single kale salad. You’re not surprised. The cute one is happy to see you. That's nice.

3. “Spells in general. Just spells and spells and spells”

You’ve come to think of yourself as their personal delivery person, to be honest, and it’s not only because J. Page aka Sam is a bright spot any time day or night. Feeling bold one evening, you scribble your phone number on the receipt and tell Sam, “If you guys need anything like from the grocery store or whatever, just call me. Anytime is fine.”

You’re snuggled on your couch watching Netflix when you actually get a late night call from Sam. He sounds apologetic and, weirdly, a little drunk. “Hi… Hi!” he greets a little breathlessly. “This might be a lot to ask but if you meant it about the help, I… we need someone on the outside to get these things. They’re going to sound strange, but I can’t explain what they’re for. Is that OK?”

“Does it,” you ask, “have to be right now?”

“Please, yes,” he says, words breathed out like an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know if I can take close quarters with these two past another moon cycle.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, uh. It has to be tonight because of the first quarter.” He names off some flowers, and then tells you the last one has to be picked after midnight and before dawn.

You actually have some of the list in your kitchen, dried, though it's not fresh. “The rest I can get, but I don’t know where to find that,” you tell him.

“Come to the house. It’s in the garden.”

And that’s how you end up picking lemon verbena by flashlight, in a hoodie and pajama pants, while Sam watches you from the kitchen window and points out the plants he needs. He’s glossy-eyed in the way of someone who’s had more booze than a few drinks at dinner, and pushing himself to act sober like someone who was drinking for a reason.

When you hand over the jasmine and vervain, he’s sitting on the floor at the other side of the door. You catch the dog flap on the backswing and hold it open. “Is that enough? I can get the other stuff fresh from Dara’s tea store tomorrow.”

He leans down to see you better through the opening and keeps going until he’s lying sideways on the floor. He seems vaguely surprised that the world has gone horizontal. “This is what I need to get started,” he pronounces carefully. He seems to consider getting upright. Instead, he rolls over onto his back. His hair, long and silky, flops beside his head, except for an errant lock that lays across his forehead. His beard is growing in, and the mountain man thing really works for him. He looks like he might nod off right there, lying on the floor.

“So… what are you doing, casting a love spell or something?” 

He groans. “Those idiots activated one. I’m trying to…” he lifts a hand and makes a serpentine gesture in the air with his finger, “wiggle open a loophole. So we can leave. And Dean can stop punching holes in the walls looking for hex bags.” He wakes up more fully and sits up suddenly. Running a hand through his hair, he laughs. There’s a tint of panic to it.

You can see that he’s about to dissemble about what he said, so you cut him off with a change of topic. “I knew the lady that used to live here. When I was a kid, we called it the witch’s house. She had, uh, twenty cats.”

“This is a dog door,” he points out.

“I know, right?” You smirk. “Do you like dogs?”

“I do,” he says without elaboration. “Can you tell me anything else about this house? Past owners?”

He’s sobering up. You answer with a shrug. “I mean. It’s a rental now. As you know, obviously.”

“A lot of strangers come through town? Have you noticed anyone that stands out? People you know, acting out of character? Has anyone been sick with an unexplainable illness?”

“We get summer tourists, mostly.”

“Anyone weird?”

“We are the weirdos, mister.” You ease the door flap closed. “I’ll bring the rest of your list when you guys order dinner tomorrow,” you say. It’s late, and you need to go home.

4. “Destiel are lowkey pining in the background”

Mylene adds in a cellophane bag of shortbread with the pie order. The scents in the bakery make you wish you were taking pie home for yourself, but no, this French Apple, ordered by “John Paul Jones,” is heading to the house you’ve been delivering to all week. On the nights when you don’t have an order, they order pizza delivery, it turns out. Pia, who owns Ristorante Raduno, mentioned it when you were fulfilling your craving for her incredible lasagna. Piggybacking on the pie order is a double side of bacon that you pick up from Dee's diner.

You honk when you pull up to the house, knock at the front door, then walk to the back yard per the usual. The Impala has enough dust on it to dull the black finish, and that strikes you as evidence that they really aren’t leaving the house. It was clear when you where conversing with him that burger guy loves his “Baby”. He wouldn’t let that car languish, getting covered in tree leaves and windblown dirt.

“You must be Mr. Jones,” you say to the new face at the kitchen window. “Are there any more of you in there or is three your crowd?”

“You’ve met the other two,” he says. He doesn’t exactly smile, but his eyes are kind, deep blue and full of unspoken thoughts. He has a voice like someone after a night of loud singing and drinking. It doesn’t match his appearance. Not with the suit ensemble including the trench coat he is inexplicably wearing indoors.

“I guess pie and bacon is your thing?” you ask, covering a laugh, and pop the bakery box through the dog door. He takes the box once it has passed the threshold. "Whatever makes you happy." You hear his “thank you” before the dog door swings closed. 

“The pie is for —” he catches himself. “Sandy.” He was about to say a name that started with D, you’re sure of it. Dean, you recall, from Sam’s slip up. “He likes pie. And bacon.” He stares at the pie as if it is about to impart hidden wisdom. "It makes him happy."

Your tip was included when the bakery was paid, so you don’t have a reason to linger, but you do anyway, curious. “This lockdown is hitting him hard, isn’t it? Not being able to take his car out for a drive?”

He gives a helpless little micro-shrug, but concern shows on his face. You think you see some guilt there, too. What had Sam said about it, that “those idiots” had activated the spell? 

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but…” you hesitate, just for a minute. “Pie is good and all, and that pie is really good, but words are good, too?” His piercing attention actually makes you take a step back. You break eye contact, kicking the brick paving at your feet with the toe of your shoe. “Saying your feelings instead of, um, eating them?” You’ve probably blown it, so you scram without a backward look.

5. “Pray for Sam”

You glare at your phone until you wake up enough to recognize the text as Sam’s. Then you stare at it, trying to make sense of what it says. Meet him? The coffee hut he’s talking about is at the edge of town. It’s the one thing open at this time of day, since Tena is one of those disgusting morning people.

When you get there, you see that Sam is one of those disgusting morning people, too. His hair may have been tied back during his run, but now it’s loose. The sweaty and wild thing works for him even better than the mountain man look. He’s shaved the beard. You hop out of the Jeep and stroll up to where he is doing some stretches. He straightens up and shakes the hair out of his face.

“You’re out of quarantine,” you say. 

He answers your smile with his own. His eyebrows go up when he smiles. “You helped. With those herbs you picked, and everything else. I wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you formally reply. “I notice you got out of that house as early as possible this morning.”

When he rolls his eyes, you have your confirmation. “Ha ha, yeah,” he answers. “Gotta, you know, have some space. From the lovebirds,” he adds with a sound that is part relief and part exasperation.

“Are you getting coffee?”

“I’m picking some up to take back,” he says. “No rush on that.”

“Tena makes a mean superfood smoothie.” You gesture at the espresso hut. “Would you like to get smoothies, go sit by the river, and watch the ducks? Until you’re ready to head back to the house?”

6. “If you think this has a happy ending... you're right well done you”

You figure, that’s it, good-bye, they’re gone, the three that were trapped by the spell on the house. Either Sam figured out how to loosen the spell long enough for them to exit, or burger guy and pie guy hooked up and completed the spell’s requirement. You couldn’t exactly talk about it with Sam, while you sat by the water and drank your breakfast smoothies. You’re pretty sure that he knows you were giving them hints, really vague hints but still hints, but it’s not like you could ask if he knows, even now that the spell is broken. 

They’re not gone yet, as you find out when Kitty from the General Store asks you to run a delivery out to the house. You stop by the General Store to pick up the bag. It’s heavy with an assortment of stuff indicating wall repair: sandpaper, drywall patch kits, a paint tray and paint roller. They’ve paid with a credit card again, a tip included.

You text Sam to let him know you’re the one bringing their supplies, and ask if they need anything else, which is how you end picking up another pie and a trio of sandwiches. When you get to the house, you see that all the windows and doors are open. Sam is sitting in the Impala with his long legs sprawling out of the open car door. He puts down a book when he sees you get out of your Jeep. 

“Let me get that. Must be heavy, sorry,” he says.

“Could be worse. Megaburgers, or cans of paint.”

His hair slides over his ears as he shakes his head. “My brother found paint in the attic, at least.”

“I’m glad this is ending with some DIY, instead of you burning the place down or something,” you say without thinking. “It’s usually newlyweds that stay here. We’re a quiet community.”

He gives you an assessing look.

You hand him the bag from the hardware store. You hand him the food, too, before he steps into the house. You hate to see him go, but watching him walk away? That’s worth the price of admission.

He yells up the stairs that food has arrived. In a minute, the other two guys come down, both suspiciously dusty on their backsides and elbows, both looking stupidly happy. Dean puts his arm around his sweetheart’s waist. Pie guy leans in and blesses Dean with a soft kiss. Pie guy must be Castiel, the angel.

The infamous Winchesters. As hunters go, they don’t seem all that bad.

Like every other kid that grew up in your town, you know how the house spell works. The couples that honeymoon here don’t even notice when they get locked in, and they usually break the spell within minutes with their easy “I love you”s. Castiel and Dean were in love but must not have said the words to each other, yet, when they entered the house, and Sam was caught as a bystander.

You slip away before they catch you watching, get in your Renegade, and head out to the main road. At first, it had seemed like everyone’s bad luck, that some travel blogger had written about the weird little house in an idyllic riverside tourist town, and that particular trio had come to check it out. Your town has been a quiet haven for witches since before you were born.

In the end, it turned out OK. Better than OK. Who doesn’t like a happily ever after?

-o-

#profound bond gift exchange: quarantine & chill #pbgiftexchange #profoundnet #sam winchester/reader #supernatural #destiel #fluff #5+1 things

[imaginaryelle]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (Thanks, as ever, to @morphia-writes and @miyuki4s for betaing!)

*

The transportation array drops them in a small clearing with a flash of fire at their feet, a few lingering notes from Chenqing, and only slight disorientation. Lan Wangji has read that the use of the teleportation talisman is heavily taxing to the spirit and can often cause physical disruption in the user, but Wei Ying shows no sign of pain or confusion, and nor do Jin Rulan or Liu Weixin, who, if the array’s design can be trusted, also contributed spiritual power to the effort. Jin Rulan even manages to look somewhat bored by the process.

“I don’t understand why we all have to come look at whatever this is,” he says as soon as Wei Ying lowers his hands and the glow of the array at their feet fades. “Why can’t we just—” he cuts himself off and stares hard at Wen Sizhui, who wears an expression of distinct discomfort. “What?”

Wen Sizhui bites his lips and looks to Wei Ying, who has gone still.

“The buildings were burned down,” Zhou Xiuying reports quietly.

Lan Wangji follows her line of sight and strides quickly through the trees, but he can already smell the smoke in the air, lingering and acrid. He reaches the edge of the forest and sees only ash and rock in the large space where the compound once sat. There are no smoldering embers and no half-burnt husks to mark the structures; only lines of soot and the pattern of paving stones show any indication of the size or use of the space.

Wei Ying grabs his sleeve, and he realizes he’s walked right up to the edge of the ward’s inscription.

“Don’t touch it.” Wei Ying guides him back slightly. “How many people were here?” he asks.

“None.” The guards were dead when he left. Still, Wei Ying obviously has doubts. He raises Chenqing to his lips and plays a low and beguiling melody, coaxing and haunting by turns.

On the other side of the ward, ashes swirl in still air.

Rise.

Drift gently around ghostly faces—two, then three, the four, then more, until seven ghosts are drawing themselves together along the inside of the ward. They ripple as they cross over the etched lines, but seem to suffer no other effects; perhaps it is truly inert now, or deliberately broken.

Wei Ying cocks his head to the side and whistles, sharp and commanding. The ghosts rearrange themselves. There are men and women, some are old, others in the prime of life. Wei Ying turns and looks expectantly at Zhou Xiuying.

“What do you see?”

“They all died violently and without proper funerary rites,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, her sword gripped tight in her hand. “They can’t move on in peace.”

Wei Ying nods and shifts his attention to Liu Weixin, who presses his lips hard together and squints at the ghosts, as if that will improve his assessment. He sketches a talisman in front of his face and pushes it outward. Each spirit takes on a dull red glow, strongest at one end of the line and diminishing with each ghoul in succession.

“You’ve put them in order by the strength of their resentment,” Liu Weixin determines. Relief spreads over his face as Wei Ying nods again.

Jin Rulan scowls and stares off at the trees instead of meeting Wei Ying’s gaze.

“You wanted to go night hunting,” Wei Ying says, as if this is a familiar impasse.

“This isn’t night hunting,” Jin Rulan protests, waving his arm at the line of ghosts. “There’s no hunting involved.”

Wei Ying waits.

“That one suffered lingchi” Jin Rulan huffs, gesturing at a ghoul who bears innumerable cuts on his face and hands. It’s an unusual and harsh sentence, carried out for only the highest of crimes. Lan Wangji finds looking at the marks difficult; it is too easy to remember waking to the smell of blood and rot. Jin Rulan, he notes, also averts his eyes quickly. “And that one was drowned. Happy now?”

Wei Ying just grins at him and turns to Wen Sizhui.

“These ghosts were probably suppressed when the ward was active, and the fire was built into the design.” He points to three portions of the etched diagrams. “Whoever was here, burning the buildings was always part of their plan.”

“Mn. Make a copy of the ward; it might be useful later.” Wei Ying looks back along the line of ghosts. “Shall we try Inquiry?” he asks, and wheels on his heel to face Lan Wangji.

“I cannot,” Lan Wangji admits. Even if he carried a guqin, the spiritual power required is currently beyond his grasp.

Wei Ying’s face scrunches up. “I don’t suppose you know a transposition for dixi? Or perhaps Zewu-jun has one for xiao?”

There is no such transposition. “Inquiry requires seven strings.”

Wei Ying sighs. “Well, it was worth a try. They’re not too talkative. I think some of them had their tongues cut out.” Wei Ying turns back to Jin Ling. “How do you suggest finding out more about them?”

“Evocation requires a physical medium.” Jin Ling’s nose wrinkles. “Maybe Trace?”

“Could be helpful,” Wei Ying agrees. “Do you all have paper?”

Lan Wangji watches with interest as they produce paper and grind three grades of ink, from a watery gray wash to a thick, rich black.

“One of yours?” he asks, as Wei Ying steps back to watch his disciples work. But Wei Ying shakes his head.

“He Sect. They introduced it at a discussion conference a few years ago, for determining a spirit’s location of birth and death, along with their movements in the week before they died.”

It’s clever. Without a physical medium or sufficient knowledge of the guqin, determining more of a spirit’s history could lend valuable insight to pacification efforts. A spirit’s family or the site of a disturbed grave might be found much more quickly. Lan Wangji nods approval, and Wei Ying smiles lightly.

“Come watch,” he says as Zhou Xiuying and Wen Sizhui quickly settle cross-legged beside their prepared paper and ink. Jin Ling and Liu Weixin are only a few moments behind.

It is an interesting process. The ink blooms over the pages, gradations of definition outlining mountains and forests, roads and lakes and even crisp, dark characters—town names and Sect enclaves. A trail of footprints mark the last few days of a life.

The results are mixed. Only two of the ghouls seem to have died here, a few days’ journey caught between Moling and Gusu—a man bearing a cursemark that covers his neck and torso, and a woman who shows clear signs of death by qi deviation. The lingchi victim’s map shows a death in Yueyang. The drowned ghost met his end in Caiyi. The others record deaths in Tanzhou, and Yingchuan and Qishan.

Jin Ling glares at his papers. “This can’t be right,” he says. “Maybe it didn’t work.”

“It worked,” Zhou Xiuying insists. “Trace doesn’t allow spirits to lie. It’s a physical record of the soul, not a question.”

“Perhaps someone moved them for a night hunt?” Wen Sizhui sounds doubtful, even as he voices the thought.

“Perhaps,” Wei Ying agrees, but his eyes are on Lan Wangji. It is not difficult to follow his suspicions. Liang Feihong was desperate enough to risk two souls for vengeance. Something as simple and commonplace as a planned nighthunt is unlikely to prompt such an act.

“What do we do with them now?” Liu Weixin asks.

Wei Ying’s face twists as he examines the ghouls again. “A few might be pacified by offerings, but the rest are too bound to revenge.”

“So, banishment?” Jin Rulan asks, a talisman already held between two fingers.

Wei Ying considers for a moment. His eyes slide back to Lan Wangji.

“How many spirit bags do we have?” he asks his disciples.

Zhou Xiuying, Liu Weixing and Wen Sizhui between them produce four such bags.

“Build a shrine,” Wei Ying directs his nephew, “We can’t offer burial, but we can do that much. Perhaps some only want to know they’re remembered. We’ll see how many are left afterward.”

Jin Rulan’s shoulders slump, but he does as he’s been told and soon there is a small offering of their combined supply of travel food, a selection of loquats and a few handfuls of paper money to burn.

Wei Ying steps close and stands warm at Lan Wangji’s shoulder as Wen Sizhui starts the fire.

“Does burning paper money work?” he asks, soft enough that their companions won’t hear. “Did you get any?”

“It is not a Lan custom,” Lan Wangji tells him, because it isn’t. He doesn’t elaborate. He does not know how to put into words the vagueness of his thoughts on his own death, the lack of distinct memory combined with the iron-hard certainty that he did die.

“I burned some for you.” Wei Ying is watching the flames dance in the steel bowl Liu Weixin had produced for the purpose. “I—” his mouth snaps shut with a click and he steps away, careful space reinserted between them. Lan Wangji watches as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly discomfited.

“Thank you.” It is … gratifying, in a way, to know that Wei Ying mourned him.

Wei Ying shrugs the thanks away. “Doesn’t matter much if you didn’t get it.” He coughs. “Looks like we’ll have to take care of a few of these the hard way after all,” he says, nodding at the spirits. Only one, the weakest, has responded to the offering. Lan Wangji lets the change of subject pass without remark.

“The ones who died here might be most useful,” he says instead. “They carry some of the strongest resentment, and likely saw their murderers. Xiongzhang could ask after the focus of their vengeance.”

“And Zewu-jun is too honest to hide their answers,” Wei Ying agrees, nodding. “Will you go to Gusu then?” he asks. “Or can I tempt you to Yiling first? I’ll give you the talismans I have made, of course, but in Yiling we could try other methods, and Wen Qing might know—” he talks faster with every word, like he thinks he has to be convincing.

“Yiling is fine,” Lan Wangji assures him. The curse’s implications eat at his thoughts, and he would like to have more evidence than a selection of angry souls to present to his brother. And of course, Yiling has the benefit of Wei Ying’s presence.

“Oh.” Wei Ying smiles, something tentative in the expression. “Good then.”

“Wei-zongzhu?” Liu Weixin approaches them. “Which spirits should we keep?” he asks, twirling his pair of bags around his fingers.

Collecting four ghouls does not take long—one for each bag, Wei Ying tells his disciples, as these spirits are more likely to tear into each other than not. Then he pairs them off and frees the remaining two ghouls from Chenqing’s control, for suppression and elimination. Jin Rulan in particular takes evident satisfaction in the act; Wen Sizhui, in contrast, is the most efficient in his movements, and Zhou Xiuying’s sword work betrays her He Sect training.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t get anything else,” Wei Ying says as Liu Weixin dispatches the last spirit, a grasping ghost with needle teeth and a hollow in its belly. “Though I suppose we should count ourselves lucky there was anything left at all. If these souls were gathered for a purpose, they should have been dealt with before the fire.” He holds out the collection of spirit bags with a curious quirk of his eyebrow, and Lan Wangji carefully adds them to his qiankun pouch.

“Lianfang-zun has such a clear memory,” Wei Ying sighs, “He hardly writes anything down if it’s not official business. If this really is his doing, it’ll be difficult to prove.”

Lan Wangji nods. Even in his own memories, on occasions when he knew for fact that Jin Guangyao exaggerated a recollection, or misspoke, it had been difficult to sway others’ belief in his words. The position of Chief Cultivator would seem to convey more respect on his shoulders, not less.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” Wei Ying says as he turns back to the forest, and the dim but still-glowing transportation array. “Today, we have other worries.”

*

They arrive not in the Mass Graves, as Lan Wangji expected, but in an open, airy courtyard framed on three sides by sturdy buildings and clean-swept boardwalks. The main gate, behind, is closely carved with talismans, and he can sense at least three layers of wards extending outward from his location for several li. To the west lies a lotus pond, and beyond it what looks to be an archery field. It is not Lotus Pier, in any sense, but it is clear that Wei Ying drew from his childhood home in the design of the compound, just as the dark woods and red embellishments recall the halls of Qishan Wen. The crows in flight, carved into latticed windows and screens and embroidered onto hanging curtains, seem unique to Yiling-Wei, and match the small embroidered details at Wei Ying’s collar.

Wen Qionglin is waiting for them, unchanged from the last time Lan Wangji met him but for his clothes, which are of finer fabric and much cleaner. He smiles at Wen Sizhui, and looks curiously between Wei Ying and Lan Wangji.

“Liang Feihong, patient for Wen Qing,” Wei Ying says, twirling Chenqing as he steps out of the array that, here, is etched into the stone and anchored to both the lotus pod and an encompassing iron rim. Zhou Xiuying has hardly stepped onto the boardwalk when a young woman in Wei sect colors comes running to meet her—her wife, Lan Wangji gathers, from the tone of their reunion.

“I’ll show you around in a moment,” Wei Ying tells him, “I just need to see Jin Ling off first.”

“I’m fine,” Jin Ling protests. Lan Wangji tries to focus on other things as what is evidently a long-familiar family argument erupts: Jin Rulan is adamant that he can travel alone, by sword, and that he has enough talismans, and that yes, obviously, he has his Jiang spirit bell and his Jin-embroidered protections and yes, even that charm you gave me, Dajiu, can I go now? Lan Wangji finds the looming menace of the Mass Graves as he examines the roofline, its position indicating that the Sect grounds likely sit just outside the town of Yiling itself, a guarding presence between the common people and a problem the entire cultivation world has been unable to solve for generations.

Wei Ying extracts a promise of a message by Jin butterfly as soon as his nephew reaches Lotus Pier, and then he rejoins Lan Wangji, walking with his hands clasped behind his back and looking pleased with himself.

“I think it’s the eldest sibling thing,” he says, as he draws close. “That, or he’s absorbed all the worst parts of Jiang Cheng and his father at once and there’s no room left for Shijie’s influence. A-Yuan has never been so intractable.”

Wen Yuan is inspecting a quiver of arrows and speaking quietly with Wen Qionglin on the other side of the courtyard. Lan Wangji does not comment on habits Jin Rulan might have learned from a cultivator whose general approach to rules at his age was to rather gleefully break them.

“What do you think?” Wei Ying asks, gesturing at the courtyard, the buildings, and the lotus pond. He grins, mischievous, and waves in the general direction of the Mass Graves. “You were expecting to be back there, weren’t you. In the Demon-Summoning Cave?”

Lying is forbidden, and the thought had, indeed, crossed his mind, even though the young Wei cultivators looked far too hardy to have spent so much of their daily lives among the restless dead.

“It’s still up there,” Wei Ying assures him, as if he might be disappointed if it weren’t. “I can show you later—some of my best experiments are there, still.”

Lan Wangji has no particular interest in revisiting what Wei Ying had termed his ‘blood pool,’ or any experiments of a similar nature.

“You mentioned Wen Qing,” he says.

“How’s that talisman feeling?” Wei Ying asks. “I could show you the library first—we’ve got a library, not as good as Gusu’s of course, but I think you’d like some of the collection—and, oh! We could get you a new horse-tail whisk, if you want one? Or a training sword? Or maybe you’d like to see the sword hall … ” his grin grows wider and wider as he speaks, until his eyes are nearly squeezed shut by his own mirth. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” he says. “You know, it’s really amazing. Your face is so different, but the expression is exactly the same.”

Something unfurls in Lan Wangji’s center like a sun-seeking flower. That Wei Ying can recognize him without the soul bond—that Wei Ying remembers him well enough, after so long a time, to make such an observation—soothes a prickle of unease in his thoughts. Small worries he hasn’t put a name to quiet as Wei Ying escorts him through the enclave’s sun-drenched pathways, pointing out lush gardens and chattering about his disciples as if he never sat in a dark, damp cave that smelled of mold and blood and called it his home.

Never wreathed himself in resentment.

Never gave up the sword.

on to part 8

#wangxian #wangxian fic #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fic #turnabout au #alex writes

[lightoftruth]

FAIRFAX COUNTY, Va. — Late last month, Suparna Dutta’s son, a student at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology, started sending his mother distressing videos from a mandatory lesson straight out of controversial critical race theory — all in the name of “socio-emotional learning.”

The lesson centered a Netflix film, “13th,” with controversial activist and Communist Party member Angela Davis and a biased narrative about policing in the United States. While all discrimination must be eliminated in policing, the film has this odd takeaway: “Criminals are constitutionally deprived of freedom.”

Also unsettling, the PowerPoint slides had the distinct bright yellow three stripes that are the official brand of Black Lives Matter, the multimillion-dollar global enterprise. The slides included a key BLM mantra, “Racism as a structure,” with the menacing oversized finger of a white man over a cowering young black man.

For about 36 minutes, teachers lectured the students—who are about 70 percent Asian, 10 percent black, Hispanic, and multiracial, and 20 percent white—about the critical race theory concept of “intersectionality” and called out the mostly minority students of color for their alleged “racism,” stating without any evidence: “At T.J., the lack of diversity and informed students has perpetuated microaggressions and casual racism.”

In a videotaped message accompanying the  lesson, Anant Das, an alumnus from the local activist TJ Alumni Action Group, scolded the students for salsa dancing at an international night celebration, which he called cultural “appropriation.” Teachers also led a bizarre discussion on “what stereotypes might you have about your own culture.” They pushed activism, stating: “Ways to address racism can include being upfront and vocal or pushing for social change through your own actions.”

The “Extra Resources” included a reference to “Black Lives Matter,” with a link to the official website for the Black Lives Matter Global Network Foundation.

The “Black Lives Matter” link in the slide takes students straight to BlackLivesMatter.com, with snappy invitations: “Join the Global Movement” and a sign up for “periodic text messages from Black Lives Matter Global Network Foundation.” With just one click, T.J. students were directed to the political ambitions of the Black Lives Matter PAC, with its list of 2020 election endorsements, including specific politicians, including a specific school board member, Shayla Adams-Stafford, in nearby Prince George’s County, Md.

Enraged, parents, including me, questioned the school’s activist principal, Ann Bonitatibus. She wrote to the T.J. Parent Teacher Student Association president claiming, “There is no critical race theory training with students.” She deflected responsibility for the teaching, calling it “a project initiated and created by students for students.”

But 200-plus pages of internal school emails, disclosed in response to a Freedom of Information Act request, reveal that on Aug. 19, 2020, Bonitatibus sent the T.J. “Equity Team,” including two assistant principals, a message that she had met with student government leaders about a plan to show the “13th” documentary in summer 2021, along with a conversation on “anti-racism.” She wrote, “I shared with them that their idea doesn’t necessarily need to wait until next school year. There could be a way to think about their proposal or a variation of it for this year.”

Over the next seven months, the T.J. principal, two assistant principals, the director of student services, at least three teachers, several counselors, and a Fairfax County Public Schools “equity” officer directly edited, wrote, and reviewed all of the content for the lesson, masked as “socio-emotional learning.”

One set of stakeholders never consulted: parents. That’s why I helped start a new organization, Parents Defending Education, fighting indoctrination in K-12 schools, so we could file FOIA requests like the one I sent Fairfax County Public Schools, revealing the complicity of the principal, teachers, and staff in creating the ideological lesson that our students got.

Meanwhile, over the past school year, we faced a superintendent, school board, and principal leading a crusade to racially alter the school’s demographics, with the school district abandoning the school’s merit-based, race-blind test in December to gerrymander the admissions process so fewer Asians and more black and Hispanic students would make the cut to attend the advanced math and science school.

The stealth lesson underscores several serious issues vexing schools today and the future of America. It reveals how school officials circumvent parents as they move aggressively to indoctrinate students in K-12 schools from neighboring Loudoun County, Va., to California.

It also serves as a cautionary tale on how how important it is that parents assert three rights most districts promise to secure: the right to inspect curriculum, spelled out in Fairfax County, for example, under “Policies and Regulations 3002-3011,”; the right to opt-out students from certain teachings, including on topics “sensitive in nature”; and the right to have “controversial issues” discussed “impartially and objectively,” a point spelled out in Fairfax County under Regulation 3280.4.

Contradicting these promises, the “Extra Resources” in the lesson also included a link to the organization Showing Up for Racial Justice, which believes “none of us can be free until we end white supremacy.” It featured on the homepage a very problematic and reductionist page, “The Characteristics of White Supremacy Culture.”

This displayed “a list of characteristics of white supremacy culture,” including “perfectionism,” a “sense of urgency,” “defensiveness,” “worship of the written word” like memos, “either/or thinking,” “power hoarding,” “individualism,” “objectivity” and—finally, a very disturbing notion to present to K-12 students—“right to comfort.”

The final bullet point led to a shocking video, “On Solidarity with the Black Lives Matter Movement” by a first-generation Korean-American, Kaiti Yoo. She flashed the image of a Time magazine cover with smiling young students beside the headline, “Those Asian-American Whiz Kids,” as she waxed on about learning to “justify our existence through our work, our grades, our accomplishments.”

Yoo’s video laid out a central narrative of critical race theory ideologues like Ibram Kendi and 1619 Project lead Nikole Hannah-Jones, who argue blacks and Asians “don’t experience this country in the same way” because Asians didn’t come to the United States as slaves. It laid out the guilt trip thrust on Asians from critical race theory activists to support radical black goals as the only way to support “justice.” The same theme was present in T.J. lesson materials such as the slide below.

At 30 seconds, the film featured an image of the American flag with a sign in front of it that reads, “The American Dream is Over.” It’s a biased, problematic, and shame-based video for anyone pursuing the “American Dream” without blind support for the BLM movement. It’s wildly inappropriate, unhealthy, and potentially emotionally damaging to thrust on students at a mostly Asian school caught in a race war of the principal’s making.

The next “socio-emotional learning” blocks will be April 21, May 5, May 21, and June 2, according to staff. Back home, Dutta sent a dispatch to the principal. She had one remedy for the indoctrination: the principal’s immediate resignation. Her subject line: “Dereliction of duty.”

#stem

[confessionsofaloudmouth]

Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard; a blog post by Chelbey Trump

Happy Sunday, everyone! I’m generally going to be posting on Sundays because it gives me all of the weekend to write them. Also, you’ll catch on to the structures of these posts as we go.

This week, I am going to be discussing the novel Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard. Published in 2015v by Simon and Schuster, the novel was on the New York Time’s Bestsellers list. (In the future, I would like to write a blog post about that particular achievement because, let’s face it, almost every book has been on it.)

Characters:

Mare Barrow; A 17 year-old pitpocketer, living in the slummiest part of a country, with a younger sibling who has potential for their life, parents who are loyal to-said country even though they’re given the short end of the stick, and a male best friend who is, undoubtedly, in love with her. Come on down, Katniss Everdeen! Oh, sorry, I meant Beatrice Prior. America Singer? Oh, right this novel is uniquely science-fiction, even though it follows all of the rules of a dystopian-fiction series. Ehem: I hate this character. Her arch, though not necessary to the forward motion of the story, was lost completely by a million different subplots and, even, the main plot. I like the idea that, in the midst of becoming the face of the rebellion, she became less of an individual person and more of a loyal person to her people. That being said, she was incredibly selfish, with her pity-part-for-one attitude simply because she was born into the Stilts. She took for granted her sister’s opportunity to provide for their family by dragging into a scheme which destroyed her life. Did she save her by acting the part of princess? Yes, but, c’mon: It was either marry Maven or be killed. I hope that she loses this attitude within the next couple books because;

Cal Tiberias; What a hunk! Charming, self-less, sensible, and a future-king? Cal was a strong character, although it could be said that he was weak due to his loyalty to his father which was conditioned inside his brain from a young age. He turned his back on the lower part of his people to stay true to the upper, wealthy, ‘better’ half. He deserved better than this, after showing traits that he was, well, better than this! I understand it worked for the plot line, but how juicy would it have been to see Cal stand up to his father? I loved how passionate he was, though. Mare thought he didn’t care about the divide, but he was noble in saying he didn’t want violence to be what closed said-divide. He was willing to put his men on the same level as the Red soldiers, including himself, to fight the war. That’s hot. In the end, when he defended Mare even though she had offended him, I fell more in love with his character. He had stayed true to himself- or who he was meant to be- instead of a stupid girl, but when they turned their backs on him, he was ready to die with honor alongside that dumb female (synonyms!) If Cal was still the general, then I’d say:

Maven Tiberias; If Cal is a hunk, Maven is that nerdy, attractive guy. He was charming from start to finish even though he was, ya know, the ‘bad’ guy. It was hard to believe him even as the bad guy, however, because he only 17 and played Mare like a game of Chess. It’s understandable that he had, like Cal, been conditioned to love his mother and her cause for all of his life, that the king and Cal were enemies, that Mare could never possibly love him. But, Aveyard literally threw us twenty pages from the end of the novel. It felt rushed, uncomfortable and, well, forced. Overall, I still love his character and I’m excited to see him as a king in the next three books.

Queen Elara and King Tiberias; The. Best. Female. Character. What a literal queen! She didn’t care about anyone’s feeling, had powers which made her stronger than pretty much everyone, and waited so long to let her husband’s head roll so she and her son could rule. That’s amazing! I loved her smug attitude which was revolutionary because she was still a lady. She chided Mare for not acting like a said-lady and did so herself while still manipulating everyone and anyone. We dont see enough strong female characters who are still very much feminine, and we deserve to. Now, for the king: Off with his head! I’m so glad he’s dead because I dont think I could have stood another second of his toxic masculinity. That’s all I’ll say about that.

Ruth, Gisa, and Daniel Marrow; I wish we could have a family which is matriarchal. Too many books rely on normal societorial standards fo household and I’m slightly over it. I understand that in a normal kingdom, men, like Daniel, were the war hero’s, honorably discharged, wise, older, and the most-looked up to in the family. But, c’mon, Mare could literally manipulate electricity and her father couldn’t have made dinner? Her mother was too sweet and quiet and her father too quiet and judgmental. It was too basic and boring. However, I feel awful for Gisa: She absolutely deserved so much more than what she was given by Mare’s horrible decisions.

Honorable Mentions; Kilorn was just so annoying, trying to be masculine yet show his affection to Mare. Get over her, bud, she’s fighting a revolution! Evangeline was annoying, yet so, so satisfying to read about. She was exactly like Queen Elara with all the overwhelming traits of King Tiberias. Lucas, I felt, could have been used a lot more sufficiently than he was. Julian, too, was lost in the fast-paced motion of the novel. Overall, the relationships everyone formed with one another were not illustrated well through the novel. I refuse to believe Mare was falling for Maven, or Cal for Mare, or that Julian truly cared about Mare as much as he said he did because I saw no build up of that love.

Settings:

What Aveyard lacks in characters, she makes up for in description. Although sometimes it felt like she was going overboard with her language usage, fo rate majority of the time, I could see exactly what she was discussing. Her most creative ideas for setting were the forest which was able to prevent pollution from Gray Town, the usage of The Capital River running through the entire kingdom, and the bridge separating Archean and the Silver residencies.

Plot Lines:

Reds vs. Silvers; I hate and love the idea of the high-class citizens having silver-flushed skin and literally silver blood. It took the first half of the book for my mind to comprehend the distinction because I was too focused on hating Mare Barrow (just kidding!) I loved the moment when Evangeline dug her nails into Mare’s arm in order to draw red blood so that her identity would be revealed. But, I hated that there was no explanation as to why there was separation between the two classes.

The Love Triangle (Quartet?); How grossed out would you be if your brother was engaged to the girl you just kissed and made-out with her on a regular basis? Well, put yourself into Cal’s shoes and see you feel. I knew from the moment Cal pretended to be a Red citizen that he was the love interest for Mare- not that she didn’t end up having two others. The personification of his body heat connected to the feelings Mare would have for him, and that was interesting to read about. However, Maven had to be thrown into the mix because he was engaged to her for literal marketing reasons. I shipped Maven and Mare so hard, but Maven apparently did not. I wouldn’t call it a love quartet because we all know Evangeline didn’t actually love Cal.

Brother vs. Brother; The idea of Cal and his father vs. Maven and his mother reminded me of Reign and the relationship between Francis, Queen Elizabeth, Henry and Sebastian. As a fan of that show, I loved this power struggle. The idea of Cal being the OG son and Maven his half-brother showed that his blood did run deep with the Tiberias’. It allowed for him to feel disconnected and to want to follow his mother’s lead to power.

Symbolism and Themes; Let’s be honest here: There were none. Besides the fact that the division between the Reds and Silvers could stand for racism in any and all societies, the novel itself lacked depth. You shouldn’t look to this novel for guidance or meaning. Rather, it is a quick, cute read. Mare’s earrings stood fo her brothers, and eventually Kiloran, but that was literally given to us within the first five chapters. Most of the themes lied along the man vs. nature due to the issue of biological desterminism, and man vs. man for the revolution.

Dream Cast:

Jaz Sinclair as Mare Barrow

Charles Melton as Cal Tiberias

Tati Gabrielle as Evangeline

Jaeden Martell as Maven Calore

Melora Hardin as Queen Elara

I know, I know, this is not everyone. But, these are the only characters I truly felt needed to be played by specific people. And, yes, some are highly debatable, such as Melora because of her comedic timing, but I think these actors could play these characters well.

Quote Corner:

“The truth is what I make it. I could set this world on fire and call it rain.”

“Flame and shadow. One cannot exist without the other.”

“Words can lie. See beyond them.”

(Victoria Aveyard is a wordsmith. What she lacks in character and book depth she makes up for in language and description.)

Overall Rating: 3.75/5

I know I bashed the book a lot, but it was a pretty easy and cute read. I am going to read the sequel because I am very invested in Maven as character and would like to see what else Aveyard has in store. She took ideas from dystopian novels which were all familiar with and put her own unique twist on them, and I admire that.

Thank you for reading this week’s blog post. Next Sunday I will be discussing, “The Half of It.” Please like, follow, and reblog my posts to help get me out there. Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

#book and literature #literature #analysis #character analysis #red queen #victoria aveyard #mare barrow #maven calore #king maven #book review #book analysis #science fiction #dystopian #the hunger games #writer #free write #blogger #blog post

[gildedmuse]

Hey any One Piece fans out there without a brain not destroyed from a full time job, an impending move and two days travel, I just had a few questions and Google is being annoying by note immediately giving me the precise answers I want.

[ETA: Wait, I feel bad for just playing questions. I don't think this picture will be able to load but if it does here:

Have this totally accurate self portrait of me and Law's just whole fucking character from North Blue to Zou and especially the Sabaody bit in between]

1. Was Heavenly Demon Doflamingo's actual pirate epithet? I feel like they only started to use it once the show wanted to make the ex- celestial dickbag connection extremely fucking clear so I honestly can't tell if it's his like official pirate title or the show yelling clues at me.

2. Most these warlords have fleets, right? If you fly the flag of a Shichibukai can the navy compel you to act if your nearby? Say to defend a base or attack some annoying bitch ass pirate who isn't as funny as he thinks actually please give our lieutenant his head back goddamn. I know the warlord's themselves are fickle about those things, but if it's just underlings how does that work?

3. Did Jinbei have a crew prior to the whole lock this asshole up in prison for not supporting our unnecessary war that will almost certainly end in hundreds to thousands of our men's life's? I don't think he did. I'm gonna lean no.

4. Just before Sabaody were like lieutenants and captaina and shit still giving the Strawhats a fight or were they squarely in vice admiral territory because if so wow that upgrade from vice to full had to be a goddamn shock to Luffy. Also I'm hoping it's structures very similarly to what I'm familiar with.

5. So it was like a year from Luffy harassing tricking bribing winning over Zoro's alligence with tots reasonable arguments to their Sabaody, right? Or from when the enter the grand line? Which is considering hella fast. On the other hand, by Zou Law has apparently been pirating around with Bepo for like nine years. Minus two that's seven years of just fucking around. But he's still considering a rookie. So is the first half usually more of a two to three year deal? I can see that for the others, though feels like it didn't take Kid and Killer that long. Just throwing that out there. Maybe cut back on the juggling severed heada practice time and spend a couple less days just sitting around making a personalized wardrobe for yourself and your crew, Law, and a little more time pirating. Oh, and cut down on the messing around with marines for kicks. Sabaody Law definitely wasted time just going around giving no fucks.

(Time has no real meaning, clear passage, or sense of logic in the vast majority of this show -yeah, I said it. Fight me. Please don't I'm actually always terrible at timelines.)

6. This is just... This wiki page is giving me all kinds of trouble so I can't check. Law was nine at his parents death, 11 when he found Doflamingo and 13 at Corazon's death? That's all fucking guess work because this goddamn internet and my exhausted brain are in cahoots.

Thanks for any help you can offer. Hopefully my phone will stop trying to get me to break down in tears and just magically stop being an asshole and I'll get some rest and can get the answers eventually. My brain has this thing where it's unable to cope with rest if it has research to get through and nothing is being done. I believe it's called Academic Self Destructive Panic Syndrome.

#one piece #seven warlords #pre timeskip #one piece timeline #the grand line #one piece marines #law being a sassy bitch #and a total slacker #and a damn fine seamstress #dressrosa arc #sabaody stuff #also threw in some one piece politics for funsies #kid probably actually is a better pirate than law honestly #but Law looks more snazzy in his Trafalgar original jacket #questions #and some snarking #okay lots of snarking #no hes a swordsman so you know i love him

[letterboxd]

Lockdown Lens.

The filmmakers behind found-footage hits Searching and Host share their best tips for making movies in quarantine. Hint: you’ll need to tape your camera to your laptop, move away from the wall, and plump up the post-production budget.

“There is a really opportunistic moment here that you can take advantage of, if you come up with the right thing.” —Aneesh Chaganty, director of Searching

“You should never wait for the ideal circumstance because it doesn’t exist. Look at what you’ve got right now and use that.” —Rob Savage, director of Host

A low-budget thriller starring John Cho as a desperate dad, Aneesh Chaganty’s 2018 debut feature Searching, co-written with Sev Ohanian, shook up the found-footage genre with its seamless blend of content from chat rooms, social platforms, security-camera footage and news coverage. Chaganty and Ohanian’s next film, Run, which also takes place mostly inside one house, will debut on Hulu later this year after its theatrical release was quashed by Covid-19.

Meanwhile, a 56-minute séance horror that appears to take place entirely on a Zoom call became the most popular film on Letterboxd within a week of landing on Shudder in July (our popularity score is based on the amount of activity across our platform for each film, regardless of rating). Host—conceived and completed within just twelve weeks—was written by Gemma Hurley, Rob Savage and Jed Shepherd, and directed by Savage.

Our editor-in-chief Gemma Gracewood asked Chaganty, Hurley, Savage and Shepherd to draw on their expertise in making browser horrors and other limited-setting stories, to inspire other aspiring filmmakers sheltering in place.

Listen to the full interviews on the Lockdown Filmmaking episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Joseph Lee and John Cho in TV news footage from ‘Searching’.

Keep the parameters tight.

“Making a story in a limited setting is a very smart thing to do for an aspiring screenwriter—first and foremost because it’s produceable,” Aneesh Chaganty advises. ”If you’re an unknown entity in the film world, the cheaper your product takes to make is probably a better bet for you to be taking as opposed to writing a kajillion-dollar project. The first project that I wrote was a $90-million movie that Sev and I wrote. ‘Why did we do this?!’”

Chaganty also stresses the need to ensure your project wants to be a limited-setting story. “A lot of times I’ll read a found-footage script and it will often feel like all it wants to be is a not a found-footage script. There’s a lot of times where it feels like the writers don’t want it to be that.”

Explore the whole box.

Chaganty encourages aspiring writers to imagine your limited environment as a box. “You’re writing within this box, all the characters are in this box, I think the best way to examine it is not to ever try leaving the box, but make sure you explore it every which way. The box upside down, the box right side up, the box left, the box right…

“This is an objective that should apply to all films, but it’s easier to objectively analyze whether you’re doing it in a limited setting. With a film like Searching, we have to make sure that every possible iteration of how a narrative can take place on a computer screen is done. Looking at a movie like Buried, they’re doing every possible iteration of how that story can be told underground, in a coffin, before [the location] starts to change.”

(Good news for fans of Searching: with new tech platforms appearing all the time, it turns out there are more parts of the box to explore. A sequel is in the works, but Chaganty won’t be in the director’s chair.)

Give yourselves a deadline.

With no end to the pandemic in sight, it’s easy for one day to melt into the next. Keep your team motivated with a deadline. “I gave us two weeks,” says Rob Savage, Host’s director, who co-wrote the film with Jed Shepherd and Gemma Hurley, after his Twitter prank went viral.

“So we had two weeks, all three of us, to come together,” adds Hurley. “Let’s figure out a structure, let’s figure out these character dynamics, figure out a way to build tension around this idea of a séance and hang a story and a journey for the characters, for where we want the séance to end up. We had a Google doc where we were editing it together. I’d go away and do my pass, Rob would go away and do his pass, and Jed would. And that was it. It was really just like, run and gun, go go go.”

“If things had gone to plan we would have had this out in two months; in the end it took three,” Savage continues. ”It took twelve weeks from when I first called Jed up and said ‘let’s make a feature’, to delivering the movie—roughly breaks up as two weeks of writing, we shot for three weeks, and then a lot of editing and VFX time.”

Know your story inside-out, but don’t labor the script.

“We’ve got some hearts to break, here,” warns Hurley. “There was no official script in the standard way because there just wasn’t time. The whole point was capturing a zeitgeist moment… If we went away and wrote a feature-film script, well, ‘we’ll see you after the pandemic’s over, guys!’. You’d miss that moment. That was the joy of it. You didn’t have time to labor over every syllable.”

Some of Host’s key moments were scripted, Hurley reassures. “We had lines we wanted them to suggest, but more than giving them dialog it was about giving them prompts for every scene.”

Savage adds: “The thing that we did really well, at the end of the two weeks of writing, is every single scene, me, Jed and Gemma, you could quiz us all in separate interrogation rooms, we’d be able to tell you the purpose of every scene and what we wanted to get out of them. We had the movie so clearly in our heads in terms of how we wanted it to feel.”

An advantage of having a treatment rather than a completed script? “A sense of discovery every day,” says Savage. “The actors just brought that amazing spontaneity to it and these incredible performances, because we knew the parameters.”

Aneesh Chaganty and John Cho on the set of ‘Searching’, with a GoPro behind the laptop capturing the webcam view. / Photo by Elizabeth Kitchens

Choosing your camera (spoiler: it’s not your laptop’s).

“John is acting against a black screen,” Chaganty reveals. “There’s nothing on his computer, he’s literally looking at nothing.” To ensure complete control over their footage while preserving authentic eyelines, both sets of filmmakers taped additional cameras to the laptops of their key talent. In Host, each of the Zoom participants had iPhones recording at their highest resolution “so we knew we were getting a clean 1080p,” says Savage. In Searching’s case, it was a GoPro taped to the rear of the various computers used by John Cho.

“Before we started shooting the film,” Chaganty explains, “we had to make [an animatic] version using Adobe Premiere, because much of John’s performance is knowing his eyeline. He needs to know exactly where the iMessages open up—in order for us to know that we almost have to know those decisions already.” Chaganty and his team developed a 100-minute animatic cut, with Chaganty playing every role; “understanding where every window is, where every cursor is, so that by the time we get to set, what I’m doing is showing John ‘okay, this is where that message pops up, and while you’re talking to Deborah, you’re going to look over there, go down there, open Chrome, type in…’ So everything is very specific eyelines. Sometimes my notes after a take would just be ‘John that was great, just move the cursor a little further to the left this time’.”

Haley Bishop as séance host Haley in ‘Host’.

Develop your characters and the genre will take care of itself.

Chaganty and the Host team have the same advice for how to ratchet up the tension in a limited-setting film: it’s all about character. “If you’re going to end up putting these characters through tough times and potentially kill them,” says Shepherd, “develop them as real characters, so that we care about them.”

Although Host’s script was, in fact, only a seventeen-page beat-sheet, the most important part of its structure was the long stretch up front where the characters are dialling into the call and catching up—what Shepherd calls the “getting to know you bit”. “That first part is really important because if it wasn’t for that, the third act wouldn’t work at all. The best thing to do is make your characters real, authentic, believable. Everything else takes care of itself.”

Chaganty agrees: “When you are writing something that is genre, your other decisions don’t have to be genre, and in fact it might elevate it more when you don’t do that, because everything else is already doing that, you know?”

In particular, he advises, trust your talent to lean into their characters, rather than into the genre. “This was my challenge at least, as a totally amateur director: sometimes what I was looking for was the most obvious take as opposed to the most subtle take. “When we left the shoot I was thinking it was take six, or the one where it was most obvious [John] was angry or he was sad or something—and what we ended up using was the most subtle takes. That subtlety, that underneath layer, so much of that was him. He’s so good. He’s so good. I hate to say it, but I didn’t realize how good he was until we edited it together.”

Spend time getting the interface right.

“There’s not a frame of Zoom footage in the actual movie.”—Rob Savage

Found-footage films and browser horrors rely on the believability of the content. Searching and Host work because the footage feels real, even though the reality is there are multiple takes and a lot of post-production. Just as Searching was built around a detailed animatic, Host is, in fact, not a recorded Zoom call, but a result of three weeks of filming every actor in multiple takes, with stunt set-ups, followed by the addition of VFX and Zoom interface details.

“Originally the plan was just to screen-record a Zoom call, but then we realized that we were pumping so much money into doing these crazy stunts and effects that we could blow half the budget in 30 seconds,” says Savage. “You’re basically making five movies. We have to make sure the performances are all tight in every single screen. Radina might be amazing in take one and Jemma might nail it in take three and we have to cut them all together so they work seamlessly.”

Savage praises Host editor Brenna Rangott for pulling it all together, underscoring the importance of post-production in your budget and schedule. “Honestly, what Brenna did with all this footage? It’s her movie as much as it’s anyone else’s movie. She absolutely smashed it.”

The Host crew also relied on fellow filmmaker and designer Dan Hawkins to build the almost 4,000 individual assets in the film, and producer Douglas Cox, who went through the whole movie to type out every single name, label and other Zoom interface detail. “4,000 times he had to do that, and that’s what you see to make it play seamlessly.” (And, yes, they had Zoom’s permission.)

Jed Shepherd, Rob Savage and Gemma Hurley during a Zoom séance for Slashfilm with Chris Evangelista.

Trust your gut.

The Host team were pursued for a feature-length version of Savage’s Twitter prank by a “mind-blowing” number of studios—“it was a really competitive situation,” says Savage—but they went with Shudder for one reason: instinct.

“It was the height of the lockdown and a lot of production companies just started ringing and saying ‘Is there a longer version of this? Because it’s the only thing we can shoot right now’. So we pitched to a bunch of places, and the pitch was basically ‘a Zoom séance, we don’t know if it’s going to be any good, we’re going to use our mates, are you in or not?’ and Shudder [was] like ‘of course we are’.”

It wasn’t about the money. Some companies offered more generous budgets, but wanted to release six to eight months after filming. “We were like, ‘no, this needs to be out this week’.”

Move away from the wall.

Since so much of the movie business—all those endless meetings—has pivoted to video-calls, we asked the filmmakers for specific advice on how to present yourself online, in pitch meetings, table reads and the like.

The very minimum, they all agree, is to have good lighting. “It’s crazy what a difference a desk lamp can make to your environment,” says Chaganty. And move away from the wall. “Rule number one any director of photography will ever say, is don’t shoot at a wall,” he adds. “The further that you can place yourself from that wall, it’s just going to look better.” (It also gives you more protection from any demons that may burst from cupboards during your Zoom, Host’s filmmakers advise.)

Chaganty reveals that the pandemic has actually helped his pitching abilities in video meetings with executives. Chaganty and Ohanian are currently developing a heist movie, while simultaneously pitching a television show. “Right now pitches are all digital. Traditionally when you pitch something, it’s a lot of material and you just memorize it. But now, you can have your script with you—but you can’t make it seem like you’re reading off a screen.” The trick, he says, is to re-size the window of the person you’re pitching to, and re-size the script to the same dimensions, then place them directly over each other.

“So you’re reading and your eyeline is exactly where they are, and then you switch over, and they’ll never know and you’ve just pulled it off perfectly because you’re still looking at the exact same spot. It just kind of feels like an incredible performance where you’ve pulled these great words out of your mind and your heart, without anyone knowing.”

On the other hand, don’t put too much effort into details that nobody will notice. “We were doing a table read for a film,” says Host’s Shepherd, “and I thought it would be fun to change the background to correspond with what scene were were reading. I thought it was really clever but nobody noticed except me.”

Producer Natalie Qasabian, writer-producer Sev Ohanian and writer-director Aneesh Chaganty on the set of their forthcoming feature, ‘Run’.

There’s no time like the present.

“When digital cameras came out, everyone started saying ‘this is a great thing for filmmakers because it really democratizes filmmaking’,” says Chaganty. “We are in a very small bubble where it’s even more democratized than it was before—that’s because everybody has the same resources that we do right now.

“It feels like John Oliver and Hasan Minhaj and Trevor Noah are all making stuff with the same quality that you can make, that I can make, just in our own houses right now. The longer this pandemic goes on, and the longer that it feels that Hollywood can’t make traditional stuff the way it used to, the more likely it is that the demand for content is going to rise.

“If you can make something good in this time, I think you’re in a really good spot as far as getting eyeballs on it. And eyeballs essentially are the things that can propel a career to the next stage.”

Plus, there are mental health benefits to making movies together, at a time when we are all being urged to stay socially connected while physically distant. “What’s been really nice about the whole thing is it just made it so clear how collaborative a process filmmaking is,” says Savage. “Normally people kind of forget about that and you have ‘a film by’, but here you had to put so much trust in everyone. It was just a really fun way of working. I recommend it to everyone.”

‘Host’ is available now on Shudder. ‘Searching’ is available via VOD platforms. ‘Run’ is coming soon to Hulu in the US and will be released theatrically in international markets. (Aneesh Chaganty has been diligently updating his Letterboxd diary, which includes one of our favorite recent reviews of Steve Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’.)

#filmmaking #filmmaking tips #filmmaking process #horror #thriller #aneesh chaganty #host #shudder #hulu #searching #run #sarah paulson #rob savage #jed shepherd #gemma hurley #browser horror #found footage #found footage film #letterboxd

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 2

The Best Intentions

Part 2

Ansgar crossed his legs beneath him and leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. Considering, he folded his hands in his lap, tented his thumbs and rubbed them slowly together. In spite of his seemingly calm exterior, within his mind was churning… burning, a combination of annoyance and anger and what… fear? Yes, of course, fear.

His reputation was one of perfection. Not a single client unsatisfied. Not a single claim on a single contractor’s bond. If there’s a problem… he fixes it. Yet, here was a woman who, as she put it, was pleading for someone to do something about the condition of the building that he… that his company built.

Resolved, he bent forward, elbows on knees, and stared hard at the girl. With every ounce of sincerity he could muster, he said, “You won’t have to wait any longer, Froken Lindberg. I am…,” he paused, “mortified, to say the least that you had to go to the lengths you did just to get an audience with someone at my company who could remedy the situation.”

“Well,” she countered, her voice wavering, “you should be.”

Ansgar let forth with a bark of laughter. Not condescending laughter, mind you, but true and honest surprise. He smiled, that time the grin reaching his eyes. “Yes, I should be,” he affirmed. And with that, he stood, removed his suit jacket and crossed to the closet. He shrugged into his blue logoed Carhartt coat, flung his tool belt over his shoulder, and fished out an aluminum clipboard case.

“What are you….?”

He whirled. “We’re leaving, Froken Lindberg,” he clipped. “Now.”

“Yes,” she stood, clutching her papers to her chest, “but… where are we going?”

Ansgar brightened. “To the Opera House, where else? I need to see this sprinkler system for myself, I think. I am an engineer, you know. I have some experience with fire protection design. Maybe I can sort this today for you… and,” he shrugged, “you know, perhaps get the Prima Donna off your back.”  

“To avoid the riff-raff,” Ansgar nodded with his eyes glued to the door that led to the lobby, “out there, we’ll go out this way.” A tilt of his head signaled behind him.

That was the moment she saw it, the same moment that he lifted his hand to the wall behind his desk. He palmed with a swipe to reveal an invisible door. The seam blended in so nicely with the built-in bookcase that Joline missed it. A reader lit up in recognition of his touch or fingerprints or body temperature, Jo couldn’t know, and the door popped open with a click.

Jo raised her eyebrows at him and the hidden gadget. “Such technology, such toys.”

Ansgar huffed a deep sound of proud amusement. “Correction. All the technology. All the toys.” And with another dip of his head, he directed her through.

“Mischief managed.”

“Pardon?”

Jo grinned inwardly. “Something my nephews told me. From their favorite book. This—“ She pushed her hands out in front of her into a long marble corridor, gesturing before her. Uniform doors led off to other offices or conference rooms, she guessed, but the hallway seemed part of a typical office building. “This feels very, ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’ Making a secluded break from… well, whatever you got going on back there.”

“Ah, the riff-raff, the circus… The press can be a blessing and a curse,” he took the lead down the bland corridor. “I use them when absolutely necessary and avoid them at all cost at all other times.”

“And you needed them today? Why?”

His shoulders adjusted under his jacket in a wave of… disgust? Stress? “The vultures smell blood. They’re chasing a story, an exclusive.” As soon as the press release published online of his return as acting CEO in an internet blast, the swarm came flocking in.

“And what’s that? The story? The exclusive?”

Ansgar effectively ducked and avoided her question by pointing with two very straight and very long fingers to his right through another door. “To the carpark, and my car. You’ll show me the improvements that need doing at the theatre, and we’ll come back here to schedule the work.”

Where he led with a steady assured gait, Joline followed. Out of necessity, more than anything else. She met him stride for stride, nearly, thanks to the three inch Louboutins. “Your lobby and lounge, so much like the opera house,” she commented to draw attention away from her unintentional pry. “Patrons and tourists parade through to gawk at the structure. Is that your stamp then?”

As they entered the covered garage, Ansgar fished his key fob from his pocket and clicked the button for his car. His brand new red Tesla Roadster chirped in response, and he nearly purred at the familiar sound. “I’ll assume responsibility for that, Froken Lindberg,” he replied proudly.

One of her eyebrow arched skyward. “Well,” she countered, “despite all the technical issues,” she intoned to knock him down a peg or two, “ticket sales are up. Season subscriptions increased six, close to seven, percent over last year. Audiences are responding to the slated new season, the season I put together.”

“I’ve been away. Missed most of the current series, I’m afraid,” Ansgar closed the door with a quiet ‘click’ after ensuring his guest comfortably in her seat. He strode quickly around the back, opened his own door and folded himself within. Continuing, he said, “I didn’t give up my series ticket, though. Seat A10 is still mine.”

“Hm,” the woman huffed. She crossed her legs, and Ansgar wondered if she was purposefully or subconsciously showing him the crimson underside of her shoes. “I hate empty seats.”

Ansgar shrugged. “It’s paid for, what do you care?” He hand-over-handed the wheel, expertly winding the roadster between the cement abutments and into the daylight of the open garage door.

“It’s not all about the money, Herr Martinsson,” she retorted. “You of all people should know – for everyone involved, it’s more about the audience, and their response.”

Ansgar held in a chuckle. He knew perfectly well.

***

Ansgar tipped his head back, following the line of the woman’s pointed finger. “There?” Ansgar, standing atop a folding aluminum scaffold, pointed as well.

“That’s where it went off the first time.” She called up to him.

“Got it.” Ansgar nodded sagely, glancing down at her. He pulled his hard hat off and looked up again as he pushed his hand through his hair. “I actually think I see the problem, Froken Lindberg; and you would not believe how simple it - and the solution - actually is.”

Her eyes went wide. “You do?”

He nodded again, looking down at her. “I do. And when I find out who erred here, heads are going to roll, I assure you. However,” he paused, “I think you, too, may be putting some folks on the chopping block here.”

“What… what’s the problem?”

“Kick off your shoes and come up here.” He reached down. “Take my hand.”

He was somewhat surprised that she did, actually… toe out of the Louboutins, take his hand. Her hand felt warm and smoothly calloused in his. The hands of a woman who, literally, had her fingers in every aspect of an operation. She gripped him tightly, pleasantly, as he heaved her up - moving his hand to her shoulder as he steadied her on the scaffold. “Good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied, quickly, gripping one of the iron supports. “What’s the problem?”

“There,” he shone the beam of his torch at one of the pendent heads. See the colour of that glass bulb in there?”

She nodded. “It’s green.”

“It should be purple or better yet, black,” he explained. “That head you have there is only rated for temperatures of up to about ninety three degrees. A purple bulb is rated for about 182 degrees, black about 227. These heads are the wrong rating for this type of environment, you see?. All these hot stage lights… the ambient air around the heads gets too hot, bursts the bulbs and….”

“Sploosh,” she demonstrated, her fingers flaring out.

“Sploosh. Precisely.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, “but… why would I be upset at my own employees? Where’s our fault if your sprinkler guy put in the wrong heads?”

Ansgar pointed. “There,” he pointed with the beam of his flashlight, that time on the finished underside of the house right loge. “You’ve a set of properly rated heads sticking down there, all right and good for the designed use, but – it also looks as if there have been some modifications of the original design.”

She squinted. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ask your lighting designer what I’m talking about. She’s bracketed in a brand new lighting pipe there, clamped some eight-inch non-LED fresnels upon it, and did so in a space not originally meant for lighting to be in the first place.” He looked down at her, his lips twisted, a shrug in his shoulders. “First of all, one should never ever hang incandescent lights directly beneath a sprinkler head no matter what the rating – and second of all… isn’t it against fire code to hang lights of a certain temperature so close to a seating area?”

Jo peered up into the face of her inspector, reading between the words he spoke, between the lines of his narrative. “These modifications…,” she pointed over her shoulder to the new problem, “they’re dangerous?”

Ansgar nodded, “Without the proper clearance. There’s code for safety.”

“And if I’m to understand you correctly,” she led, feeling the unease sink into her stomach, “this was deliberate?”

“It appears that way.” He landed the statement as delicately as he could, but it appeared that someone tread the path of sabotage.

The woman popped down off the scaffolding to step downstage where she’d left her file. “The first incident report came after last season.” She shifted through her pages, trying to locate the very report she referred. She’d studied them many times over in the months since the trouble began. Checklist after checklist signed off by a designer and two techs invalidated by one engineer review.

If only someone from Martinsson Construction had come sooner…

Despite the skirt she wore, she plopped down to spread the papers out in front of her. “Work orders, they came through but stated that there was nothing wrong.” She slid the signed sheet along the stage floor towards Ansgar. “’These things happen…’ they said. ‘Accidents’ this one contractor told me. That’s why I came to you… well, Weissing.”

It wasn’t panic she felt. It wasn’t fear or hysteria. It was annoyance. Disbelief. Perhaps a little anger thrown in, but she’d never let anyone see that. Instead she put her head into solving this plague on her tenure as house manager. Fix it. Fix it for good and move forward. “How long to sort all this?”

The engineer still had his head stuck up in the mess of lighting, sorting out just how to fix it, what safety measures he could employ to see this didn’t happen again. He called down, his voice raised for the distance. “Not long. An afternoon, at best.”

“Herr Martinsson, who would have the most to gain for doing this?” She stopped shuffling to look upstage where he stood when hee’d climbed down from the scaffolding some minutes later. The very image of aristocratic bad boy. Starched white shirt beneath a work jacket, topped with a hard hat. The leather and metal work belt slung around his slim waist appealed to her for reasons far beyond her understanding. The contrast between the expensively tailored, highly groomed man and the hands-on worker made for a gorgeous picture.

“I can’t answer that, Froken, not without knowing the key players.” He picked up some of her pages to look at some of the names, to see if he recognized the names of contractors that missed the obvious. The sodding theifs.

She sat in silence rolling the problem over in her head. Could it be a lack of education or knowledge in her trusted employees? Or was it a case of foul intentions? She didn’t want to believe it of her people. When she reigned her thoughts in from solving the problem, she glanced up again.

A furrowed brow knitted over his long nose, he chewed the corner of his lip as he concentrated on the work orders and the checklists. His hand worked at the base of his neck, tracing a v shape below is Adam’s apple. A strangely attractive self-soothing gesture as his focus zeroed in.

“May I—“ she intruded on his reading. She laughed at herself and her predicament of being trapped on the floor. “May I please borrow a hand? I…uh…got myself into a spot of trouble.” She gestured at her seated position on the floor and reached up for him. “I’m in danger of showing my talent for very unladylike positions.” She continued laughing at herself and the challenges she put herself in.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he offered his hand to heave her up off the floor.

“Thank you. I forget… I’m always back here for with the tech guys, building, moving, lifting. This,” she ran her hands along her skirt, “this doesn’t do me any favors.” She tipped her head back looking up into the fly loft. “How long can I impose on you, Herr Martinsson? May I ask you to survey some other problem areas?”

#the best intentions ansgar-martinsson joline lindberg scarjo rp original character rp