#and again. i am never talking about the bbc show when i say those names i am talking about my friend arthur. conan doyle…. my man acd……

[katnissgirlsmakedo]

this and the killer queen one from the other day… you guys have to stop letting me say whatever i want. like stop agreeing with me you make us both look crazy…

#good morning hi. i only said that because in my head i was just thinking about how john is a freak about that man and sherlock is super anno #annoying. and i was like you know who else is incredibly annoying. alex and henry…. #and again. i am never talking about the bbc show when i say those names i am talking about my friend arthur. conan doyle…. my man acd…… #my man who happens to have the same initials as alex which made me giggle last night <3 anyway yeah. my pal artie #he’s a little fucking irritating and the worst but he’s my pal #beth.txt

[kellyvela]

I, CLAUDIUS / GRRM / ASOIAF

GRRM about the best TV series of all time:

Question: Name the best television series of all time, and explain why it's the best. GRRM: This is a tough question. I have liked a lot of television through the years, and of course I have to exclude the programs I've worked on myself (e.g. Twilight Zone, Beauty and the Beast). I was very impressed with Rome on HBO; I found it riveting, both brilliantly written and brilliantly acted. I am interested in ancient Rome so another contender would be I, Claudius, produced by the BBC, that aired on public television three decades ago (1977). It was produced on sound stages so it hasn't got nearly the HBO production value, but again the writing was superlative, as was the acting, so it holds up today.

GRRM when HBO's ROME ended:

I am going to have to watch all of I, CLAUDIUS again to get the taste out of my mouth. Pfui.

GRRM about Tiberius and Stannis:

grrm Re: No actors named Bart that I could see playing a role in GoT Damn! I hadn't known that.

Baker was one of the unsung heroes of I, CLAUDIUS. Derek Jacobi and Sian Phillips got an incredible amount of praise for their portrayals of Claudius and Livia, deservedly, while Brian Blessed and John Hurt were already well-established and well recognized, but I never felt Baker got nearly enough attention for his Tiberius… a thankless role, since the character was so unlikeable, but one that he performed brilliantly.

There's a lot of his Tiberius in my Stannis, fwiw.

GRRM (again) about Tiberius and Stannis:

And it is important that the individual books refer to the civil wars, but the series title reminds us constantly that the real issue lies in the North beyond the Wall. Stannis becomes one of the few characters fully to understand that, which is why in spite of everything he is a righteous man, and not just a version of Henry VII, Tiberius or Louis XI.

GRRM about a possible HBO's adaptation of I, Claudius:

sourbillytipton You're reportedly new HBO contract Is there anymore light you could shed on it?

With the report saying you'll help produce other projects many fans hope for adaptations of Robert's Rebellion, D&E, Tuf, Sandkings…

I doubt any of those mentioned will be produced anytime soon. My money is on you lending a hand on the new I, Claudius mini series.

grrm Re: You're reportedly new HBO contract Tuf would be fun. Dunk and Egg are being discussed. Robert's Rebellion is part of Ice & Fire, won't be a separate series. Sandkings was done by the OUTER LIMITS; I retain feature film rights, but television rights are gone.

I, CLAVDIVS? Heh, not likely. And talk about a suicide mission. I mean, I'll watch, but how do you match one of the greatest TV series ever made? That's the television equivilent of remaking GONE WITH THE WIND or CITIZEN KANE. No, thanks.

GRRM when asked about reading recommendations:

The books [Maurice Druon's THE ACCURSED KINGS] were a huge success in France. So huge than they have twice formed the basis for television shows (neither version is available dubbed or subtitled in English, to my annoyance), series that one sometimes hears referred to as “the French I, CLAUDIUS.”

GRRM about being influenced by Robert Graves's I, Claudius:

Question: So you’ve talked a lot about the historical novels that you’ve drawn on. Are you influenced by Robert Graves’ I, Claudius?

GRRM: To some extent. I read I, Claudius and Claudius the God many, many years ago. And of course, I loved the TV series. I think the TV series is one of the best series ever done. There’s talk [that] HBO may be re-doing that. That’s a dangerous idea.

GRRM (again) about a possible HBO's adaptation of I, Claudius:

Question: It seems like HBO’s development is very slow. They put things in development and it takes a long time.

GRRM: They do, but they don’t develop nearly as much as the broadcast networks, who typically order 20 drama pilot scripts, will make 10 of the 20 scripts, will actually film them, have 10 pilots and put three shows on. HBO doesn’t do that. When they develop something, they’re pretty serious about it. And they have some interesting shows in development. American Gods would be cool. And if they do remake I, Claudius, that’s a tough one to tackle, though, because the original was just so great. How do you equal a cast with Derek Jacobi and John Hurt and Brian Blessed and Xiân Phillips? Wow, what a cast.

HBO could go further, obviously, because I, Claudius was a BBC production. It was made for a dollar fifty. The sets are painted canvas. You could see marble columns flapping when someone walks by them too fast. They were just a painting. You didn’t care. It was a landmark kind of thing. Special effects are nice, but it’s the writing, acting, and storytelling that make a story great. And the dialogue and the characters, and it’s a brilliant, brilliant show.

GRRM about Suetonius and Mushroom:

The narrative unreliability is reminiscent of Westeros’s first tell-all author, the court jester Mushroom, who claims intimate knowledge of various Targaryen bedroom secrets. “And he may be making up a lot of this shit,” Martin said. “That possibility is there, because he’s an old guy telling tales, and embroidering them, making them more sexual, suggestive, and violent.” Martin likens Mushroom to Suetonius, “the great gossip of ancient Rome,” whose stories helped shape I, Claudius. “It’s full of things like [Claudius’s third wife] Messalina having a fucking contest with a prostitute, and there’s no source for that! Unless you believe Suetonius,” Martin said. “People do know things, but the things they ‘know’ may not be right.”

GRRM about re-watching I, Claudius during the COVID - 19 pandemic:

The BBC made their adaptation of I, CLAUDIUS — based on the classic novels by Robert Graves (I, CLAUDIUS and CLAUDIUS THE GOD), which were in turn based on the histories of Suetonius — in 1976, but I did not encounter them until a few years later, when PBS picked them up and ran them (in a somewhat censored form, to shield Americans from seeing nipples) in the USA.  I remember, I was still living in Dubuque, Iowa at the time, teaching college.   I loved the series then, and I love it now.   I have probably watched it a dozen times in the years since.   When it was rerun on TV at first, then later on VHS tape, and most recently on DVD.

I just finished watching it again.  Up in my mountain cabin, I discovered that my assistant had never seen the series, so of course I had to break it out and show it to her.   It is just as brilliant as I recall.   I am pleased to say my assistant, seeing it for the first time, loved it just as I did, seeing it for the… I don’t know, the tenth time?  Twentieth?  I have not kept count.

This despite the fact that the budget for BBC drama in the 70s was… let us say… not large.   There are no special effects here.   No battles.   No exteriors, in fact.   It was all shot on a sound stage, and most of it takes place in one or two rooms, repeatedly redressed.   When these Romans go to the arena for a gladiatorial show, you do not so much as glimpse a gladiator, you just see the actors sitting watching carnage offstage.   This is not HBO’s ROME nor even SPARTACUS (both great shows in their own right).  I, CLAUDIUS is more akin to a filmed stage play.   I think the craft services budget on any HBO series is probably ten times what the BBC spent on the entire thirteen episodes.

And you know what?  IT DOES NOT MATTER.   If you have great writing and great acting, that is really all you need.   And I, CLAUDIUS had that in spades.  A single writer, Jack Pulman, scripted all thirteen episodes.   Pulman is long deceased, I fear, which I regret.  I would have considered it an honor to meet him and shake his hand.   His dialogue sparkles from beginning to end, with so many unforgettable lines… and throughout he remains true to the genius of Robert Graves and his great novels.

And the acting here is equal to the brilliance of the writing.   This was the series that made Derek Jacobi a star, and rightly so, but the supporting cast around him was sensational as well.   Sian Phillips as Livia, Brian Blessed as Augustus, John Hurt as Caligula, the criminally underappreciated George Baker as Tiberius, Patrick Stewart (with hair!) as Sejanus, and more, and more, and more…. there’s not a false note here.   They were all great.

And yes, from time to time a marble pillar ripples when someone passes, revealing itself to be painted canvas, but so what?   If you are like me, you are too deeply involved with the characters to notice or care.

If you have never seen I, CLAUDIUS, you owe it to yourself to have a look (though be warned, this a dark show, and there is lots of violence and sex, especially by the standards of 1976).  You should read the novels too, they are terrific.  And then give thanks you do not live in ancient Rome.

Even now, deep in the Second Golden Age of television, I would rank I, CLAUDIUS as one of the greatest television series ever made.   Certainly in the top ten.  Probably in the top five.

Most of the ASOIAF fandom:

GRRM: I dunno if any of you, if you guys have ever seen I, Claudius, have you seen I, Claudius?

GOO: No.

GRRM: Oh, you should see I, Claudius. It's one of the great television series of all time, one of my favorites.

GOO: What is it about? [DAMNATION!!! DISGRACE!!!]

GRRM graciously lecturing most of the ASOIAF fandom about I, Claudius:

It's about Claudius, the Emperor Claudius, it's based on two novels by Robert Graves, which were called I, Claudius and Claudius the God. Claudius was, let's see, he was the fourth Roman emperor, I think, but he lived through the reigns of the first three, and he was disabled in some manner, he had a limp, he twitched, he stuttered and everybody thought he was an idiot in his family, and at a certain point, he started even, according to Graves and some historians, exaggerating his idiocy, because meanwhile everybody else was competing for power and all his relatives were murdering each other and poisoning each other and stabbing each other, so he managed to survive and become emperor, and Graves wrote these two great novels about them, which I recommend. And in the '70s, the BBC adapted them to a 13 hour series called I, Claudius. Now it it was a BBC show, not an American network show, so their budgets are significantly less anyway, and it was the '70s, so these shows were made for a dollar and 95 each, there are no special effects, there are no, in fact, the entire show was filmed in like three rooms, and, you know, when Claudius goes to a gladiator show, you never see any gladiator, you just see him sitting and his face reacting to, and, you know, things like that. Um, occasionally some of the marble pillars will ripple as he walks by because they were actually painted canvas. Can you forgive that? Sadly I found that there's some modern viewers and fans who can't, but I certainly could, and it's brilliantly written and brilliantly acted it's it made Derek Jacoby a star. It includes Patrick Stewart with hair in a minor role and a very young John Hurt and things like that. And it captures all of, you know, all of the reign of Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, and of course, Augustus's wife, Livia, who is portrayed very…you know, she's like a smarter version of Cersei... Umm but it's a great show, but the point is, it's framed, because when you come into the show, you see the old Claudius, he's emperor now, he's in his old age, but he's writing the secret history of his family to pass down the real story of what happened, and, you know, he opens every episode writing it and then you see the flashback, you see the episode. So all of the episodes are framed by old Claudius, actually the first two, I think, he's not even born yet, but old Claudius was writing about that.

It's not a novelty that GRRM loves historical novels and dramas and his love for I Claudius (the BBC show and the Graves's novels and even Suetonius's gossip stories) it's the perfect example.

And if most of the ASOIAF fandom paid more attention to that love, they would have asked George more about I, Claudius (show, novels and Suetonius's gossip stories) and how they inspired some ASOIAF characters, events and plots; or read and watch I, Claudius (show, novels and Suetonius's gossip stories) to see for themselves what George took from those and made it into ASOIAF.

This post is nothing new, some readers have posted about I, Claudius and ASOIAF similarities before, but (as always) there's a lot of things that they missed and/or interpreted differently.

So here I'm going to show you some more of what most of the ASOIAF fandom is missing because they don't pay attention to what GRRM is always saying and recommending....

TITLES

Claudius wasn't there to bore you with all his many titles:

I, TIBERIUS CLAUDIUS DRUSUS NERO GERMANICUS This-that-and-the-other (for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles)...

—I, Claudius (Chapter 1) - Robert Graves

No comments needed (or read this post).

UNTHOUGHT MONARCH

Two years have gone by since I finished writing the long story of how I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus, the cripple, the stammerer, the fool of the family, whom none of his ambitious and bloody-minded relatives considered worth the trouble of executing, poisoning, forcing to suicide, banishing to a desert island or starving to death – which was how they one by one got rid of each other – how I survived them all, even my insane nephew Gaius Caligula, and was one day unexpectedly acclaimed Emperor by the corporals and sergeants of the Palace Guard.

—Claudius the God (Chapter 1) - Robert Graves

Sounds familiar??? Here's is a hint of Bran the Broken everyone, and this is only a little one, the HUGE one comes later.

I know, I know, most readers that have written about I Claudius and ASOIAF think that Claudius is most similar to Tyrion, because they are both disabled but clever people, despised by members of their families, lost first love, prostitute lover, betrayed by a wife/lover, etc.

And I agree, but GRRM doesn't take from original sources and make exactly the same into ASOIAF, he changes and mixes characters, events and plots.

And that's why I find in I, Claudius (show and novels) a really huge hint to Bran Stark becoming the unthought ruler of Westeros. But, as I just said, that comes later.

BROTHER AND SISTER INCEST

Caligula: [coughs] Agrippina: Caligula, darling, what are you doing out of bed? Caligula: I've had a bad dream, Mother. Agrippina: Oh, my poor baby. Come here. What did you dream? Caligula: Horrid dream. I dreamt there were bats sitting along the shelf in my room. Then they flew down and sat on me until I was all covered with them and no one could see me anymore. Agrippina: Oh, my poor baby. Antonia: You shouldn't eat so much before you go to bed. Agrippina: Oh, Mother, he's been through so much! Antonia: He stuffs himself with all manner of things. Claudius: Perhaps he'd like to sleep with Drusillus? He'd be company for him. Agrippina: Would you like that darling? Would you like to sleep with your cousin's room? Caligula: I'd rather sleep with Drusilla. Antonia: Drusilla? Your sister? A boy of your age? What is the world coming to? Agrippina: Oh, he doesn't mean anything by it.

—I, Claudius - Episode 6 - Scene 3 "Foul Play"

Caligula: No! Let go of me! Let go of me, you horrid old German woman! Claudius: What's this? Caligula: I hate you! Claudius: What's the matter? Antonia: He is disgusting! Claudius: What has he done? Antonia: Oh! Claudius: What has he done? Antonia: That child is a monster! Caligula: I'm not, you horrid old German woman! I'll burn your German house down! Claudius: Stop it! Stop it! Come here! Come here! Now, what is all this G-German? Antonia: He calls everything German that he doesn't like it. He is a monster. Claudius: Well, what has he done? Antonia: He knows what he's done! Caligula: I didn't do anything! I didn't! I didn't! Honestly, Uncle Claudius. I didn't do anything, I swear. It was only a game. Antonia: I found him in Drusilla's bed. Naked, the pair of them! He is revolting and so is she. I've locked her in her room! Caligula: Well, Mother… Antonia: You're a blockhead if you believe his lies! Claudius: Where are you taking him? Antonia: To the cellar to lock him in. Caligula: Please don't let her take me. Please Uncle Claudius. I hate the cellar. I'm afraid. Claudius: Well, you leave him here with me. I'll t-t-talk to him. Antonia: He needs a good whipping, not a talking to! Oh, Claudius, you're such a fool! I've no patience with you. It should have been you who died, not Germanicus! What use are you to anyone? Claudius: Now, don't you know that you sh-shouldn't play games like that with your sister? Hmmm? Don't you know how w-wicked it is? Caligula: Why? Claudius: Why? B-because it is. Caligula: Why? Claudius: Now, now look, don't answer me back or I'll cut you on the head! Now, you listen to me. Now, a sister is a sister and she's not to be p-p-played with, ever, do you understand? You can't p-p-play with her and you can't m-marry her. Caligula: But she wanted to… Claudius: I don't care what she wanted! You're disgusting, the pair of you. And I shall talk to Dr-Drusilla later.

—I, Claudius - Episode 6 - Scene 3 "The Trial"

Sounds familiar???

He could never bear to be long apart from his twin. Even as children, they would creep into each other's beds and sleep with their arms entwined. Even in the womb. Long before his sister's flowering or the advent of his own manhood, they had seen mares and stallions in the fields and dogs and bitches in the kennels and played at doing the same. Once their mother's maid had caught them at it . . . he did not recall just what they had been doing, but whatever it was had horrified Lady Joanna. She'd sent the maid away, moved Jaime's bedchamber to the other side of Casterly Rock, set a guard outside Cersei's, and told them that they must never do that again or she would have no choice but to tell their lord father. They need not have feared, though. It was not long after that she died birthing Tyrion. Jaime barely remembered what his mother had looked like. —A Storm of Swords - Jaime III

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE WEDDING

When I watch the scene of Claudius and Urgulanilla's wedding, I immediately thought about Sansa and Tyrion's wedding.

The I, Claudius scene has no dialogue except for Livia's final line. Claudius enters to the ceremony, salutes to the bride's family and then to Augustus and Livia, then seats next to the bride and holds her hand.

Then the priest signals the bride and groom to stand and:

Urgulanilla: [stands]Livia: [crowd laughs] She grew! She just kept on growing! —I, Claudius - Episode 4 - Scene 7 "Keep playing the Fool"

Urgulanilla was indeed very tall, but her appearance is closer to Brienne than Sansa:

Urgulanilla was – well, in brief, she lived up to her name, which is the Latin form of Herculanilla. A young female Hercules she indeed was. Though only fifteen years old, she was over six foot three inches in height and still growing, and broad and strong in proportion, with the largest feet and hands I have ever seen on any human being in my life with the single exception of the gigantic Parthian hostage who walked in a certain triumphal procession many years later. Her features were regular but heavy and she wore an almost perpetual scowl.

—Claudius the God (Chapter 8) - Robert Graves

Back to the wedding, something very similar happens in ASOIAF with the bride and groom height difference and the crowd laughing about it:

The dwarf tugged at her a third time. Stubbornly she pressed her lips together and pretended not to notice. Someone behind them tittered. The queen, she thought, but it didn't matter. They were all laughing by then, Joffrey the loudest. "Dontos, down on your hands and knees," the king commanded. "My uncle needs a boost to climb his bride." —A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

TRUST NO ONE

Now farewell for the last time, Tiberius Claudius, my friend whom I love more truly than you ever supposed. Farewell, little Marmoset, my schoolfellow, and trust nobody, for nobody about you is worthy of your trust.

—Claudius the God (Chapter 23) - Robert Graves

Herod: Listen, Claudius. Let me give you a piece of advice.

Claudius: Oh, I thought you'd finished with advice.

Herod: One last piece and then I'm done. Trust no one, my friend, no one. Not your most grateful freedman, not your most intimate friend, not your dearest child, not the wife of your bosom. Trust no one.

Claudius: No one? Not even you?

—I, Claudius - Episode 11 - Scene 4 "Advice From an Old Friend"

"Lord Petyr," Ned called after him. "I … am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you." Littlefinger fingered his small pointed beard. "You are slow to learn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you climbed down off your horse." —A Game of Thrones - Eddard V

Trust no one, I once told Eddard Stark, but he would not listen. You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

"Say what you want. She will be my bride, Lord Connington will see to it. I trust him as much as if he were my own blood." "Perhaps you should be the fool instead of me. Trust no one, my prince. Not your chainless maester, not your false father, not the gallant Duck nor the lovely Lemore nor these other fine friends who grew you from a bean. Above all, trust not the cheesemonger, nor the Spider, nor this little dragon queen you mean to marry. All that mistrust will sour your stomach and keep you awake by night, 'tis true, but better that than the long sleep that does not end." —A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion VI

TYWIN, JOANNA, IS THAT YOU?

Augustus ruled the world, but Livia ruled Augustus. And I must here explain the remarkable hold that she had over him.

—Claudius the God (Chapter 2) - Robert Graves

Narrator Claudius: Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, old friend and commander of the armies of Augustus. Emperor of Rome, a most remarkable man. But even more remarkable who was Livia, his second wife. If Augustus ruled the world, Livia ruled Augustus.

—I, Claudius - Episode 1 - Scene 2 "Dinner Conversation"

His mother had died giving him birth, so the Martells would have found the Rock deep in mourning. His father especially. Lord Tywin seldom spoke of his wife, but Tyrion had heard his uncles talk of the love between them. In those days, his father had been Aerys's Hand, and many people said that Lord Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but Lady Joanna ruled Lord Tywin. —A Storm of Swords - Tyrion V

TARGIES, IS THAT YOU?

Livia was of the Claudian family, one of the most ancient of Rome, and so was my grandfather. There is a popular ballad, still sometimes sung by old people, of which the refrain is that the Claudian tree bears two sorts of fruit, the sweet apple and the crab, but that the crabs outnumber the apples.

—I, Claudius (Chapter 2) - Robert Graves

Tiberius: I'll tell you something, Drusus. Sometimes I so hate myself, I can't bear the thought of me anymore. You don't know anything about darkness, do you? Inside darkness. Blackness. Drusus: Ah, stop bragging! I could match you black for black. Tiberius: Not you. Not you. The say the tree of the Claudians produces two kinds of apples - the sweet and the sour. That was never more true than you and me. Drusus: And what of our mother, which is she? Tiberius: Livia? Drusus: Mmm. Tiberius: They say a snake bit her once and died. Drusus: Hey. Hey, that's no longer funny.

—I, Claudius - Episode 2 - Scene 2 "Siblings Rivalries"

"Why ask for truth," Ser Barristan said softly, "if you close your ears to it?" He hesitated, then continued. "I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not . . ." ". . . my father's daughter?" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she? ". . . mad," he finished. "But I see no taint in you." "Taint?" Dany bristled. "I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land." —A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

STANNIS, IS THAT YOU?

He was a tall, dark-haired, fair-skinned, heavily-built man with a magnificent pair of shoulders, and hands so strong that he could crack a walnut (…) He went bald early in life except at the back of his head, where he grew his hair long, a fashion of the ancient nobility. He was never ill. Tiberius, unpopular as he was in Roman society, was nevertheless an extremely successful general. He revived various ancient disciplinary severities, but since he did not spare himself when on campaign, seldom sleeping in a tent, eating and drinking no better than the men, and always charging at their head in battle, they preferred to serve under him than under some good-humoured, easy-going commander in whose leadership they did not have the same confidence. Tiberius never gave his men a smile or a word of praise, and often overmarched and overworked them. ‘Let them hate me,’ he once said, ‘so long as they obey me.’ He kept the colonels and regimental officers in as strict order as the men, so there were no complaints of his partiality. Service under Tiberius was not unprofitable: he usually contrived to capture and sack the enemy’s camps and cities. He fought successful wars in Armenia, Parthia, Germany, Spain, Dalmatia, the Alps, and France.

—I, Claudius (Chapter 3) - Robert Graves

Tiberius: Well, don't bother on my account! I'm sick of it! The gods know I've done my best! He never liked me. Never! Thirty years I've run his errands for him! I've fought on his bloody frontiers, collected his taxes! He's never once put his hand on my arm and said, "Thank you. What would I have done without you?" Now he sends me off to Illyricum and he doesn't even plan a farewell dinner. Not even a goodbye. Just get on your horse and ride! Well, damn him! I retired before and I can retire again! Let his precious grandson run his empire for him. I'm sick to death of it!

—I, Claudius - Episode 5 - Scene 4 "False Pretenses"

Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and by the grace of the gods rightful heir to the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, was broad of shoulder and sinewy of limb, with a tightness to his face and flesh that spoke of leather cured in the sun until it was as tough as steel. Hard was the word men used when they spoke of Stannis, and hard he was. Though he was not yet five-and-thirty, only a fringe of thin black hair remained on his head, circling behind his ears like the shadow of a crown. His brother, the late King Robert, had grown a beard in his final years. Maester Cressen had never seen it, but they said it was a wild thing, thick and fierce. As if in answer, Stannis kept his own whiskers cropped tight and short. They lay like a blue-black shadow across his square jaw and the bony hollows of his cheeks. His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows, a blue as dark as the sea by night. His mouth would have given despair to even the drollest of fools; it was a mouth made for frowns and scowls and sharply worded commands, all thin pale lips and clenched muscles, a mouth that had forgotten how to smile and had never known how to laugh. Sometimes when the world grew very still and silent of a night, Maester Cressen fancied he could hear Lord Stannis grinding his teeth half a castle away. (...) "Why should I avenge Eddard Stark? The man was nothing to me. Oh, Robert loved him, to be sure. Loved him as a brother, how often did I hear that? I was his brother, not Ned Stark, but you would never have known it by the way he treated me. I held Storm's End for him, watching good men starve while Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne feasted within sight of my walls. Did Robert thank me? No. He thanked Stark, for lifting the siege when we were down to rats and radishes. I built a fleet at Robert's command, took Dragonstone in his name. Did he take my hand and say, Well done, brother, whatever should I do without you? No, he blamed me for letting Willem Darry steal away Viserys and the babe, as if I could have stopped it. I sat on his council for fifteen years, helping Jon Arryn rule his realm while Robert drank and whored, but when Jon died, did my brother name me his Hand? No, he went galloping off to his dear friend Ned Stark, and offered him the honor. And small good it did either of them." —A Clash of Kings - Prologue

A SIGN FROM THE GODS

When I watch the scene of Claudius catching the wolf pup from the sky, I immediately thought about Bran and Summer.

The I, Claudius scene is called "A sign from the Gods"

Germanicus: Eagles. What are they fighting for? Julia: Here come the children. Let's go into the house. It sounds as if they've been quarrelling again and I don't think I could stand it. Germanicus: Eagles! They're fighting! Postumus, look at the eagles! Agrippina: What are they fighting for? Castor: Oh look. One of them's got something! See, in its claws there. It's a small animal, [screeching overhead] Agrippina: Mother, Mother, the eagles are fighting! Castor: They're fighting over something. Look out! Livilla: What is it, Claudius? Castor: It's a wolf cub. Germanicus: Mother, it dropped right from its claws. Livilla: Let me have him! Let me have him! Antonia: Leave it be! It fell to Claudius, leave it be! Julia: Look at the blood. Ye Gods, what does it mean? Domitius, tell us what it means. Domitius: Lady, I… Antonia: You know what it means, I can see from your face. Tell us, I beg you. Children, go into the house. Domitius: No! Let them stay. The sign was given to you all, and given now, perhaps, because I am here to read it. But they must be sworn to secrecy. Who are the gods that watch over this house? Julia: Jupiter and Mars. Domitius: Then do you swear, all of you, by these your gods…that no word of what you are about to hear shall ever pass your lips? [all]: Yes, we do. Domitius: The wolf cub is Rome. No doubt of it. Romulus was suckled by a wolf as her own cub, and Romulus was Rome. And look at it. All torn about the neck and shivering with fear. A wretched sight. Rome will be wretched one day. But he will protect it. He and no other. Livilla: [laughs] Claudius as protector of Rome! I hope I shall be dead by then. Antonia: Go to your room! You shall have nothing to eat for the rest of the day! Julia: Children, come in. Come inside. Claudius: May I k-k-keep the cub, please, Mother? Please may I?

—I, Claudius - Episode 3 - Scene 2 "A sign from the Gods"

In the novel the scene is basically the same, but it provides more important details:

One extraordinary event in my childhood I must not forget to record. One summer when I was just eight years old my mother, my brother Germanicus, my sister Livilla, and I were visiting my Aunt Julia in a beautiful country-house close to the sea at Antium. It was about six o’clock in the evening and we were out taking the cool breeze in a vineyard. Julia was not with us, but Tiberius’s son – that Tiberius Drusus whom we afterwards always called ‘Castor’ – and Postumus and Agrippina, Julia’s children, were in the party. Suddenly we heard a great screeching above us. We looked up and saw a number of eagles fighting. Feathers floated down. We tried to catch them. Germanicus and Castor each caught one before it fell and stuck it in his hair. Castor had a small wing feather, but Germanicus a splendid one from the tail. Both were stained with blood. Spots of blood fell on Postumus’s upturned face and on the dresses of Livilla and Agrippina. And then something dark dropped through the air. I do not know why I did so, but I put out a fold of my gown and caught it. It was a tiny wolf-cub wounded and terrified. The eagles came swooping down to retrieve it, but I had it safe hidden, and when we shouted and threw sticks they rose baffled and flew screaming off. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want the cub. Livilla grabbed at it, but my mother, who looked very grave, made her give it back to me. ‘It fell to Claudius,’ she said. ‘He must keep it.’ She asked an old nobleman, a member of the College of Augurs, who was with us, ‘Tell me what this portends.’ The old man answered, ‘How can I say? It may be of great significance or none.’ ‘Don’t be afraid. Say what it seems to mean to you.’ ‘First send the children away,’ he said. I do not know whether he gave her the interpretation which, when you have read my story, will be forced on you as the only possible one. All I know is that while we other children kept our distance – dear Germanicus had found another tail-feather for me, sticking in a hawthorn bush, and I was putting it proudly in my hair – Livilla crept up inquisitively behind a rose-hedge and overheard something. She interrupted, laughing noisily: ‘Wretched Rome, with him as her protector! I hope to God I’ll be dead before then!’The Augur turned on her and pointed with his finger. ‘Impudent girl,’ he said, “God will no doubt grant your wish in a way that you won’t like!”

—I, Claudius (Chapter 5) - Robert Graves

An disabled eight year old boy got a wolf pup that fell from the sky free from two eagles that were fighting for him, an event that was considered a sign from the gods, a portent about the boy becoming the forth Roman Emperor, the Protector of Rome???

Tell me if this is not very similar to Bran and his brothers finding the direwolves next to their dead mother and keeping them as pets, pets that are considered a gift from the old gods, a portent about the children becoming monarchs, at least some of them, like Robb, Jon, Bran and Sansa???

But the similarities between Claudius and Bran are the most prominent:

Similar age: Claudius 8 / Bran 7.

Prophecies: Claudius was prophesied to be the fourth Roman Emperor / Bran was prophesied to be the Three Eyed Raven.

Wolves: Claudius got a wolf pup from the sky, the wolf was an important symbol of Rome (The Capitoline Wolf nursed Romulus and Remus) / Bran got a direwolf from the old gods, the direwolf was the sigil of House Stark.

Disability: Claudius got a permanent limp, after suffering infantile paralysis that shortened his left leg / Bran got paralyzed from the waist down after his fall.

Hurtful nicknames: Claudius was known as the Cripple / Bran hates being called cripple and according to the show he will be known as Bran the Broken.

Especial transport: Claudius was usually carried in a sedan-chair / Bran was usually carried by Hodor.

Lost older brother: Claudius lost his beloved older brother Germanicus / Bran lost his beloved older bother Robb.

First Love: Claudius first love was Medullina Camilla. Among the Etruscans “Camilla” is what they call the young hunting priestesses dedicated to Diana (the Huntress) / Bran's first love was Meera Reed, a fine huntress and fisher, a fighter with net and spear.

Compared to monkeys: Claudius was called "marmoset" by his few friends / Jon remembers Bran clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey.

Survivors: Claudius nearly died on several occasions / Bran survive his fall.

Unthought monarchs: Claudius, despite all odds, became the fourth Roman Emperor / Bran will become King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Builders: Claudius built many roads, aqueducts and canals / Bran was named after his famous ancestor Bran the Builder, and as a monarch he will be able to emulate his renowned ancestor.

There you have it!

All hail Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus and Brandon of House Stark!

#grrm #asoiaf #i claudius #robert graves #bran stark #tiberius claudius drusus nero germanicus

[whatsonmedia]

Why the Latest Series Strictly isn't Box-Ticking?

One Paralympian And a Gay Man Is hardly a Woke Response Just recently it wasn't article in the Telegraph that really disappointed me. I'm not going to say who the writer was, but what I will say is that what they wrote to be over very short sighted and derogatory at best. The article was a direct critical response at the BBC over the latest series of Strictly Come Dancing. As anyone who watches the show, including myself, will know that it's a show about dancing. And for those who watch the show so is that it's about entertainment but most importantly, it's about inclusion and diversity. Last time I checked, diversity and inclusion were about bringing people together from all walks of life and backgrounds. Whether that be by religion, gender, sexual orientation, disability or by race. Now come what I read on the article from the Telegraph, this is where I confess, that I didn't read it all in it's entirety. Thankfully, I was watching a morning talk show on TV where it was being discussed.  The basic gist of the article was that it was accusing the BBC sea of being woke. Basically claiming that the producers were just bringing people like Richie Anderson and Ellie Simmonds in just to tick boxes.  Richie Anderson is a TV and radio host who is also openly gay. Hey he is also no of mixed raced background. Ellie Simmonds is a paralympic swimmer who has a form of dwarfism. At the end of the day anyone can say that was past 3 or 5 years TV producers have been trying to force the whole equality and diversity agenda down everyone's throats. However, for a great many years we've all been used to seeing the same type of contestants over and over again. Every so often it's just nice to see different types of contestants on TV. It's not one of those 'forcing it down your throat' thing at all, but more of a showing but there are many different types of other people out there are and that we should be embracing this sort of change rather than criticise it. Now over the years we've had a number of contestants from the disability and LGBT + community. We've had JJ Chambers, Will Bayley, Rose Ayling-Ellis, Julian Clary, Scott Mills, Susan Calman and even Will Young to name a few. Now last year ear we had Rose and John who both represented the LGBT+ and Disability community and I don't recall any argument about their participation, so why is it being brought up this series? Why has the appearance of people from various minority groups such an issue for some people? Just what is it about seeing people from certain minority groups that upsets people? As I have mentioned on numerous occasions in previous columns, I myself am Autistic. Now I have admit I wouldn't mind seeing The Chase star, Anne Hegerty, or former Gogglebox star, Tom Malone Jr, participate in a series. Now before you ask, it wouldn't be part of a box ticking or woke decision, it would be because there's probably meet good contestants. Also Gogglebox star Tom Malone Jr is a freestyle dancer. I'll confess that another reason I admit to it is because it's a good way of sticking two fingers up up at a blind ignorance. Autistic people are viewed in certain ways, and those 'ways' are never really positive in that there's always this preconceived notion that they can't. I'd definitely see it as a way of saying "wanna bet". So no, it wouldn't be as part of a box ticking thing will because I think they'd actually make good contestants Something that many people don't actually seem to stop and think about is that that when people from certain groups participate in programmes like this it helps send a positive message to people both within and outside of those communities To the people within those communities it shows them that's something that they believed it was beyond them is actually possible, and to those outside those communities is that actually they can and that they're just as good as their are heterosexual and and able bodied counterparts.  Ultimately it sends out the message that's this is for everyone and that at anyone can do this. Whether you're wheelchair bound or LGBT + you can feel included. If you watch any dance show whether it be Strictly, Dancing on Ice or So You Think You Can Dance the message it sends out is that it is for everyone and that no one should be excluded. Want further proof, Did you see Ellie Simmons the form of the waltz with her dance partner? She's 1.25 m, basically 4ft high high as she performed an incredible dance routine. Her Heights which is a result of their disability didn't hold her back at all, if anything, we will all too distracted by her dancing and that's regardless of her stature. As for Richie being gay, quite honestly who the hell cares and why should we care. And even I have to admit that he definitely knows how to strut his stuff on the dance floor. But just in case we haven't forgotten Strictly judge Craig Revel Horwood and former judge Bruno Tonioli are both gay and yet we never seem to to have a dig at that. At the end of the day can we just see it as that in this series there is a rich variety of contestants and just enjoy it rather than see it as an excuse to accuse the BBC of being too woke and trying to tick boxes?https://www.shropshirestar.com/entertainment/showbiz/2022/09/24/strictly-launch-black-countrys-ellie-simmonds-and-richie-anderson-paired-up-with-dancers/ Read the full article

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.

GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.

AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.

GT: Although some people think it is.

Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.

AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.

Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.

Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.

AL: Unlike certain people.

How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.

AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.

Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.

GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.

Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.

GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.

How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.

GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”

And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.

You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.

AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.

GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.

There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.

GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.

How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.

GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.

Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.

GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.

AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.

GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.

What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.

AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.

GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.

There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.

GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”

AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.

GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”

How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.

GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.

Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.

---

Omg the mug’s origins :D

‘GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael. ‘

#staged #georgia tennant #anna lundberg #david tennant #michael sheen #staged season 2 #staged interview #david's michael mug

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I'm recently seeing posts where they write "BBC Sherlock fans don't Interact" and. Idk I guess I'm just confused? And wanted to ask someone also in the fandom.

Why would someone not want other fans interacting? We all love the same charecters? We all love Sherlock and Watson? Why does it make a difference how you got to know them?

Idk. You see the same in the star trek fandom. People who got into trek will sometimes say "IF YOU LIKE DISCO YOUR NOT A TRUE FAN" and it never made sense to me cause like. We both like the same show? We just got into it differently?

Idk idk. I'm just confused

Hi Nonny!

Yeah, it's SUPER weird, but it's their blog, so and whatever makes them happy. It could be a variety of reasons: perhaps they had a bad experience and it's for their own mental health (which is completely valid) OR it could be the alternative and they just prefer to be in an echo-chamber, which I think is a not-good thing, but again, not my blog and not my choice.

A very small (and loud) minority of people think only the BBCS fandom is the "most toxic" fandom on Tumblr as if any other sect of any fandom doesn't have toxic people in it, or, on the flip side of the coin, they're very militant about the "purity" of fandom (and I won't go into that at all, because it's upsetting and gross). Hell, I found out years ago (and still recently) I'm blocked by a big name popular Benedict blog simply because of my username, and I have NEVER previously interacted at all with them, nor have I ever tagged any of their Ben posts with Sherlock tags because the one time I tried to reblog from them, I couldn't (even though like.... I checked the tags of the posts and a lot more controversial tags are on those posts than I ever would have put on them). It's so ridiculous, BUT it's their right and their blog, so I suck it up and move on, their loss. I'm too old to care anymore. I get salty for 2 seconds when I realize I can't reblog a post still, and then move on.

Granted, in the hey-day of the Sherlock fandom, it was a goddamned mess, lots of in-fighting and harassment, and a lot of cliques and gatekeeping and "if you're not this, then you're that" thinking, and I understand if they probably had a bad experience from that. Nowadays, though, I find it's a lot more community-focused in the parts of the fandom I lurk in because it is all about sharing our love for all versions of Holmes, and I try to encourage interactivity here.

Maybe I just have dealt with so much shit in my life that after 40 years it just... I'm tired. I don't CARE. I just want to enjoy my time here now, and I do that by creating a blog I enjoy. Just as those people who have "dni"'s on the posts, in a way, I suppose, are creating a place they can be happy in. I may not agree with it, and I can have contradictory opinions about it, but again, not my place to tell them how to run their blogs, and that's that. I would be a hypocrite if I said otherwise, since I have told people before "it's my blog, if you don't like it, block me and be happy". So, as I said, be salty, and move on, their presence (or lack there-of) is not worth your time, especially when 90% of the fandom is generally welcoming and encourages interaction and community and a general love for all-things-ACD/Holmes.

On the point of "real fans", I've discussed "real fans" before, and how fucking stupid this term is. There's no such thing; I still consider myself a Sonic fan (the first fandom I was ACTIVELY a part of in the same capacity as I am in this one), even though it's been years since I engaged in fandom content.... if you want to talk about toxic fandoms... WOOO be part of the Sonic fandom in the late 90s/early naughts.... EEE. The term, to me, just screams "gatekeeping" to the worst degree. It's in all media types of fandom too: Music, TV, books, movies, SPORTS... I can't even.

So on that count, Nonny, I'm just as confused as you are. If that's the case, then I guess I'm not a fan of Star Trek either because I've only watched TNG and own the complete first-distribution box sets with the coloured sides that were 100$ each season, know really stupid nitpicks and facts about TNG, and only watched the TNG movies and the new-Trek movies, all 6 of which I own and watch and love dearly... But nope, not a real fan because I don't like TOS. *shrugs*. Fucking ridiculous.

The way I see it, you spent money and time into and/or got ENJOYMENT from an IP, then you're a fan. Period, end of sentence.

ANYWAY, all that said, Nonny, I understand it's super upsetting to see those kind of things, especially if we're just here to make friends and talk about the things we all have in common, but we don't know their situation or personal history with the fandoms themselves. If they don't want to interact with you, then it's their right to not do so. Just continue on your merry way; there's WAY more people who DO want to chat than there are not. And, if some day they choose to want to interact with various sectors of the fandom, then we can only welcome them and show them the GOOD stuff we have to offer: fanfiction, fanart, gifsets, silly posts, and just all around good cheer. And in the case of my blog, MAYBE show them that some of us are just as disappointed about BBC Sherlock too, hahah.

Hope you have a good day Nonny. You are always welcome here, regardless of fandom or area of adaptation of fandom, heh. <3

Feel free to add on, all.

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #fandom life #some negativity #tumblr things #sherlock fandom #my thoughts

[babybluebex]

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation.  ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once. 

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee. 

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--” 

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked. 

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.” 

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver. 

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?” 

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him. 

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.” 

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.” 

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” 

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck. 

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him. 

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.” 

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet. 

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine. 

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?” 

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.” 

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?” 

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me. 

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?” 

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.” 

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called. 

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.” 

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Tom repeated. 

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace. 

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said. 

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.” 

“Y/N--” Tom began. 

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.” 

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?” 

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.” 

“Well, thank God you’re on time.” 

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space. 

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.” 

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?” 

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head. 

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.” 

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused. 

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.” 

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.” 

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.” 

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed. 

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.” 

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces. 

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked. 

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?”

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?” 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out. 

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly. 

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.” 

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked. 

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.” 

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.” 

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly. 

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked. 

“Who was yours?” I said quickly. 

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?” 

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed. 

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.” 

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly. 

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fanfiction #fluff #peter parker #spiderman #arvin russell #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader fluff

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Huge shoutout to the lovely @perseusannabeth​ who obsess over Pride & Prejudice as much as me. After very politely threatening asking  me to write more of Nessian as P&P (I’m so glad Sarah made it canon that Nessian’s relationship is Darcy and Lizzie’s) she told me about THE lake scene in the BBC version. I watched all six episodes and fell in love, so I highly suggest you all watch it too.

Also, huge shoutout to @firebirdofscythia​ (I stole your Azriel line lmao) and the rest of the gc for being so supportive!! Enjoy

Pemberley’s Lake

Cassian was so tired it was a wonder he had not fallen from his horse, which made him realise that Azriel may have been partially right in telling him to take a break and go back to his state to rest.

Although he suspected that Azriel kicking him out of his office and practically throwing him in a carriage to Pemberley had more to do with the fact that Azriel had gotten sick of his mopey mood more than anything else.

“I shall never show my face in society again” Cassian had told a bored looking Azriel one afternoon, laying on his office’s floor as if it was the end of the world “I shall work until my eyes grow tired and my beard and hair are so long they reach the ground.”

“Stop with the theatrics brother. It is not becoming of you.” Azriel had answered as he shuffled a deck of cards.

“Theatrics!! Azriel for Cauldron’ sake I have no idea how I can keep on living after that refusal” he sighed from his place on the carpeted floor “There is not another woman alive who could hold my heart. It's lost forever. And now I shall live in regret and shame of not being enough for her.”

Azriel rolled his eyes so hard at his brother’s words it was a wonder they did not stay permanently like that.

“I shall grow old and drown my sorrows in the finest beers and wines, turning fat and bald. And after I have passed, my cursed ghost shall roam our country crying in despair over my terrible life”

That had been enough to make Azriel pack Cassian’s belongings and get his brother the fastest horse available.

“If it were not for the laws of this land” Azriel had mumbled after he had bid his brother farewell, wishing a good trip and forbidding him to appear in his office again until he had fixed that mood of his.

Breathing in the clear and fresh air of his home, Cassian was able to momentarily forget his troubled heart. But one look at the blue sky and he was reminded of the gray-blue eyes belonging to the lady who had made him, General Commander of the British Army, who had enough condecorations to fill his whole coat and who had made enemies tremble in fear when faced against him, wallow in self pity and misery.

Lady Nesta Archeron.

Her name alone was enough to make his chest tighten in longing.

Feyre’s oldest and most notorious sister, if not by her breathtaking beauty and intellect but by her ruthless and dismissive regard to the oposite sex. Whereas Feyre had surprised society by marrying before her older sisters  — and securing herself the best of matches of the season at that with his brother Rhysand, which was nothing but a Duke  — and Elain had enough suitors to fill a ballroom, the oldest Archeron did not seem inclined to marry at all. Oh she did catch the eyes of more than one gentleman  —  Cassian could vaguely reckon that she had had a long courting with Sir Thomas Mandray, although it had ended rather abruptly — but no one had been able to snare her heart.

That had been what had initially peaked his interest. He had briefly seen her at Rhysand’s wedding, attempting some small talk that was easily and diplomatically dismissed by her. He had then relentlessly engaged in conversation with her in any opportunity he could find, being it from the few occasions in which she frequented Feyre’ small reunions over tea or when he coincidentally met her during her daily walks around town to visit Lady Emerie, a modice whose popularity was raising tremendously after Feyre’s bridal trousseau and wedding dress were all designed by her.

It was not until Feyre’s first official gathering as Duchess that Cassian realised the depths of his feelings for the sharp eyed lady.

He had been watching the ballroom from the sidelines, trying to escape the mob of scary mamas who wanted to throw their daughters at him, a glass of champagne in his hand.

Rhysand and Feyre had already danced the opening song, so the floor was now free to hold more partners. Both Cassian and Azriel had danced once with Morrigan — Rhysand’s cousin and a dear friend of theirs — and Elain had enough names on her card that they’d have to wait a fortnight to dance with her. Nesta on the other hand…. she had refused all invitations, although one could not help but wonder why by the way she seemed to glow whenever a new song was played.

“Lady Archeron” Cassian had greeted, bowing deeply and throwing at her his best smile, one that usually had young ladies fainting and old ones blushing.

But not Nesta Archeron. No, she had only deigned to make a polite bow and look ahead.

“I could not help but take notice of how entranced by the music you appear to be, my Lady” he had offered her his hand “Would you do me the honour of allowing one dance?”

That had caught Nesta’s attention, and she turned towards him, her gray-blue eyes finally meeting his hazel ones.

“I do not think why I should. I am perfectly satisfied to watch from the sidelines” she raised a perfect manicured eyebrow, glancing in the corner where the mamas and their daughters were “I am sure many other young ladies would rather have my place”

Cassian knew she was lying. Knew she desperately wanted to dance, but something was holding her back.

“It is said that dancing is the best way to encourage affection. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable” he had nonchalantly said

“I beg your pardon” Nesta had exclaimed

“The lady has nothing to fear. I will not let you suffer ridicule because of your poor dancing” he had said in a patronizing tone, if only to see that fire in her eyes ignite.

And to see her accepting his offer with a murderous intent.

They had moved to the center of the ballroom, shocked faces all around them, both from the fact that Nesta was joining the dance floor and her partner being him of all gentlemen.

Cassian had never been proved more wrong once the first string from the violin was drawn and Nesta moved. He had been sure she knew how to dance, had only said those words to get a rise from her. But to see Nesta Archeron actually dancing… it was something straight out of a dream.

Cassian knew the waltz. His mother had insisted that all three sons have the same education, even though only Rhysand was set to inherit the duchy.

However, when paired with Nesta Archeron one could not be called nothing but a simple object to display her talents. Even the most notorious dancer would pale in comparison to her.

And Cauldron, she knew that. Nesta knew she was Terpsikhore, greek Muse of music, song and dance.

What a fool he had been, what a complete and utter fool he had made of himself. His only consolation was that some good had come out of his childish behaviour.

Nesta Archeron was dancing, and when she danced she threatened to bring empires to their knees, for her beauty got inhumanly enhanced, her delighted smile sending an arrow straight to his chest.

Cassian realised he had fallen hopelessly in love with Nesta Archeron. If he was to be true with himself, he had been for quite some time, since their first exchange of words when she had all but dismissed him as a pesky bug.

And as the last note was drawn, as the whole ballroom breathlessly took in Nesta, in complete awe of her, Cassian decided he was going to marry her.

Was going to propose to Nesta Archeron right at that moment.

Using the excuse of getting some fresh air after the tiring dance, he walked them to Rhysand’s extensive and well lit garden, quiet enough that they would not be interrupted but not so isolated as to risk her reputation.

They had walked only a few minutes in the garden when Cassian declared his feelings. He all but tripped with his words, hoping Nesta could see past his fool’s act.

She had not.

She had refused his hand in the most brutal way, her words so articulately poisoned that Cassian felt himself a young boy again, desperately trying to achieve perfection so his father would dare to spare him more than a passing glance. Would not regret having adopted him into his household and given him a home.

He had uttered an apology, saying how sorry he was that his feelings had caused her such pain and disgust, reigning his temper enough to walk her back to the ballroom.

Cassian left town the same night, and had stayed in his office and headquarters training the new milicia since then, burying himself with work until Azriel grew tired of his awful mood.

Sighing, Cassian brushed his horse’s neck, eyeing the lake.

Maybe a dive in the cold waters of Pemperley would help clear his mind.

~•~

Pemberley was, in Nesta’s opinion, the most beautiful state she had ever seen. Even more than her newly married sister’s dukedom.

“However this house’s lady is, she sure is happy” Emerie commented as the head maid showed them to the music room.

“As if someone could be unhappy with this much money” Gwyn whispered back, eyeing the grand piano.

Nesta was inclined to agree, even more after having seen the library. She could not help but envy the lady. Her husband must be a very cultured gentleman.

“May I show you the external grounds? I am sure the gentleman will find it quite delightful” the head maid said, looking at Balthazar, the only men among their group of four.

“I am most grateful for your hospitality” he answered, and they promptly moved outdoors.

Their party of four had been travelling through the countryside for almost two weeks. It was as much as a vacation for Emerie and Balthazar — with Emerie’s shop the season’s current sensation and Balthazar being her current business partner  — as a time out from the ton, which Gwyn — the most required opera singer of the season ��� had announced to be in desperately need of a vacation from.

As for Nesta, she had always wanted to travel, but as a single woman of marriageable age without a male relative to escort her, it would have been a nearly impossible feat to accomplish.

When Balthazar had offered to escort both her and her friends Nesta had wanted to shout in delight.

Secretly, she also wished to avoid a certain gentleman, one whose heart she had mercilessly and regretfully broken.

Nesta shook her head as she walked through the garden, distancing herself from her party to think and remember.

Remember how she had enjoyed dancing with Lord Cassian.

How her body had sung and heated where his skin touched hers.

How she had found herself smiling and agreeing to take a stroll with him, using the excuse of feeling overwhelmed in the crowded ballroom.

How his smile had faded once she tore at him, throwing every hateful word his way to refuse his proposal.

Nesta had not seen Cassian since her sister’s ball, but she did not want to risk an encounter.

That trip could not have been more well timed.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice her hair getting caught in a low tree branch, ruining her intricate updo.

“No one is around” she muttered to herself as she took off the pins holding it in place “A few minutes with my hair down will not hurt”

So Nesta took each pin off, massaging her scalp as she walked in the direction of the state’s lake, the sun shining over its  clear waters.

And that is when she spotted him.

Cassian.

Cassian was at the lake.

Cassian was shirtless, dripping wet by the lake’ shore.

Nesta knew she should turn around and forget what she was currently seeing.

But she could not take her eyes off of him.

Seeing a shirtless man in person was indeed a far cry from what her imagination conjured when reading romance novels.

Especially the way the water was running down Cassian’s tanned and hard torso, all the way down his pecs and stomach — was that a six pack or were her eyes playing tricks on her? — until it collided with his pants, which were hanging so low on his hips that Nesta could not help but feel a weird sensation low in her stomach.

Her legs stopped obeying her, and she swore her knees got weak when Cassian noticed he had company.

“Lady Archeron?” he exclaimed, as if he could not believe his eyes.

“Sir!” was all she could say, feeling her cheeks warming.

Cauldron what was wrong with her? It was just a body. A very nice, very wet muscled body and—

“What may you be doing here?” Nesta quickly inquired, cutting her errand thoughts.

“I am the owner” he simply answered

“Of the lake?”

She wanted to smack herself. How could have she blurted such a stupid and rude question?

“Yes, of the lake. And of Pemberley” he answered, amusement lacing his words.

“I didn’t know. The head maid said all the family was not home— we should not have presumed—”

“I returned without prior notice”

“Excuse me, are you and your sisters in good health?” Cassian added, and Nesta dared to think that he sounded a bit nervous.

“Yes. Yes they are. Thank you, sir” she managed to answer, her eyes firmly placed upon his face and not anywhere else.

“I am glad to hear that” he licked his lips and Nesta could not help but wonder if they would be cold due to the lake’s water or if Cassian’s unbothered face meant he was not cold at all.

Was she really inquiring of how his lips would feel against hers? Against her skin? If kissing Cassian would feel as dreamily as her novel's kiss appeared to be?

Nesta hated him.

Did she not?

“I had never seen you with your hair down”

Cassian’s words took her out of her reverie, and Nesta suddenly felt self conscious.

“Do excuse me for showing myself in front of you with such an unsightly appearance” she felt mortified. To have Cassian of all people seeing her like that, hair in complete disarray….

Nesta quickly turned around, fumbling with the hair pins in a vain and desperately attempt of redoing her hair.

“It’s beautiful” she heard Cassian saying in a breathless voice, and thanked the Cauldron her back was turned so he would not see how her face warmed considerably, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Let me help you” he quietly added, and she gasped at the proximity of wet, shirtless Cassian, who touched her hair softly.

“How come a gentleman such as you knows how to hairstyle a lady’s hair?” Nesta asked, feeling his warmth on her back, a tingly sensation between her legs when his fingers brushed her neck.

“I frequently helped my younger sister, Georgiana, fix her own hair in the occasions she played a little too far from what would be deemed proper for a young lady” she felt his hot breath against her neck as Cassian laughed “She favours outdoors activities such as horseback riding, although she’s quite accomplished in arts and music.”

“Your sister sounds lovely” Nesta said, turning to face him once she felt he was done fixing her hair.

“She is my brothers’ and mine whole world. There’s nothing we would not do for Georgiana”

Nesta felt her heart warming at his words, at his devotion and love towards his family. She wondered if he would do the same with his wife.

If he would have acted the same way towards her had she accepted his proposal.

Unbeknown to her, Cassian was imagining the same thing.

He was picturing how he could have helped her every morning with her hair if she had agreed to marry him. Instead, he would have to live with this one memory forever.

He was lost in her eyes, their bodies so close they were sharing breaths and Cassian was holding back by a sliver thread of self control to not hold her against him.

If it were not for the appearance of three people — Cassian supposed them to be Nesta’s companions — he very well could have done that.

“Excuse me” Cassian abruptly said, bowing deeply and leaving Nesta alone.

Although soon her friends joined her, Gywn and Emerie bombarding her with questions seeing her ruffled state.

Their party was getting ready to depart when Cassian appeared again, having ran inside to get changed and appropriate.

“Lady Nesta!” he called before she could get inside the carriage “Please allow me to apologise for not receiving you properly just now. You are not leaving?”

“We were, sir. We have already imposed too much” she said, spine straight and looking every bit the regal queen she was.

What he did not know was that was her way of maintaining a cool exterior and not blush remembering his naked figure.

“You are not displeased with Pemberley, are you?” Cassian asked, anxiously brushing his hair back.

“No. Not at all”

“And you approve of it?”

“Very much” Nesta said softly, a dreamy smile on her face as she remembered the library “A few would not approve”

“But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth earning” he said, and his smile was enough to make Nesta’s heart skip a beat.

Why was she feeling in such a way, she wondered. Why did her body feel hot and strange all over whenever Cassian was involved?

“Thank you. That is very kind of you”

“I shall not hold you back any longer” he said, helping her in the carriage, his calloused hand a stark contrast against her soft one “I will call on you and I hope you can introduce me to your companions. Perhaps we may go fishing tomorrow? My property is blessed with an abundance of them”

“We would be delighted to. Thank you, sir’

After the farewells were bid and Nesta’s carriage was only a distant dot in the horizon, Cassian got inside, smiling broadly at his head maid and butler.

“You are very chipper, sir'' the old woman said with a knowing smile, the butler agreeing with her. Their lord had been mopey for quite some time now, so it brought joy to their hearts to see his mood so high.

“I had a very good evening Mrs.Pots” he declared, thinking about how he should swim more frequently in the lake.

A few miles from Pemberley, Nesta stared at the scenery lost in thought, Cassian’s touch lingering in her hand all the way back to the inn.

•

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[canyousonicme]

“Certain actors have a reputation for being difficult. I don’t want to be one of those people”. - Alex Kingston


INTERVIEW: The Sunday Post


It comes as no surprise to Alex Kingston that her daughter has decided to follow in her footsteps, despite her best efforts to temper her acting ambitions.

The actress fell pregnant with Salome, now 19, when she was playing surgeon Elizabeth Corday on the long-running US medical drama ER in the ’90s.

Alex’s pregnancy was written into the script and Salome, whose father is German writer Florian Haertel, was just weeks old when she joined the cast as Elizabeth and Dr Mark Greene’s baby girl.

Now, two decades on, mother and daughter are working together again, this time in a Doctor Who spin-off audio drama, The Diary Of River Song. Now in its eighth series, it focuses on the Time Lord’s brilliant wife, the poetically named River Song, whom Alex has played on the TV show since 2008. Salome, meanwhile, plays the part of her synthetic humanoid companion, Rachel.

Alex said: “My daughter was in my belly on ER then played the role of our baby girl Ella Greene. She’s secretly always had the desire to act, but I was always adamant that she finished her education first.

“Salome plays a character who River Song meets up with occasionally and they have adventures together. Working with my daughter has been terrific fun. I am super-impressed with her. She is incredibly professional.”

© Big Finish

Alex with daughter Salome

For the past year Alex and Salome have been isolating together at her London home, alongside Alex’s third husband, television producer Jonathan Stamp. The pair married in an intimate Italian ceremony in 2015, and Salome was a bridesmaid.

They are joined by Alex’s German-born mother, Margarethe, who sadly suffers from dementia. It sounds like a potentially stressful set-up but Alex has cherished the unexpected extra family time lockdown gifted her.

Alex, who celebrated her 57th birthday a few days after the first lockdown was announced last March, said: “My daughter had arrived from New York and decided she wanted to live with us. Then my mother, who has dementia, suffered two strokes early on in lockdown and she moved in as well. So I was her carer.

“It was an amazingly special time. And I cherish it. Particularly with my mother, because I wouldn’t have had that opportunity otherwise.”

Like the rest of us, Alex has relied heavily on streaming services to keep her entertained during the long days spent at home. She even broke her self-imposed rule of not watching her own stuff on screen.

She said: “We did all the usual things, massive clear-outs, and of course binge-watched TV. I loved Schitt’s Creek, Call My Agent, Bridgerton and Luther. I can’t bear to watch myself on the television. However, I started watching ER, because it was streaming on Channel 4. I look at myself and it’s like I am watching someone else. It’s such a good show, and it’s really held up!”

She added: “As much as everyone is saying this is the year that they want to forget, I actually feel it’s a year one can never forget. It certainly wasn’t an easy time. However, I have much stronger memories of the year, and of the patterns of the year than I have ever had pre-pandemic, when there was always so much rushing around.”

© Paul Drinkwater/Warner Bros Tv/Amblin TV

Alex in 1994 with fellow ER cast members (l-r) Anthony Edwards, Eriq La Salle, Goran Visnjic, Noah Wyle

Alex began her career at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, where she met her first husband, Skyfall actor Ralph Fiennes. They were together for 10 years before marrying in 1993. Two years later, Alex was left bereft when Fiennes left her after an alleged affair with a co-star. The London-born actress has barely stopped working since she first appeared on UK screens in 1980, as Jill Harcourt on the iconic children’s series Grange Hill. She continued to find success in UK dramas including Upstairs Downstairs, and The Fortunes And Misfortunes of Moll Flanders.

She first appeared in the fourth series of Doctor Who alongside David Tennant in 2008. Alex thought it was a one-off but has reprised the role in 15 episodes between 2008 and 2015.

It’s thanks to her Doctor Who appearances and, more recently, Sky’s hit supernatural drama, A Discovery Of Witches, that she has become known to a new generation of fans.

During her long and successful career, Alex has never been afraid to call out sexism in the industry. When she was dropped from ER aged 41, after seven seasons, she accused producers of ageism. saying “Apparently, I, according to the producers and the writers, am part of the old fogies who are no longer interesting.”

Then, when she auditioned for the role of Lynette Scavo on Desperate Housewives which eventually went to Felicity Huffman, she says she was turned away for being too curvy.

Although vocal about the challenges that face women, she admits she has seen positive changes in attitudes towards female talent in recent years.

She says: “When I was working on ER, I thought that I wasn’t allowed to get pregnant, I didn’t want to offend the producers as that is not what they had intended. I thought that I would have to ask permission. It was Anthony Edwards, who played my on-screen husband, who said ‘Don’t be ridiculous, don’t wait for them to allow you, you are not that important. If you want to have a child, go and have a child, and they will find a way to work round you.’ So I took his advice.

“I grew up with this notion that one had to be polite and always ask for permission. Whereas this generation don’t. They just get up and do it. The lovely and talented Teresa Palmer, whom I work with on A Discovery of Witches, is constantly popping out babies. Production just work around her. And it’s great, I admire her very much for that.”

© Chris Haston/Warner Bros Tv/Amblin TV

Alex in ER

Alex puts her staying power down to being in the right place at the right time – and being nice to people, though she says theatre will provide her with a safety net should the TV work dry up one day.

She said: “Being as versatile as possible helps. I’m up for anything as long it is written well.

“I had a formal training. My first love is theatre. Having that as a backbone will always support me. In an industry that will favour youth more, theatre is always there. In order to succeed on the stage you have to have had good solid training and know how to handle your voice.

“Also, being a nice person counts for a lot. If you were difficult you would get a reputation. Of course there are actors who are extremely difficult and tiresome to work with, and there will come a point at which you think is it worth it? I don’t want to be one of those people.”

Despite her time-travelling credentials Alex has no idea what the future holds but still harbours a dream of being a Bond Girl (though obviously not one who falls for the smooth-talking spy).

She laughs: “I would love to be a villain in a James Bond movie, the real villain, the main one. Because they’ve never had a female villain. And I want to be a villain who does not find James Bond sexy at all. And doesn’t succumb to his charms, I want to be his real nemesis.”

Time for a return to Tardis?

© PA / BBC

Alex alongside Peter Capaldi in Doctor Who

From ER to the Tardis, Alex’s career to date has been distinguished by roles opposite fictional doctors, whether medical or time-travelling.

The smash-hit hospital drama which made her a star in the ’90s famously launched the Hollywood career of a certain George Clooney. Then in 2008, Alex won a new generation of fans as the wife of Doctor Who.

Because the Doctor transmutates over time Alex, as River Song, gets several leading men for the price of one. Alex said: “Essentially my character is the same, so there’s continuity there, and the fun is interacting with someone who is essentially the same man, but in a different skin and with a different energy.”

Perhaps the least lucky man in the role was Matt Smith.

Alex explained: “One of the most memorable parts of filming was when I flew through the universe, got caught in the Tardis and kneed Matt Smith, who was playing the Doctor at the time, in a sore place by mistake. There were a few tears of laughter from me and cries of pain from him.”

Speculation is rife among fans that Alex will return to the Whoniverse, if the incumbent Time Lord Jodie Whittaker steps down. All Alex will say is: “My Tardis door is always open…” [x]

#Alex Kingston #Salome Haertel #River Song #Doctor Who #Kingston Edit #ER #NEW #Interview #2021 #The Sunday Post #New

[liunaticfringe]

(via Lucy Liu's Independent Woman - Interview Magazine)

There have been many great sidekick pairings in the history of modern literature. Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout, Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet…the list goes on. Yet, it seems there has never been a delightfully tumultuous relationship that comes close to echoing the one embodied by rogue detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful friend and assistant Dr. John Watson. Written in the form of short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the opium-den loving Holmes would terrorize London with his intellectual, astute, and stubborn prowess, with Dr. Watson providing medical expertise and chronicling their entertaining exploits along the way.

Doyle’s works have now long been entered into the public domain, with many film and television adaptions cropping up every few years. Still, when CBS announced in 2012 that it would be turning Doyle’s works into an hour-long crime-drama series titled Elementary, it elicited an unusually high response—this was mostly due to the news that a woman would, in fact, be portraying Watson. Her name would be Joan, not John. And she’s now a fallen from grace surgeon-turned-sober companion and private detective, forfeiting her “Dr.” title in the process. The woman chosen to take on this exciting, contemporary role of Joan Watson was none other than seasoned actress Lucy Liu.

Liu, who’s best known for her roles as a fierce and ill-mannered lawyer in Ally McBeal, an ass-kicking “angel” in the rebooted Charlie’s Angels, and an equally ass-kicking bad girl in the Kill Bill series, certainly provides the yin to the yang of Jonny Lee Miller’s gritty portrayal of Holmes. Elementary chronicles the duo’s relationship as they consult for the NYPD on various criminal cases while living in a shared brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Initially starting off in Season One as a substance-free friend to the fresh-out-of-rehab Holmes with a keen interest in solving crimes, Watson quickly transformed into a sharp and observant right-hand woman who now clearly has the aptitude to work on her own. And it appears she’ll be doing just that—the end of Season Two left viewers witnessing Watson’s decision to move out of the brownstone and start a new career as a solo private detective, seemingly fed-up with Holmes’ erratic behavior.

The warm and delightful Liu recently called up Interview from her home in New York City to discuss Elementary’s upcoming third season.

DEVON IVIE: Were you on set today?

LUCY LIU: I was running around like a maniac, yeah. It’s beautiful today, it started getting a little bit cooler again. But of course I’ve been bitten by the two mosquitos that are still alive in New York City.

IVIE: I know you were recently at New York Comic Con. How was it?

LIU: It was amazing. It’s such a spectator place. Not only do you get super fans, but you also get people who are curious and inventive and imaginative. It’s fun.

IVIE: Did you run into any cosplayers dressed as Joan Watson?

LIU: Oh, no, I don’t know about that. That’s funny! We did a panel with a huge audience so I couldn’t really see if anyone was wearing anything specific, but it’s an excuse for kids and adults to get dressed up and just be crazy. You know you’ve made it when you have super-fans out there.

IVIE: When you first read the scripts for Elementary, what was it that attracted you to the role of Joan?

LIU: I liked the fact that it was going to be about [Joan and Sherlock’s] relationship and their friendship, and bringing that into modern times. And I thought it was wonderful to change up the gender.

IVIE: Did you immerse yourself in Arthur Conan Doyle’s work as preparation at all?

LIU: I did, I did! I started reading the short stories. I never read them before so it was a really great excuse to read them. I can’t believe it was written so long ago, because it’s so current. The characters are so colorful, which is why I think there are so many incarnations of Watson and Holmes.

IVIE: Do you have a favorite story? I love “A Scandal in Bohemia.”

LIU: There were some pretty amazing stories. The one that stood out to me, which was a Watson story that I got to know him a little more through, was “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” He really is on his own in that. Of course it turns out that Holmes has been there all along, but it’s interesting looking into his interior.

IVIE: Yeah, the entirety of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is narrated just by Watson. And his diary and letters, too.

LIU: Yeah, I think it’s really cool. We started incorporating that into the show, too, the letters and journals.

IVIE: Has this detective genre always appealed to you? Did you grow up watching or reading detective whodunits?

LIU: I remember more of the old school Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys sort of thing. I also grew up with the Scooby-Doo mysteries. Remember when the villain would go, “I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you rascal-y kids!” Those were the kind of the things I immersed myself in. I have to say that my mother has always been a huge fan of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote, so this show was her dream come true. I don’t think she totally understood what was going on with Ally McBeal. [laughs]

IVIE: I’ve enjoyed witnessing Joan’s evolution throughout the course of the show, starting off as a sober companion and eventually ending up as a trusty sidekick and confidant to Sherlock. What can we expect from Joan in Season Three?

LIU: When you see them in the third season, you see some friction between the two characters. Joan is now on her own, she has her own detective agency, has a boyfriend, and has been without Sherlock for eight months. She’s got her own apartment, she’s settled, and he shows back up. I think she’s a little bit hurt by what happened and how their relationship and partnership ended, which was basically his decision and his choice, and he left it all in one little note for her. I think she felt that their relationship was much deeper than that, and that he was dismissive in the way that he handled that.

IVIE: How would you define the relationship between Joan and Sherlock?

LIU: I think that it’s a really positive and good relationship, overall. They really have a good chemistry together, work really hard together, and understand each other. They acknowledge each other and respect each other, which is a really important way to have a friendship. And they can learn from each other, you know? She’s very curious about him and I think he sees that she’s a very smart person—that’s vital for him in having respect for someone, having them be intelligent and thinking for themselves.

IVIE: Do you see any of Joan in yourself?

LIU: I do to a certain degree. She’s a lot more measured and patient, for sure. She’s a very curious person, which I think I am, and I think she isn’t afraid of change. She was a doctor, and then became a sober companion, and then jumped off and became a detective. I think sometimes it’s good to make big leaps.

IVIE: You’ve probably been asked this question many times, but do you think a romance between Joan and Sherlock could ever fittingly happen?

LIU: It’s a question that’s often asked and I think it’s really up to the executives. Rob Doherty, the creator [of Elementary] really feels incredibly strongly about keeping their relationship platonic. He has already taken great strides to keep the relationship as clean as possible according to the literature, but he has also changed so much of it by changing the gender of Watson. To have them have a romantic involvement would turn the whole thing upside-down in a way that might really jump the line. [Doherty] felt really strongly about it and I think that’s the one thing he really wants to stay true to.

IVIE: I totally agree. Even on the BBC’s Sherlock, there are campaigns to get Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and Martin Freeman’s Watson to become romantically involved. It’s like, enough already, no!

LIU: No way, that’s so weird! People do have that level of friendship oftentimes, but it doesn’t mean it’s physical. I think that everyone just assumes because there’s chemistry the next thing should be happening. I would vote “no” for a romance. I think for sure the creator would vote no on that, too.

IVIE: I’ve talked to both women and men who watch Elementary, and they all consistently mention how well dressed and fashionable Joan is. Do you collaborate with the wardrobe department on styling decisions at all?

LIU: That’s awesome. Yes, I collaborate with Rebecca [Hofherr], who’s the costume designer, who’s wonderful. She’s very easy to work with. One thing we try to maintain about Joan and her style is that she’s a bit wrinkled, you know what I mean? Sometimes it looks like things are really put together, but we always want to make sure things aren’t too tight and are comfortable, kind of like she throws things together. We don’t want it to seem so business-y, so we go away from suits. Chic, but not corporate. Also just to make her seem like her outfits aren’t so put-together all the time. But I’m glad that people really seem to like it, it’s a relief! We don’t splurge a lot on the show, we try to do cheaper things, like things Joan would wear a lot. She wears the same white jacket and shoes frequently.

IVIE: Will we be seeing more of the infamous Clyde the Turtle in the upcoming season?

LIU: Clyde will indeed be in it again. We have to share custody of Clyde.

IVIE: Is it true that Clyde is actually two tortoises? Pulling a Mary Kate and Ashley in Full House on us?

LIU: Yes. It’s just like having twins on a show. Just in case one is crying and screaming and passed out or something.

IVIE: You made your directorial debut for an episode of Elementary last season [“Paint It Black”]. Do you have plans to direct an episode again soon?

LIU: That was so exciting. I’ll be directing another episode again very shortly in December, so you’ll be seeing it in a month and a half.

IVIE: Where did your interest in directing come from?

LIU: I guess I was curious about it. Having been in this business for a while, you kind of see and get a glimpse of everything doing film and television. I think it seemed like a natural progression to go into directing, and I hope to explore more of it, because it’s very exciting and a really good way to collide all the things that you’ve known and experienced in the business and put them all into one.

IVIE: Is there an ideal guest star that you’d like to see on the show in the upcoming season?

LIU: I would love to see Mycroft come back. I really think there was a wonderful tension for Mycroft and Sherlock as well as the triangle that occurred when Joan became involved with him. There’s something very deep about that relationship, and I also think that Rhys Ifans is a fantastic actor. He commands the screen, but off-screen he’s incredibly lovely. A real treat to have on the show.

IVIE: I remember the first few episodes that I saw Rhys in, I was like, where have I seen this guy before? So I looked at his Wikipedia page and it became obvious: he was the crazy guy from Notting Hill!

LIU: Yes, the roommate! So good! Everything he does, he just kills it, no matter the role.

IVIE: And it’s always good to have some MI6 action on the show, which Mycroft provided. Some international flair.

LIU: [laughs] International flair, exactly, some added spice. Just throw some spy stuff in there to throw people off their game. You just don’t expect it, you know? It came out of nowhere.

IVIE: That whole three-episode arc at the end of the second season…

LIU: That was awesome. I was lucky enough to direct one of those episodes, which is more narrative in tone. It’s more fun in some ways, too.

IVIE: You’ve done a range of acting work for both television and film. Do you now find yourself preferring one to the other?

LIU: I love both of them equally. The lack of predictability with television is something that’s constantly changing what your perception of who you think your character is. Suddenly I have a father that’s schizophrenic, or I discovered something else, or I have a relationship with Mycroft. The things that pop up and change the game for you and always keep you on your toes. The wonderful thing about film is that you have something that has a beginning, middle, and end, and you have a concrete amount of time to shoot it. And the process of that can be longer, like editing and advertising and testing the movie, so it’s very different. Television you just continue going, no matter what’s happening outside of your world. You get lost in that vortex a little bit.

IVIE: It’s interesting that America is now embracing the “mini-series” format that has already been so heavily utilized overseas, where there are a set amount of short episodes, and that’s it. In a way, it’s kind of like a cinematic experience.

LIU: I like that, too. It allows you to have a freedom of creativity and at the same time you don’t feel like you have to be contracted to something for that long; you’re really working on a piece of art. And then you’re done and you move on, or it comes back, like Downton Abbey. You don’t know. Those things become little masterpieces. The thing about television is that you see a range of actors now that you may not have seen five years ago even, 10 years ago absolutely not, and I think now there’s no wrong about doing television. There’s no definitive category for what kind of department you fall into anymore.

IVIE: What’s a fun, secret fact about your costar Jonny Lee Miller?

LIU: A fun fact about Jonny Lee Miller is that he oftentimes does handstands on a wall before he does a take, sometimes with pushups, to get blood to his brain and get him geared up for a long monologue that he may have. He stays there, hangs a little bit, and then turns around and does the scene. Most of the time in the brownstone more than anywhere else. He’s in full costume and everything. That’s trivia!

IVIE: I wish I could do wall-handstands by myself.

LIU: Oh my god, I need someone to push my legs up and then hold me there. I’m a cheat!

ELEMENTARY PREMIERES THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30 ON CBS.

#Lucy Liu #Interview #2014 #comic con #jlm #mycroft #wardrobe #directing #third season #joanlock

[invisibleicewands]

Staged's Anna Lundberg and Georgia Tennant: 'Scenes with all four of us usually involved alcohol'

Not many primetime TV hits are filmed by the show’s stars inside their own homes. However, 2020 wasn’t your average year. During the pandemic, productions were shut down and workarounds had to be found – otherwise the terrestrial schedules would have begun to look worryingly empty. Staged was the surprise comedy hit of the summer.

This playfully meta short-form sitcom, airing in snack-sized 15-minute episodes, found A-list actors Michael Sheen and David Tennant playing an exaggerated version of themselves, bickering and bantering as they tried to perfect a performance of Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author over Zoom.

Having bonded while co-starring in Good Omens, Amazon’s TV adaptation of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s novel, Sheen, 51, and Tennant, 49, became best buddies in real life. In Staged, though, they’re comedically reframed as frenemies – warm, matey and collaborative, but with a cut-throat competitiveness lurking just below the surface. As they grew ever more hirsute and slobbish in lockdown, their virtual relationship became increasingly fraught.

It was soapily addictive and hilariously thespy, while giving a voyeuristic glimpse of their interior decor and domestic lives – with all the action viewed through their webcams.

Yet it was the supporting cast who lifted Staged to greatness,Their director Simon Evans, forced to dance around the pair’s fragile egos and piggy-in-the-middle of their feuds. Steely producer Jo, played by Nina Sosanya, forever breaking off from calls to bellow at her poor, put-upon PA. And especially the leading men’s long-suffering partners, both actors in real life, Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.

Georgia Tennant comes from showbiz stock, as the child of Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson. At 36 she is an experienced actor and producer, who made her TV debut in Peak Practice aged 15. She met David on Doctor Who 2008, when she played the Timelord’s cloned daughter Jenny. Meanwhile, the Swedish Lundberg, 26, is at the start of her career. She left drama school in New York two years ago and Staged is her first big on-screen role.

Married for nine years, the Tennants have five children and live in west London. The Lundberg-Sheens have been together two years, have a baby daughter, Lyra, and live outside Port Talbot in south Wales. On screen and in real life, the women have become firm friends and frequent scene-stealers.

Staged proved so successful that it’s now back for a second series. We set up a video call with Tennant and Lundberg to discuss lockdown life, wine consumption, home schooling (those two may be related) and the blurry line between fact and fiction…

Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.

GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.

AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.

GT: Although some people think it is.

Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.

AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.

Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.

Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.

AL: Unlike certain people.

How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.

AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.

Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.

GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.

Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.

GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.

How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.

GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”

And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.

You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.

AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.

GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.

There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.

GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.

How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.

GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.

Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.

GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.

AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.

GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.

What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.

AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.

GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.

There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.

GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”

AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.

GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”

How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.

GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.

Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.

#Michael Sheen #David Tennant #Staged #Staged 2 #Georgia Tennant #The tidy corner #we noticed it #Staged2 #SwedishFishAL

[gatherthesuspectspod]

A hundred ways to die in Wales

Hello Tumblr!

My first post ever here! I’m still learning the ropes, so please be kind!

This might be awfully presumptuous of me, but you may recognise the name from a few years back. Before all of this happened, I worked for BBC Radio 4 as their Welsh correspondent - a bit niche, I grant you, but I did alright on social media. I even had a blue tick on Twitter before it went down for good. 

At its peak, whatever media you worked in, scoops were delivered on social media. No one went to the radio or the newspapers for breaking news. Hell, even the TV news was struggling.  So, even radio journalists like me had to be twitter savvy, you know? 

It does make me wonder how Tumblr survived. As a journalist (well, former journalist) I should probably have done some research and found out…  

 My housemate, Jack, suggested I start to keep this blog so that he, in his exact words, ‘wouldn’t have to listen to me moan about not being a journalist anymore.’ So, here I am, coming to scream into the void that is the last social media platform standing (apart from LinkedIn… Shoulda known that even during the apocalypse, start-up CEO Chad Moneybags would still need to post motivational bullshit about 5 am starts and tagging every post with ‘#crushingit’)

Anyway, I’ve strayed slightly from the point… So, this blog isn't going to be full of hard-hitting investigative journalism or even those colourful local news stories you used to see about water skiing hamsters. It’s just going to be me, posting my thoughts about how much more screwed the world is than the previous week. 

Cheerful stuff, right? Well, as REM sang, ‘it’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine’. And you know what, while fine might be stretching a bit, it could be worse...

Before it happened, when people thought about the end of the world, we always pictured some huge catastrophe. ‘The Hollywood Apocalypse,’ Jack calls it. You know the kind - people screaming in the streets as some unspeakable horror unfolds about them. 

In movies, the end of the world was always sudden, over in a flash,  with pockets of humanity left to pick up the pieces of a shattered world. Except, that’s not how it happened, not that we should be surprised, life rarely imitates the movies. 

In fact, it happened so slowly and contained so many individual strands that by the time it arrived, it took us even more by surprise - even the right-wing newspapers didn’t have time to come up with some ‘pithy’ name for it. I’ve always liked the term ‘tipping point,’ The point at which every one of those strands, however linked or disparate, tipped the scales so far against humanity, there was no turning back. 

I mean, we shouldn’t have been surprised. We had been warned, after all. For years (no, decades, even) scientists talked about how we were destroying the earth. From the changing climate to the destruction of entire ecosystems, all in the name of capitalism. 

People warned us it would lead to societal collapse. It wasn’t hard to see it coming, if you were paying attention. But, even if you were paying attention, the sheer magnitude of it was enough to cause even the strongest advocates some blind spots caused by existential terror. Like a Lovecraftian monster rising from the depths of the ocean, who could wrap their head around the true horror.  

Instead, we played out our little culture wars as the planet died… we elected people to distract and not solve… we lied and allowed ourselves to be lied to. Until, in the end, there were so many that no longer cared about the truth that finding a solution was never a possibility.   

The rise of ignorance led to the rise of populism, which led to the rise of fascism, and eventually isolationism. Each country, widowed and trapped in its own poky bachelor apartment of despair. With nothing but memories of past glories to keep it going while the world around slowly burns.

The thing about this kind of creeping apocalypse, this tipping point, is that there is a certain mundanity in it all. There are millions dead, but there was no Hollywood pre-credit sequence of terrified crowds running through Manhattan. 

This apocalypse had an absence of symbols - actually, no. That’s not quite right. I mean, we don’t have the statue of liberty drowning in sand while hyper-intelligent apes roam the planet, sure. But last week, the sea caught on fire… the fucking sea! You’d think after completely decimating the planet for a hundred years, some companies may have learned a lesson or two - like not setting dire to the fucking sea again!

And just today, the newspapers are full of pictures of yet another ghost town in West Wales slowly sinking into the sea. We have our symbols, alright. They are just smaller, more mundane than the Hollywood apocalypse we always felt we deserved - as a species, we are so arrogant that we feel even our extinction deserves something special, something showy. But, like I said, if you are paying attention, there are symbols to be found everywhere. 

Is our slow, boring apocalypse better than the ostentatious apocalypses of Tinseltown, complete with their big budget explosions and alien invasions? I’m honestly not sure. 

One part of me used to think that at least then it would be over quickly. This was a particularly comforting thought during the war, as English shells rained down on Cardiff. But, even the war fizzled slowly, bubbling away around the fringes, with neither country having the resources, will or money to mount any serious threat to the other. It turned out that not even the newly installed Albion dictatorship in England could get away with a costly hot war, while millions of its citizens starved to death. 

It sounds weird to say, but slowly you adjust to it. You know? Slowly, bit-by-bit, the fucking sea being on fire doesn’t seem such a big deal as it did a year ago. Slowly, bit-by-bit, you stop watching the news. You realise the images of starving children 50 miles away over the border have become the norm. 

You become desensitised to the food queues, the extreme swings in weather, the rapidly shrinking coastline. When was the last time you even saw a bee? It’s all just normal. But in spite of all of that, we still sit here, night after night, staring at our tiny plastic phones, reading the latest #crushingit update from that douchebag Chad, half hoping that there is still time for the aliens to show up and finish the job…

I realise that was quite a long run-on sentence, but it’s been a while. I’m out of practice. Like I said, it’s been three years since I last wrote, well, anything! I don’t know if anyone will even read this… I mean how many people can even access Tumblr anymore? But, Jack was right, it did help to get some stuff out.

Until next time (possibly), stay bored out there!

Kara

#crushingit #bored #apocalypse #audio drama #audio fiction #Gather The Suspects

[bibliocratic]

For your writing prompts, I’ve always found that the phrase “for you” has a certain gravity, so maybe something with that? :3

This was such a good prompt, which is my only excuse for why this is three days late and barely counts as a drabble at all.

jonmartin, post-S5 domesticity and parenthood

“He was showing me another room he's made it to on his game,” Jon offers as an explanation as he ambles back into the living room. “Some sort of creepy dungeon, lots of what I can only presume are zombies. He can turn into a dragon now with this magic cloak thing, it's all very sophisticated.”

Martin, whose knowledge and ability with video games both started and ended with having a go on someone's Game Boy Colour one rainy school break, makes a supportive, 'showing-interest' noise as he feels around for the remote before finding it wedged under his thigh, muting the sound of a gritty BBC drama he is clearly not enamoured by. He shuffles over to make room on the sofa. Disturbing the cat, who jumps off his knees, casting a betrayed gaze upon the offender before she haughtily goes to commandeer the high-backed chair usually taken up by Jon.

“Dragons are one of the few things that haven't turned out to actually exist, and tried to murder us.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” Jon smiles as he drops down next to him.  Martin's got a beer out of the fridge now Lewis has gone to bed, and Jon leans forward to snaffle it from the coffee table, takes an  slow sip, winces at the flavour and puts it back down on its coaster. “Swimming's at ten Saturday, isn't it? Still haven't fixed his goggles.”

“Half past, they had to move the rota round for some other thing,” Martin says distantly.  In the background, someone on the TV has their mouth bared in shouting, and some grim-dark poorly shaved detective is holding a gun.

Martin's shoulders are set tight. He's twisting his wedding ring round and round and round, fidgety and unsettled all evening, and now he's leant forward with his elbows on his knees, half-way through a beer on a Thursday night even though he can get funny about drinking in the house on a weekday.

“You want to talk about it?” Jon asks quietly.

Martin frowns, but doesn't ask how he knows. His palm opens from clenched to fold their fingers together, his touch chilly from the condensation on the bottle.

Jon waits for him.

Martin clears his throat. He sources out the remote again and flicks the TV to standby, the dour detective vanishing morosely.

“I'd like to talk to you about something,” Martin replies eventually. “And I know that we're not going to agree on it, but I want you to at least – hear me out, alright?”

“Alright,” Jon says carefully. A frown has rooted on his own face, but he pushes the curious simmer to a lower heat and tries to be patient. “Alright. What – what do you want to talk about?”

“What happened last week.”

“Martin...”

“Let me finish,” Martin says, his tone slightly sharper. He doesn't shout, never in the house. The only time Lewis sees his dad raise his voice in anger, he's belligerently got his hands in the guts of the boiler, pride the only thing stopping him call a plumber, or else he's stubbed his toe against the side table he always manages to catch.

Jon lets out a heavy breath.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine – we – we can talk about it. You know what I think.”

“Yeah, well, I don't.”

“It was an outlier. It doesn't mean there's a conspiracy.”

“I can't see why you're downplaying this. It was a threat, and you got hurt.”

“A few bruises from the fall. Look, Daisy and Basira handled it. They were – they were a lone Hunter. It wasn't anything organised, so I don't see the need to twist myself in knots when it won't happen again.”

Martin scoffs dismissive. “Last I counted, we've had three 'it won't happens again' in the last ten years. Face it, we've been lucky. This one got too close.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Jon says, deliberately calmly. Martin'll get to his point eventually, but he'd rather cut through whatever he's been stewing in for the past several hours.

Martin throws up his hands.

“I am suggesting that we consider the very real possibility that something like this might happen again. Something worse than some mangy Hunter or clueless cultist. These things out there.... there's more than one of them who'd see a former Archivist as a threat, Christ, I just want you to take this seriously...”

“I do take – ” Jon's voice spikes before he exhales hard and lowers his tone again. “Of course I take this seriously. Of course I worry. But if someone came here, if anyone came here, I'd – I'd Know....”

“Knowing didn't stop you from getting hurt,” Martin insists.  “It – it doesn't make you invincible.”

“I've never thought that...”

“We need to prepared, is all I'm saying. Your... the knowledge you get from the Eye, it's so much, it's so much less than before. So what if it's not enough, what if it tells you something too late or not at all?”

“Martin, I'm not going to get myself worked up over maybes.”

“Maybe you should!” Martin snaps.

They are both bullishly quiet for a moment before Martin holds his hands up again.

“Alright,” he presses on, lower pitched than before. “Alright, then lets deal with facts then. Fact number one: there are – there are forces out there that want to see you come to harm.”

“Martin.”

“Am I correct?” Martin repeats. His gaze won't leave Jon's. His temper's made his neck and throat go blotchy, but he's pressing his hands down too hard on his knees to stop their tremors.

Jon meets his eyes.

“Correct,” he says. Because it's what Martin wants to hear, because it's what Jon tries not to think about when the night-time drags loud and sleepless, and every noise he cannot account for takes on the guise of malevolence.

“Fact two,” Martin continues. “There is the possibility – no, no, listen to me, Jon – there is the chance, however small, that those forces, those people, could come here.”

“So what, we should install more locks? Buy more fire extinguishers?”

“This isn't funny,” Martin says waspish.

“I'm not laughing,” Jon replies dogged.

Martin lets out another aggrieved noise. He takes a moment, steeples his hands against the lower half of his face.

“That Hunter,” Martin says slowly. “Had our address on them. Knew where we lived. If Daisy and Basira hadn't sorted them out, they would have come here, and tried again. And if it can happen once, then it could happen again. A-and some of those people, the ones that serve their gods a-and want to make a name for themselves by going after an Archivist – ”

Here Martin's voice catches thready, the centre of his terrors finally excavated.

“I can't – I can't protect you from that, Jon,” he confesses. “I can't protect Lewis from that. And if someone comes here, what if you can't either? You're not – you're not exactly in the game of e-exploding people any more.”

“Been trying to give it up,” Jon replies. Martin's laugh is a little wet.

“Sets a bad example anyway.”

Jon rubs the skin of Martin's hand. He doesn't know what he can say to make this better.

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You're not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin's knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I'll at least listen.”

Martin nods, and though his lips are pinched, he squeezes Jon's hand once gratefully. He separates them, and gets up, going over to his shoulder bag slouched by the door. He'd been vague, earlier this week, when he'd gone out on an 'errand'.  Jon had assumed it was something to do with their anniversary in the next few weeks.

Martin takes out a thick clump of folders from the stomach of the bag. Jon's heart drops when he sees the green-ink stamp of an imperious owl on the front of the beige folders but he says nothing.

“I have been thinking,” Martin says, planting himself back down. “About back-up plans. Last resorts, you know.  If someone does come here, if they're more than either of us can handle, if we can't keep our son safe.”

He passes Jon the folders. They're stuffed wide with statements, corroborating evidence, photographs, police reports, newspaper snippets attached with paper clips. Jon reads the introductions of a few statements as he flicks through, feeling not a little unmoored by the way this conversation has progressed – Statement of Dai Williams, regarding a library in Blaenau Gwent; Statement of  Michalis Charalambous, regarding an unusual wedding present – and something aches in him like a barely-forgotten hunger, twinges like an old wound.

Near the top of the pile,  there's a photograph, blown up to A4 size, of a book. The backdrop of an unremarkable desk, the cover itself blue backed, scuffed and foxed with age, the silver title decorated with florid curlicues: The Shipping Forecast and Other Nautical Curiosities. There's no author.

“What's this?”

“It's a Leitner,” Martin says. Not briskly, but straight-off the bat.

Jon pushes down several reactions with difficulty. Martin knows how he feels about Leitner. Martin wouldn't bring this to him, knowing what histories have left their scars on him, and beg for Jon to listen to him if it wasn't important.

“Go on,” Jon says, and nothing else.

“This book is currently in Archive Storage, where it's been for the past twenty or so years,”  Martin continues. He's to-the-point now, direct, and Jon appreciates it.  “Those are copies of all the statements I could find related to it, or people who have been in contact with it, and it makes up a fairly consistent picture of ownership and exchange for at least the past hundred and fifty years, records get a bit patchy before that.”

“Which Power?”

“The Lonely.”

That makes Jon look up. Martin's jaw is set for an argument but his voice betrays him.

“Tell me,” he says.

“The statements are all mostly the same. The book gets found or left as inheritance or in library donations, and some poor sod picks it up. Specifically, what happens is it renders people invisible when they read it.”

Jon blinks.

“... you're taking the piss.”

“No. Practical research did some basic experiments to test it before it was boxed up properly, they've – there's notes there, if you want to read in detail, but basically, you read a few lines of it, and you and whatever you're holding can't be seen. It wears off after a while, depending on how much you've read. The researchers went up to about a page.”

“There's a catch, obviously.”

“It's addictive to some people. Some of the people in the statements can use it once, get the heebie-jeebies then never touch it again, some of them can't shake the urge. The – er invisibility is more tempting to those vulnerable to the Lonely, or so the hypothesis goes. They read a little more, a little more and then, they're just gone.”

“So it's dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“Then why? Why show me this?”

“If someone comes here,” Martin says, “If it's – if it's the Vast o-or the Desolation or even th-the Slaughter, we can't fight them. We can't, OK, we-we have nothing that we could fight them with. So we can't fight them, and we can't outrun them, and I don't think hiding under the bed and hoping they leave is going to do much either. The best we can hope for is that we have a few minutes grace courtesy of your magical eyeballs. And that would at the very least give us time, to get Lewis somewhere safe, get out of harm's way, to go to Daisy's or something.”

“And your great plan is that we use a Leitner to what, turn invisible and sneak away unseen?”

“I'm asking you at least consider it.”

“I have considered it and it's – it's a Leitner, Martin! You know how I –  They're not toys, they're dangerous!”

“I know that! Of course I know that. But so is being unprotected! We wouldn't be using it for – it would be a last resort, nothing more. You can read the statements and the reports. I've read them all, over and over again, I-I've checked and doubled checked. As far as I can tell, the turning invisible is a temporary state.”

“For the right people. What about you?”

Martin does not meet his eyes.

“I wouldn't be using it.”

“...What.”

“I wouldn't – I wouldn't be able to,” he says. Quieter, self-conscious. “Much as I like to think that I'm – no. No, it'd be, it'd be too much of a temptation.”

Jon's tone has slipped flat and hard.

“So you're suggesting an escape plan that, what, doesn't include you?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jon – ”

“No!” Jon wants to get up, to stand, to shake Martin by his ridiculous shoulders, because how dare he, how dare he. “No, how can you even ask me that?”

“Because I need to,” Martin urges. “Because it's not just us. Because if the worst happens, I need to know we have some way of protecting Lewis, that you could use that book to make sure he's safe.”

“And leave you.”

“I'm not the one they want.”

“I don't remember them being all that picky about hurting whoever was in their way,” Jon bites back, and he knows he's louder now, that his eyes are getting wet and his face hot. “You can't know that.”

“No,” Martin replies honestly. “No, I-I can't.”

Jon rubs at his eyes. The anger's boiled over and out of him at a dizzyingly come-down from furious. He listens, wondering if they've woken Lewis, but he doesn't hear the squeak of bed-springs. There's a wind picking up outside, and the cat twitches in sleep.

He doesn't feel angry any more. Just sick and scared.

“That's not fair,” he swallows, looking at the damp-blurred image of his husband's face. “That – that's not fair, to ask this.”

Martin's moved closer. Places his hand back over Jon's.

“I know,” he murmurs, and he sounds sorry, but that doesn't help either of them.  “I know it's not. And if there was – was any other option, I wouldn't even think of suggesting it. But I'd, I'd like you to think about it. Please. For me.”

Jon leafs through the folders in his hands without taking any of them in. Martin strokes his back soothingly, and crowds in too close, not close enough.

“I'll read them,” Jon says eventually. Wetly and unhappily. “ The statements, reports, I-I will. For you. And if – and only if they seem legitimate – I'll come with you and have a look at the book myself. And that's all I can promise you.”

“Thank you,” Martin whispers, and presses his lips to the thinning crown of Jon's hair, Jon leaning back slightly against his chest. He clears his throat. “Basira's all for performing some more clinical tests on the book, if you wanted some more concrete validation.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jon says, feeling too tired to enquire further.

They linger on the sofa for a while after Martin shoves the folders back into his shoulder bag.

“I better put the dishes away,” Martin says.

“Leave them. I'll do them in the morning.”

Their bedtime routine is closer and quieter. Usually Martin goes up first, and Jon watches the newspaper review or the tail end of a documentary, but tonight he trails after him as Martin checks all the plugs and double-checks all the locks.

Martin pokes his head into Lewis' room, even though they said their goodnights hours ago. Jon can't begrudge him the anxiety.

“Kicked all the blankets off as usual,” he reports back as they knock elbows in the bathroom, Jon's mouth full of toothpaste, passing Martin a water glass to take his statins. Martin dutifully swallows the pill before reaching for his own toothbrush. “He sleeps like you, arms flung out all over the place.”

Jon doesn't deny it.

Jon gets into bed first, and fusses with chargers and alarms while Martin gets into a t-shirt and boxers. He gets the light and Jon follows the sound he makes as he approaches the bed in plunging darkness, the disturbance of the covers. Jon immediately curls against his shape, tucking himself tight and buried against his chest.

Martin doesn't comment on how clingy Jon is, how he knots their legs together, clutches him over-tight. On how hot the bed is going to get, on how his arm will go numb quickly from the angle. His own arms come around just as fiercely. He tells Jon goodnight, that he loves him into his hair, and Jon whispers it back into the dark and the heat, and knows it's true to the bones of him.

Neither of them sleep all that much that night.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fic #prompt fill

[ohveda]

The Terror - season 1 review

I have paused in my frantic gif reblogging to finally write out my thoughts on the Terror and why I enjoyed it so much.

The first season of The Terror tells the story of the tragic Franklin expedition. This was a British arctic expedition in the late 1840s, led by Sir John Franklin, which had the aim of finding the North West Passage. The expedition was comprised of two ships, Erebus and Terror, hence the name of the show. It was tragic because everyone died (this is not a spoiler). The circumstances as to how everyone died are still mysterious to this day and there is lots of speculation (although a cursory glance at wikipedia suggests that people are building up some theories).

So, this is a TV show where you know from the outset that it is going to end tragically: everyone you get to know is going to die, and the only question is exactly how. And this is why, despite how much I enjoyed it, I wouldn't recommend the show to everyone. It is not so much scary as it is harrowing: there is gore, there is a monster, and there are disturbing scenes. I finished watching it a day and a half ago and I do not yet feel like I have recovered mentally from what I have seen (give me a few more days and I will be fine). You guys out there will know your tv-watching habits; if you don't like stories that are scary, depressing or dark, this show is not for you. However, if you don't mind watching those themes then I absolutely recommend this show whole-heartedly. It is incredibly incredibly good.

Here is the trailer: https://youtu.be/3WLz6wxEabc

The rest of my review might contain mild spoilers, so I'm going to put it under a cut.

There are several things I love about the show. From the first glance it looks fantastic; you can tell that there was money behind the production. The sets and the setting are lush with atmosphere and historic detail; it really feels like care has been taken (not that I know enough about naval history to assess accuracy, but the little bits I do know felt very right). And those coats! If you know me you will know that I go crazy for well-fitted double-breasted coats with bright buttons. I WAS IN MY ELEMENT HERE.

The acting! You can't fault it. Everyone does a superb job and I think one of the reasons the story works so well is just how compelling everyone is.

But my absolute absolute favourite thing about the show is the writing. I am in ecstasies over how well it was written. It's the best period drama I have seen since 2014. The show is based on a book of the same name, so doubtless many good things from the show come from the book, but I have heard some not-entirely-great things about the book too, so I get the feeling that while the good characters and interesting plot may come from the book, the technical skill that makes the show truly rewarding and compelling comes from the show's writers.

The main thing that they get so right is exposition. It's tricky to do well in any piece of fiction, but it is particularly hard in historical fiction when there is always so much to explain. It seems that often the urge with historical fiction is to explain too much and too frequently, to the point where every line loses its poignancy because it's immediately followed by an explanation of why that line is poignant (Poldark, I am looking at you). The Terror does not fall into that trap at all. Things are not explained; the audience's hand is not held; and the viewer is treated like an intelligent person who can come to their own conclusions. This does, admittedly, lead to some parts where I didn't actually know exactly what happened until I read up about them after I finished the show, but this haziness in certain areas does not detract from the watching experience in any way. The writing is good enough that the viewer always knows the key points of what is happening and what that means for the plot (there is never a feeling of being lost and confused), and the fact that you can get an extra level of detail and interest the more you look into it is an additional joy.

When it comes to how good the exposition is, let us take scurvy as an example. Scurvy is mentioned a lot in the first episode, but not anywhere in that episode is it described. In a lesser show, as soon as scurvy is mentioned the first time, someone would say "oh, you mean the disease where your gums bleed and your old wounds open up?" In The Terror this information is not given in the first episode because it's not needed in the first episode. The information is not actually given until after the first symptoms start to show, and even then it's given in an offhand and believable comment that doesn't feel intrusive at all. This means that for viewers who already knew the symptoms of scurvy, it's not jarring in any way, while viewers who don't know the symptoms of scurvy get a wonderful reveal of what has been happening and are now prepared for what is yet to come.

Augh! It's just done so well! I absolutely can't stand it when TV shows talk down to me, whereas I love it when they treat me as a capable adult who is able to put the clues together by myself.

And then we come to the plot. Going from the trailer, and seeing how high the production values were, I had assumed that the plot would have a level of, what to call it, sensationalism? Hollywood-ness? I was expecting it to be more spectacle and less substance. I was ready for jump-scares and plot-twists and set-pieces, and they didn't come, not really, not in the way I was expecting. There was only one part in the final episode where things veered towards melodrama that was too ridiculous to believe. The rest of the plot is not ridiculous nor is it fluffy nor empty; it feels solid: the pacing works and each plot point follows on from one to another. This is not a show where an unsubstantiated plot twist is thrown into the mix for surprise value (looking at you, BBC 2020 Dracula); this is a show where the hard graft of writing is done, to make sure that the plot is built from the ground up so that the audience can follow it and believe in its progression, regardless of how unbelievable the actual events may seem to be.

One of the main reasons for why this plot progression works so well is that it is almost entirely character-driven. Oh yes, there are events from outside that affect the characters and what happens to them, but the bulk of the plot is driven by the characters and their choices. What is it about character-driven fiction that makes it so satisfying? Certainly stories can and do work without being character-driven, but there's something so good about having a character you can get your teeth into: a character who is a person, with likes and dislikes, and good parts and foibles; a character you get to know and care about. The characters in this story are not mere window-dressing; they drive the plot, and you both love them and hate them for it.

Now, take that well-written, rounded, satisfying character, and multiply them by thirty. This is an ensemble cast and boy does it feel like it! I'm frankly astounded by how many fully-thought-out characters there were. It's not like there are five main characters and the rest are all cannon-fodder. Each character we meet has their own story to tell. There are characters in the first episode who feel like extras, but who come to have important and complex parts as the story moves on. Even as we come to the final episodes there are characters whose significance only then begins to show.

This multitude of characters is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it makes for a story that is rich, rewarding and realistic. But a curse because it is impossible to learn all those names and tell all those people apart. They all look the same! Is that character A in the navy blue coat with the big mutton chops? Or is that character B? I've watched the entire series and for a lot of the characters I still don't know! But this confusion doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the show. Just like the exposition, learning more about certain characters (which is where I think a rewatch would help) will add another layer of interest, but without that it is still easy to follow the main parts of the plot. There are certain main characters who you do come to recognise and to know, and this is enough; the other characters, each with their own richness, even if you don't know it yet, are an extra treat for those viewers who want to watch again and dig into the story a little more.

I won't say that the story is without its faults. I would like to ask the show-makers why apparently all British sailors in Victorian times were white??? And why did the cgi monster have to look like that??? But there aren't enough faults to truly detract from how enjoyable the show is.

Look at me here, trying to be all serious, making points with words, instead of just howling like I want to. What I haven't mentioned yet is how this show consumed me. I ate it up! I watched an episode per day (the short length of the show, being only ten episodes, is another reason why the plot is so tight and satisfying) and I couldn't stop thinking about it! My days were filled with thoughts of boats and mutton chops and my dreams were filled with them too. Even now that I have finished the show, and I have felt just how harrowing it is to watch a show where they all die, horribly, I long for it. I have withdrawal symptoms from it. I'm not yet mentally strong enough to watch it again, but my God I yearn for the time when I will be. It's that good! Whenever, over the past week, someone has asked me how I am, my answer has been "I'm watching The Terror!" as if I felt that from that response alone they could glean exactly how excited and happy I was to be watching it; as if it was my everything at that moment! My God!

And I'm not even mentioning just how much I came to enjoy the character of Goodsir. I was told "there's a character in this who's a bit like Segundus from 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell'; you'll like him." I did not know how accurate that was going to be. I want to slam my fist on the table! Do you know what it is like, in a show like this, to develop a favourite character and to know, to know, from the outset that every single character is going to die? It is heart-wrenching and it hurts, and I am still not over it (not by a long shot) but at the same time the pathos is so satisfying you want to eat it all up. This is 2021. We're not here for good times. Make it hurt. Make it cathartic. Take my mind off of the world of today with a pain that I can control with my TV.

So. Wow. tl;dr The Terror is an excellent show that I highly recommend for people who like this kind of stuff. (And I'm still sparkly-eyed over Goodsir and can't do anything about it.) The End.

#The Terror #cross-posted to my blog

[atlafan]

Nonfamous Harry dating famous yn would be great

a/n: a little bit of fluff, thanks for the idea! 

Starstruck 

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was, Y/F/N Y/L/N, leaning on the bar, laughing with her friends like she was an ordinary person. Okay, underneath it all, she probably was a normal person, but still, this was a big fucking deal. 

She could sing, and had been in the public eye for quite some time. Harry and his friends were on a little trip to NYC, just to see a show or two. He never thought when they walked into the random bar they chose after seeing The Book of Mormon would lead him to the girl of his dreams. He had been a fan for years. He would tweet about her, respectfully, and even make tik toks saying how amazing he thought she was. 

He had imagined it in his head so many times, but he never thought he’d be in the same room as her, well, he had been, but it was a few of her concerts. 

“Harry, you should go over to her.” One his friends says.

“She’s with her friends, I don’t wanna look like a creep.”

“So just go sit down near where she’s leaning and play it cool. Shoot your shot.” 

Harry takes a deep breath and starts walking over. He didn’t wanna seem like a crazed fan. He didn’t want to cause a frenzy and ruin her evening. He sits down on the stool near where she’s standing and she looks at him. He looks up at her and smiles. She nods at him and looks away. He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at his friends. They gesture for him to try to get her attention again. 

“Whatya have?” The bartender says. 

“Just a shot of tequila, and uh, I’d like to buy her next drink, whatever it is.” This catches Y/N’s attention and he looks at her. “Hope that’s alright.” 

“You know who I am, don’t you...”

“I do.” He sees the visible annoying and defeat on her face.

“Damn, I thought this place would be lowkey.” 

“Woah, woah, listen, I’m a fan, and I just wanted to buy you a drink, that’s all.” 

“Really?” She scoffs. “You mean you haven’t already given up my location? Haven’t tweeted or texted a ton of people?”

“Well...my friends are over there.” Harry points without looking. “And...I wouldn’t do somethin’ like that. I know you like your privacy. I didn’t even want to disturb you, they know I’m a big fan, and-”

“So you started out as a fan, and now you’re a big fan.” She smirks and sits down on the stool next to him. “I’ll have another vodka tonic...on you, right?”

“Absolutely.”

The bartender nods and makes her drink. Harry waits to take his shot. They clink their glasses and he throws his head back. 

“I’ll get the next one, it’s the least I could do since I can’t offer you a picture tonight.” 

“Oh! That’s really okay, I-” He starts to get up, but she grabs his wrist. 

“Relax, you’ve already caught my attention. I don’t get one on one times with fans much anymore, I sort of miss it.”

“Yeah, you don’t really do the meet and greet thing as much...” 

“I felt bad making people wait all the time for two seconds, plus, it’s really tiring.” She sips on her drink. “So, what’s your name, where you from and all that. Clearly you’re not from New York with that accent.” Harry chuckles and nods. 

“Right, yeah, I actually live in upstate New York. My friends and I are just in the city for the weekend to catch some shows we’ve been wanting to see.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Harry, Harry Styles.” She extends his hand to shake it and he nearly wets himself from the skin on skin contact. 

“What brought you to New York on the first place?”

“University. I’m in a doctorate program now, so I’m teachin’. I plan to go back to London once I’m done.”

“Oh, I love London.” She swoons. “I always have fun performing there, and I love going to BBC radio. Actually, any of the radio stations are fun to visit. I love the people at Capital FM.” 

“I can’t lie, I love whenever your interviews get posted on YouTube...”

“I appreciate that, you’re sweet.” She smiles. She was feeling a little tipsy and was looking for a little bit of fun. Harry was cute, really cute. “So you must know why I’m in New York then?”

“I actually didn’t put two and two together...but...oh! I heard rumors you might finally be doing Hot Ones.” She winks at him, but doesn’t confirm. 

“I’m here for a few things. I’m actually performing on GMA in a couple of days. How long are you in the city for?”

“Tonight’s our last night.”

“Hm, too bad. I probably could’ve gotten you tickets to the show.”

“I’d drive back.” He smiles. “Yikes, that sounded desperate.” She can’t help but giggle. 

“You really like my music, huh?”

“I do. You’re one of my favorite artists.” 

She’s tapped on the shoulder by one of her friends. She turns to her to chat and he takes the opportunity to look at his friends who are all giving him a thumbs up. He notices her wave her friends off. 

“Harry?” She says turning back to you. “I don’t wanna get too drunk here.” She says, putting some cash down on the bar. 

“Oh, well, I really appreciate your time, thanks so much for talkin’ to me.”

“You’re too cute, the night’s not over yet...not if you don’t want it to be.”

“What are you sayin’ exactly?” 

“I’m saying...well...my car’s pulling up out back and you’re welcome to come back with me.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. 

He gets up and follows her out, not even bothering to look at her friends. They go down a long hallway and a man opens the door for them. Another man opens up the car door and they both get in. There was a driver already up front. She tells him what streets to take to avoid papz, he nods, and rolls the partition up.

“Bert is the best driver I’ve ever had. Simply the best.” Harry was trying not to shake. He wasn’t sure what was happening. “Don’t look so nervous.” She places her hand on his knee. “I don’t typically do this with fans. I mean, I wouldn’t even date a fan to be honest with you.” 

“So...what’s happening right now?”

“I don’t know...you’re really cute, and...I thought it was sweet that you genuinely just wanted to buy me a drink and chat. No one ever does that for me. You seem...normal.” 

“In case you’re already runnin’ a background check on me, I do make posts about you sometimes...nothing that would show up in a thirst tweet video or anything...but like I said, I’m a big fan.”

“Do you have a shrine to me in your closet?”

“Jesus, no.” 

“Alright, then we’re good.” She shrugs. The car stops. “We’re here. We’re going in back, but keep your head down the entire time.” She puts a pair of sunglasses on and out the door they go. 

Harry stays quiet as he follows close. She leads him down a few bare halls, and then they come to an elevator.

“Ever been to a penthouse suite before?”

“Can’t say I have.” He smirks. 

“Well, you’re in for a treat. This is one of my favorite hotels to stay at when I come here.”

They get off on the floor, and go down the hall to a large double door. She keys in and kicks her heels off. 

“Finally.” She sighs. “If I weren’t so short, I wouldn’t even wear those things. Can I get you a drink?” She walks over to the mini bar and grabs some tequila and orange juice. “Feel free to say no.”

“A drink sounds great, actually.” 

She makes them up and he sits on the couch. She rifles through the desk in the living area. She brings over a pen and a few papers.

“What’s this?”

“It’s an NDA.” She sighs. “Before we continue chatting you have to sign it. My manager insists on it, and so do I. You could easily run out of here and report everything to the press.” 

“I thought this was just...a rumor.” He takes the papers and pen from her. “But I’m happy to sign. You have a right to privacy like everyone else.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, Harry, really I do.” 

He hands everything back to her after he signs, and she takes pictures, sending everything to her manager. 

“Would you mind keep your phone where I could see it too? I’m sorry.”

“Sure!” He takes it out of his pocket. He even turns it off, and then sets it on the glass coffee table.

“Thank you.” She smiles. “You have so many tattoos.” She points to his left arm. “Tell me all about them.” 

They talk for a while, having a lot of pleasant conversation. She loved the sound of his accent, it  was intoxicating. And because Harry was so nervous, he didn’t mind talking about a storm. He looks down at his watch and sees that it’s nearly 3AM. 

“It’s gettin’ late...you must be wanting to go to sleep.”

“You’re a real gentleman, you know that? You haven’t made a single move on me all night.”

“I...I’m just trying to be respectful. This has already been the greatest night of my life.” 

“Would you like it to get better?”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry.” She sighs. “Not that you need to do anything you don’t want to...but don’t you want to?”

“Like...have sex?” 

“Yeah.”

“You want to have sex with me?” 

“Mhm, you’re really handsome. But if you’d rather leave, that’s fine too.” She smiles. “No pressure.” 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The kiss lead to some heavy petting, and the heavy petting lead to Harry having sex right there on that couch with Y/N. And that lead to him sleeping in her comfy hotel bed. Well, they didn’t get much sleep because they had sex at least two more times. Once he passed out she looked up his accounts on her phone. She wanted to know just exactly what he might be saying about her in the social media world. It really wasn’t anything bad. It was mostly memes or him telling people to stream her music. Not the worst she’d seen. When he wakes up he feels like he’s in a dream.

“Morning.” She says.

“Hi.” He smiles. “I’ll, uh, get outta your hair.” He gets up and grabs his boxers and other clothes. She grabs one of her large bed shirts to throw on.

“Wait! I promised you tickets to the GMA performance.”

“No you didn’t.”

“But I wanna give them to you. I’ll put your name on a few lists, you can come back stage. I’d expect you to say hi.”

“You’ll really remember be in a few days?” 

“Of course! I don’t think I’d forget the guy that gave me six orgasms.” He blushes at her words. 

“Right.” 

“I’ll need your phone number and all that.” She hands him his phone, and he cautiously takes it to add his number. He texts himself. “Thanks.” 

“Well...thanks for an incredible night.”

“No, thank you. I know you’re going back to your friends, but remember what you signed...”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

“Good.” 

Harry had no idea his life was going to get turned upside down by going to that GMA performance. He was able to go on a real date with Y/N and they continued to hit it off. A budding relationship was getting ready to bloom. 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #starstruck #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic

[anncanta]

‘Dracula’ and ‘Doctor Who’. Blood is testimony

Stephen Moffat is often accused of using similar plots, repeating the same plot lines, and returning to a number of his favorite ideas.

Moffat really develops a certain set of specific, quite recognizable topics, and in his different scripts, he one way or another tells similar stories.

But with his recurring motives and ideas, as, indeed, with another stuff, not everything is so simple.

First, the outstanding authors are most often accompanied by craving for certain narratives and archetypal forms, as well as cross-cutting themes. Some of this authors create ‘frames’ for these ideas in the form of multivolume novels or novel cycles, others devote wreaths of sonnets and collections of stories to their favorite topic, and others choose whole genres for reflection on issues that are important to them. I think that none of those reading this article will have any difficulties with examples.

Secondly, there are not so many really interesting stories.

And thirdly, repetitions can be different. Like any feature, it can exist on its own, or it can – if the author has a large-scale talent – become another way to tell a story like no one else do.

In Stephen Moffat's case, we are dealing with a very unique situation where the author's stories are literally read through one another.

I will make a separate reservation: I am not talking about postmodern ‘intertextuality’ – a vile definition for references and quotations that have existed in literature since the emergence of storytelling and are news only for postmodernists themselves – but about a peculiar use of certain plots and motives.

If you want, you can find a huge number of such things in Moffat's scripts. The viewers who have been closely following his work since the period when he became the showrunner of Doctor Who will immediately name a dozen of them. But I would like to dwell on one example – the newest one for today.

When the TV series Dracula by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss was released on BBC and Netflix in 2020, some viewers noted the similarity of its style, and in some places, the plot outline, with Doctor Who, and directly called the main character of the film, Agatha Van Helsing, the female version of the Doctor.

The first is obvious, and the second is quite understandable in light of the two years earlier release (absolutely disastrous, in my opinion) of the eleventh and twelfth seasons of Doctor Who.

But the beauty of both Moffat's game and the whole story is that there`s not Agatha who is the Doctor here.

Yes, by all appearances, it is this brave, interested in science, well acquainted with evil, fighting against it and even – partly – traveling through time, the heroine who seems most suitable for the role of the Doctor in the new setting. There was a calculation for this: Moffat, during his time as the showrunner of the series, who, it seems, tried all the plot possibilities except this one, and who left on the eve of the epochal transformation of the character, it would seem, had to offer the audience his version of the female Doctor. Well, he did: on the surface. As if he said: ‘Here is a heroine with such qualities. This is how you imagine her, isn`t it? Well, get it.’

And inside this shell, as inside the unfortunate Jonathan Harker (Moffat, as a true Briton, uses materialized metaphors and often literally shows what he means), there is another story.

In order to understand it, you need to take a close look at Dracula and – at Doctor Who written by Moffat.

With Dracula everything is simple. As soon as you start looking for the main character of this film who: a) lives for several centuries; b) collects human stories; c) travels in time; d) always has one or more people next to him – you instantly find him. And if you've watched an entire episode and a half and still don't understand anything, in the middle of the second one you will hear a direct quote.

'The sophistication of a gentleman, Agatha, is always a veneer.'

'Even a gentleman like Mr. Balaur?'

'Mr. Who?'

But that's just one detail.

A deeper level opens if you try to read Dracula through Doctor Who itself.

In the Christmas special Twice upon a time, which ends the last season, written by Stephen Moffat, the plot is centered on the Doctor's encounter with strange creatures, as if made of glass, which are living vaults of memory. The episode itself is full of layered ideas and references. But for us now only one dimension is important.

At the very end of the special, the Doctor addresses the glass creatures with an ardent speech – one of those that he loves so much.

‘You're just memories, held in glass. Do you know how many of you I could fill? I would shatter you. My testimony would shatter all of you. A life this long, do you understand what it is? It's a battlefield. And it's empty. Because everyone else has fallen.’

Does this remind you of anything?

It seems to me that this is a literal description of what is happening with Dracula.

What he says throughout the film, and what Agatha did not understand even at the end, because in order to understand this, you had to live his life.

And in order to understand this whole context, you need to understand that the Doctor was never a good guy. He always said this to everyone but no one believed him.

No one believed the stories of the horror before which entire civilizations tremble, about a creature that destroyed its entire species in order to stop the most destructive war in history, about the person who does not need weapons so that the captains of warships flocked from the most distant corners of the Universe, after listening to him for a couple of minutes, ran away without looking back.

The Doctor was never a good guy, but just as important, he always knew it. For the Doctor of Russell T. Davis, this position looks like a fact with which neither the character himself nor the people around him and aliens are very inclined to interact. I guess it’s a matter of Davis’ very outlook on the story and perhaps his own worldview.

But the Doctor of Moffat is a hero who lives with this knowledge and with the impossibility of passing this knowledge on to others.

Because the Doctor is always the one they are waiting for, the one they go to for advice, the one with whom they travel around the Universe, the one who opens the door to the magical world, the one they hope for.

He is never the one who sits on the roof of the TARDIS, surrounded by the loneliness of the starry sky. Not someone who lives longer than any human being, not someone who knows what it means to make monstrous decisions in circumstances that most of us cannot imagine.

And the one in whom there is so much testimony that it is able to break the vessel that they will try to fill with.

In Dracula, all these details, motives, and meanings are repeated sequentially.

The most obvious is ‘blood is testimony’. This is not self-quotation, as it might seem, but a literal proposal of the author to look in a certain direction.

The blood in Dracula is not only memory. It's also a way to watch. And to see a bright and diverse world, which otherwise would have become boring long ago.

In the fifth season of Doctor Who, there is a moment when Eleventh says to Amy Pond, ‘You don't understand. I have the whole Universe in my backyard. I'm used to it. I don’t notice it. But when you appear, I look with your eyes. And it becomes a miracle again.’*

In this sense, the ‘brides’ and everyone that Dracula ate are in some way his companions. If you remember what a great sense of guilt towards most of his companions the Doctor felt and how some of them ended up, the comparison turns out to be not so poor.

Dracula, like the Doctor, has companions with whom he has a very special relationship that he cannot explain to himself. He travels through time and space, discovering one day that all human experience is stored and cataloged somewhere in his head, and there is nothing new.

And – as is often the case in Moffat's stories – here one character completes and harmoniously implements a theme started by another.

If the Doctor, being who he is, and fully aware of this, tormented by endless insatiable loneliness and memories of life as an empty battlefield, invariably continues the path that seems to him more and more meaningless, then Dracula decided to end the life like that.

And all this, the whole story, is organized as a transition, as a movement forward and backward in time, which unites and brings to life what is dissolved, inherent, basically exists, and ‘spilled’ in blood. The blood here is also the same as the space in the Doctor Who, it is the Universe, which belongs to everyone and flows inside everyone, and inside which everyone exists, and which determines everyone. In order for blood to become an individuality, it takes time, a specific moment at which each specific individuality comes to the surface. So, for example, the return of Agatha takes place. There must be something she wants to come back for. Like the TARDIS, blood is always within us and speaks through us. In the case of Dracula and Agatha, this is their bond, their love for each other. Even if this love is unaware, – sometimes the TARDIS acts on her own and travels wherever she wants, forcing the Doctor and his companions to act in the circumstances she suggests.

And all this, this whole context, the whole story, with all its dimensions and additional meanings, became possible only due to the fact that Stephen Moffat, the author of both series, is not afraid to describe ambiguous heroes, to reflect out loud on their adventures, and – sometimes – to repeat.

* The words of Eleventh quoted from memory.

#dracula 2020 #bbc dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #doctor who #moffat

[panharmonium]

no man can know his destiny...

...because if we told him what it was, he might decide to tell destiny to bugger off!

all right, folks.  i am obviously eight years late to this party (party?  maybe not party; that’s...maybe not the best word), and i am aware that everybody who was ever in this fandom has probably already consumed all the finale reaction posts that they ever needed to read.  i am putting this S5 finale round-up together for my own purposes anyway, because now that i’m no longer avoiding spoilers, i want to make sure i get all of my own thoughts down on paper before i accidentally run into anyone else’s. 

fair warning before anyone decides to invest their time: this post is sixteen single-spaced pages long.  i am putting it under a cut here, so feel free to scroll on by.  

with that said, off we go!

in a land of myth and a time of magic (i fell in love with a ten-year-old tv show):

so, to preface this, i think it’s pretty fair to say that i very rarely complain about merlin.

i watched the first episode of merlin on a complete whim - i was by myself, on a trip to atlanta, and despite the fact that i usually never sit down and just decide to watch random tv, i was scrolling around on netflix before bed and saw merlin and thought “oh hey, that’s always been on my list as something i thought i might like.”  i clicked it.  i watched it.  i thought it was going to be a silly, fun, low-investment show i could use to fill the spare time on my trip.

it was silly.  and it was fun.  it was not low-investment.  i fell in LOVE.

and i know this comes through in the way i write about it, like - the vast majority of the blogging i have done about merlin has come from a place of THIS THING IS GREAT AND I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT’S GREAT.  sometimes the story will go places that stress me out or make me sad, but usually that hasn’t impacted my enjoyment, because generally, when i evaluate stories, i react more to my perception of the story’s integrity, as opposed to whether or not i personally ‘liked’ the ending.  so i might personally prefer stories that don’t end in tragedy, but if the story has earned its ending, with integrity, then i won’t feel any desire to criticize it.  i will talk about how sad i am or how low it made me feel, but if the story has earned its ending then i can’t - i just can’t argue with it.  i have to respect it.  

and i think i’ve demonstrated that well enough in all the other blogging i’ve done about merlin.  with 5.10 and 5.11 particularly; i felt those episodes were impossibly tragic and dark and SO unhappy, but i respected the storytelling, despite this.  i wasn’t hopping on here to make posts like ‘ugh this is getting so dark this episode sucks!!!’  i was writing about the story they were crafting - which, yes, WAS getting dark, certainly - and about how impactful it was (even when that impact was just “OUCH”).  i was still deeply engaged, at that time.

so - i think i have earned the right to say honestly that the following analysis does not come from a place of ‘this was SAD and that makes it automatically CRAPPY!!!’  that’s not how i assess things.  5.10 and 5.11 were devastating, but i respect them.  i loved watching them.  i would watch them again.  i thought that the show had the potential to pull off something masterful, after those two episodes.

but the one thing this series has always struggled with a little bit is follow-through.  bbc merlin is at its finest when they aren’t afraid to go barreling after the moral ambiguity and complexities that their show inherently contains (‘to kill the king,’ ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ ‘the disir,’ ‘the kindness of strangers,’ ‘the drawing of the dark,’ to name just a few), and they achieve real greatness in those moments.  but they sometimes pull back from the difficult questions they pose.  and i can’t tell if it’s that they’re deliberately chickening out, or if it’s just some variation of carelessness or ineptitude that makes them fumble the ball, but the end result is that they hit these amazing highs of “wow, i can’t believe we’re finally going there; we’re addressing the central conflict” and then all the complicated questions they asked just get dropped.   

it happens in ‘the sorcerer’s shadow’ (which is an amazing episode otherwise), when kilgharrah kind of...word-of-god handwaves away merlin’s conflict, saying ‘we just gotta wait for arthur to be king, that’s the right way to go about this.’  and they double down on this by having merlin say that it was gilli, not merlin, who had betrayed their kind - which is just not - that is not what that episode had been saying, up until that point!  the entire point of that episode was that yeah, merlin has in fact gotten himself into a position where he’s made a morally questionable decision to serve a regime that oppresses him and others like him.  they show us how conflicted he feels when he’s confronted by this reality.  they show us that he knows it’s true.  it was brilliantly done - and then they pulled WAY back.

but even then i don’t think it was like...unforgivable, at that point.  it doesn’t break the story’s integrity; i can definitely believe that merlin would take that tack - i’m not sure he’s quite ready to confront/accept the reality of his situation at that point.  so i get it.  it wouldn’t be a big deal - if the show had eventually addressed/followed through on this conflict in the end.

and i think the same is true of the episodes leading up to the finale.  they were dark and complicated and tragic, but they were telling an important story; and none of the terrible things we saw happening to the characters were dead-ends, story-wise.  there was a place for that story to go.  there was room for morgana to have her arc resolve in a meaningful way.  there was room for mordred’s arc to do the same.  the place in which we found ourselves at the end of 5.11 was as dark and complicated as merlin had ever been, and it was still bursting with potential.  

and then you watch the finale and it’s just - empty.  i described it as a paper castle in some other post, and that’s what it felt like.  no substance.  it was like they stuffed us on a bullet train and whizzed us past material that should have taken an entire season to handle, and you didn’t see any of it or feel anything because the trip took ten seconds and the scenery was a blur.

it honestly felt like they thought they had another season coming and then someone popped in and told them “actually you have to wrap this up in two episodes.”  i can’t think of another way to reasonably explain how dramatically the quality of the storytelling downshifts between 5.11 and 5.12.  i wasn’t watching the show then, so i don’t know, but it’s - at least if that had been the case, i would UNDERSTAND what had happened.  it’s just insanity, otherwise.

so anyway, with all that said, here are my own reasons for why i think the last two episodes were objectively bad writing, as opposed to just writing i don’t personally like.  nobody is obligated to agree with me on any of these points, but i’m also not putting them up here to debate them, really - i truly believe that almost everything i watched in the last two episodes was poorly-conceived.  

(there’s an entirely different discussion to be had, of course, about the relative merits of ending your, uh, hopeful fantasy story on a bummer of a death knell, and i might touch on that later, but that’s a little bit more subject to personal preference, and honestly, it’s not the point i’m trying to make here, because to be frank, these episodes are bad without even getting into who lives and who dies.)

i. plot contrivances: EVERYWHERE.

i don’t mean plot devices.  plot devices are important, in a story.  a plot device is something like how merlin throws excalibur into the lake in 1.09, and then is able to retrieve it in 3.13 because of a choice he made to show someone compassion in 2.09, and thus he is able to save the day and defeat the undead.  excalibur is a plot device, in that scenario - the ability to use it in 3.13 unfolds organically.

a plot contrivance, on the other hand, is artificial.  it’s unnaturally convenient.  it doesn’t feel convincing.  it’s what you reach for when you can’t think of a way to make something happen, but a writer is supposed to look at these things when they edit and think ‘hey.  if i can’t make this happen without it being contrived, maybe it shouldn’t happen.  maybe i need to look at this again.’

so like, from the very beginning of 5.12, we have:

the face-sucker slug.  never seen one before.  never heard of it before.  never given any indication that any such creature ever existed.  never given any indication that “stealing” magic was something that could even happen.  no idea where morgana found it.  created for and introduced in this very episode, just to give merlin a reason to go to the crystal cave; removed from the episode ten minutes after it’s introduced, forgotten.

gwaine’s sudden girlfriend.  NEVER SEEN HER BEFORE.  NEVER HEARD OF HER BEFORE.  NEVER GIVEN ANY INDICATION THAT ANY SUCH CREATURE EVER EXISTED.  where does she come from?  why do we care?  (surprise: we don’t.)  created for and introduced in this very episode for the sole purpose of explaining how morgana could get the information she needed to interfere with everyone’s plans, which was a contrived idea in and of itself, because it relied completely on making gwaine act like the kind of dope who tells a civilian military secrets.  

you just.  you can’t.  if your plot point can’t function without a) introducing a brand new character in the penultimate episode of your show and b) forcing a long-standing character to do something they just wouldn’t do, you can’t use it.  you just can’t.  you have to figure out something else.

this lady’s very existence is nonsense.  absolutely, utterly contrived.  to waste that much time on a character we’ve never seen before and don’t care about, in the last two hours of your five-season show...incredible.

morgana’s army.  they outnumber camelot’s forces “five to one.”  where did they come from?  how did she amass such a force?  in season 4 she was losing all her allies - the episode with annis and caerleon was specifically designed to show us how people were turning from her methods and aligning with arthur.  and then she spent two years in a pit.  how did she amass such a force in such a short period of time?  what could she offer them?  why do they fight for her?  there is no explanation of who the “saxons” are or what they want - the show just needed an army for camlann.

aithusa.  aithusa was, apparently, just a vehicle to enable mordred to obtain a blade forged in the dragon’s breath.  beyond that, he served no purpose.  he literally just vanishes, along with that entire storyline - the future of the dragons, everything - just dropped, forgotten, never mentioned again.

morgana in the crystal cave.  “gee, i finally caught merlin, the guy who’s supposed to be my doom.  i think i’ll just...trap him behind some rocks.  wouldn’t want to kill him, while i have him completely powerless and at my mercy.  how then would he escape from this super powerful magical cave and ensure that the next step in this impossibly weak plot unfolds?”

the crystal cave itself.  what is the entire point of this detour?  killing time while arthur and merlin are separated?  i mean, the whole “merlin loses his magic for all of five minutes” thing was a contrivance itself, just to ensure that merlin and arthur had a reason to be separated during the battle.  but even putting that aside, once merlin is in there, and balinor says ‘you have to go into the light to discover who you truly are, you have power of which you cannot conceive’ - what purpose did that serve?  all we see merlin do once he gets to camlann is call down some lightning.  he’s done that before.  he...he did that in season one.  

the entire detour in the crystal cave changed nothing.  it was a contrivance to mark time so merlin didn’t arrive at camlann at the same time as everybody else.

arthur at camlann.  the idea that we are supposed to believe that arthur somehow finds himself all alone on that battlefield, long enough for mordred to sneak up on him and stab him and for him not be found by a single other human being until merlin shows up.  he is the KING.  there is no conceivable circumstance where his army lets him go wandering around by himself after the battle has been mostly won.  it doesn’t make sense.  it isn’t believable.  it’s a contrivance to make sure mordred has an opportunity to get him.

“only the sidhe possess such magic.”  the SIDHE?????  you guys.  the last time we saw the sidhe was in that gooftastically wonderful filler episode where a pixie wanted to bone gaius.  you can’t - you just - you can’t center your entire ‘this is how we save arthur’ plan on a race of beings that we haven’t heard of since early season 3 and which we never knew anything more about than that they once possessed a farting princess.

“not without the horses.”  are you telling me.  that the reason they don’t make it to this fabulous isle in time.  is because.  their horses.  were conveniently scared away. that’s what killed the glorious once and future king.  the horses ran off.  

and the horses conveniently ran off because they were conveniently scared away by morgana, who conveniently happened to show up because she was conveniently put in a position to extract information from someone who conveniently knew where arthur was going - all of this, of course, predicated on the impossible-to-believe assumption that a) gwen would ever tell anybody where arthur was going, when the stakes were this high, when nobody needed to know and camelot had already fallen prey to spies multiple times, and b) that gwaine and percival would, if they did for some reason know where arthur was headed, be so foolish as to literally serve themselves up to morgana on a plate, when they know that the whole point of this scheme is that they WANT morgana to hang out in brineved wasting her time in order to allow arthur to reach the isle safely. 

I SAY AGAIN: if your plot point cannot function without making characters do things we just do not believe they would do, you can’t use it.  you can’t.  you have to revisit what you’re doing.  you can’t just make anything happen that you want to in order to drive the story to the place you want it to go.  it has to make sense.

kilgharrah.  is called just in time to deliver a pat explanation of the ending, but not in time to shuttle arthur over to the isle?  merlin could have called for a ride ages ago. merlin and arthur weren’t traveling fast, or far.  it’s not like kilgharrah was having that much trouble getting around.  we see that he handles carrying the two of them just fine.  we see that he flies away, zoop, no problem.  there is no reason for him not to have been called even a single hour sooner, other than that the plot demanded that he could not be, because the plot demanded that arthur not get there in time.  

it breaks the boundaries of disbelief.  it takes you right out of the story.  it reminds you, inappropriately, that all of this is a thing someone planned (poorly).  all of it is contrived.

ii. dropped plotlines

i can’t believe i actually have to say this.  

i’ve seen tv shows tank before, but usually, when tv shows tank, it’s just that the quality of their writing has declined, and they’ve resorted to resolving their plotlines in ill-conceived ways. 

i have never, in my life, seen a tv show DROP all of its major plotlines before it ends.  i have never seen a tv show just.  FORGET.  to address their premise.  never.  i still can’t believe it actually happened.  i’m sitting here trying to remember if the merlin finale was actually some kind of anxiety-induced fever dream i had while i was gearing myself up to watch the last few episodes.  

merlin bbc had, at its outset, two major plotlines.  these would be supplemented later by other throughlines (many of which were also dropped), but the two major ones always stayed the same, one for arthur and one for merlin:

for arthur, the question of him one day becoming the greatest king in history and uniting the land of albion 

for merlin, the question of him one day liberating the magical community from oppression and being able to live free from fear

those were the two constant throughlines in this show, from episode one.  the struggle to unite the land of albion, and the struggle to make the land a free and just one for ALL of its people, not just those without magic.  

this show, somehow, ended without actually addressing either of these things.

it’s amazing.  i don’t even know how they managed it.  somehow, this show ended without actually ending.

to elaborate on this (and other dropped plots):

a) the once and future king: we never see a united albion.  the show is driving at it, in seasons 4 and 5, when arthur makes peace with annis in S4, and then gets annis’s permission to travel through her lands in 5.01, and then helps Mithian’s father in S5, and makes peace with odin in 5.04, and then tries to make peace with the sarrum in 5.08, and it’s all making sense, and you expect that plotline to continue until we see its eventual fulfillment at the end of the show.  you would expect, if this were supposed to be such an important thing, that the big struggle at the end of the series would have been all the peoples of albion united together against a threat.  

but we never see any of these kingdoms again.  we never hear a peep out of them. no one ever mentions them.  it’s like they all just vanished into the wind.  as far as we’re aware, camelot fights morgana’s army on their own - it’s like annis and odin and godwyn and rodor and those five kings that came together to sign the treaty in 2.10 never existed.  

the dragon says at the end, “all you have dreamt of building has come to pass,” but we’re just like - WHERE?  we literally didn’t see it!  it was never shown to happen! you can’t just say that the most important outcome of your five-season series happened when it never did!  it demonstrably NEVER DID!  you can’t…..oh my god, you can’t...try to end your show offscreen, lol; i don’t know what else to say!

look - this is something i wrote before i knew how the series ended, when i was considering the possibility of arthur dying:

i wrote that before i even knew what happened.  that’s not the result of, you know, retroactive complaining because they killed a character and i didn’t like it.  i was doubting the idea that they would even be able to kill arthur, because i legitimately didn’t believe the show had shown us the uniting of albion yet (and they hadn’t, lol).  

it just...it truly doesn’t make sense.  something got tangled as they approached these last episodes.  in 5.10, finna tells merlin, “without you, emrys, arthur cannot build the new world we all long for,” indicating that it hasn’t been built yet.  but that scene takes place just a few weeks before the finale - you’re saying “the new world” hadn’t yet been accomplished at that point, but now, a few week later, it has?  arthur didn’t DO ANYTHING in that interval!  we saw camelot fight off a bunch of invaders (alone) like they’ve done a billion times before.  there was nothing to hint that now albion is united.  

and if finna was referring to the “new world” meaning a magical world, i mean - arthur didn’t do anything to build that, either.  he died.

something happened.  some wire got crossed.  i don’t know what it was, but it meant that the show ended without actually closing out Main Plotline #1.  

b) one day, we will be free: this show also somehow managed to end without addressing the plight of the magical community, which was THE central conflict of the show for all five seasons.  more than that, it was the show’s premise - it was how they crafted their entire idea; it was one of two defining features of their pitch to BBC: that they would “wind back the clock” to when the characters were young, and that magic in this universe would be outlawed.  

they literally abandoned the show’s premise.  the episode directly preceding the finale was entirely about camelot’s wrongdoing and the right of magic-users to stand up and fight for their rights.  it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.  and then we literally never heard a word about this struggle again.  it was dropped like a hot sack of bricks.  

IMPOSSIBLE. 

and yet 

it’s just left, twisting in the wind.  we have no idea what happened.  the one and only glimpse of camelot that we get at the end of this show has nothing to do with magic; it’s grim and somber people chanting ‘long live the queen’ in the throne room.  and then we’re gone from that place, forever, never to return.  it’s like they don’t even remember that ‘freedom for magical folk!’ was the driving source of conflict for the entire show.  you would never have known that “magical oppression” was ever a feature in this show, if you just watched the end.  camelot’s wrongs are never addressed, never referred to, never amended.  the fate of the magical community is never hinted at.  we don’t have any inkling of what happened to those people.  we literally do not even have any indication of whether the magic ban was lifted.  

it’s like none of that ever existed.  it’s like the show just FORGOT its entire premise. 

this truly might be the most unbelievable thing about the finale, for me.  i’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it.  in a roomful of writers and editors and producers, not a single person pointed out “hey uhhhh...we haven’t actually resolved either of our plots?”

i was exposed to enough vague reactions from fans to expect the finale to be disappointing.  i assumed that the show would resolve its major plotlines in ways that i either didn’t approve of or found unsatisfying.  

i did NOT expect them not to resolve their major plotlines at all.

i have never seen a tv show literally forget to end.  never.  never seen that happen before in my life.

c.) i am the last of my kind: the reveal of merlin as a dragonlord ushered in a third important plotline - his responsibility to the dragons, his duty to protect them and help them thrive.  and the question was always ‘all right, so as a dragonlord, how is merlin going to ensure the survival of the dragons as a species, since they’ve been almost exterminated - .’  and that was also dropped.  like a hot potato.  like it never was.  we never get clarity on what the heck was going on with aithusa, and then at camlann, aithusa just vanishes.  gone.  literally never to be seen, mentioned, or wondered about again.

d) i am old, merlin: this is a smaller thing, but in 5.10 the show starts this subplot about kilgharrah being unwell and merlin suddenly confronting the idea that kilgharrah is not, in fact, immortal.  and it was actually very poignant and made me emotional despite how kilgharrah kind of drives us insane.  they set us up for the idea that we are going to lose him.  they set us up to expect that we will eventually see merlin arrive at a place where he doesn’t have that voice in his ear anymore, kind of like when luke goes to cloud city and obi-wan can’t help him.  

but then, in the finale, kilgharrah just shows up like he always does, and there’s no mention of anything that came before.  he’s fine.  

it’s - it’s inconsistent, it’s not appropriate; there’s no emotional throughline.  the exchange they have in 5.10 is such a beautiful moment, when a wavering merlin asks “what will i do without you?”

and kilgharrah says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “you will remember me.”

that’s such a powerful thing.  for someone like merlin, for someone who has lost so many people who mattered to him - you can feel that line expand to cover miles and miles of ground.  it’s about more than just kilgharrah.

but having kilgharrah then show up at the end of the finale to deliver his neat little explanatory summary the same way he always does dilutes that previous moment down to almost non-meaning.  there’s no emotional consistency.  they emotionally prep us for this figure’s departure, and instead he shows up, the same as always, with no reference to the fact that a few episodes ago we were getting ready to watch him leave us. 

it’s not good writing.  it just isn’t good writing.

iii. i want you to always earn your ending

i think it’s hard to come to grips with the idea that bbc merlin was specifically a show whose kind of...big premise was being a deliciously torturous slow burn up to some massive and long-awaited reveal, and then it fizzled just before it gave the audience what it had been leading up to for five seasons.  it’s really just...wow.  i’ve seen shows fizzle before, obviously, but the fact that this one was specifically built on the idea that you were waiting for something momentous (and inevitable!) to happen - which then doesn’t happen?  that’s just...hoo boy.   

the long-awaited, promised “payoff” doesn’t happen in any way that is convincing or satisfying or remotely plausible.  it’s a little walk in the woods, and it ultimately doesn’t matter, because as soon as it’s over, so is the show, and everybody except merlin is long dead.  

not with a bang, but with a whimper, indeed.

for a show that had its audience waiting on tenterhooks for five seasons for merlin’s secret to be stripped away, the fact that the show’s biggest “payoff” ended up carrying so little weight and feeling so unconvincing is truly a shame.  there was no way for the show to give this concept the weight it deserved by flying through it in thirty minutes.  the audience knows that there’s no way this could have been resolved so quickly, so everything that happens between the “reveal” (such as it was) and the end feels...false.  it doesn’t seem real.  it’s not believable.  it feels (again, to use the word that truly sums up the entire spirit of this finale) contrived.  rushed and squished together to be neatly tied up in the time they had available.

and that’s poor craftsmanship.  stories shouldn’t feel like ‘well, i needed to reach x destination no matter what, so i made this that and the other thing happen to ensure that we got there.’  a reader/viewer shouldn’t be able to sense the presence of the author.  they shouldn’t be able to feel the hand of god reaching in and arranging pieces to force a conclusion or extract an emotion that hasn’t been earned.  

stories, if they are crafted appropriately, should feel like they have no author at all.  like they just are.  like everything that happens is the natural next step to whatever came before, as if events could not possibly have unfolded any other way.  and i don’t feel like the “reveal” and arthur’s reaction to it met those criteria.  all the supposedly super sad and emotional moments they were having at the end made me feel absolutely nothing, because the things arthur says don’t feel real.  they haven’t been earned in-story.  i felt like i was watching that sequence from a hundred miles away...just like...clinical.  removed.  like i was taken completely out of the story.  like i was in the lighting booth of a theater watching some scripted scene play out below me.    

(and this might be the time to mention that this has NOTHING to do with the actors.  the entire cast was killing it.  they were AMAZING.  their performance threatened to wring emotion out of me even despite me being completely unconvinced by the idea of what was happening.)

but that aside - how can you stay immersed in something when you can feel the creator’s hand coming down and forcing a resolution that doesn’t make sense, that hasn’t been earned?  it snaps you right out of the suspension of disbelief that all stories require you to maintain in order for you to engage with them.  the writers needed arthur to say these things sometime before the end of the show, and so he says them, regardless of whether or not it would ever actually happen like that.  but i didn’t believe it, because it wouldn’t have happened like that, and so the emotional impact was zero.

here’s the truth: you can’t use lines like “i want you to always be you” and expect me to get weepy about it when you haven’t earned that kind of resolution.  it’s a false tearjerker.  the writers are relying on our previous emotional attachment to these characters and our burning desire to see merlin validated in order to slip a contrived resolution past us without actually doing the work to make it plausible.  they’re playing on our affections in order to cover up the structural shortcomings of the story they cobbled together.

i don’t like when a story tries to manipulate me like that.  i’m not going to play that game.

iv. you are destined to be albion’s greatest king (*thor face* are you, though?)

i think there are probably some people out there for whom arthur’s death would have been a dealbreaker no matter what the rest of the story looked like.  i respect that.

i’m in the camp where i could have accepted the ‘legend-compliant’ ending, if only it had been earned.  as it is, arthur is never allowed to fully realize himself before he dies.  the show keeps saying, and i quote, “one day you will be the greatest king this land has ever known,” but arthur skips off to avalon after having reigned for a whopping total of three years, during which time he is not shown to accomplish the only goal that was prophesied for him (uniting the land of albion) and during which time he also becomes further entrenched in his father’s anti-magic views (along with the hypocrisy of using magic for his own purposes), as opposed to ever seeing the error of his ways.  he doesn’t right his father’s wrongs.  he doesn’t usher in justice and freedom for all camelot’s people.  he doesn’t change the status quo in camelot much at all, to be honest - and then he dies.  and they try to tell us “there will never be another like [him].”

how?  how can that not fall completely flat?  he hasn’t accomplished his goal yet!  he hasn’t become what they’ve kept telling us he will become.  

so i can understand the ultimate plan of arthur shuffling off this mortal coil and being prophesied to return, and i could even accept that as an appropriate ending, but not when it hasn’t been earned.  the way it actually unfolded, watching this moment feels like we skipped a season somewhere.  it feels like a sham.

we’re being asked to give arthur credit for something he did not actually achieve, and it makes the whole thing feel like a farce.

v. gratuitousness and inconsistency

i had no emotional reaction when i realized they had actually killed gwaine.  

that is insane, because you know how much i love him.  but his death was so ridiculous that I actually started laughing in disbelief.  and that in and of itself should be a sign that something wasn’t working.  when your emotional beats are landing this wrong - falling this flat - something has slid fundamentally sideways with your storytelling. 

i laughed when they killed my favorite knight!  but what other reaction was i supposed to have?  it was laughably silly!  the premise itself was already foolish - that gwaine and percival would even come out here and endanger arthur in that way - and then gwaine dies because morgana used a nathair to extract information from him?  we’ve seen morgana use the nathair twice before!  she tortured elyan with it.  she used it on alator.  neither of them died.  it’s never been indicated that being tortured with this creature will kill you. which isn’t to say that it can’t be the case, but from a writing perspective, if you’re going to use a sudden inconsistency to kill a major character, it’s noticeable!  it’s jarring!  and it makes us feel, once again, that the writers just grasped at any little thing they could think of to make what they wanted to happen happen.

and then there’s the whole question of why they wanted gwaine to die in the first place.  what purpose did it serve?  gwaine didn’t have to die in order for morgana to get the information the writers wanted her to have.  and you’d assume that if they still killed him after that, that there would be a reason for it, or that it would at least...matter, somehow, but - WE LITERALLY NEVER HEAR ABOUT HIM AGAIN LOL.  i wasn’t even sure he was dead at first.  that’s how insignificant it felt.  i felt like zuko in the ember island players.

that’s it.  we never see him or percival again after that scene.  there’s this weird moment where percival examines a footprint and the implication is that he’s going to follow morgana or something, but then it never happens.  it’s like the showrunners ran out of time and were like ‘ok well, we just won’t be able to get back to that dangling thread.’  they gratuitously axed their most developed knight and then forgot they did it.

that’s why i laughed.  it was so unbelievably bad - there was literally nothing else for me to do.

vi. let the bodies hit the floor (but like, anticlimactically)

i don’t feel like i need to examine mordred and morgana’s fates too closely, because i suspect the subject of “they deserved better” has already been done to death, and that’s kind of a different conversation than what i’m dealing with here.  i’m not here right now to argue that they should have lived (though of course, yeah, i have my opinions on what would have made a better story), i’m just here to deal with how ineffectively the story we did get was executed.

one thing that amazes me is that when i watched the S5 deleted scenes, i realized that the showrunners did in fact originally have the right ideas about making morgana and mordred’s arcs deeper/more nuanced, but somehow these ideas never made it into the final cut.  there are two deleted scenes that change so much about what could have been - one where arthur and merlin are talking about morgana and arthur is expressing regret and confusion about what happened to her, and merlin says it’s not arthur’s fault, that “there were others better placed to help morgana,” indicating his own guilty feelings.

and the other one was after mordred defected to morgana, where he has a whole conversation with her about how he thinks there is still GOOD in arthur!!!!  he’s uncertain about what he’s doing!  I JUST

i can’t believe

they had the seeds

of this better story

and they consciously decided not to pursue them.  it’s not like they didn’t have the idea.  it’s not like they just never thought of it.  they thought of it, filmed it, and deliberately removed it.  unfathomable.

it’s also pretty remarkable that the big baddie they’ve been touting for the last three seasons just pegs out from a stab wound in about 5 seconds as we’re being hustled on to something else.  there is no space devoted to morgana’s death scene (such as it was…).  it’s a parenthesis.  it feels like, ‘oh we gotta get this out of the way quick hurry up let’s move on.’  

and the thing is, i am not wholly opposed to the idea of morgana ultimately destroying herself - it’s not necessarily my first choice, but there are ways they could have gone that route and still told a meaningful story - but if they wanted to go that way, her death would have to matter.  it would have to be treated like the terrible failure it represents.  it would have to be given the weight of tragedy.

but structurally, the way this scene is set up, there is no way for this to happen.  the viewers are already hyper-strung out on tension, when she appears, because they’re suddenly starting to get this horrible realization that one of the show’s two central characters might actually be about to die, but nobody wants to stop clinging to hope despite their bad feelings so there’s just this desperate, screamingly loud ticking clock running in the background, and when morgana shows up in the middle of that clenching fear, there’s absolutely no way her death can receive the attention she deserves.  the audience doesn’t have room for something like that.  they don’t have room to feel anything on top of what they’re already feeling.  they’re already about to explode.  they’re already maxed out on investment.  they can’t focus on her; they want her to disappear because something more urgent is going on.

and so the show hustles us past her, and her death is just this blip.  it barely registers. if you sneezed, you would miss it.

(and then mordred, for his part, doesn’t even have the benefit of a structural problem to explain the anticlimax of his death.  he just gets taken out like the trash.  for a character that they just spent all this time developing and making sympathetic - boy.)

i think...the thing, ultimately, is this: if this show truly felt that what they had to do was take their previously hopeful premise and stun their audience with the death of the hero, then they should have understood that trying to stack other things on top of that is too much.  trying to squash morgana’s death right up against arthur’s is foolish.  it’s ridiculous to expect your audience to be able to process morgana’s death and arthur’s in-progress dying at the same time.  these two things happen within two minutes of each other.  the audience has been following these characters for five years.  it’s unreasonable to expect your audience to hold so much emotion at once.  

vii. you’ll just have to trust me

the last thing i want to say is a more general thing.  

the rest of this analysis focused on the ways in which the finale is poorly-crafted, rather than on my personal feelings about who they did dirty.  it’s not really about my own personal thoughts re: the merits of killing gwaine and morgana and mordred and arthur or stranding merlin across the centuries; it’s about if these things (and all the other things in these episodes) were done effectively, and the answer, sadly, is no.  the show could have killed all these people and still written something i would have respected (even though it would have been devastating), but that’s not what happened.

but here, at the end, i think i can make room for a little sentiment.  

so what i want to reflect on here is this: ultimately, i don’t end up rejecting stories just because they do things i don’t like.  the pre-finale episodes were filled with things i didn’t like.  i hated how merlin turned mordred and kara in instead of letting them run.  i hated how he let the execution proceed.  i hated how arthur refused to see the injustice of his own actions.  i hated how merlin was getting so wrapped up in ‘make sure arthur doesn’t die’ that everything else was fading away, that he was doing things he could never have done in good conscience before.  but i was still deeply wrapped up in these stories, because i believed they were plausible and true.  i accepted them.  it made sense to me, that these things would be happening, dark and unpleasant as they were.

i don’t start rejecting stories just because they go places i don’t want them to go.  i start rejecting stories when i feel they’ve betrayed my trust.  

writers and readers/viewers can only ever move together if they trust each other.  i allow stories to take me places i don’t want to go because i trust the authors to keep me safe while we travel.  i know that they may take me somewhere i don’t want to be, but i trust that they will never take me somewhere i don’t need to be.  i trust that they are taking me somewhere intentionally, with the story’s integrity in mind.  a creator i trust can take their story anywhere, because i know they will take care.  a creator i trust can end their story tragically, because they remember that i am experiencing it alongside them.  they don’t surprise-punt me off the edge of the cliff so i can crash, alone, into the painful conclusion.  they carry me the whole way, and by the time we get to the end of the line, we can both look back and see that the road that led us here was straight and true.  i don’t fault them for taking me here.  it was the right place to go.

the end of merlin didn’t feel like that to me.  putting aside the fact that it was all so contrived that it didn’t even feel real (illustrated clearly enough in the ten pages above) - the truth is that even if it had displayed the highest quality writing in the world, the way this show ended felt like the audience had been abandoned.  the bond of trust between the creator and the consumer was severed.  the show forgot to take care.

i’m a ‘galaxy far far away’ girl first and foremost, so i’ll borrow an excerpt from the world according to star wars in order to make my point:

kasdan: i think you should kill luke and have leia take over.

lucas: you don’t want to kill luke.

kasdan: okay, then kill yoda.

lucas: i don’t want to kill yoda.  you don’t have to kill people.  you’re a product of the 1980’s.  you don’t go around killing people.  it’s not nice.

kasdan: no, i’m not.  i’m trying to give the story some kind of edge to it…

lucas: by killing somebody, i think you alienate the audience. (x)

i think merlin forgot this.  

i’m not saying that merlin shouldn’t have killed anybody at the end of their show.  i’m not even saying that they shouldn’t have killed arthur.  i’m saying that they forgot to take care.

merlin bbc betrayed their audience.  you cannot take a show whose underlying theme has consistently been the promise of better things and then turn around and end it like that without taking special care of the people who are watching.  you cannot just take an audience who has spent five years listening to someone bright and full of unflinching hope say - without any indication that anyone should doubt the certainty of this statement - “one day things will be better” and expect them to walk into this kind of ending safely.   

by killing someone, i think you alienate the audience.  and this doesn’t mean that nobody can ever die.  but it does mean that if you’re going to kill someone, you have to understand that there is going to be an automatic pain reaction from your viewers/readers/etc, and if you want to maintain their trust, you have to take so much care.  you have to be sure that you know exactly what you’re doing.  you have to be sure that it’s the right thing.  the only thing.  you have to make sure that it doesn’t betray the fundamental promises you’ve made whilst crafting the rest of your story.

the end of merlin is truly stunning in a) its utter reversal/unfulfillment of every major promise that comprised its premise and b) the casualness with which it throws its characters away in the last episode.  it’s not just “killing someone.” it’s a slaughter.  we have to watch almost half the cast die onscreen, and then at the very end literally everybody is dead except merlin himself.

and this is merlin!  not game of thrones!  merlin is a “family show;” that’s what the writers/directors/producers keep calling it when you listen to the episode commentaries and they talk about how they can’t show certain things or make it too bloody.  they wanted to follow in the tradition of “big, kind of epic family-entertaining shows, that—across generations—work on lots of different levels.”  but i cannot imagine a young person who has watched this show for five years coming into the finale to see mordred and gwaine and morgana and arthur violently executed, and to see gwen in mourning, and merlin anguished and then more alone than he ever was even when he was hiding his secret, and then, whoop, there’s the credits, that’s all folks.  aren’t you glad you got on this ride? 

the show ends without fulfilling any of the promises it made repeatedly for years.  the liberation of magic, the uniting of albion, and, for merlin, especially, the long-predicted day when he would be known and recognized for who he was - all forgotten.  all abandoned.  the finale finishes without giving the audience any of the things that they have spent five years being told to expect.  the show rewards five years of emotional investment with death and desolation.  it breaks all of its promises. it doesn’t take care.

i was lucky enough to have been so disconnected by how shockingly bad these episodes were that i mostly sat there shock-laughing at them in disbelief, the first time i watched.  but going through them again to put this write-up together was just like - that’s when a deep sadness kicked in, for me.  not at the ending itself, exactly, because, as i’ve said before, it was so poorly put-together that i can’t even see it as real.  but just - at the idea that i still had to see it, period.  that i had to witness this thing that i loved so much descend into this misery, for all that i didn’t recognize it as something plausible or true.  that i still had to watch merlin drag arthur all over creation, still trying, still scrabbling for that sliver of hope, only to have arthur bite the dust like ten feet from their destination.  that all merlin ever wanted in his life was to be accepted and loved for who he is, and that he put all of this on hold so he could (supposedly) bring about a world where it would be possible, and then he never gets it.  that a life of hiding himself and believing that everybody around him hated who he was inside - that was as good as it was ever going to get, for him.  

the writers just - piled it on.  ‘you can watch mordred die, even though we just went to all this effort to make you root for him!  and now you can watch gwaine die (why????? we don’t know!!! it doesn’t change the story, but why don’t you watch it happen anyway!).  and now you can watch morgana die!  but don’t look too long, because arthur is dying!  and now you can see camelot cold and in mourning - but only for one second, because now you can see merlin, who we never showed meeting any of his friends ever again, wandering around as a solitary old man thousands of years after everybody else is dead and the universe we spent the last five seasons living in no longer exists!!!!!!’

unbelievable.  

it doesn’t upset me in the sense of “it’s so terrible that the story ended that way” because i know it didn’t, really.  it was contrived and false enough that i laughed through most of the episode.  i know it isn’t the way things would have gone, and i won’t have any trouble forgetting it; whereas if it had been well-done, i wouldn’t have been able to dismiss it so easily.  but i still had to watch it, regardless.  you’re forced to watch it, because you care, and the creators know you care enough not to look away, and they use that trust to keep you glued there while they gut-punch you over and over and over again and then peace out without concluding any of their plotlines, saying, “isn’t it clever???  we really fooled you, didn’t we?  technically, we fulfilled the prophecies - nobody ever said any of the characters would get to enjoy the new world they would build!  i bet you’re so surprised!”

it leaves you stunned.  

it’s so...mean.  

it’s so careless.

i don’t have any desire to subject myself to that a second time.  after i’m done with this post, i know i’m never going to watch those episodes again.  they weren’t good, first of all; and if you need more clarification on that, please see the first ten pages of this document.  but more importantly, i don’t feel the need to subject myself once again to the callous disregard for the trust i gave this show’s creators.  

if i’m supposed to trust a creator to carry me over rough terrain, i’m trusting them to carry me all the way to the end.  they can’t violently dump me to the ground two feet before the finish line, run me over with an ATV, and then expect me to willingly climb back into their arms.

viii: if you want something done right

in conclusion, i guess the one nice thing about this is that we can crawl the last two feet ourselves.  

for me, sadly, i think canon!merlin is always going to end at 5.11.  the last two episodes don’t feel believable to me.  i couldn’t watch them and be convinced that i was watching something plausible; i felt like i was watching two hours of scripted theater.  which is, of course, what we’re always doing - but if the story had been crafted appropriately, we shouldn’t have realized it.  we shouldn’t have been able to feel the writer’s hand reaching in and making improbable things happen.  we shouldn’t have been laughing in disbelief as supposedly “sad” things were happening in front of us, and we definitely shouldn’t have been almost falling off the couch because the last scene was so jarring we thought it was an advertisement. (the TRUCK, people.  blaring across the screen and bulldozering through medieval fantasy-adventure show merlin bbc.  nothing on earth or in high heaven could have prepared me for that moment.)

but the one good thing about a piece of media that ended so unsatisfactorily is that it lights a fire under people’s butts to go ahead and sort of...row the boat themselves.  i was afraid, before i watched this, that seeing it would make me never want to go back to merlin again.  i put off finishing season 5 for an entire year because i was in the middle of writing a fic and i thought that if the end of the show upset me, i would never want to write another word.  but now that i’m finished, i’m relieved to be able to say that the finale, while it will always be a bitterly disappointing sore spot, was also SO laughably bad that i don’t feel the slightest compunction about just...letting it lie unrecognized.  if it were well-crafted and i was just ignoring it because it made me sad, i’d feel guilty for being petty.  but it was Just Actually That Bad, so my conscience is clear.  

and so is the path to more fun things, i hope, because that is the point of fandom, in the end, to have fun with something you love in the company of other people who love it the same way.

i hope i haven’t written the last merlin thing i’ll ever write.  i hope there’s more inside me that i want to say.  i hope i haven’t come in too late to make connections.  i hope i’ll enjoy rewatching (most of) this show someday.  i couldn’t imagine that any of these things would be true, when i knew the end was going to be a let-down, but now that i’ve finished, i feel like there’s infinite room to play, and that, at least, makes me smile.

i’ve said before that this was a hell of a ride.  it ended in a trainwreck, sure, but i’m not sorry i got on.

#the once and future slowburn #merlin S5 #meta