#[urban fantasy] mirror and stone

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Do you have any visions for an fantasy race/society of gorgons? I brainstormed about it on discord like a week ago.

Complete fantasy societies really aren't my forte, but if I was going to put gorgons in an urban fantasy setting as a humanoid species...

● If the world was suited for it, I would keep their more monstrous appearance, fangs and claws and all.

● If the world wasn't suited for it, I would let them look human apart from snakes instead of hair on their head, sharp teeth, piercing eyes and - just for fun - the wings they are often depicted with on Greek pottery, but which rarely show up in stories.

● For convenience's sake I would stick to the "if you look them in the eye you turn to stone" rather than the "if you look directly into their face you turn to stone". So gorgon's living among humans would wear veils, mirrored glasses, etc., to shield their eyes.

● Also, while the turn to stone thing definitely works on humans, I think it shouldn't work on everyone. Maybe vampires are immune, for instance. I'll also pull from fairy tales and say there is a "water of life" potion which is capable of reversing the petrification. It's hard to make, but most hospitals would have some on hand.

● And just to give them an edge, I'm going to say they can practice blood magic! The concept from Euripides' play Ion that gorgon blood can be either a potent cure or a terrible poison is very interesting to me and a good basis for blood-based magical powers.

[fatehbaz]

[S]and has acquired a conspicuous profile in contemporary urbanization over the past two decades. [...] [S]and but also gravel and crushed rock, are the fastest-growing category of extracted material. Their extraction has increased six-fold in the Asia-Pacific region over the last two decades. Singapore, a city-state in Southeast Asia the size of New York City and half the size of London, is the largest per capita importer of sand in the world. The city-state’s urbanization and never-ending construction [...] is partly responsible for its considerable appetite for sand, but this use pales in comparison to the amount it requires for its land reclamation project, which has seen the city-state expand its territory from 585 square kilometers in 1959 to 724 in 2022. Singapore’s construction of territory, and the sand it has imported from all over Southeast Asia to resource its geophysical projection of sovereignty, invites us to consider the implications of urbanization’s enrollment of greater and greater volumes of sediment, and the geopolitics of the global sand crisis. [...]

As sediment flows and locks into place, it expresses characteristics of all three states of matter, depositing and eroding [...]. A geomorphological errantry, sediment is always on the move [...]. In its multiplicity, sand becomes a kind of narrator for those elements [...]. In its modulation [...], sediment sutures together landscapes that are neither solid nor fluid, but the porous interplay [...].

---

Between 2006 and 2016, Singapore, with a population of less than six million, was the top importer of sand in the world four times. Land reclamation there truly began with colonization by the British East India Company, with Boat Quay in 1822, when three hundred or so convict laborers who were paid pittances chopped down hills and cut up stones to embank a swamp, lest it remain fallow. When Singapore became an independent city-state in 1965, reclamation projects initially cut down hills for fill material, flattening the interior and exterior of the main island alike. [...] As these projects grew more expansive and the city-state’s demand for sand intensified, Malaysia and then Indonesia banned sand exports to Singapore [...]. This [resulting] price spike shook the city-state to its core, prompting the opening of a series of construction sand stockpiles [...]. The government began purchasing sand through its web of contractors and subcontractors from Vietnam, Cambodia, the Philippines, and Myanmar. [...]

The securitization of sand in multiple stockpiles in Singapore eerily mirrors what happened in the extractive sandscapes of its origin: similarly sized dunes bloomed along the banks of mangroves in Koh Kong, Cambodia, like a dream herniating into reality, an invasive species of landscape bursting at the seam where the land met the water, still haunting riverbeds years after the dredging stopped. [...]

---

[T]he fantasy of reclaimed land through dubiously sourced rudiments of city-statecraft. [...] This kind of work is normally kept out of sight behind physical partitions as well as the labyrinthine contractual involutions of procurement arrangements, until it is seamlessly assumed by the whole, consumed by land as a homogenous legal entity [...] [B]ehind the mask, another mask. [...] [T]he sand barges and ships enter the maritime waters of Singapore from [...] legally undisclosable sources of its origin.

The eponymous proclamation [...] is the legal mechanism by which a piece of reclaimed land is “proclaimed” as state land proper by the president. A reclamation can only become state land by the text of a proclamation, a eucharistic procedure which purifies the land of its ambiguous sedimentary origin. Prior to that it is foreshore or seabed, but once it has been proclaimed, “thereupon that land shall immediately vest in the State freed and discharged from all public and private rights [...] over the foreshore or the sea-bed before the same were so reclaimed.” [...]

---

The limit to seeing like a state is that the state has a way of doing things that it can’t see, and of refusing to register that which does not meet its threshold of intelligibility.

It blinds itself through the loophole, the nondisclosure agreement, the handshake and its subtle para-political fission. [...]

Singapore’s continued economic prosperity depends on the speculative projection of its territory through unequal economic exchange, disguising it through fabulations of sovereign ingenuity like the Gardens by the Bay. [...]

[There is an] asymmetry between its curated artifice and the remote terraqueous landscapes this curation predates upon, unsettling the ground on which the city-state projects its most delirious fictions of sovereignty [...].

But those very spaces of nondescript hinterland are the logistical and industrial engines which make the Gardens possible. [...]

---

[T]he sheer colonial and postcolonial history of geographic expansion and environmental transformation implies that there are still further worlds to extract for reproducing the global city. Urban form rewired by geo-economic fortune and political repression subversively enroll land and labor into its globe-spanning machinery: it needs to keep on expanding to stay ahead of whatever anticipated global economic movement will buoy it in the future. [...] The transmutation of Singapore’s development trajectory is not historical, but contemporary: Singapore is the global city as a centripetal conjugator of space-time, funneling either term through supply chains that pass through it to produce territory as a plasticity [...].

The calamity it visited on the population of Koh Sralao was first pioneered all over Singapore and its outlying islands in the name of necessity, modernization, and the nation, displacing Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities, who faced a choice to either abandon their maritime ways or resettle further afield in Malaysia or Indonesia. Many of Singapore’s southern islands were grafted together and erased by land reclamation, with Jurong Island in particular becoming an agglomeration of eighteen different islands, their Malay names now lost, sunk together into the catacombs of a dedicated petrochemical refining and storage complex.

Instead of being haunted by the sediment it has reclaimed its land with, and the rhythms and ecologies this sediment subtended, the global city and its subcontracted tendrils haunt those vestiges of maritime and riverine life bound by sediment like a vengeful ghost, compelled to repeat its actions, and to forget them in the projection of another tabula rasa.

---

All text above by: William Jamieson. “Extracting Sovereignty: Land Reclamation in Southeast Asia and the Emergence of the Global Sand Crisis.” e-flux Journal Issue #137. June 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[subiysu-chan]

Tips about XVIIIth and XIXth century houses (for northern hemispheres)

-The roof should be about the same height as the first story.

-1 to 4 stories high, no more, not including the roof

-Height is calculated this way: ground floor, additional floor, roofspace

-Because the roof is heigh enough to be habitable, it would usually have loophole

-Pinterest has a lot of amazing references for loopholes, windows and other details.

-For fantasy worlds that uses similar architecture, please be sure that you have a rough idea of the primary types of stones present. Have a lot of plaster: it's fire-proof abilities would mean anything that can be covered in plaster would be covered in plaster if the material is cheap and redily available.

-XVIIIth century: little brick, mostly stone, wood, clay and plaster. Ground floor would usually be made out of stone whenever possible, but wood if present would be more common in higher stories. This doesn't mean you cannot have brick, just that it should be rarer. Different stones have different properties and have variable friability. Stares would mostly be made out of masonry.

-XIXth century: industrial revolution, so a lot more brick, iron stairs. Stairs would mostly be stealworks, especially later on in the century.

-Look at old buildings ! They are beautiful.

-Chimneys all have to next to the wall that is adjacent to the main chimney to evacuate the smoke.

-Rural areas can have beaten earth floors. In urban areas, salpetre can be used, but the safer options would be concrete, ceramic (terra cota, or for fancier places, faïence) or stones.

-Inner walls more often white. When mirrors are present, they should be placed at strategic places to catch the sunlight. Usually North-East and North-West of a window's reach, so that they can catch the sunlight in the early mourning and after noon. Rarely should a mirror be placed straight south unless you are the Galleries of Versailles situation. At noon, the light should shine plenty bright unless there is something wrong.

-Windows should face either the street or the inner yard.

-For suburbain large homes, or country mansions: remember, in times before electricity or central heating, windows must be placed strategecally. In urban areas, too little space is available for individuals to be picky about window placement, and most peasant huts didn't have windows other than what was necessary to clear out the smoke. Glass was expensive. In fancier residences, the windows should face south in cold climates and north is hot climates.

-The family would store there most precious belongings in rooms with locable windows with shudders outside the window, with all handles located inside. A small grid can be placed outside the window for even better protection. Usually, only a single story would have this feature.

-For fantasy worldbuilders and illustrators: it means that during a world with plenty of undead, the children's sleeping area and the mistresses bedroom should be located either on the floor with the defendable windows or in the attick. So, if that undead monster tries to get in, they would either have to lock-pick the shudders, or get in and fight all their way up. To ghosts, it does not apply, but physical undeads can be stopped with those obstacles.

[parfumieren]

New York (Parfums de Nicolaï)

While going to art school in Manhattan, I lived in a claustrophobic railroad apartment on 43rd and 8th -- the heart of good old seedy pre-Disney Times Square. The apartment (an illegal rebuild in a building zoned strictly for business) belonged to an artist and her filmmaker husband. In exchange for room and board, I nannied their delightful two-year-old and stretched endless painters' canvases in the upstairs studio, where I could actually see the sky.

Only the width of 43rd Street separated my tiny bedroom from that monument of sleaze, the Times Square Hotel. The room right across from mine housed a young drag queen who often sat in front of her dressing room mirror, smoking Virginia Slims and examining her exquisite face for flaws. In this cold and ugly city, we were two loners connected only by the view from our windows. Yet in the hours I spent watching her watching herself, I felt a sense of wordless connection to this lovely, remote stranger. She was my New York.

That winter, every plywood wall around every construction scaffold in the city seemed to be plastered with posters advertising Rattle and Hum, the documentary film chronicling U2's Joshua Tree tour. As a longtime fan needful of distraction from the grey city streets, I went to see it in the theatres two or three times. Its iconography - deserts, highways, endless stretches of open sky -- proved a potent consolation for a small soul stranded on a hostile urban planet.

The first time I sampled Parfums de Nicolaï's New York, I was sharply startled by the inconsistency between its name and its aim. What, if anything at all, does this painted-desert fantasy have to do with the city? There's no sagebrush, no sweetgrass there. No space.

Then I remembered that when I lived in Manhattan, hemmed in all sides by concrete and stone, I longed for nothing more than to be airlifted to Joshua Tree or some similar wide-open landscape in the American Southwest. In fact, I doubt I could have understood this perfume if I hadn't lived there and been desperate to get out. New York the fragrance is not meant to provide a portrait of New York the city, but rather an olfactory mirage of the sort all city-dwellers dream about-- sky and land that stretch all the way to eternity, and no damn buildings in the way.

The best way to describe this unisex fragrance is "L’Heure Bleue Pour Homme”. It encompasses many of the same notes (citrus, carnation, vanilla) and special effects (that ineffably soft focus! those melancholy shadows!). But just as Guerlain arrived at Mitsouko by marrying a fresh peach accord to a pre-existing chypre, his descendant Patricia de Nicolaï took the supremely feminine L'Heure Bleue and Americanized it with a dash each of tumbleweed and testosterone. The results shimmer with desert heat-- but a desert of the sort ruled by Priscilla the Queen, elegant, tough, tolerant, embracing all genders, generous to a fault with her great, big, wide-open heart.

When I wear New York, I think of my New York-- a boy teetering on the cusp of womanhood, hiding her tender young heart beneath the brittle exterior of a grand courtesan. I wonder where she is, what window she looks out of now, what she sees in her mirror. If I could, I would go back in time, take her out of that dark little hotel room in the city, and give her all the skies in the world to play beneath. I'd tell her: Forget the mirror. You're perfect, you are.

Scent elements: Lemon, petitgrain, bergamot, lavender, artemesia, pimiento, pepper, patchouli, cedar, vanilla, leather, amber

[ablueboxfullofbooks]

BOOK REVIEW

The Counter Balance (Ruling Magic : Book 1) Lissa Bolts Publication date : October 15, 2020

Who needs a badass heroine ? I give to you Isla, heiress of a magical kingdom (technically it is the United States, but still, magiiiiiiic) and daughter of a horrible mean tyrant, incidentally, the Queen. Isla doesn’t have the glamorous sparkly life that her title could suggest. She is hated by her mother who does everything she can to make her life difficult. No, the Queen doesn’t have a magical mirror, but still cares to be the more powerful. Still, Isla is smart and finds ways to sneak out under her mother’s nose. But then, things get pretty serious. There is an assassination attempt and the Princess becomes the pawn in a war between her kingdom and the neighboring royal domain. So Isla knows it, she has to stop her crazy mother to save everyone, including the king of the other kingdom, who is really cute.

I love Lissa Bolts’ other series, Stones & Curses. And you know what ? Ruling Magic is pretty good too ! I love the magical atmosphere, the charismatic characters, the world building, in short everything. It is a good urban fantasy novel. I finished the first book and was like OMG what will happen next ? Which is a good sign. So yes. Fun read. Loved it. Lissa’s writing is really good. You get immersed immediately in the story. You feel it is just the beginning of the journey for Isla. She still has some growing to do to become the ultimate magical butt kicker, and I cannot wait to read it.

[houseofnotedswords]

THE operative fallacy here is that we believe that unconditional love means not seeing anything negative about someone, when it really means pretty much the opposite: loving someone despite their infuriating flaws and essential absurdity.

“I Know What You Think of Me” BY TIM KREIDER

[new-revenant]

PhantasyPhest2022

Day 1 -Canon Rewrite(Make it Magical)

Also technically day 6 magical-ghost-zone-ieskai because this was the only thing I could come up with for these two days! Also this just loosely fits the prompt, but don’t worry, that will in fact continue with the prompts to come because reasons :) This also technically fits with day two urban fantasy but it’s fine.

I actually made a whole au thing for this week, called “Mirror World of Mine.” I will unveil more and more details about it as the week goes on.

Basic summary: Danny tries to get of his powers in PP but turning on the portal led him to a world similar to his own-with much more magic and a bit less science. I barely mention much PP stuff and it’s really only the beginning of it and no mention of the Disatoriod or however you spell it.

Danny was tired of it.

Tired of being the hero, tired of having to fight ghosts everyday, tired of being hunted everyday, tired of being tired from it all. Tired of having to bear this stone of responsibility that comes from being this abomination of both ghost and man.

If other people could do his job better than he could, what was the point of keeping it?

So he would step back into that portal without a problem. If it meant getting his normal life back, he’d do anything. He had a feeling that everything wouldn’t go back to normal, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to stop feeling like he had to carry the world on his shoulders.

What better way to get rid of the stone he had to bear than to destroy it? Shatter it into thousand of pieces so that he’d no longer would have to think about it again.

Of course, his friends were just a bit more sensible than him-after all, their minds weren’t clouded by the chance to be a normal kid again. But they were powerless to stop him as he pushed that button for the second time.

Danny saw-and felt-that all too familiar green of ectoplasm, but the feeling that he felt when he become the so-called freak that he is was absent. The feeling of being tugged between life and death, back and forth, infinitely lasting for moments on end. But it felt more like simply going through the portal normally. But with the added bonus of feeling like he was being stabbed by glass. Then he felt like was shot out into a blender, before feeling a numb sort of pain all over his body.

He was lying on a stone floor, as far as he could tell. It was cold and smooth, and definitely nothing he’d recognized from anywhere. He pushed himself off the ground, trying to get a grasp of his surroundings. His head was spinning and his eyesight was blurry, but the general layout or the room seemed vaguely familiar.

Danny groaned, “Where in the zone am I?” He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyesight coming back to him. Then, he noticed something, a whisper from somewhere, circling around him. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew where it came from, a gut instinct, staring right at it.

“Uhh, hello?” Danny waved to the empty air, feeling quite silly. But the whisper answered.

“Who are you? Why are you here? What’s going on?” The whisper asked, panic enveloping every single word. Panic rose in Danny as well, as he could tell that the whisper’s voice was exactly like his. That’s probably not good.

“Okay, okay, my name’s Danny, Danny Fenton,“ The whisper gasped, “I stepped through my parents’ portal that they built in their basement,” another gasp, “and now I’m here, in a…” Danny looked around his senses having fully came back to him, “…a stone version of their basement. Sweet Clockwork what year is it?”

“Okay, okay,” the whisper mimicked back, “I think I know what’s going on, don’t freak out.”

“It sounds more like you’re the one who’s freaking out.”

“I am! But, you don’t need to freak out, the years um, 2004, and I’m pretty sure you’re from another world?”

“2004, that was a year ago!” Danny exclaimed, “So today must be July 18…the day of the accident.”

“The what? Wait, what accident, what’s going to happen?” The whisper-or well, the other Danny asked in an even more panicked voice then before.

“Well…” Danny turned behind him, facing this world’s portal, it being the same shape of his own’s, yet there was no sense of technology around it, but there were runes upon runes that glowed a sickly green. 

“That, is the accident,” He pointed at it, only now noticing that he was wearing what appeared to be a black turtleneck. He pulled his hand back in, “Wait a minute, what am I wearing?”

The other Danny panicked, and panicked and panicked, “Oh no no no, I think-“

“I’m stuck in your body aren’t I?” Danny asked, deadpanned. The other said yes, and Danny groaned, “Great, just great,” Danny walked a bit aways to get a better look at the portal.

“Welp, might as well spare you and this world’s Amity Park from the horrors of this stupid portal.” Danny clutched his fits and the familiar green ectoplasm surround them. Danny immediately dispersed the ectoplasm after he noticed it. He was definitely in some sort of human form, so he shouldn’t have been able to concentrate so much of it so quickly. It wasn’t like he was overshadowing the other him-it definitely didn’t feel like that. It felt more like when Sidney swapped their bodies, minus the slight feeling of disconnection.

Nevertheless, Danny clutched his fists again and shot at the biggest rune that looked like a ghost. There was all types of symbols, but there were ones that definitely looked like a ghost. Instantly, the portal shut off, and Danny sighed.

“Did the accident give you cool powers?” The other asked excitedly. Given that this was the first time that the other him wasn’t talking all panicky, Danny just nodded.

“That and an invasion of ghosts that keep trying to destroy our town,” Danny then shot at a few more runes.

“Woah woah woah! What are you doing?” The other Danny almost shouted at him, but it still came out as a whisper. It was just as strange as when Danny was able to tell where he was, without being able to see him at all.

Danny looked at where his other was, and said simply, “Stopping an invasion of ghosts that will destroy our town.”

As Danny continued to shoot down the runes, the other kept yelling at him, trying to yell at him, but Danny ignored it, continuing to shoot at rune after rune, the portal crumbling bit by bit. The other Danny’s pleas only got more and more desperate, but Danny was determined. Before he could finish, he felt like he was yanked away, like a failed overshadowing. In a flash, he was out of the body, one that was almost exactly the same as his, minus the turtleneck and his doppelgänger hair’s being blue with black tips for some reason. It was a look. To himself Danny looked like a shadow, only vaguely being able to see his own limbs.

The other Danny looked around frantically, breathing heavily. Just then, the portal collapsed, loudly. He yelped, looking upon the debris in utter horror.

“No, no no no, I can’t-it can’t,” he mumbled, backing away from the scene, “Why-why did you do that?!” He whipped around to face Danny as he yelled at him.

“I told you, I was stopping a very bad and very destructive ghostly invasion. Mom and Dad can just build another portal-better yet, we can take the blueprints so that we can make a portal later so I can get back home.” It was then that it dawned on Danny that he just destroyed his only way home. But, he could just rebuild the whole thing, it would be fine.

“Uh, we don’t really have blueprints?” The other Danny squeaked, “It’s um, all magic and stuff.”

“Okay, do have a book or something? Or did my-your parents just cobble a bunch of stuff together-“

“They cobbled a bunch of runes together,” the other Danny whispered with a hint of shame, “We’ll just have to wait for them to rebuild it. I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” panic now filled this Danny’s voice, “Have any idea when that’s going to happen buddy?”

“Months.”

“Months.”

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry-“

“NIEL?! ARE YOU DOWN THERE?” A familiar voice-Jazz, it was definitely this world’s Jazz-called from a few floors up. The other Danny’s face paled.

“Niel? Wait a minute, do you go by Neil?” Danny struggle to hold in a laugh.

“Yeah, Daniel, Niel, you know,” ‘Niel’ spoke quickly, “She can’t find me-us-down here like this oh god,” he ran a hand through his hair, panicking as he does.

“Well, I can turn invisible AND intangible, so if your willing-“

“Please! Anything! Hurry!”

Just as the lab door opened, Danny pulled Niel out of his own body and possessed him. This was possession, true possession, it had to be. Danny stumbled a bit, the switch between the two states he was in into the one he was in now was jarring. Fortunately or not Jazz saw that. This other Jazz looked different as well, wearing a aqua, long bell-sleeved v neck and white bootcut pants with a aqua stripe on the end. She was also wearing a black choker with a quartz pendent. She had the same aqua headband and the same auburn hair as the original Jazz.

“Niel! Oh my goodness, what happened?! Are you okay?” Jazz ran over to him, before suddenly stopping in her tracks a few feet away from him, looking at him quizzically.

“Niel, what color are your eyes?” She asked slowly.  Danny raised his eyebrow, confused.

“They’re blue? What happened, are they not blue?!” Danny tried to mimic thee panic that Niel seemed to emanate consistently as far as he could tell. Not to mention that he was also somewhat panicked since boy howdy would this make things even more difficult in the long run.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Jazz said in her familiar comforting voice, “But your eyes may or may not be green right now.”

“Like the portal?!” Danny didn’t mean to say that but man would he go with it. “The uh, portal turned on-somehow-I swear i didn’t do anything-but it did turn on, and it was green, and I definitely did not go in-“

“Niel,” Jazz put her hand on his shoulder, “breath in, breath out.” Danny did just that.

“Okay, then after that it just-collapsed. I don’t know how, or why, but it did and please don’t tell mom and dad!” Danny pleaded.

“Huh, that was good, great, thank you,” Niel told him in the whisper he seemed to be stuck with. Probably should find a way to fix that later.

“It’s okay Niel, but we’ve got to tell them, it’s the right thing to do,” Jazz patted him on the back and started to lead him out of the lab.

“The right thing to do is to crush their hopes and dreams?” Danny squeaked.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jazz restated, “Now, how about we go to Crazy Burger? Well, maybe after we fix your eyes huh?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good, maybe I could just wash out whatever got stuck in my eyes-I just don’t want to bother you or worry mom and dad-“

“Niel,” Jazz said in a stern voice, looking Danny right in the eyes, “Remember what I told you?”

“Um, stop being so self-deprecating?” Danny answered with a nervous smile.

“Exactly,” Jazz said with a smirk, “now, washing your eyes is a good idea, I’m proud of you-“Danny and Niel smiled softly, “But don’t just use normal water alright? We have Blood Blossoms extract in the mirror cabinet in the master bathroom, so go use that!”

“Okay!” Danny smiled and began his way towards said bathroom, “Thank you Jazz! Please don’t tell mom and dad!” Danny heard her say ‘I will!’ as he dashed up the stairs. Thankfully, the general layout of the was the same, but everything else was different. Less test tubes and scrap metal was strewn about, but more glass bottles and pieces of cloth. Yes, test tubes and glass bottles are basically the same, the feel to it was different. Less scientific and more…magical.

Danny slammed the door open to the bathroom, breathing heavily, both physically and mentally exhausted. Walking inside, Danny closed the door and he stopped walking almost immediately once he saw his reflection. Well, he didn’t see his reflection, he saw the reflection of Niel floating around. Niel noticed this too and stood next to him, mouth agape.

“What is happening?” Danny whined, putting his head in his hands.

“Magic?” Niel said with a shrug. Niel’s voice was clearer now, no longer a whisper and more of just a regular talking voice. It was weird being able to see him now, but only in mirrors apparently. Weirder yet, his own reflection was just…gone.

“None of this makes sense, what do you mean by ‘magic?’”

“I don’t know, it’s just…magic. Magic’s weird, I don’t really know too much about it, mom and dad research it a bunch but they can’t really do it,” Niel’s talking speed increased as he went on, “Somehow I was able to open the portal so that mean I can do magic or-“

“Listen, listen, if anyone can do…magic, here, it would be me. But magic,” Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Magic is just science yet to be explained. And now I am sane.”

“So you and our-mine-yours-whatever-they’re more scientific than magic right?”

“The difference between alchemy and chemistry except my parents just mash things together and hope that it works!” Niel nodded along, clearly familiar with that experience, “Seriously, my ghost catching device, was made out of a thermos.”

“Huh-“

“The microwave is extremely radioactive, our food regularly comes to life, and now I realize that my life is not as normal as I thought.”

Niel laughed, and Danny did too. A moment of solidarity passed between the two. At the end of the day, they were the same person after all, just in two different world on very different paths.

“Hey Niel, I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll help you survive this year of high school while you try to find a way to separate us, sounds good?”

“Yeah! Ooo, I wonder what your magic would do to a vampire!”

A pause. “Vampires are real?”

Another pause. “Do only ghosts exist you would or something?”

“I mean, as far as I know yeah.”

“Sounds kinda…boring. Uh, no offense!”

“Heh, wait till you see the genie ghost, or the time ghost. Ugh, why do I feel like Clockwork had something to do with this?”

“Genie-time ghost?!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later. Right now you need to get back in this body so we can go to Crazy Burger! I’m guessing that’s this universe’s Nasty Burger huh?”

“…Nasty Burger?”

“Look the food’s really good okay! Just get back in the body-that’s probably not the strangest thing I’ve ever said-and let’s get out of here.”

“Sounds good me!”

“Just call me Danny.”

“Sounds good Danny.” And Niel was back in control of his body. He looked back over to where Danny was now floating, almost a mirror version of him, just with the black hair he used to have and bright, neon green eyes. Niel smiled and said, “Thank you.”

And then the duo left.

[cabezadeperro]

codywan kiss bingo: true love’s kiss + thousandth kiss

hi!! another @codywankissbingo fill :)

this one is a kind of sequel to a fic i wrote last year, the fanged god. it’s uhhh horror and urban fantasy heavily inspired by the old hellblazer comics. obi-wan’s john constantine, and cody’s just unlucky, i guess. in the fanged god, cody finds himself haunted and slightly possessed by a very strange and very old entity; in this very short sequel that takes place a couple of years later, he and obi-wan are finally together but cody’s still dealing with the haunting.

i think you don’t actually have to read any of the fics in the series to understand what’s going on here, but i’m pretty proud of it even if it’s kind of old.

anyway. ~990w, T. this one’s just horror-adjacent, but careful with the tags and warnings in the other fics of the series. fic and bingo under the cut, and you can also READ IT ON AO3.

---

Obi-Wan shifts on the bed, his eyes still closed, and reaches across to Cody’s side. He finds it warm. He blinks his eyes open and sits on the bed, trying to shake sleep off his brain, and looks around the bedroom.

Gauzy orange light comes in through the window. They left it open when they went to sleep, and the curtains move slightly. It’s closer to dawn than to dusk, but Obi-Wan can hear people talking down on the street, music, the comings and goings of cars. Someone laughs, hoarse and tired and more than a little drunk, and Obi-Wan still exhausted. 

The old house creaks and shifts all around him. Obi-Wan can feel it tugging at him, pulling at his mind and his feet. He closes his eyes and reaches out, and the house reaches back, its ghosts and memories surging to fill his ears with white noise. 

Cody’s in the small drawing room on the ground floor. Obi-Wan can feel him, his mind and his soul, sun-bright and sharp but dimmed, drowning.

He’s not alone. 

Obi-Wan curses under his breath and swings his legs out of the bed, shivering slightly in the early morning damp that comes in from the sea. He grabs Cody’s t-shirt from the chair by the night table, stops by the bathroom down the hallway to wash his face in an effort to feel more awake, and then starts making his way down the stairs.

The air is very still, very cold. Colder than it should be for May and the coast. Dust and damp stone, brine and rotting algae, something sweet like rotting fruit and not at all at the same time. Obi-Wan blinks, pausing at the bottom step, and shakes himself, shakes off the barb-like thoughts and feelings of the thing that has somehow made itself at home where it doesn’t belong.

He can sense Maul, still stuck in his mirror, prowling the twisted, empty reflection of Obi-Wan’s old house. Maul’s mind is like a hornet’s nest, buzzing and angry and for once not focused on Obi-Wan.

He doesn’t like the grinning thing that haunts Cody’s thoughts and soul and dreams. He fears it, because it’s older and powerful and Maul’s kind understands the world as an endless fight to the death. 

Maul likes Cody, and Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan understands. He is so very easy to like.

Obi-Wan steps into the drawing room. He hisses: the wooden floorboards are so cold they almost burn. Cody’s standing in front of the window, staring out at the street, the lines of his shoulders tense and his jaw twitching. Now and then he shivers, and when Obi-Wan starts making his way to him he doesn’t turn to look. 

There’s a single, bloody scratch down the line of his spine; anger is sudden, almost overwhelming, and Obi-Wan pauses, forcing himself to breathe it out. 

The thing hasn’t left yet. It’s—hidden, somewhere in the room. Obi-Wan pauses, tilts his head, closes his eyes. He can’t kill it, he can’t fight it, but he can shut it out. This is his home: this is how homes work. A home is a different kind of god. 

Cody gasps and stumbles, and Obi-Wan opens his eyes again before crossing the room towards him, hands already reaching out. Cody falls into him, cold and stiff, and Obi-Wan brushes a kiss on his forehead, on his nose, on his mouth. 

Cody doesn’t kiss back, too shaken and cold and still clawing his way back to himself, but he sighs and Obi-Wan can feel his mind settling back into his body. He leans forward, and bare arms wind around Obi-Wan’s waist, and Cody’s curly head finds its place on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan rubs his back, taking care to avoid the long, vicious gash down the middle, and scowls down at the empty street through the window. 

On the other side of his house, trapped in and kept safe by his cage, Maul laughs at him; a door closes itself with a bang, and Cody jumps in Obi-Wan’s arms.

“Maul,” Obi-Wan mumbles, his lips on Cody’s hair. “It’s fine.”

Cody hums. He’s shaking again, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s very glad he decided to spend the night there instead of in his own flat or with his brother. 

This thing between them, undefined and fragile as it is, should have never been but is, and has been for a while. Two years since they first met at the house where everything started, and a little over a year since Cody first kissed him, mouth warm and sweet and dark eyes sure.

“It was in the bathroom,” Cody says suddenly. Obi-Wan can feel his mouth moving against his shoulder, through the thin fabric of Cody’s shirt. He wraps his arms tighter around Cody and waits. “It was in the fucking bathroom.”

He sounds so—offended. Obi-Wan snorts: he can’t help it. He feels Cody smile and lose some of the tension in his shoulders.  

The house shifts and settles all around them—this won’t happen again.

Obi-Wan starts pushing them towards the kitchen, thinking about coffee and breakfast and then taking the bike and driving to the mountains or to the city. 

They say that you can’t kill something that isn’t alive, that you can’t kill a god, but Obi-Wan’s angry and he’s always been ambitious, and he’s already done the impossible once.

(Maul, the mirror, Qui-Gon’s blood on Obi-Wan’s hands.)

Cody moves away once they step into the kitchen. He knows his way around the room well by now, and he reaches for the cafetiere with sure hands while Obi-Wan finds a couple of clean mugs in the cupboard and his first aid kit from the drawer by the sink. Obi-Wan listens to Cody opening his fridge and scoffing at what he finds inside and has to bite his own mouth to try and hide his smile.

They say you can’t kill a god. Obi-Wan thinks they might have not tried hard enough.

[territorial-utopia]

From @therealbrigeedarocks:

My name is TheBrigeedaRocks, or TheBrigeeda. I'm mostly on Tumblr now but I still have a dA. I'm a writer and artist who sticks mainly to Fantasy and Modern/Urban Fantasy settings with a preference for adventure/slice of life over romance. Trying to branch out to other genres, but it's slow going. Mainly stick to the Swift Scale (12x) when it comes to heights but it's not set in stone. I love puns, comedy, and crafting heartbreaking moments in whatever I do.

While I have a couple of spots you can find my art and my writing it's hard to decide what to choose to highlight

Far From Home: Bridget is stolen away to a giant world where Humans are considered pests and pets by its inhabitants. Can she convince Colm, her captor, that her kind deserves more out of life? What perils must be faced before the right thing is done? Is a friendship possible despite it all? And will she ever find her way back to Earth? One way to find out! 2 out of 3 "books" complete, 2 side stories, and has its own ask blog

Gianthology: Like tall tales and short stories? Want to see what happens when a Giant auditions for a play? When a Human asks for help building a road? Or when a pair of mouse people try to steal a cellphone? Then this comic is for you! An anthology series meant to feature a variety of Gt stories, with each chapter alternating between stories. Currently on hiatus but hoping to start up again soon! Has Webtoons, Tapas, and Tumblr mirrors

[ninja-muse]

2022 Release TBR

Where the Drowned Girls Go - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - January 4

Heartstopper, Volume Four - Alice Oseman (YA romance) - January 4 🏳️‍🌈

Battle of the Linguist Mages -  Scotto Moore (contemporary fantasy) - January 11 friend says it’s probably not my thing

Anatomy - Dana Schwartz (YA historical fantasy) - January 18

The Servant Mage - Kate Elliott (fantasy) - January 18 🏳️‍🌈

Love and Other Disasters - Anita Kelly (romance) - January 18 🏳️‍🌈

Some by Virtue Fall - Alexandra Rowland (fantasy) - January 25 🏳️‍🌈

Hot and Sour Suspects - Vivien Chien (cozy mystery) - January 25 BIPOC

The Christie Affair - Nina de Gramont (historical fiction) - February 1

Bluebird - Ciel Pierlot (science fiction) - February 8 🏳️‍🌈

Dead Silence - S.A. Barnes (science fiction/horror) - February 8

Age of Ash - Daniel Abraham (fantasy) - February 15

Carolina Built - Kianna Alexander (historical fiction) - February 22 BIPOC

Gallant - V.E. Schwab (YA fantasy) - March 1

The River of Silver - S.A. Chakraborty (historical fantasy) - March 1 BIPOC

Spelunking Through Hell - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - March 1

Umboi Island - J.J. Dupuis (mystery) - March 8 🇨🇦

Memory's Legion - James S.A. Corey (science fiction) - March 15 I’m three books behind on the series, no way am I getting to this this year

When We Were Birds - Ayanna Llord Banwo (fabulism) - March 15 BIPOC

The Cartographers - Peng Shepherd (mystery) - March 15

How to Take Over the World - Ryan North (science/humour) March 15 🇨🇦

Comeuppance Served Cold - Marion Deeds (historical fantasy) - March 22

The Diamond Eye - Kate Quinn (historical fiction) - March 29

The Wolf Den - Elodie Harper (historical fiction) - March 29

Conversations with People Who Hate Me - Dylan Marron (memoir) - March 29

Portrait of a Thief - Grace C. Li (thriller) - April 5 BIPOC

Shadows of Berlin - David R. Gillham (historical fiction) - April 5

Amongst Our Weapons - Ben Aaronovitch (urban fantasy) - April 12 BIPOC

Persians - Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones (history) - April 12

Rosebud - Paul Cornell (science fiction) - April 26

Not Good for Maidens - Tori Bovalino (YA fantasy) - May 3

Seasonal Fears - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - May 3

I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuiston (YA romance) - May 3 🏳️‍🌈

Trailed - Kathryn Miles (true crime) - May 3 🏳️‍🌈

The Fairy Tellers - Nicholas Jubber (history/travel) - May 3

Siren Queen - Nghi Vo (historical fantasy) - May 10 BIPOC 🏳️‍🌈

The Hacienda - Isabel Cañas (gothic) - May 10 BIPOC

Bloomsbury Girls - Natalie Jenner (historical fiction) - May 17

The Stardust Thief - Chelsea Abdullah (fantasy) - May 17 BIPOC

Uncommon Charm - Kat Weaver and Emily Bergslien (historical fantasy) - May 17

A Cruel and Fated Light  - Ashley Shuttleworth (YA contemporary fantasy) - May 24 🏳️‍🌈 🇨🇦

A Lady for a Duke - Alexis Hall (historical romance) - May 24 🏳️‍🌈

Bad Gays - Huw Lemmey and Ben Miller (biography) - May 31 🏳️‍🌈 The more I think about it, the less I’m interested

The Rise and Reign of the Mammals - Steve Brusatte (science) - June 7

Minique - Anna Maxymiw (historical fiction) - June 7

The Grief of Stones - Katherine Addison (fantasy) - June 14 🏳️‍🌈

Hot Moon - Alan Smale (alternate history) - June 14

A Mirror Mended - Alix Harrow (fantasy) - June 14 🏳️‍🌈

A Taste of Gold and Iron - Alexandra Rowland (fantasy) - June 21 🏳️‍🌈 BIPOC

Epically Earnest - Molly Horan (YA romance) - June 21 🏳️‍🌈

The Ballad of Perilous Graves - Alex Jennings (contemporary fantasy) - June 21 BIPOC

Rogues - Patrick Radden Keefe (true crime) - June 28

Katzenjammer - Francesca Zappia (YA horror) - June 28

Death By Bubble Tea - Jennifer J. Chow (cozy mystery) - July 5 BIPOC

What Moves the Dead - T. Kingfisher (horror) - July 12

Let’s Do It - Bob Stanley (music history) - July 12

The Lady’s Guide to Fortune-Hunting - Sophie Irwin (romance) - July 12 - decided against it

The Half Life of Valery K - Natasha Pulley (historical fantasy) - July 26 🏳️‍🌈

Mint Chocolate Murder - Meri Allen (cozy mystery) - July 26

A Half-Built Garden - Ruthanna Emrys (science fiction) - July 26

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance - Foz Meadows (fantasy) - July 26 🏳️‍🌈

Don't Fear the Reaper - Stephen Graham Jones (horror) - August 2 BIPOC

High Times in the Low Parliament - Kelly Robson (historical fantasy) - August 9 🏳️‍🌈 🇨🇦

The Monsters We Defy - Leslye Penelope (historical fantasy) - August 9 BIPOC

The Oleander Sword - Tasha Suri (fantasy) - August 16 🏳️‍🌈 BIPOC

Love in the Time of Serial Killers - Alicia Thompson (romance) - August 16

Babel - R.F. Kuang (historical fantasy) - August 23 BIPOC

Be the Serpent - Seanan McGuire (urban fantasy) - September 6

The House With the Golden Door - Elodie Harper (historical fiction) - September 6

The Marriage Portrait - Maggie O’Farrell (historical fiction) - September 6

Aces Wild - Amanda DeWitt (young adult) - September 6 🏳️‍🌈

Notorious Sorcerer - Davinia Evans (fantasy) - September 13

Terry Pratchett - Rob Wilkins (biography) - September 29

Warrior of the Wind - Suyi Davies Okungbowa (fantasy) - October 4 BIPOC

Into the Windwracked Wilds - A. Deborah Baker (fantasy) - October 25

A Restless Truth -  Freya Marske (historical fantasy) - November 1 🏳️‍🌈

The World We Make - J.K. Jemisin (contemporary fantasy) - November 1 🏳️‍🌈 BIPOC

Tread of Angels - Rebecca Roanhorse (historical fantasy) - November 15 BIPOC

Remainders of the Day - Shaun Bythell (memoir) - November 29

The Water Outlaws - S.L. Huang (fantasy) - date unknown 🏳️‍🌈 BIPOC

This is fine.

[captain-magicalkitty]

009 Mission Report

As usual, Team 00 rises to the challenge of Fest with our usual skill. For Celandine’s photo prompt

I give you;

Testing the Waters

The stream reflected the sunlight in glittering diamond shards. The trees overhanging the path were clothed in the vivid greens of high summer. The route Bond followed led down a gentle incline from the rustic cottage to the stream and the quiet pool that widened out before the water continued it's steady flow down to the main channel.

In an urban setting, he could move all but soundlessly. Here, that was impossible. The trick in a woodland environment was to randomize the noises he inevitably mad. Wildlife didn't make regular noises when moving and he did the same, making certain to make any detectable noise intermittent. He halted at the treeline, scanning the surface of the pond and the opposite shore. The drone of insects and the occasional birdsong broke the silence and there was an underlying mechanical rumble that might be farm equipment carrying on the still air.

A faint splash drew his attention, a dark haired slender figure seated on a rock on the bank, bare feet in the water. His head bent at a pensive angle, Q contemplated the pond, sunlight casting patterns over his bare shoulders. “I know you're there, James,” Q remarked quietly. “You're meant to be a bodyguard, not a babysitter. Unless you plan on assassinating that dragonfly.” He pointed a finger at the jewel toned insect darting around his chosen seat.

Bond advanced in slow measured steps, judging the space on the flat rock and deciding it was large enough for two. He eased down and Q obligingly budged over so they sat shoulder to shoulder. Bond looked down at Q's feet planted on the smooth polished stones at the edge of the pond, deposited there by the stream over centuries. Q was not quite as pale as he generally seemed. He had been wandering around the MI6 secure property in shorts and often barefoot for the past few days. He seemed oddly content to ignore his tech, checking in twice a day. Q had been completely indignant when ordered to vacate his branch for two weeks for some long overdue leave. He seemed only resigned when advised he would need a bodyguard for that time. He had largely attempted to ignore Bond since their arrival. And that was also odd. Q was as attuned to the people around him as any agent. Bond had become used to Q watching him even when it was not mission related. And maybe that was part of the answer.

Bond was not nearly as emotionally obtuse as many of his colleagues assumed. He was also used to being a focus of sexual interest for all kinds of people. It was an essential part of his job after all. It didn't take a genius to realize Q was interested and was putting a great deal of effort into not allowing that interest to show. And in this isolated place, it was more difficult than ever. Bond had been confident in his theory and had angled after the bodyguard assignment to see if he could verify it. Now he was sure he was right. He had also realized that there was more to his theorizing than an academic interest. The more he contemplated the matter, the more desirable Q seemed. Bond's dreams had featured Q in erotic scenes that had him jerking off more than he had since he was a spotty teenager. And Q was not just an object of fantasy, he was a complete challenge to every aspect of Bond's personality.

Which was why he was sitting here silently contemplating a pair of slender bare feet in a pond. Q was worth so much more than a brief fling, an opportunity to satisfy an itch. Bond had a feeling that Q might be addictive even in small doses. Next to him Q sighed and wiggled his toes, flexing them against the stones. Bond slid his own feet out of the deck shoes he'd been trudging about in and dipped his own feet in. The water was sun warmed but cooler than the air and felt very nice. He slid his left foot over incrementally until he could brush it against Q's. Q froze and them twitched when he did it again, watching the water ripple and cast patterns on their skin and the rocks.

To his credit, Q's voice was steady and as carefully modulated as usual. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“More in the way of asking you something. I've rather got an idea you might be interested in more than a professional relationship. Are you?”

Q wriggled his toes at tiny fish and tadpoles that darted around the rock crevices. “Interest doesn't mean it's advisable. You don't do relationships. And I'm shit at them as well.”

“You don't think that both of us being bad at it might cancel each other out?” Bond suggested hopefully.

Q turned his head to focus that sharp green gaze on Bond. “You're serious.”

Bond nudged Q's foot again gently. “I am very serious. I'd never have said a thing if I weren't. You have my life in your hands every time I go out. I'd never jeopardize that for a sudden impulse.” He studied the faint crease between Q's eyebrows and decided it needed to be erased. He moved very deliberately forward and pressed a gentle kiss on the spot. Q sat back and nudged his glasses back up his nose. A pink tongue tip passed over his lower lip and Bond could not resist placing a second kiss there.

“Are we really doing this?” Q's voice was whispery in the quiet of the clearing.

“I think I have to leave that up to you,” Bond replied cautiously.

Q's face creased in a small smile. “I know what I want. I'm just not sure it's wise.”

Bond mirrored Q's smile. “There are no guarantees I can give you, except we'll be in this together. I grant you it's a risk. I'm willing to take the risk.”

Q looked out over the water, gaze distant and unfocused. Bond waited, calling on his professional experience for patience. Q finally turned back to him, studying him as minutely as one of his clever gadgets. He nodded sharply once before leaning in to press a soft kiss to Bond's mouth. The one kiss became many, Bond pleased to have Q taking the lead. Q eventually drew back and smiled more easily. Bond mirrored the expression. “Decided to dive in with both feet, eh?”

Q's laugh chimed in the still clear air. “Yes, and at the deep end. But I'm sure you'll be there to catch me.” He slid his feet into his own shoes and Bond followed him back to the cottage, leaving the pond to the dragonflies and the fish.

[architectuul]

FOMA 42: Architecture Dead Language: The Case of Sagunto Roman Theatre Restoration

Some years ago, while working on my research regarding fragments and collective memory, I came across the book of Giorgio Grassi Architecture Dead Language (1988). The strong title-statement attracted me and engaged me to dig deeper into the world of Giorgio Grassi, his controversial restorations and eventually into the restoration of the Roman Theatre in Sagunto, Spain.

Grassi had been developing the book while he was working on a commission with Manuel Portaceli, requested by the Regional Government of Valencia to carry out a study for a potential intervention in the Roman Theatre of Sagunto. The building, constructed in the first century AD, suffered a gradual decay over a long period of time and eventually a series of conservation works led to a distortion of the original construction. Instead of the requested study, Grassi presented a complete restoration proposal based on the existing ruins and the roman theatre typology. 

He suggested to demolish all the additions from the 20th century (which actually have altered the Roman typology into Greek), bring the ruin into his original state and eventually create an open museum with all the original theatre pieces. Despite the opposition expressed by many people in Sagunto, the work started in 1990.

Dead is a language that has no speakers and cannot be used to convey meaning. Grassi uses this analogy to talk about decayed pieces, about ruins. He explains that fragments of the past are impossible to reconstruct and make sense, because they have lost their context to which they referred, have lost their coherence and meaning thus becoming a “dead language”. 

A still life whose only ability is self-projection. In this way the idea of architecture is interpreted, for Grassi, as a museum of objects. A museum is the place where all objects, moving in space and time, are exhibited as important works becoming merely images of themselves. His restoration works were creating a timeless context/background (like a boundless hall of mirrors) in order to display fragments with architectural value, fragments of memories which they were removed from their original places and their usual functions. 

The architect’s work was limited to understanding and locating these fragments. In Grassi’s case the meditation on the essential in architecture is the rediscovery at the zero point, at the origin, of fundamental elements. The wall, the empty space, the place, the relationship with existing forms, the typology and morphology, the simple – too simple and archaistic in some cases – rules of construction.

In this work, the ruins of the Roman theatre became literally the stones on which the new structure was constructed. According to Grassi, the value of the ruin is highlighted by the fact that it is always part of a whole. Thus, using the ancient fragments and with the aim of restoring the form of the Roman theatre, which had been lost from the previous interventions, the architect proceeded to the construction of the scene (scanae), which would be the border of the amphitheater (cavaea) and at the same time would complete the typology of the theatre. The scenewas for him "a space of fantasy in which architecture and theatre are intertwined". [1]

In general, the scene in Roman theaters was a special and flexible place. It was divided into two levels (in contrast to the ancient Greek), of which the first level (pulpitum) essentially connected the stage with the orchestra and was the place of action of the actors. Grassi describes it as the 'useful part' and reconstructs it from the remains of ancient fragments. The second and upper part of the scene (frons scanae) was rebuilt, retaining the most important elements of its typology: the three entrances. 

The other openings throughout the stage do not take part in the action, but are necessary for acoustic reasons. Grassi followed a strictly architectural system in the restoration of the whole theatre stage, since it was the most fundamental feature of the Roman theatre, which remained unchanged over the years.

Reconstructing the upper part of the scene (frons scanae) was the most demanding and detailed work of the whole intervention, since Grassi literally created an open air museum. The architect worked on dismantling an old archeological museum, located at the base of the Roman theatre, which exhibited material from the ongoing demolition of buildings in the historic center of the city. Most of these exhibits consisted of pieces of decorative elements, parts of statues and some larger pieces of mosaics of special value. 

Grassi, placed all these spolia on the theatric scene turned into an architectural iconostasis. He also, used the larger exhibits at the lower level of the stage, recalling the composition of the ancient Roman scanae, with great immediacy. Thus, the whole stage witnessed the brilliance of the ruin, while at the same time it reminded of "the densely decorated theatre scene found in the illustrations of old art history books.”[1] Grassi somehow, managed to reveal the internal mechanisms of the scene, turning it into the fantastic place it used to be and at the same time a spectacle of itself.

Regarding the amphitheater, a partial restoration was carried out, with the central sector being its only renovated part. The ruin remained intact in several places, an architectural solution that seemed more consistent with the stage work.

Grassi's work on the Roman theatre in Sagunto touched on a subject that often divides archaeologists, architects and conservation experts. Due to the reactions against the new construction that hid the amphitheater, obscuring at the same time the view of the city from it, the works stopped for a long time. However, the Grassi claimed that: "we built a theatre in the way of the Romans and we did it with means: our culture and the eyes of our time. This is exactly how a Roman theatre could be built today.” [1] For the architect, there is no difference between reconstruction and new construction. Since the relationship with the historical experience is a necessary and unavoidable condition for every project, then all the projects are, for Grassi, reconstruction projects.

Of course, Grassi did not aim to build a project that would be the lesson for all subsequent studies. After all, he himself was never dogmatic with his ideas and adopted doubt as the only creatively acceptable attitude. "To be perfect, without omitting anything that is not self-canceling" [2], he specifically mentions as an epigrammatic phrase for the work of the architect. However, through this project he raised an important question: is there a correct way of intervening in our architectural heritage? In which level, in the end, reaches a reconstruction work and what is the significance of strict historical preservation laws that mainly lead to mimetic reconstruction and thus a mimetic destruction of fragments of the past?

Gadamer argues that “Understanding is to be thought of less as a subjective act than as participating in an event of tradition.” [3] In this sense, Grassi seems to express a broad understanding of tradition. He invokes tradition as a continuum of human coexistence with the built environment within its temporality. His method could be understood as an endless process of understanding the typology and forms of the past, through a repetitive, almost aphasic, construction logic that redefines new meanings, each time creating an invisible grid of tensions.

—

#FOMA 42: Christina Serifi 

Portrait photo © Norman Posselt

Christina Serifi is an architect, researcher and urbanist. She isalso co-founder of TiriLab (Future Architecture Platform Fellow) an initiative which explores multi cultural heritage related to techniques, technologies and culture specifics from communities in northern Greece. Christina is associate researcher in Terreform, where she has coordinated various publications regrading indigenous knowledge, alternative educational models and self sufficiency. Her work investigates forms, collective memories, typologies and local practices, focusingon urbanfragments, in-between spaces, as well as osculation of architectural and social space, Christina has been awarded with the Fulbright fellowship and Urban Design Award ’14 from CCNY.

All Photos © Chen Hao

_

Notes: 1. From Grassi’s interview in Displayer magazine, vol 3/2009. 2. Patestos, K. (1998), “Giorgio Grassi: Texts for Architecture”, Athens: Kastaniotis. 3. Gadamer, H.G. (2004). “Truth and Method”. Trans. J. Weinsheimer, D. G.Marshall. London: Continuum.

[honourablejester]

Kindly forgive a random burst of ego, but I’m reading back through Northern Babylon, a dieselpunk LotR AU I wrote back in 2015, and … okay. I think I did pretty good on the worldbuilding? I mean, looking at it with D&D on the brain for the past year or so, I feel like the city of New Rhovanion would make a pretty good Eberron-ish campaign setting.

A Metropolis-esque dieselpunk fantasy city, built by a semi-forced alliance of elves, men and dwarves driven from their previous homes (Moria, Mirkwood) by the encroaching Southern Powers, some of them very dark (Dol Guldur).

A city of vertical layers, the vast stone-and-ironworks of the dwarves at the base, carved into the stone of the mountain the city rings, the vast transplanted forestscape of the elves at the top, a towerscape of gardens and glasshouses and aqueduct gondolas, and then the homes and markets of men in the lakeside district and the middle heights of the towers.

A city torn apart in recent memory both by the occupation by a dragon in elven disguise which temporarily drove out the dwarven and human inhabitants, and resulted in significant structural and racial damage during the insurrection that followed, and then later the results of a vast continental war that, while it didn’t do too much direct damage to the city besides airstrikes on the elven towers, still left a lot of scars.

A city struggling to rebuild itself, both in terms of buildings and relationships, in the new and sudden peace, where almost all the old enemies have been defeated, and it’s time for old grudges to possibly be laid aside and new cooperation build once again. Possibly.

Like, this bit:

The city had been spared most of the ravages of the war in the south. They'd held off Mordor's advance south of the Running, managing to avoid military occupation, though the Lake District, the still-extant swathes of Mirkwood Forest, and the surface towers of the city itself had taken some damage. The first two had been the cost of stopping the Easterling ground advance, something Gimli knew had a much higher cost in lives, dwarven, elven and human alike, than it had in infrastructure. The latter had been the result of Nazgul airstrikes relatively early in the war, before the Thornhoth Eagles had driven them back south and the land war in Gondor had taken up too much of the Witch-King's attention to bother with anything north of Dol Guldur.

The strikes hadn't done too much serious damage. Not to the structures themselves, at least. New Rhovanion's towers had held strong against dragonfire bombs less than a generation ago, things that could melt rock and steel and concrete as easily as flesh. They'd withstood the explosive anarchy of Smaug's terrorist campaign, when over half the city's dwarven and human populations had been forcibly expelled, and urban fighting in the undercity had killed hundreds more. Nazgul overflights, for all their potency as a terror weapon, just didn't have the same kind of destructive power.

They'd taken chunks out of the city-top forestscape, though. Now that he had the eye for it, Gimli could see the places where it was still under repair. Several of the vast tiered balconies and the street-spanning aqueducts had given way altogether, even now still in the process of being rebuilt, and there were a thousand strange shards of sunlight to be seen as the great glasshouses and refracting mirrors were moved and repaired across the upper city. Worse than that, though, at least for those to whom mattered, were the vast barren stretches where the forests and gardens themselves had been burned away, leaving only cold concrete, melted steel and blacked earth behind them. The great hanging gardens of New Rhovanion, the city-top cathedral of light, had apparently taken the brunt of the city's physical blows this time.

It was strange for Gimli to find himself noticing that, to find himself understanding the pain of it. Dwarves in New Rhovanion didn't spend a lot of time looking upwards, after all. They had their own section of the city to be thinking about, the vast underground mines and thoroughfares, the lower reaches of the towers and the surface streetscapes where the city monorails and the vast ironworks lived. The Ereborean District, carved back into the mountain and the rock beneath the city, its oldest and purest part, was where Gimli had spent so much of his life. It was strange for him to spend so much time looking upward, moving upward.

He'd changed, though. The war had changed him, the things he'd seen, the things Legolas had shown him. He had an idea, now, what that damage meant to the elves of New Rhovanion. He'd seen his elf's face when their train had finally pulled into sight of the city and the scars across its upper reaches had become obvious. He'd seen the blankness that had slipped into Legolas' eyes.

And somehow, because of it, here he was. Gimli Glóinson, an Ereborean dwarf born and bred, standing on a balcony on the side of the Greenwood Oropherion Tower, trying desperately not to think about how many hundreds of feet too high into the air he was. Below him, down at street level and just above it, the great central depot of the Iron Rail Company spewed trains out onto the raised tracks above Oakenshield Avenue, and lighter engines onto the magnetic monorails a few storeys above them. With the repaired mirrors on the upper reaches of the tower filling the street canyon with light almost all the way to the bottom, it was terrifyingly obvious exactly how many feet above that familiar sight he now was.

It wasn't the same, the heights compared to the depths. He'd looked into chasms hundreds of feet deep in Khazad-dûm without a qualm, the great bridge spans of the subterranean Dwarrowdelf inspiring more awe in him than terror. That had been no less of a fall. With the artificial electric suns, no less visible a one either. He knew that. It was just ... it was different up here. It was different on the surface, on one of the tallest towers in New Rhovanion, on some flimsy elven balcony that had blasted tree roots sticking out of the bottom of it. He could see half the city from here. More to the point, he could see how it was all beneath him.

He should have stayed inside, he thought desperately. He should have kept to the interior atrium. The balconies and rooftops and external terraces were the realms of the elves, but the towers that bore them all up were still dwarven construction. The internal shafts, insulated from the sheer external drop and lit exclusively by light refracted from above, had managed to stay comfortably subterranean in feel despite the best efforts of their human and elven occupants. Even the Greenwood Oropherion, the great bastion of Wilderland Elvendom, full of light and water and greenery and with as much of the exterior reaches open to the elements as elvenly possible, hadn't been able to disguise the solid, quintessentially dwarven nature of the stone it was built in.

Like. I feel like I did good there? I feel like that has teeth and potential. Heh. A dieselpunk fantasy city, with a lot of wars behind it, and a tentatively hopeful future.

And this little description of High Elven Councillor Thranduil:

He'd seen Thranduil Oropherion before, of course. Mostly in newsreels, but from a distance as well. The Elven High Councillor had a talent for being seen looking imperiously downwards from various heights, and had a particular fondness for the skycars and the aqueduct gondolas. He was easily recognisable, wearing those long, almost archaic greatcoats the elves favoured, all bronze and green, with his long golden hair bizarrely braided back with something that looked for all the world like live ivy. Even the most deep dwelling, surface-averse dwarves could recognise Thranduil on sight.

He looked a little different now. Some of it was the informality of his dress. Gimli was almost positive that few, if any, dwarves had ever seen the Elven Councillor in shirtsleeves and waistcoat before, his hair looped back into a tail that was, yes, held with an actual trailing plant, for reasons probably only an elf would know. It made him look smaller, somehow, maybe a little bit more fragile. Not quite the distant, impressive creature he usually appeared.

Why do I have so much more fun with worldbuilding and characters than I do with things like, you know, actual plot?

[bookshopkat]

Asian Fantasy Novels for the Lunar New Year

Photo by Thyla Jane

Happy Year of the Ox!  The Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival, is a major celebration in many Asian countries.  Marking the first new moon of the lunar calendar, this celebration lasts for days and is a time for family and friends, lantern festivals, dragon and lion dances, gifts of money, fireworks, and feasts.  There’s something enchanting about the Lunar New Year, with its bright lanterns lining every street and its sparkling starbursts lighting the night sky.  At its heart is tradition, cultural beliefs, and a mixture of mythology and magic.  Simple charms are used to bring good luck and drive away evil.  The supernatural has a firm place amid the celebrations, from shoe-stealing ghosts in South Korea to Vietnamese kitchen gods to the lion-like monster Nian in China.  As such, this holiday presents a marvelous opportunity to both celebrate various Asian cultures and conjure a sense of wonder.  So, to celebrate the Lunar New Year, here are four fantasy novels rooted in Asian culture and lore.

Jade City by Fonda Lee

On the island of Kekon, jade grants those with the ability to wield it special powers, but promises pain and death for anyone lacking the right genetics who tries to use it.  As a result, jade smuggling is a profitable business and those families with the capacity to use the mineral, called Jade Bones, make up the highest class of society. But now ordinary citizens are somehow gaining the ability to use jade, and it is throwing the society of Kekon into turmoil.  As suspicion fuels inter-clan warfare among the noble class, the future of the island nation hangs in the balance.  In the midst of this chaos stands three siblings. Kaul Lan, the new, young, peace-loving leader of his family, finds himself faced with the uncomfortable necessity of bloodshed as he tries to steer his clan through these uncertain times.  Lan’s brother, the hot-tempered and passionate Kaul Hilo, is like a warrior straight out of old tales: honorable, protective, and hungry for battle and glory.  Their sister, Shae, is an independent modern woman who chose to cast aside her jade along with her traditional roles in favor of freedom and marriage to an outsider.  Added to this cast of characters is Wen, Hilo’s forbidden lover, who is burdened by the combination of coming from a disgraced family and being a rare Stone Eye, a supposedly cursed person completely immune to jade.  All four have their differences and disagreements, and the tension between them mirrors the growing strain in their homeland at large.  It will take them all, however, to find out who is responsible for the dangerous drug allowing non-Jade Bones to wield the sacred stone before it is too late.

This is a novel that bridges high fantasy and urban fantasy, weaving a tale of heroism, betrayal, and intrigue against the backdrop of a thoroughly modernized enchanted society. Lee’s narrative is intricate and interesting, her world building is exceptional, and her magical system is comprehensive and intelligent.  Running throughout the entire tale are elements of Chinese myth and culture, with folklore concerning gods and monsters playing a vital part.  Complex, well-written, and engaging, Jade City is grand and unique fantasy adventure.

Tears of the Wind by Phung Lam

This collection of short stories is a touching as it is magical.  Taking place on the fictional Island of Wishes, each tale explores human nature and the deepest desires people harbor in dark corners of their minds. From a lonely heart seeking solace to a soul hungry with ambition, this anthology explores the not only the power of wishes, but the question: what would people do if the one thing they truly wanted most could be theirs?  It’s basically impossible to find an English version of this book, and I had to rely on the Smart Book translation application for the ebook format.  That led to some odd phrasing in portions of the text, but the collection was nonetheless enjoyable. That is because Lam writes not only with imagination but also with a keen understanding of humanity.

The narratives are dreamlike, the content somewhat akin to magical realism and the tone ultimately surrealistic.  Ranging from heartrending to horrifying, Lam weaves stories about the darkest parts of ourselves, when we harbor wishes we dare not name, as well as about the unforeseen and often terrible consequences of getting exactly what we think we want.  The author explores the nature of love, the power of longing, and the baser side of our very nature. It’s an engaging collection that seems, and its core, to turn upon one basic thought: be careful what you wish for.

The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

Set in late-nineteenth-century Malaya, on the island of Borneo, this novel sparkles with folk beliefs and superstitions.  Li Lan is a spirited girl and only child from a family wrapped in what can only be called genteel poverty.  Her life is certainly not perfect—her mother is dead, her father, although loving, has allowed his grief to lead to opium addiction, and her marriage prospects are extremely limited—but things aren’t so very bad.  Apart from occasional longings for beautiful new clothing such as she sees other wealthier girls sporting, Li Lan would be reasonably content if it weren’t for one thing: her father has asked her if she would like become a ghost bride.  He says it almost as a joke, but the moment he speaks the words, the wheels of fate start to turn. The rare tradition of ghost brides is meant to mollify the spirits of wealthy young men who died without marrying, and it presents both tempting and terrifying prospects. While accepting would mean financial help for her aging father as well as a place for Li Lan herself in one of Malacca city’s most affluent households, it would also mean giving up any dreams of love, passion, or children of her own.

Li Lan, of course, refuses, especially when she starts to develop feelings for another decided living man.  But the choice may not be as easy as the thinks.  She finds herself haunted by Lim Tiang Ching, her spectral suitor, and he is determined to have her.  Tiang Ching, the young woman soon learns, was selfish and cruel when he was alive, and death hasn’t improved him. Desperate, Li Lan seeks the help of a local wise woman, and unwittingly finds herself embroiled in a supernatural struggle where ghosts are all too real and her only hope hangs on a mysterious young man who may be more than he seems, and who is most definitely keeping secrets.  On top of that, she begins to realize that the Lim family is harboring some dark secrets of their own, and one of them may be deadly.  

Choo’s narrative is imaginative as well as brimming with cultural folklore and traditions.  A blend of mystery and fantasy, it is engaging from start to finish.  Many of the characters are interesting and a little quirky, although a couple feel less well developed and there were a few moments when I felt the protagonist was a bit too flighty for my tastes. Nonetheless, this is a fun, entertaining fantasy book, perfect for an evening of light reading with a cup of tea or coffee at your side.

When You Trap a Tiger by Tae Keller

This is a truly wonderful novel blending together magical realism, mythology, family drama, and a deeply touching coming of age tale. It’s a beautifully written and imaginative narrative where opposites don’t so much collide as they do interweave in a complex dance.  Dreams tangle with reality, childhood blurs with adolescence, Korean tradition intersects with modern America, folklore mingles with daily life, and stories become solid enough to touch. Through it all runs a profound understanding of emotion and the human spirit.

Lily has always loved visiting her Korean grandmother, catching stars to learn what stories they hold and listening to traditional tales from their ancestral homeland.  This, however, is different.  Now Lily, along with her mother and her sister, are moving in with the old woman because Lily’s grandmother is sick, and isn’t getting any better.  A new city, a new school, and new fears about her beloved relative would all be difficult enough, but Lily has another problem: upon arriving, she sees a tiger straight out of one of her grandmother’s tales.  This is both a metaphor for many things: words unsaid, terminal illness, fear, and long-ago mistakes.   It is, however, also an introduction of the magical real.  Upon informing her grandmother about the big cat, Lily begins unraveling the old woman’s greatest tale yet, and takes the first step in a personal journey to discover family secrets and leave her childhood behind.  As marvelous as it is heartfelt, When You Trap a Tiger addresses conflicts between generations and cultures, as well as the reconciliation of the past, through the lens myths and storytelling. At its core, this is a novel about the power of both love and stories, as well as about one girl finding herself.

Perhaps one of these books will make an excellent companion over the next several days as celebrations of the Lunar New Year progress. Blending Asian folklore with a sense of the fantastic, these works may prove to be the perfect way for those not immersed in these festivities to still capture a bit of the season’s spirit.  Readers hungry for an interesting narrative that is a little out of the ordinary will likely find any one of these to be a feast for the imagination, as well as a wonderful way to start of the Year of the Ox.  Happy Reading!

[gimme-a-hand-scaevola]

A review of the book The Rook by Daniel O’Malley that nobody ever asked for...

Ok so @chemcat92 recommended me this book and I listened to it on audiobook and I just... have a lot of thoughts. I haven’t read the sequel and I’m torn if I will. Having watched some AMVs of the show, it’s a hard pass. My review is going to be in three parts:

1. The plot

2. Wasted Potential - In General

3. Wasted Potential - Gestalt the Most Wasted Character Potential I’ve Read since Drizzt Do’Urden 

Obviously spoilers under the cut. 

Part 1: The Plot - i.e. I think Daniel discovered books four days before he started writing 

Ok so... The plot of this book. It starts off STRONG I will give it that. Myfanwy Thomas wakes up in a rainy part surrounded by bodies wearing latex gloves and no memories. She soon discovers her previous self lost her memories but because she was organized and knew it was coming, she has eased new Myfanwy’s transition. She gets to choose to stay in her life through letters and then we get an easy way to give flashbacks. Anyway this part RULES. 

Honestly, the book starts strong as hell. Myfanwy discovers she has supernatural powers over people’s nervous systems and is a trained bureaucrat for a supernatural wing of the government. This all runs sort of like a combination of Heroes and Harry Potter in the best way possible. And here is where we find the strongest part of the book: the superpowers. 

We don’t have to look that far to find Heroes type shows or books where everyone has a special ability, so if you’re going to go that route, you’ve gotta bring it. And honestly, Daniel brings it. They powers are cool as hell, they’re inventive, they’re well bounded. I felt like I understood what people’s powers and limitations were. We were in a land with magic, but it never felt cheap. This is going to dovetail into my absolute RANT about Gestalt but give me a sec to get there. 

Ok. So honestly I don’t even have any complaints until the third act. Act one gives us the set up, act two introduced the big bad the Grafters and so far so good. We’ve got good but elitist supernatural guys vs. bad but more egalitarian supernatural guys. We also know that it was someone in the supernatural org (it has a name but the name is so stupid I can’t spell it) that betrayed our protag and stole her memories and they’re still around and teamed up with the evil Grafters. Intrigue?? Don’t know who to trust???? Love it. 

For some reason everyone is either old, or hot, or so inhuman it’s viscerally horrifying. Love this touch. Eleanor from the Good Place taught us that it’s totally free to imagine everyone in a story as super hot. And it is. So they’re all super hot. Love it. Good commitment, Daniel. 

But then we get to Act three. So, this was a big swing on ol Danny’s part because a lot of the effect of this had to do with carrying out mystery. We’d built a lot of tension on the suspense  Who Betrayed Myfanwy. So obviously it’s really important for me to be surprised or at least satisfied with who this is. (As an aside, I would have been ok with guessing correctly, I definitely don’t subscribe to surprise trumping cohesive plot). Ok. With that on paper... like... holy shit. What a stupid “reveal.” 

So in part 1, like the first scene we get of old Myfanwy’s letters giving us context, she says that her apartment at work was inherited from a dude Conrad something that got promoted. And then she says it’s super badly decorated, and later we see it and this shit is straight out of Austin Powers, mirror over a round bed, The Whole Shebang. But she also says that this guy who otherwise is supposed to be very smooth and charismatic like... asks her about the decor.... every time they interact. Every Time They Interact. The second this was mentioned (WHICH IS AFTER WE KNOW SHE WAS BETRAYED) I'm like “oh ok so this guy bugged her room he’s the villain” and I only wasn’t sure because it was WAY too obvious. 

But no. He’s the villain. He has a big reveal where he’s like “AND I BUGGED YOUR ROOM” and I'm like... well... yeah. Of course you did. But here’s the thing tho... Myfanwy’s like... WHOLE ASS JOB is planning covert ops. So... is she good at her job??? IS SHE???? 

But we also don’t actually show how characters are based on their actions, we are just told how they are. But we will circle back to that in the Gestalt part. That’s honestly the sum of my rant about the plot. It was nothing. It put all its eggs in the basket of the worst most boring reveal of all time. Daniel, I think you might just be boring. 

Part 2: Wasted Potential - Everything but Gestalt who gets a special part to themselves.

The big sin of this book might just be too many good ideas. There’s a lot of characters, they all do cool stuff, but we have like 200 pages, so there wasn’t enough time to do anything with all these guys. I got lost about who was who like 80 times because they’re basically all sneaky hot magic guys. One of them smokes and is a soldier and he seems chill. 

There’s a vampire and he gets a scene and a long intro that reads more like a wiki page. Like it was interesting but you would have lost NOTHING cutting him as a character except that he was cool. You never ever believe that he was the bad guy because it’s super well established in the Certified Back Story that he could give two shits about the politics of the humans. He’s there bc he’s an adorably young vampire who is very curious so his dad set him up as a powerful government agent as though it was enrolling him in a prep school. Love it, but again, we don’t.... need him around. 

There’s a lady who can walk through dreams and I thought she was going to be important based on the fanfare of her introduction but then we forget about her basically entirely. 

There’s a whole American wing that we also only see anything interesting about in side story. Basically the world building is really good. Like pretty superb to be honest. But it’s bracketing a story that is nothing so it makes even good characters seems really random. And that bring us to:

Part 3: My Darling, Gestalt. My Type. My Weakness. What a Sad Little Thing You Are (Also misogyny)

Alright... if the rest of this review wasn’t salty enough for you... let the salt begin. Gestalt. So named because of the word meaning larger than the sum of its parts. And so they were destined to be. And so they were most definitely not. So Gestalt’s whole thing is that they are one consciousness with four bodies. They can either control one body at a time and sort of shut the others down or they can control them all at once but that becomes harder if one of them requires more attention than another, like if one is in a fight. 

Two twins (men), one fraternal brother, and a sister. If anyone is thinking “uhoh, only one girl, hmm can Daniel handle that? Seems like maybe some Smurfette style misogyny-lite is coming,” you would be wrong. Super wrong. Because it is not misogyny-lite. It’s aggressive Fight-Me-In-A-Perkins-Parking-Lot misogyny. So go fuck yourself, Dan. 

Alright, so to number Gestalt’s sins. 

1. Scrape off some of that intro mustard.

They’re introduced in the LONGEST fucking passage I’ve ever read telling me that this dude is hard to talk to and weird. Like, I’m in an urban fantasy book already, I'm all set. Also... bitch SHOW ME they’re weird. Like can I see some interactions that give me second hand embarrassment??? No. It is actually never uncomfortable to talk to Gestalt. I only know that because people are super fucking rude about them. But it is never earned. So I don’t feel sympathy when people are like “Oh noooo you have to spend a car ride with Gestalt? Ewwwww sorry.” I’m just like, “What’s your fucking problem? They seem fine.” 

2. They’re supposed to be Bad At Planning but when?? 

Alright so there ARE times they’re bad at planning and we will GET TO THAT. But it’s only post-reveal like... what we are told during a monologue that they were dumb as shit. And that wasn’t even like not being good w/ details like it’s implied they are, it’s literally like doing dumb ass stuff. And it felt more like my bud Dan didn’t have a good handle on why stuff was dumb as rain than Gestalt being silly. 

Also.... this is a stupid use of this sort of character. They’re dumb and bad at planning??? THEY’RE A JOINT CONSCIOUSNESS why would you waste that making them “Good at kicking ass.” ugh. Fine. 

3. They get sidelined IMMEDIATELY 

So a guy named Pumice Stone or Kettle or Lil boy Bad At This or something outs that Gestalt is working with the Grafters because he like.... wasn’t paying attention. It was boring. But anyway so they capture two of the bodies and then stop addressing Gestalt until the end. They have one weird scene where the protagonist like.... freaks them out but ok. Fine. Why is Gestalt so Yelly. Why are so many villains in this book yelly. Ew. 

4. The REVEAL MONOLOGUE. 

I know this is a long ass review already. But my Feelings Must be Heard. So in the end when Conrad surprises no one but “smart” Myfanwy that he was the bad guy, we also get a reveal from the surviving Gestalt bodies that:

a. There’s an incest baby

b. They’re afraid of death

c. They’re so phenomenally stupid I have lost all interest in them

So... this is where the misogyny comes in. I’ll note here that the only time we interact w/ Eliza, the special girl body, is when she takes a carried to Hogwarts the super secret magic school with Myfanwy and she doesn’t do anything except we get the internal note that she’s like... gained weight. This is the misogyny-lite we expect. (And no, Dan, you don't get any points bc a female character is the only pleased she got pudgy bc YOU wrote the female character so we’re all set there.)

And then we discover that the weird blonde (lol oh yeah they’re all hot blondes) baby that Conrad “Evil Austin Powers” British-Last-Name has with his weird wife is actually a Gestalt body that Eliza had after she boned down with her other body who is genetically a brother and consciously herself. 

K. Ok. I have. Ok. Alright. Daniel. Ok. 

SUBPART A: My Feelings about Gestalt: Oh Eliza, my darling, my dear, would that I could bring you Justice

So after Eliza is shot dead one of the interchangeable boy bodies of Gestalt yells at Myfanwy about how terrible that is bc it was the only body who could bear children so now THE HORROR they’ll die. 

For god’s fucking sake Daniel O’Malley. What the fuck is your goddamn problem. You LITERALLY wrote a Smurfette Syndrome character who is only important because she can have babies. She is literally just there to be a baby-box. What the fuck. Get fucking wrecked. Thank GOD Starz cut your program and fuck the Aurealis Awards for giving you an award for this fucking book. But they’re a sci-fi award so this is probably super progressive for them. I was pleasantly annoyed by the basic nature of this book until this part. Now I am just done with your content. This was more overtly sexist that Supernatural. So... real swing and a miss. 

ANYWAY FORTUNATELY this opens a whole new can of worms that I get to ruthlessly mock certified Basic Bitch Daniel O’Malley for. 

SubPart 2: Gestalt Raises Interesting Philosophical Questions Daniel Isn’t Smart Enough to Address

So, remember, I would have cut this dude more slack if he didn’t do that to Eliza. Gestalt, to be honest, this whole review is dedicated to what you Could Have Been. 

Interesting Questions or Comments We Could Have Asked:

Does having a baby being one of five of your bodies affect your consciousness? That thing doesn’t have object permanence? Is there like an intellectual cost to having another baby body? No, we don’t care. I think we just had there be a baby bc “Weird sister-sex” was as interesting as Daniel could get. Side Note: The obvious question of “lol haha lol is it incest or mAsTurBation is not going to be addressed here bc it is literally too boring to consider)

Does having a body who textually is said to have post-partum depression affect your joint consciousness? If not, why bring it up?? Bc she has “weird lady disease” is that why???

Are they....afraid of death????? Why didn’t you ever bring this up? Why have they showed only excitement at the prospect of very dangerous fights up to this point? Why are all four bodies in the field. 

WHY ARE ALL FOUR BODIES IN THE FIELD. Ok so here is one of those points that is definitely stupid but stupid in a dumb as dirt way. If you were afraid to lose your baby-box body, why would you send her into battle? 

Why didn’t they freeze a bunch of her eggs? In fact, why did she bear it at all? Why put your one female body that you only want for babies through that sort of danger? Canonically they all get paid an absurd amount and Gestalt is paid for each body, they can afford a surrogate.  

Why let a weird dude who is at best contemptuous of you raise your baby body? Why wouldn’t you want to do that? Doesn’t that give him a huge amount of leverage over you? 

Is the quality fo Gestalt’s form destined to decline if genetically they can only make more bodies by full genetic sibling offspring? Does that scare them? Again... does their physical brain affect their consciousness? 

If so... maybe that would be a good reason for them to want to join up with the Grafters who are way ahead in genetic research and engineering. 

ANYWAY Gestalt is sexist as shit and boring as hell and had SO MUCH WEIRD POTENTIAL. 

In summary: It was definitely fun but Fuck you, Daniel O’Malley 

[yuexuan]

Fic Tag Guide

I’m not the most conscientious when it comes to providing warnings and basic information in my fic recs. So I thought I’ll create a guide about the common tags used for CN fiction summaries/tag systems.

Disclaimer: This is not all-encompassing and most of them are drawn from my reading of danmei novels (although tag application may extend beyond the danmei circle). I tried grouping them under similar tags, but know that these groupings are not set in stone. Feel free to let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Additionally, please check out Link 1 and Link 2 who have also done similar posts.

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古代/古风 (Gǔdài/Gǔfēng) “ancient times/ancient style” - Stories set in historical timeline or contain historical elements

武侠 (Wǔxiá) “martial heroes” - Heroic stories focus on martial arts; may or may not integrate more fantastical elements.

仙侠 (Xiānxiá) “immortal heroes” - Fics falling under the xianxia genre typically draw heavily from Chinese mythology/folklore, Taoism, Buddhism, mixed with some martial arts. The concept of ‘cultivation’ (修仙 Xiūxiān) to achieve immortality is central to this genre. Fics are usually set in historical periods.

民国 (Minguo) “Republic of China” - Fics with backgrounds set in the time period of the Republic of China/Minguo Era (~1912-1949). Stories under this category tend to include a lot of tragedies, wars, complicated politics, and anti-Japanese sentiments. I tend to avoid minguo fics, but of the few ones I read, the trope of a military officer (军官 Jūnguān) falling in love with an opera actor (sometimes derogatorily referred to as 戏子 Xìzi) is quite popular.

宫廷 (Gōngtíng) “imperial court” - Fics focused on imperial court drama.

玄幻 (Xuánhuàn) “fantasy” - Stories with elements of Chinese mythology/folklore. Note that xuanhuan novels are NOT limited to historical settings.

魔幻 (Móhuàn) “magical realism” - A genre of novels incorporating ‘magical realism’ (think Lord of the Rings). Alternatively, another term 奇幻 (Qíhuàn) is also commonly employed.

西幻 (Xī huàn) ‘Western fantasy’ - This is sometimes used interchangeably with Móhuàn, but can also refer to general stories with Western-fantasy/folklore elements (e.g. vampires/werewolves). Alternatively, the term 欧风 (Ōufēng) - ‘European style’ may be used.

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现代/都市情缘 (Xiàndài/dūshì qíngyuán) “modern day/urban love” - Fics set in the contemporary era/within urban setting.

豪门 (Háomén) “wealthy elite” - Featuring one or more characters originating from wealth. A common trope is the ‘Cinderella’-esque dynamic where a commoner gets noticed by a rich dude and is embroiled into the conflicts of the rich.

娱乐圈/演艺圈 (Yúlè quān/yǎnyì quān) “entertainment/showbiz” - Stories where the characters are actors/celebrities. A common trope is the ‘Cinderella’ dynamic where an unpopular artist (e.g. 十八线艺人 ‘18th-line artist’) gets into a relationship with a top-tier celebrity (e.g. 影帝/一线明星 ‘1st-line celebrity’)

网络/网游/网配 (Wǎngluò/wǎngyóu/wǎng pèi) “Internet/online games/online matching” - Characters in the fic develop their relationship through the web. Entails a lot of chat-speak and web memes. A common trope involves the main pairing meeting each other online and in real life, but not knowing their alternative web ego until the Big Reveal.

军文/军旅生涯 (Jūn wén/jūnlǚ shēngyá) “military adventures/life” - Characters are part of the military, usually involves power couple dynamics.

职场 (Zhíchǎng) “workplace” - Office-setting fics. A related category is 霸道总裁 (Bàdào zǒngcái) “domineering CEO”  featuring the popular trope of a possessive, rich, and popular CEO with his partner

校园 (Xiàoyuán) “campus” - Romantic slice of life stories set on campuses.

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未来世界 (Wèilái shìjiè) “future world” - Fics set in futuristic timeline

末日/末世 (Mòrì/mòshì) “doomsday” - Fics with apocalyptic-settings; usually contain survival-focused plots

丧尸 (Sàngshī) “zombies” - Usually survival-oriented fics with zombies

星际 (Xīngjì) “interstellar” - Fics set in outer space and alien planets. A common plot features the conflicts between the ‘Federation’ (i.e. 联邦 Liánbāng) vs. the ‘Empire’ (i.e. 帝国 Dìguó). May or may not include a third party: the ‘worm/insect species’ (虫族 Chóngzú).

机甲 (Jījiǎ) “mecha” - Futuristic fics where mecha with virtual personalities are prominent features.

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盗墓 (Dàomù) “tomb-raiding” - A specific genre dealing with tomb-raiding adventures and hauntings.

灵异 (Língyì) “supernatural” - Self-explanatory

悬疑推理 (Xuányí tuīlǐ) “mystery” - Suspense and mystery

探险 (Tànxiǎn) “adventure” - Self-explanatory

无限流 (Wúxiàn liú) “Infinite flow/style” - This genre of fics is all inclusive; i.e. including elements from sci-fi, history, religion, myth, game, animation etc. where characters enter into different settings. A common example is where the characters are forced into a game in which they have to pass through multiple levels/settings in order to survive. For more details on this genre and their sub-division, please see here.

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重生穿越 (Chóngshēng chuānyuè) “rebirth and transmigration” - The main protagonist died and is transmigrated either back in time or into another dimension or timeline. Alternative/related tags that you might see include:

穿书/快穿/系统  (Chuān shū/kuài chuān/xìtǒng) “book transmigration/quick transmigration/system” - System specifically refers to the transmigrator having an internal system that interacts with them in their new body. Think RPG style games lol

金手指 (Jīn shǒuzhǐ) “golden finger(s)” - A common trope in transmigration novels where the transmigrator is gifted with talents/powers that allow them to thrive in the new world.

前世今生 (Qiánshì jīnshēng) ‘past and present” - Characters continuing their relationships from their past lives.

破镜重圆 (Pòjìng chóngyuán) lit. translated as “re-rounding the broken mirror” - Fix-it reunion stories

异能 (Yì néng) “special abilities” - Characters with special abilities/superpowers/mutants

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甜文 (Tián wén) “sweet fic” - Fics that are filled with fluff and tooth-rotting sweetness.

种田 (Zhòngtián) “farming” - Piece of life, fluffy stories featuring the main couple; often takes place in rural areas (hence the whole farm image lol)

爽文 (Shuǎng wén) “satisfactory or feel-good fic” - The whole point of this type of fic is that the readers feel good after reading it. A common trope is a revenge style plot where the main protagonist regains what they lost through taking revenge on those who had wronged them.

沙雕文 (Shādiāo wén) “silly fic/crack” - Homonym for ‘傻屌’ (Shǎ diǎo; silly/stupid); these fics are not intended to be serious

美食文 (Měishí wén) “food fic” - As the tag suggest, don't read this type of fic on an empty stomach lol

虐文 (Nüè wén) “angst fic” - Self-explanatory

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ABO “alpha/beta/omega” - Self-explanatory; you can read the fanlore here

哨兵向导 (Shàobīng xiàngdǎo) “sentinel-Guides” - Based on the original Sentinel fandom (see fanlore here).

兽人 (Shòurén) “beast/anthros” - Similar to abo. Males (雄兽 Xióng shòu) are capable of transforming between an animal and a human, whereas “females” (雌兽 Cí shòu) retain the human form and can get pregnant. There may also be the beta, in this case referred to as 亚兽 (Yà shòu) who can neither transform nor get pregnant/difficult to impregnate. Usually set in some prehistoric era and entails the protagonist transmigrating into this world as a “female”. In the same vein, for the interstellar insect species, some fics developed the male, female, and sub-insects trope.

哥儿 (Gē er) - A ge er is similar to an omega, basically men who can get pregnant and are marked by a flower shaped pattern on the forehead. I’ve only come across 3-4 fics with this trope and all of them are set in the historical era where the ge er tends to be very feminine. If anyone has any more info on this trope, let me know!

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攻宠受 (Gōng chǒng shòu) “top pampering the bottom” - The top in the relationship will care very well for the bottom. The opposite would be 受宠攻 (Shòu chǒng gōng) “bottom pampering the top”. Alternatively, the writer might just mark it as 宠文 (Chǒng wén) “pampering fic” in general.

年下 (Nián xia) - Younger top and older bottom; one common phrase you might encounter describing the younger top is 小狼狗 (Xiǎo lánggǒu) or “little German Shepherd”, referring to handsome and domineering young man.

On the note of dogs, you might also see 小奶狗 (Xiǎo nǎi gǒu) “unweaned puppies) referring to cute and soft young men, and 二哈 (Èr hā) “dumb husky” referring to silly characters

年上 (Nián shàng) - Older top and younger bottom

As a warning, age gaps in these types of fics can sometimes be large depending on the context, and could overlap with more controversial, dubcon genres 

师生 (Shī shēng) “teacher-student” - Fics featuring the relationship between teacher and student

师徒 (Shī tú) “master-disciple” - Fics featuring the relationship between the master in a martial/cultivation sect and their disciple