#Caliban Moore

[vineboom-sfx]

I lauf my ocs guys

[coverpanelarchive]

X-Force: Vol. 1, #100 (2000)

[kimyoonmiauthor]

How to defeat transphobes quickly.

Phase I: Transphobia was created by the Patriarchy, like misogyny was.

The main two books to do this with is:

The Creation of Patriarchy by Gerda Lerner

Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation by Silvia Federici.

And this is dead easy to support.

See transphobe’s heads explode. You see, if you haven’t read my profile I majored in Anthropology and concentrated it in systems. That’s sexism, ableism, anti-LGBTQIA, etc. Granted, I was interested in it in kindergarten after getting bullied and getting insufficient answers.

So limited land and men’s need for prestige caused men to try to find reasons to try to take land from women. But in order to define what women were, they needed to create a strict binary. In order to create a strict binary, they had to throw out the existing trans people. (Who, BTW, existed pre-Christian times.)

With needing to own land, then you need someone to work the land. This is where the ableism comes in. Who will inherit the land? Men, but you need to prove your fragile male virility. And will disabled people do who may not be able to work the land? NO. And can you allow your descendants to show they are gay? Eff no. I mean, you need to show off your big D--- and show the equipment work by *gasp* making sure your children reproduce so you have a legacy. --;;

That’s trans down. That’s the disciplining of women. That’s the disciplining of LGB. And then intersex. Obviously you, great patriarchal male is going to called someone intersex “disabled.” And now disabled.

OK. Racism, comes also from land owning. You have to look at Moors and Mongols for that one. OMG, it’s more misogyny. Can’t have women having those dirty Moor or Mongol babies.

BTW, I’m not saying that the systems act the same CURRENTLY, but I am saying the root of the problem is exactly the same. Stupid ass male fragility And Boy do I have historical examples.

The history of anti-LGBTQIA and anti-women are tied CLOSELY in history. The downfall of one always comes with the downfall of the other. Should we start listing historical events?

Korea: Imjin War--Downfall of women and LGBTQIA

Early Christianity was disciplined: Downfall of women and LGBTQIA

China: (every time they’ve done it historically and in contemporary times.) Discipline women and LGBTQIA

Imperialism spread the hatred into other regions... Notably India, Australia, New Zealand, and the Americas. What happened? Europeans disciplined women and LGBTQIA.

The binary was made to suppress women, but in doing so, they also suppressed everyone else.

What happens is either the transphobe gets so upset they block you, because they realize on some level the root of their hate has the same origin as hating trans people (and everyone who doesn’t own vast tracks of land they plan to give to super privileged sons)... thus they are hating themselves, or they go into a ranty fest trying to attack you, because they can’t attack two cishet white women on their theses that are widely accepted by academia.

Phase II: You’re being Eurocentric Racist.

Also, you can all them racist since they refuse to recognize third genders from other locales. Such as: Indonesia, Bugis, India, Thailand, Angola, Kenya, Plain Indians, etc.

If they start with “But clothes” you can ask them the difference between a robe and a dress. All the dictionaries say a dress is what a woman wears. There is no difference. And Hula skirts, sarongs, kilts, etc are skirts.

Heels were invented for horseback riding, so men should be wearing them.

And pants are for horseback riding.

Lace was originally a prestige item for men.

Eyeliner were the original sunglasses.

So anything women have worn, men have too. Calling out my PoC transphobes. This works well when you point out such notions came from white imperialism. Usually you can find third genders in their country of origin and argue about how much transphobes hate their definition of gender.

Phase III: The Biological Argument. I think this is easy. Scientific American, Nature, the DSM VI, Psychology Today, Anthropology, don’t back them. As soon as you point out there are XXY humans and humans who don’t have their expressed gender by chromosomes, they start flipping out and sputtering. They don’t have much left because the reputable magazines have turned against them.

They might pull out the “Disability” argument and “the majority”

Then you ask them what if the person is born with both? Which also happens. Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome. What are they,then they pull out the chromosome argument... Swyer syndrome Klinefelter syndrome and present to them the weird world of biology that doesn’t care for human rules. Culture exists to create rules about nature that nature always overturns. One less Chromosome: nature is like, sure-- let’s try that. Turner syndrome.

When they get to “They should not exist” in their argument you hit them with the Eugenics questions. Do you support Hitler? Hitler’s Germany who supported positions like sterilization... https://www.jstor.org/stable/4397988 Phase IV: Their feminism is behind and dates to the 1960′s Second wave White feminism.

At this point since they can’t argue about statistics... say the whole bathroom argument: https://www.wcnc.com/article/news/politics/stats-show-assaults-dont-happen-in-bathrooms/275-126572739

https://www.cnn.com/2019/05/06/health/trans-teens-bathroom-policies-sexual-assault-study/index.html

Also numbers from RAINN: https://www.rainn.org/articles/lgbtq-survivors-sexual-violence

Or the Sports argument: https://www.aclu.org/news/lgbtq-rights/four-myths-about-trans-athletes-debunked/

And then hit them with: Is this the biggest concern that feminists have?

They will try to hit you with, “You don’t care about women” argument. And this is where you hit them really hard. Argue along the lines their feminism is out of date, is filled with ignorance about the creation of the Patriarchy they are trying to dismantle, and only dates from the 1960′s, and so who doesn’t care about women, you or them? Women moved on, you can argue. There was Third wave feminism: Which argued for the inclusion of LGBT, intersectionality and PoCs. Also lead by black women, including Black transwomen. Stonewall was started by black trans women and black lesbians TOGETHER. So are they saying the activism that black women did was irrelevant and they prefer white feminism and global impacts?

There is Fourth wave feminism, which included masculine fragility, Asking about how to talk through flexibility for boys which would solve a lot of the issues from the binary they are so paranoid about coming from trans people, rather than directing it towards the aggressors and solving the problems with masculine fragility in the first place.

Arguing this will make them really upset, because by this point, no arguments are left. They can’t name call you, you’ve laid out facts about their transphobia supporting the Patriarchy, and said their feminism is behind, and that their statistical basis is wrong. They got nowhere to go except try to find ways to attack you, such as “you weren’t listening to me at all.” or personal attacks, in which case.... Phase VII: Psychology. The last bit you should know is most transphobes don’t seem to have hobbies outside of social media. And they are looking for peer adulation, so don’t care abut correct facts. Most of them on twitter are unemployed, come off slightly antisocial, and don’t seem to have other social skills. A lot of them, flip out when you disappear for a few seconds, a few hours, go off and do a job. And the ones that defend She-who-should-not-be-named, don’t seem to be familiar with any of her work or writings. So ask them the following: Do you have a job? Don’t you have hobbies? You don’t have face to face people you can talk to that like you? And a lot of them will go poof, the other percentage will accuse you of not having the same, in which case you can assert you do, and they should work on that and if they need help, you know that therapy is available to help with such things. And I haven’t found a single one *yet* that can fire back. The amount of posts and retweets, etc is always screaming they don’t do anything else besides social media. They don’t have better things to do. They want peer approval and attention, so shine a light on their weakness. Asserting you have time outside of social media works.

Conclusion: Personal attacks? Report them.

That said, if people are going to hate, they are going to hate anyway. But at least inform them their hate comes from something they don’t own: Vast tracts of land to be passed down to mostly white cishet abled men. Hate is so uncreative and generally has the same origin. If we could only cure male fragility.

The reason they hate is because hate feels like control, but as the old saying goes, hate can consume you. And the more that you try to feel control through hate, the more you try to find you lose control, and thus hate more. And then you come back to hating yourself and your own in spectacular fashion. Hate also tries to punch at the weakest people because it is not brave. Can’t punch at men? Punch at trans people. Usually transphobes try to bait people in order to exhaust them. In which case, bait them back to let them spout their full transphobia. Don’t be transphobic, just set the trap, so you can hit that report button and let the platform ban them. I did say I read the Art of War several times and Machiavelli’s The Prince several times.

[acourtcfmuses]

List of muses under the cut

The below format is:-  MuseName (age) - fc fcName

** Denotes Original Character

-:: LITERATURE MUSES ::-

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Feyre Archeron (18+) - fc Danielle Rose Russell

Cassian (500+) - fc Can Yaman

Gwyneth ‘Gwyn’ Berdara (28+) - fc Deborah Ann Woll

**Orion of Velaris (18+) - fc Gavin Leatherwood

**Koa (18+) - fc Booboo Stewart

**Amberle (18+) - fc Danielle Campbell

**Asta (18+) - fc Tati Gabrielle

From Blood and Ash

Penellaphe ‘Poppy’ Balfour (18+) - fc Abigail Cowen

Delano (unknown) - fc Jordan Patrick Smith

Harry Potter

Marlene McKinnon (18+) - fc Summer Bishil

Hermione Granger (18+) - fc Emma Watson

Night World

Ash Redfern (18+) - fc Chris Zylka

-:: TV MUSES ::-

Teen Wolf

Malia Tate (18+)  - fc Shelley Hennig

Lydia Martin (19+) - fc Holland Roden **(alt fc Sophie Skelton - just hmu)**

Jordan Parrish (24+) - fc Ryan Kelley

Scott McCall (18+) - fc Tyler Posey

**Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Lahey (18+) - fc Haley Lu Richardson

**Nathan ‘Nate’ Dunbar (18+) -  fc Charlie Gillespie

Chris Argent (44+) - fc JR Bourne

Julian Greenberg (20) - fc Drew Ray Tanner

Melissa McCall (41+) - fc Melissa Ponzio

Claudia Stilinski (44+) - fc Carla Gugino

Laura Hale (25+) - fc Meghan Ory

Carrie Hudson (22+) - fc Sarah Grey

**Aoife Argent (21+) - fc Melissa Benoist

**Veronica ‘Roni’ Meyers (33+) - fc Stephanie Beatriz

**Aurora Lycan (23+) - fc Eiza Gonzalez

**Silver Lycan (19+) - fc Alycia Debnam Carey

**Lycus Lycan (21+) - fc Dominic Sherwood

**Rhudi Lycna (21+) - fc Jordan Connor

**Greyson ‘Grey’ Martin (20+) - Cameron Monaghan

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Caliban (unknown) - fc Sam Corlett

Agatha Night (unknown) - fc Adeline Rudolph

Dorcas Night (unknown) - fc Abigail Cowen

Nick Scratch (unknown) - fc Gavin Leatherwood

Shadowhunters

Clary Fray (18+) - fc Katherine McNamara

Simon Lewis (18+) - fc Alberto Rosende

Panic

Heather Nill (18+) - fc Olivia Welch

Ray Hall (18+) - fc Ray Nicholson

Julie and the Phantoms

Luke Patterson (18+) - fc Charlie Gillespie

Lucifer

Lucifer Morningstar (eternal) - fc Tom Ellis

Fate: A Winx Saga

Bloom Peters (18+) - fc Abigail Cowen

Sky (18+) - fc Danny Griffin

Riven (18+) - fc Freddie Thorp

Lost Girl

Dyson Thornwood (1,500+) - fc Kris Holden-Ried

Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D

Jemma Simmons (22+) - fc Elizabeth Henstridge

Grant Ward (31+) - fc Brett Dalton

DCTV

Mia Smoak-Queen (21) - fc Katherine McNamara

iZombie

Ravi Chakrabarti (29+) - fc Rahul Kohli

The Vampire Diaries / The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson (1000+) - fc Daniel Gillies

-:: MOVIE MUSES ::-

Descendants

Harriet Jones (20+) - fc Shelley Hennig

Lilith Gato (20+) - fc Ivana Baquero

Hannah Hightopp (21+) - fc Holland Roden

Mal Fae (18+) - fc Dove Cameron

Benjamin Florian Ricard (18+) - fc Mitchell Hope

Alfreda ‘Freddie’ Facilier (19+) - fc Vanessa Morgan

Derek Bergmann (19+) - fc Archie Renaux

Matthias Gothel (18+) - fc Felix Mallard

Julia Darling (19+) - fc Tiera Skovbye

Alissa Kingsleigh (20+) - fc Emily Bett Rickards

King Club (20+) - Freddie Thorp

Chesney Cheshire (19+) - fc Noah Centineo

Fleur Faery (18+) - fc Danielle Rose Russell

Ruby Fitzherbert (19+) - fc Melissa Benoist

Braxton Snatch (21+) - fc Dean Geyer

Briar Snatch (19+) - fc Zoey Deutch

Kris Bjorgman (18+) - fc Danny Griffin

Gaspard Legume (19+) - fc Fred Hechinger

Shock Trickster (unknown - looks 21+) - fc Chelsea Gillian

Diana Moors (19+) - fc Katherine McNamara

Urina Tow (22+) - fc Summer Bishil

Damian Jones (22+) - fc Bill Skarsgård

Edwin Hyde (23+) - fc Luke Baines

Pace Ratigan (23+) - fc Nathan Parsons

Hans Westergaard (38+) - fc Sam Heughan

Pirates of the Caribbean / Descendants

Elizabeth Swann (20+) - fc Keira Knightley

Arthurian Legends / Descendants

Guinevere Pendragon (25+) - fc Katheryn Winnick

[survivingthejungle]

everybody wants to rule the world (ii)

(oh, finally it’s here bitch! u want some sadness?)

The next morning came and went smoothly, Genevieve continuing her typical routine of breakfast, walking Bambi and Tex, and then going to the gym to work out a bit and to keep her volleyball skills up to par. When she finally returned home it was already late afternoon, so she showered and made herself some lunch. Her aunts were off at their magic academy, and Ambrose and Sabrina were still out hunting for Herod's crown,  so Genevieve had the large Spellman house all to herself. After finishing her lunch and cleaning the dishes, she went to curl up on a couch in the family room to watch some TV before night fell and her family came home. About an hour into watching reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Ambrose burst through the front door in a hurry. "You being chased?" she called. 

"No time to talk, cousin," he yelled back down, rushing down the stairs to the basement, "I've got something very important to study!"

:Have fun," she responded, voice softened. She pointed her attention to Tex, who was seated at the end of the couch where she was relaxing. "Y'ever wish you were a witch, Tex?" Genevieve said to him. "'Cause I'd love to know what's going on right now."

A few minutes later, Sabrina came in, seemingly worn out from trying to keep up with Ambrose. "Hey," she said, "You wanna come with us to the carnival? We're leaving in a few minutes."

Geneveive's mouth opened but nothing came out; she wasn't sure what to say in the moment. "Ah-" she started, nervous. "About that… I think I'm going on a date with your friend."

Sabrina's brows furrowed and she smiled a little, confused. "My… friend? Which friend?"

Genevieve struggled again to find the perfect answer. "Mmh.. Uh.. Y- You know the one," she responded, vaguely. 

"Wh- Caliban?!" she yelled in awe, eyes widened once she realized to whom her cousin was referring. "The one who's trying to take my throne?!"

"Don't yell at me like that!" she defended herself, "He kept pestering me and bothering me and I wanted him to go away so I said yes!" Genevieve shouted back. 

"Why the Heaven was he so intent on it?"

"Beans, if I knew, I'd make it stop!" Sabrina sighed in defeat, setting down her purse and kicking off her shoes before joining her cousin on the couch. 

"Well, maybe it won't be the worst thing in the world. I mean, me and Nick and everyone else are gonna be there, so at least you won't be alone. Plus, I know he won't be looking for the crown if he's with you."

"I guess," Genevieve conceded, shrugging. "I just wanted him to get off my case. It's one date, okay? Just the one. I'm sure I can scare him off by the end of the night."

"Aw," Sabrina laughed, "Don't say that! You're a catch, ‘Vieve. Of course he wants to go on a date." "Are you encouraging this?" They both giggled. "Nah, it'll be fine. It's no big deal."

— 

Sabrina was already dressed and prepared to go out, so she waited in Genevieve's room while she changed into something other than her pajama pants and a large sweatshirt. "I can't believe you're going on a date with Caliban," Sabrina repeated, exasperated. 

"Ew, gross, don't say it like that," Genevieve called from the bathroom where she was changing and deciding whether or not she would wear any makeup. "You make it sound like a big thing."

"Sorry." Genevieve stepped out of the bathroom, with just a layer or two of mascara, some concealer, and a bit of blush on her cheeks and nose. She had also changed into a white dress with small navy polka dots and a washed out jean jacket. "So did he say if he would pick you up?"

"Um, you know what? I have actually no idea," she admitted, sitting down on the edge of her bed and putting on a pair of socks. "I guess we're meeting there. I don't know."

"Okay. Well, Nick and I are gonna meet up with everyone soon, if you want to come with."

"Oh, I'll be fine. But thanks, Beans. I'm gonna let Bambi out for a few minutes and feed everyone," Genevieve decided. 

"Alright," Sabrina said, getting up and leaving her cousin's room. "Well, we'll keep an eye out for you." "Thanks. See ya soon."

— 

Thankfully, it was not one of the nights she needed to feed Rhiannon, because Genevieve was not particularly in the mood to have to throw a live mouse into the ball python's tank. For Tucker, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of blackberries, romaine lettuce, and snap peas, threw them on an old plastic plate and set it in his tank for him to munch on as he saw fit. She changed Pico's water and put a few chopped up grapes and strawberries in a small dish in his cage. She called for Bambi to follow her downstairs and let the dog outside while she put food in her bowl and got her fresh water. When Bambi barked at the door to be let in, Genevieve was startled to find Caliban standing there as well. "Oh. Hi, Caliban."

"You look a little surprised to see me," he observed. 

"Well, you did show up sort of unannounced," she told him, letting Bambi inside and allowing him in, as well. "I thought you'd just find me at the carnival."

"Sweetheart, I may be a demon," he smirked, "But I'm not completely without my manners. It would be disrespectful of me if I didn't escort you."

"Oh, respect?" she wondered, setting Bambi's bowls down on the floor and going to wash her hands. "I didn't know that was something you were worried about." There was a hint of mock doubt in her tone. He smiled a bit more genuinely at this. 

"There are a great many things you don't know about me, Genevieve."

"Well, then that makes two of us." Once she had slipped on a pair of shoes and made sure that she had a handful of cash in her pocket, she turned to face him directly and actually give him her attention. "We're stopping to get coffee first, because I'm about to fall asleep."

"Whatever the lady desires," he agreed. They both left the Spellman house, Genevieve yelling a goodbye to her cousin before shutting the door behind them. 

— 

"Can demons have coffee?" she asked as they stepped inside the small cafe.

"We can have anything we wish," he told her, "But I can't say I've ever tried the drink before."

"That's tragic. Do you want some? I'll pay." 

"There's no need to spend your money on me. I'm made of clay, I'll be alright."

"Wow," she said in mock wonder. "Do you have any other personality traits?" He smirked (which seemed to be his default at this point), and Genevieve rolled her eyes. She turned and gave her order to the barista, handing over a few of the singles from her pocket and going to wait at the other end of the counter for her drink. When Caliban wasn't right behind her like she was expecting him to be, she turned back and saw him ordering as well. He pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket and her jaw almost dropped as he turned and gave her a knowing wink. "You did not just,' she muttered, clenching her teeth and lowering her voice to more of a whisper, "make that money!"

"And what if I did?" he asked, enjoying seeing her get riled up.

"That's terrible!" she chastised. "That's like… cheating."

He gasped. "Have I done a bad thing?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You may not care about doing bad things, but I do."

"As you wish," he conceded. Once their drinks were ready, they headed out onto the street and in the direction of the carnival at the edge of town near the forest. 

— 

Once they made it to the entrance of the carnival, Genevieve was on high alert for any sign of her cousin or her friends. "So, Genevieve Sawyer," Caliban started, "How did a mortal like you come to end up living with the Spellmans?"

"Well that's kind of personal," she told him, refusing eye contact. "My dad and Sabrina's mom were siblings. They took me in when…"

"When what?" he asked, voice soft and genuine. 

"Um, my dad… died, and I would have been put into foster care. But Hilda and Zelda offered to become my guardians instead."

"Well what about your mother?" he asked. He had a feeling he may have been crossing a line, but he decided to ask anyway. 

"Let's not talk about it," Genevieve shot it down. 

"I apologize if I've upset you," he offered. He seemed like he meant it.

"It's fine. You didn't know. I just… don't like to talk about it," she explained. She quickly changed the subject. "How's the coffee? Are you a fan now?"

He chuckled, taking a sip. "I'll admit it's not bad," he said, looking down at her, "But I'm still partial to the blood of the damned."

Her eyes widened and she grimaced. "Ew!"

He laughed at her expression. "I'm only joking, darling," he reassured, still smiling. She scoffed and nudged him with her elbow. 

"Not funny, you punk.” She took another sip of her own drink before continuing. "You don't really— "

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. "Must you always think the worst of me?"

She smiled playfully. "Well you don't give me much of a choice," she teased. The sun was beginning to set and the lights of the carnival became more vibrant as time went on. In the crowd of people, she spotted Sabrina's white-blonde head walking beside Nick. "Oh, look!" she pointed out to Caliban. Speeding up to them, Genevieve poked her cousin in the back, startling her.

"Oh! Hey, Geneieve!" she greeted. "Caliban."

"Your highness," he replied, bowing. Genevieve noticed a growing tension between him and Nick, and before things got out of hand, she interrupted. 

"'Sup, Nick?"

"Hey, Genevieve. How's it going?"

"Pretty good, I guess. How ya feeling?" she asked him, silently praying she wasn't stirring the pot. 

"Better, actually. Thanks to Sabrina." They smiled at one another as he put his arm around her shoulder. 

Genevieve didn't notice, but Sabrina did. When Nick wrapped his arm around her and made a lovey-dovey expression, Caliban looked longingly down at Genevieve. 

"Where's everyone else?" the older cousin wondered. Sabrina looked around. "Uh, Harvey and Roz are walking around somewhere. Theo and Robin are on the ferris wheel."

"Who's Robin?"

"New boy. They really hit it off." "Aw," Genevieve gushed, "I'm so happy for Theo! Good for both of them." She finished the last few sips of her coffee. "Where are we headed?"

"Carousel?" Sabrina offered.

"Yeah, I'm down. You wanna go?" she asked Caliban.

"I'll go wherever you decide," he answered.

She let out a small scoff. "How very noble."

— 

Something was off at the end of the carousel ride and Genevieve had no idea what it was. Caliban's entire demeanor had changed and when the ride ended, She decided to give Sabrina and Nick some space while she tried to figure out what Caliban was up to. She gently grabbed her cousin's arm. "Hey, we'll meet up with you guys in a minute," she muttered. Sabrina nodded in understanding. Once they were on their own again, she turned to Caliban. "Okay. What's up?" she interrogated. He was glancing around all over the carnival grounds, barely looking at her. She snapped her fingers in his face, gaining his attention. "Hello? What is going on?"

"Something's not right," he responded cryptically. "Someone's here who shouldn't be here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's not safe for a mortal to be here for much longer. You should go home."

She glared up at him, eyes narrowing. "Oh, you think you can just boss me around, now? What's your deal, dude?" Instead of giving a snide remark, he grabbed her face in both hands and looked her dead in the eyes. 

"Genevieve. I'm not joking. Or lying. You really need to leave."

"No!" she shouted. "You don't get to tell me what to do, you spoiled little jerk! I came to this stupid carnival to have fun with my friends. You're not ruining this for me." She sighed out an angry breath and shook her face out of his hands, stepping back. "What is your issue? First you pester me until I agree to give you the time of day, and then all of a sudden you want me gone?"

"I don't want you gone. I want you safe, believe it or not. You're upset with me now but you'll understand later. There's really no time to explain, sweetheart." He tried to grab her hand, his face sincerely apologetic, but she pulled away with a disgusted look on her face. 

"No. Don't touch me." She paused as if to say something else, but decided against it; turning away from him abruptly and storming off into the crowd. 

 "Genevieve," he called. "Genevieve!" But rather than turn around, she flipped him off and kept walking. 

— 

Genevieve had gotten halfway home before Herod's zombie showed up and attacked Nick and Sabrina. She was too far away to hear the yells from the carnival grounds, instead caught up in her own thoughts and grievances. Stupid piece of shit, she thought. I can't believe I let myself get played like that. Who does he think he is? 'Go home, Genevieve'-- Man, fuck off!

Meanwhile, her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend were fighting for their lives from an undead evil ancient king. They tag-teamed spelling him and beating him up with whatever they could get their hands on, but they were fighting a losing battle. Sabrina was thrown to the ground, and suddenly looked up to see the boy her cousin was currently pissed off at. "Caliban! Help me!"

"Beautiful as you are, I am tempted," he sneered. "No. I think not." His face dropped. 

"What about Genevieve?" Sabrina yelled at him.

"I've taken care of her. This crown is my priority." And without another word, he transported himself back to Hell.

— 

After Nick went back to the Academy, Sabrina strolled right into Pandemonium and up to the bastard who had played her cousin and cheated in their quest. He was smug, wearing the crown and strutting like he actually ruled the place. "What does my lady think?" he asked. "It's just temporary until I win the infernal crown, of course." Before he could get another word in, Sabrina smacked him. 

"We could have died!" she shouted. "Why didn't you help us?"

"Help you?" he repeated. "This is a competition. I was watching you. Closely. When I didn't have my eyes on that cousin of yours— "

"If you were watching me, did you know King Herod was coming for his crown?" Sabrina asked, ignoring his backhanded comment about Genevieve. 

"My lady, everyone knows King Herod is a guardian. I assumed you would kill him. … Or he would kill you." He swiped some droplets of blood from her tip. "Or perhaps, you would kill each other. A true monarch knows strategy." He then spoke up loud enough for the whole throne room to hear. "Now, you didn't answer my question! The crown suits me, don't you agree?" Sabrina right-hooked him so hard that the crown came flying off of his head. 

"The first round's yours. Enjoy it. It's the last one you'll win." He was desperately trying not to lose his pride. "And I swear, I'll slice your throat ear to ear before I let you have my throne." She seemed as if she was done, but decided to add one more thing. "And if you ever come near Genevieve again, I won't have to. Because she will."

— 

After Sabrina had showered the blood and grime off of herself, she threw on her p.j.'s and headed to her cousin's room. Genevieve was laying on her pillow pile in a corner of her room, cuddled up with a blanket and Tex laying on her chest. Bambi was snuggled up against her side. She had traded in her dress and jacket for sweatpants and an old t-shirt; she rubbed her makeup off half-heartedly and tied up her hair on him of her head. "Hey, Vieve," Sabrina greeted softly, slowly entering her room. "Hi," she muttered. "Your stupid friend is a piece of shit."

"He's not my friend. And I know he is. He cheated on the challenge tonight. Left me and Nick pretty much for dead just to get that stupid crown."

"I wanna punch him."

"Don't worry. I did. Twice," she winked, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Let me get a few hits in next time."

"They're all yours." Sabrina then knelt to the ground and laid down on her cousin's free side, putting her chin on Genevieve's shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'm so mad at myself. I can't believe I let some piece-of-trash, lying, cheating, dirtbag play me." Sabrina said nothing, just rubbing her cousin's arm in an act of comfort. "If I ever see him again I'll hurt him."

"I know," Sabrina muttered. "You have every right to."

— 

While the rest of the Spellman household was preparing for the Hare Moon, Genevieve spent the day curled up in bed, cuddling with her cat and dog and reading books. At some point in the late, late afternoon, a familiar woosh of heat interrupted her lazy day. "How dare you," she began, setting her book down and picking up Tex, holding him close to her chest. "How fucking dare you show up to my house like you're wanted here." She stood up and walked closer to him, while he backed away from her rage-filled frame. "You complete jackass. You are such a piece of shit. You almost get my cousin killed? And you don't do a damn thing to stop it? You- what, you try to get on my good side, and seem so inconspicuous, just so you can spy on my family and cheat on that stupid fucking contest? And then you show up in my room the next day like this?!" She was shouting now. "Don't you even think of saying a God-damned word to me, Caliban! You skeevy little dirtbag!" She set Tex down on her bed so that her hands were free. "Get out of my room, get out of my house, get out of my life!" Genevieve threw her fists at him, hitting anywhere a punch would land. His chest, his arms, his face; she was going blind with rage. She continued moving toward him in her assault until he was backed up against her wall. The punches kept coming. "Genevieve, stop!" He shouted, trying to push her off of him. "Let me apologize— "

"NO!" she screamed. "Don't order me what to do! You don't get to apologize to me! This is beyond apologies! I don't give a fuck what you say to me, nothing will ever, ever cover this!"

"I know!" He screamed back. Her punches slowly stopped. "I know. Nothing I say will fix anything I've done."

"Then why are you here?!"

"No apology will ever be fit for you, but please, please let me say my piece anyway." She said nothing, so he continued. "I am, truly, genuinely sorry for betraying your trust. And I am sorry I left your cousin defenseless last night. There is no explanation I could give that you would see fit to accept. I will spare you the details of the reasons behind my actions. But please, Genevieve, please know that I never wished to cause you any pain. From the moment I met you, I never wanted to harm you. Knowing I have done so is the heaviest burden I will ever carry."

"Are you done waxing poetic now?" she asked, arms crossed, face void of emotion. He nodded slightly. "Good. Get out of my house."

"Gen— " She cut him off. "You have done enough, Caliban! Leave!" He looked at her longingly, with the saddest eyes she had ever seen, and conceded. 

"As you wish." He threw his arms up and was once again enveloped in a spiral of hellfire. When it dissipated, he was gone. In his place was a large, bright yellow sunflower. She picked it up apprehensively. Genevieve wanted desperately to throw it in the trash, or to stomp on it, or to shred it with a pair of scissors; in the end, she placed it gently on her desk and went back to bed, throwing the covers over her head and silently crying.

[towritecomicsonherarms]

BOOKS I’VE READ IN 2019

I am aiming for one book a week.

I will update this if and when i remember

(due to my other blog being censored i am putting this here for easier access ya feel me)

Past Tense - Lee Child (started this Dec 30th but whatever)

The Sky-Blue Wolves - S. M. Stirling

Let Me Off at the Top!: My Classy Life and Other Musings - Ron Burgundy

The Beautiful Land -  Alan Averill

Altered Carbon -  Richard K. Morgan

Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey (first book of the expanse)

Dark Matter - Blake Crouch

1632 - Eric Flint

Caliban’s War - James S. A. Corey (2nd book of the expanse)

Age of Shiva - James Lovegrove

1633 - David Weber and Eric Fling (sequel to 1632)

Temeraire - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 1)

Abaddon’s Gate - James S.A. Corey (3rd book of the expanse)

1634 - Eric Flint and David Weber

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Throne of Jade - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 2)

Red Sparrow - Jason Matthews

Cibola Burns - James S.A. Corey (4th book of The Expanse)

The Years of Rice and Salt - Kim Stanley Robinson

Broken Angels - Richard Morgan (Altered Carbon 2)

Nemesis Games - James S. A. Corey (5th book of The Expanse)

The Left Hand of God - Paul Hoffman

Babylon’s Ashes - James S. A. Corey (6th book of The Expanse)

Black Powder War - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 3)

Woken Furies - Richard Morgan (altered carbon 3)

Let the right one in - John Ajvide Lindqvist

Persepolis Rising - James S. A. Corey (7th book of The Expanse)

Swan Song - Robert R. McCammon

Metro 2033 - Dmitry Glukhovsky

Empire of Ivory - Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 4)

Tiamat’s Wrath - James S. A. Corey (8th book of The Expanse)

Juliet, Naked - Nick Hornby  

The Last Wish - Andrzej Sapkowski

Sword of Destiny - Andrzej Sapkowski

Blood of Elves - Andrzej Sapkowski

Time of Contempt - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Baptism of Fire - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Victory of Eagles - Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 5)  

The Three-Body Problem - Liu Cixin

The Tower of the Swallow - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Lady of the Lake - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Tongues of Serpents -  Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 6)

Season of Storms - Andrzej Sapkowski

The Man in the High Castle - Philip K Dick

THUD! - Terry Pratchett

Sleeper 13 - Rob Sinclair

Thief of time - Terry Pratchett

Barricade - John Wallace

Steeple - John Wallace

Rig - John Wallace

Ready Player One - Ernest Cline

Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story - Christopher Moore

Pyramids - Terry Pratchett 

The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde

Armada - Ernest Cline

(I am pretty sure i read another book before thief of time but i cannot remember what it was)

[politicalprof]

2019 in books:

David McCullough, 1776: A highly accessible, if somewhat naive, depiction of the year that defined the prospects for American independence. I wouldn’t go there for deep, critical analysis. But for a story of a year, it is well done.

Michael Palin, Erebus: HMS Erebus was a British naval vessel that spent much of its career in Arctic and Antarctic exploration. If you are interested in Victorian era explorations of hard places, a fascinating read.

Emilio Corsetti III, 35 Miles from Shore: The story of an airline crash in the early 1970s in the Caribbean. What happened, why, how, who survived and what we learned. Interesting if not brilliant.

Raymond Thorp, Crow Killer: Old-fashioned tale of the inspiration behind the Robert Redford movie Jeremiah Johnson. As much fantasy as history. But it offers a flavor of a time and a subgroup few Americans would know.

James Corey, Caliban’s War: The second book of “The Expanse” series. The protomolecule is working its mojo, and Earth, Mars and the Belters are none too happy with one another. A fun read of a massive space opera.

Walter Kempowski, All for Nothing: Set in the context of the collapsing Eastern Front during WWII, this story proceeds from the fractured point of view of the Germans who are about to be turned into refugees fleeing oncoming Soviet forces. The book, notably, does not make these Germans sources of sympathy: the mood is dissonant and disordered. A real piece of literature.

Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall: Because who doesn’t want a point-of-view account of a key counselor to Henry VIII, one who rose to extraordinary wealth and power despite his humble birth and then managed the, how shall we say, removal of Kathrine as Queen? Replaced by Anne Boleyn? Who wouldn’t want to read it? It’s excellent, by the way.

James Corey, Abaddon’s Gate: Book three of The Expanse, and the protomolecule has remade humanity’s relationship to the universe. But we’ll probably screw that up, too. Another good story, filled with actual thought about the problems of space travel and space living.

MIchael Krondl, The Taste of Conquest: The Rise and Fall of the Three Great Cities of Spice: Venice, Lisbon and Amsterdam each in their turn dominated the global spice trade -- a trade that was one of the main stimuli for early colonialism and imperial conquest, and which strongly influenced the rise of the modern corporation as a linch-pin of global capitalism. The book is not as good as it should be, but the story is one that few people know, but should.

Hilary Mantel, Bring Up the Bodies: Hey, it’s time to get rid of Anne Boleyn everyone! Or, at least, to separate her head from her body. And let’s manage the English Reformation, too ... all just a few years before losing our own head. Welcome to the early/middle 1500s in England everyone!

Leigh Perry, A Skeleton in the Family: Who doesn’t have a skeleton living in their house who helps solve mysteries. I mean, who doesn’t?

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: So my son has started reading Harry Potter. So I have started reading Harry Potter. I liked this book: it’s tight, it’s focused, it’s a fun read. I see the appeal.

Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens: The answer to the questions: “What if the angels and demons charged with over-seeing Earth as humans go from the Garden of Eden to Armageddon decide that they like Earth and don’t want Armageddon to happen (even if their allies do)? And what if the Anti-Christ were raised in a perfectly mundane family in a perfectly mundane English village? How might it all turn out?” To delightful and funny effect.

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Meh. Okay. Not as good as book one. But still a good story.

Gilbert King, Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys, and the Dawn of a New America: A broad pastiche of events surrounding one of the many civil rights cases of the 1940s and 50s: the abuses and murders of several African American men accused of raping a white woman in Lakeland, FL, in 1949. With a whole lot of associated discussions of other cases, the NAACP, corrupt and criminal law enforcement, race riots, and the like. A good read. And how can it be that the bastard George HW Bush, put Clarence Thomas on the Supreme Court to fill a seat once held by the staggering legal figure that was Thurgood Marshall. Shameful is the only word.

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban: Certainly better than the Chamber of Secrets. A darker turn. But beginning to get padded as readers demanded “more” if not “better.”

James Corey, Cibola Burn: Book 4 of The Expanse ... and I didn’t like it. It seemed like filler, a book written to a contract deadline. Maybe it will pay off in the end. But another one like that and I’m not going to care.

Tom Phillips, Humans: A Brief History of How We Fucked It All Up: Did you know our oldest known ancestor, Lucy, probably died by falling out of a tree? If stories about how people have messed things up, have suffered both intentional and unintentional consequences, turn you on, do I ever have the book for you. Schadenfreude much?

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Dear lord is this book long. Why? No doubt because the fans wanted it to be. But it is as gratuitously padded as any book I have ever read. It’s okay. But I wasn’t particularly impressed. Perhaps another six Quidditch matches would have helped ....

Adam Higginbotham, Midnight in Chernobyl: Thought the HBO miniseries was scary? It was tame. I mean: the Soviets, with their level of “technical prowess” and their industrial “quality control checks” ran the facility. Heck, Chernobyl wasn’t even their first disaster. Let’s just put it this way: the actual fuel piles in each of the FOUR Chernobyl reactors were so big that: 1) different sections had different characteristics, and didn’t all operate at the same rates or temperatures; and 2) the monitoring equipment couldn’t record how all of the pile was operating at any time. Happy now? Russia still has 10 Chernobyl-style reactors in operation. Enjoy your good night’s sleep everyone!

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Yes, yes: I know. This isn’t Order of the Phoenix. Well, I read Order of the Phoenix many years ago, and thought it was deeply annoying. A pile of words with little point. A way to keep the audience happy with long passages about very little.

Meanwhile, I, like my son, roared through Half-Blood Prince. A ripping good tale. Much tighter than the last several of the series.

JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: A fine read. A bit slow getting going: let’s go here! Let’s go there! Let’s recap the plot! But after the first 1/3 or so, the story got moving and I enjoyed it. Didn’t expect great literature; didn’t get great literature. But then again, I deeply appreciate how much pleasure my son got from this, and how excited my daughter is to engage with it. If it hadn’t been conceived and written, it seems like there’d be a Harry Potter sized hole in the universe.

Neil Gaiman, American Gods: In all honesty, I didn’t really like the first 2/3 of this book: too many tangents; too many sub-stories for the sake of sub-stories. And I’m still not sure I think it was a great book. But I really enjoyed the last third of it, and there were moments, vignettes, and sentences that truly blew me away. So I am glad I stayed with it.

Kameron Hurley, The Light Brigade: A sci fi story of soldiers apparently engaged in a war with Mars who are transported to the battlefield as beams of light. One gets unhinged from time. I am not sure it was worth the work, and I came to understand it was based on a short story and so, at times, it seemed a bit one-trick pony-ish. But it had its share of moments.

Daniel James Brown, The Boys in the Boat: A bit slow going at first, but it grows more compelling as it moved forward. This is the story of the 1936 crew (rowing) team at the University of Washington that went to Berlin and won the gold medal as Adolf Hitler watched. An interesting story about crew as a sport (about which I knew basically nothing), and life in Depression-era Washington state -- with a little, somewhat gratuitous, commentary about life in Nazi Germany layered in. One takeaway? The actor Hugh Laurie’s father was the lead oarsman on the British crew at Berlin in 1936. Hugh Laurie rowed crew at Cambridge as well.

James Corey, Nemesis Games: The next in the Expanse series. Much more enjoyable than the last one, but still a bit strained. One heck of a plot “twist.” A perfectly lovely way to relax; didn’t change my life. Some interesting character twists. But also a lot of “here are some giant developments (a lot of giant stuff) that give us lots of things to write about going forward!”

Alan Stern and David Grinspoon, Chasing New Horizons: the story of the New Horizons mission to Pluto. Interesting behind the scenes look at how the mission got funded, planned and implemented. Accessible in terms of the explanations; thick with bureaucratic story-telling and summary. It turns out this stuff is really, really hard. Interesting, but it didn’t blow me away.

And to end the year, I am reading: Christopher Moore, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal: What if 13 year old Jesus had a buddy who, 2000 years later, wrote a gospel that filled in those missing years of Joshua’s (as Biff calls Jesus) life? Well, here’s your answer.

[rammadeus]

I NEED BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS!

Here’s what i read last year.

I enjoyed nearly every single one of them.

Past Tense - Lee Child (started this Dec 30th but whatever)

The Sky-Blue Wolves - S. M. Stirling

Let Me Off at the Top!: My Classy Life and Other Musings - Ron Burgundy

The Beautiful Land -  Alan Averill

Altered Carbon -  Richard K. Morgan

Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey (first book of the expanse)

Dark Matter - Blake Crouch

1632 - Eric Flint

Caliban’s War - James S. A. Corey (2nd book of the expanse)

Age of Shiva - James Lovegrove

1633 - David Weber and Eric Fling (sequel to 1632)

Temeraire - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 1)

Abaddon’s Gate - James S.A. Corey (3rd book of the expanse)

1634 - Eric Flint and David Weber

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Throne of Jade - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 2)

Red Sparrow - Jason Matthews

Cibola Burns - James S.A. Corey (4th book of The Expanse)

The Years of Rice and Salt - Kim Stanley Robinson

Broken Angels - Richard Morgan (Altered Carbon 2)

Nemesis Games - James S. A. Corey (5th book of The Expanse)

The Left Hand of God - Paul Hoffman

Babylon’s Ashes - James S. A. Corey (6th book of The Expanse)

Black Powder War - Naomi Novik (Temeraire 3)

Woken Furies - Richard Morgan (altered carbon 3)

Let the right one in - John Ajvide Lindqvist

Persepolis Rising - James S. A. Corey (7th book of The Expanse)

Swan Song - Robert R. McCammon

Metro 2033 - Dmitry Glukhovsky

Empire of Ivory - Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 4)

Tiamat’s Wrath - James S. A. Corey (8th book of The Expanse)

Juliet, Naked - Nick Hornby  

The Last Wish - Andrzej Sapkowski

Sword of Destiny - Andrzej Sapkowski

Blood of Elves - Andrzej Sapkowski

Time of Contempt - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Baptism of Fire - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Victory of Eagles - Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 5)  

The Three-Body Problem - Liu Cixin

The Tower of the Swallow - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Lady of the Lake - Andrzej Sapkowski  

Tongues of Serpents -  Naomi Novik  (Temeraire 6)

Season of Storms - Andrzej Sapkowski

The Man in the High Castle - Philip K Dick

THUD! - Terry Pratchett

Sleeper 13 - Rob Sinclair

Thief of time - Terry Pratchett

Barricade - John Wallace

Steeple - John Wallace

Rig - John Wallace

Ready Player One - Ernest Cline

Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story - Christopher Moore

Pyramids - Terry Pratchett

The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde

Armada - Ernest Cline

I do like a lot of different books. 

So 321go. Either reblog this or reply or send me a message.

[franzbiblio]

Content Journal: 7/5/20 (I want to try to keep a list of stuff I’m reading/watching on a weekly basis since it seems like a fun thing to look back on. To future self: I didn’t list the last two weeks because work was a nightmare and then I was in a place with limited internet access for a week, so here have what I’ve read in the past two weeks)

Mutant by Henry Kuttner (and C. L. Moore): So it looks as if the original print of this short story collection was published under Lewis Padgett, the pseudonym of Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore , a husband-and-wife science fiction writing team, but the majority of copies I have seen usually only list Henry Kuttner as author. The edition I have was printed in 1963 which is after Kuttner’s death but before Moore’s death and is under Kuttner’s name only, so assumably Moore at least signed off on that?

The stories were printed in the early 50s originally and my interest was primarily in the fact that I read somewhere they were colloquially referred to as the “baldy” stories because they feature telepaths whose distinguishing trait is their lack of hair (including lack of eyebrows and eyelashes). The stories themselves I can’t really recommend for sheer reading pleasure, while there are interesting concepts some of the underlying political assumptions about how post-atomic war America would ideally organize itself around autonomous city-states with product specialization gets a weird amount of focus in a story about “normal” telepaths fighting the “paranoid” telepaths who in the text must be killed whenever discovered because otherwise the human population would figure out that telepaths have dissenting opinions about telepaths integration and automatically try to commit total telepath genocide. Weirdly at points the story even admits that the “paranoid” telepaths may have a point about how telepaths shouldn’t have to be forced to hide the characteristics that identify them as telepaths (the “normal” telepaths wear wigs and it’s even brought up how there’s a lot of shame about how bald telepathic women don’t meet cultural beauty standards, but the fact that “paranoid” telepaths don’t wear wigs is a huge strike against them for daring to stand out and draw attention to themselves), but the fact that “paranoid” telepaths might not be completely wrong means nothing. Our “heroes” still have to kill them without mercy or reflection because their ideology endangers the rest. There’s obviously a lot to unpack here in how it reflects on thought about marginalized groups, and in my edition there’s even a small introduction which explicitly links the plight of the telepaths to that African-Americans and Jewish people, so any plausible deniability is gone on that account that this wasn’t a deliberate metaphor about marginalized groups. It seemed pretty obvious to me that this likely represented an influential text in the development of silver-age X-Men and a lens to understand the series focus on conflict between the “evil” mutants that must be stopped by the “good” mutants.  

Children of the Atom by Wilmar H. Shiras: Of all the early twentieth century sci-fi I’ve been reading to gain a better understanding of the mutant genre and the cultural milieu that Uncanny X-Men was coming out of in the 1960s this probably represents the text I’ve enjoyed the most on its own merits as a story. To be fair I can understand why it didn’t become a widely regarded text in American science fiction (I mean it was written by a woman, already a strike against it) it’s actually not really all that much about the typical science fiction tropes and conceits. The basic setup that the book is about children whose parents were involved a fictional nuclear reactor accident that ultimately killed the parents but children born after the disaster turn out to be super-geniuses. The majority of the story is just gathering the group of very intelligent children who then learn from each other and have interesting conversations. The book it honestly most reminded me of was The Secret Garden in that the children characters were all very distinctive and felt like actual intelligent children who are still emotionally immature in a lot of ways. I appreciated how it made a point that intelligence can take many different forms with each of the children having very distinctive interests and fields of study that they enjoy, and there’s a whole subplot about the importance of emotional intelligence as well. There are even two prominent little girls who are very distinctive and interesting characters! Of course I didn’t love the use of intelligence tests as a means of identifying the children, though there is a conversation with one of the girls where she points out the limits of such tests (IQ tests have a lot of baggage see Shaun’s video essay on the Bell Curve that can be found on YouTube) and also the characters are all white and of all the sci-fi I’ve read in the mutant genre this is probably the only one not interested in saying anything about race at all. But overall I really enjoyed the book, and it makes me a little sad that especially with the popularity of Uncanny X-Men (which there’s not really a doubt in my mind that this was an influential text, beyond the title there’s a character in the story whose last name is Worthington, and just the idea of mixing the idea of a school for special children with an atomic cause) that it didn’t raise the profile of this book as well because it is a breath of fresh air of the genre.

A Universal History of Iniquity by Jorge Luis Borges: I read a fair about of Borges as a younger person, and now coming back to it I got to have that strange feeling of realizing just how much a certain writer influenced your own aesthetic sense. Really fun and cool, I’m definitely going to be going back and reading more of his work this year.

The Tempest by Shakespeare: What struck me on this re-read (The Tempest much like Cymbeline and Midsummer Night’s Dream are basically on my constant re-read list) is the dual personality of Prospero in his introduction where he’s kind and loving to Miranda but cruel and callous to Caliban and Ariel. Of course then his relationship with Ariel grew more loving throughout the play and my theory is this duality of Prospero in the audience creates tension of whether he will choose mercy or vengeance in his dealings with those who wronged him. If that’s so it’s especially interesting that it’s Ariel who then prompts Prospero in the final act to show them mercy and Prospero agrees.

On Writing by Stephen King: There was a lot more biography in this than I was really interested in but I found his suggestions overall solid and useful.

African Kings and Black Slaves: Sovereignty and Dispossession in the Early Modern Atlantic by Herman L. Bennett: Absolutely fascinating read, and I obviously can’t do it justice here by any margin I must have at least five significant quotes that I’ve pulled from the book. I really appreciate the framing of the text in pointing out the way that in conversations of our colonial past there’s a tendency to take the 19th century incarnation of it focused on the Anglo and Francophone world and project it into the past. Bennett is a scholar of Latin America and in this text examines the ambiguities and the multiplicity of meanings that can be derived from Iberian early encounters with African Kingdoms. This is definitely not an easy text, and I can’t say I’d advise it as an entering point for early modern African history, but it does reference a lot of sources that I’m definitely interested in tracking down!

[starcunning]

Drasteria adumbrata

Happy birthday to my very favorite Leo/Virgo cusp.

Oh, you thought we were done? We might actually be less done than before.

[M/F] [WOL* (Kallisti)/Nabriales][G-rated Fluff][ARR 2.56][Shadowbringers spoilers][Erebidae][4k words]

[AO3 mirror]

The air in the cave was gelid. That might have been a problem once, long ago, but Kallisti had passed beyond such concerns in the moors of Yafaem. There was a stillness to the aether, too; much of it was likely bound up in the summoning of Saint Shiva.

That might have been a problem she was expected to address once, but to slay that false goddess would have seen Kallisti turned out from the shelter of the Warrens. She had been accepted among Iceheart’s heretics only by Nabriales’s insistence, being otherwise too recognizable a figure. And being still wanted for regicide, there was little to be done but shelter among the ice and snow while Nabriales and Igeyorhm directed events.

Soon enough, she had been assured, it would not really matter what she was accused of.

It was evening, and the wind whipped her indifferent cheeks as she strained to catch the last rays of the sun. The heavy blanket of clouds overhead dampened the sunset to something almost unrecognizable, but she did not turn her head as she felt the displacement of aether that presaged teleportation.

“Your work is done for the day?” she asked. The wordless affirmation was felt rather than heard, but Nabriales nodded. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment. “Trying to remember what daylight looks like,” Kallisti replied. “It’s so cold here.” “You do suffer so, don’t you,” he said, tone dripping with false sweetness. “Things are drawing to a close.” “We should go to Costa del Sol,” she said. “If there’s time.” The non-sequitur seemed to confuse him. “You want to take a vacation?” “It will be time for a Calamity soon, won’t it?” Kallisti wondered. “That’s why you’re doing all this? The last one changed things significantly. It seems a shame not to enjoy it while it lasts.” Nabriales pursed his lips beneath the rim of his mask. For a moment she thought he might refuse, but when he spoke, he said, “There is another place we should visit before the Ardor. It will not survive the Rejoining, and it is past time you were illuminated on certain matters.” “My schedule is clear,” she said.

Nabriales extended one hand. The claws of his gauntlets glittered like ice in the dim light, but when she put her palm in his she was surprised to find he was as warm as ever. He drew her in, enfolding her in his own aether, his darkness blotting out her vision. She closed her eyes and leaned in against him, reaching out with her senses to feel him—not just the cloak of shadow wound around her like clouds around the moon, but the core of dark crystal at his heart. She felt it distantly, through her body and his, but focused upon it as she had learned to do when he had brought her to the Chrysalis.

She did not think they were headed there now, but dared not speculate on what might be so important to him that he would derelict his duties for it. It was easier to travel with an empty head in any case, so she focused only on the sound of her own breathing, and did not allow it to hitch as the teleportation hooked into her gut and reeled her along. It seemed to last a long time—longer than she was accustomed to, and when she felt earth beneath her feet once more it took her a moment to get her bearings.

They stood upon a stony beach—white rocks about the size of her fist dappled the shoreline. The water was clear blue, the waves dappled with golden light. Kallisti adjusted the brim of her hat, turning in a slow circle, but found no sun sinking upon the horizon. Against her better judgement she glanced up, expecting to find it at its zenith, but the firmament overhead was undifferentiated light—equal but opposite, in its way, to the clouds that blanketed Coerthas where she had stood but moments before.

She turned back to Nabriales, thinking to put the question to him, but he was cringing beneath the brilliant sky. Instead she asked, “What’s wrong?” “The Light,” he said. “It is anathema to us. Beneath the water is better, I’m told.” Then he was off, wading into the surf, Kallisti’s hand still in his own. “Where are we going?” “The Caliban Trench,” he replied. “To the last place the Light does not touch.”

He seemed eager to get there, already submerged to the waist. Kallisti’s robes billowed around her, the waves lapping at her chest. With her free hand she clutched at her hat.

“Nabriales,” she said, drawing him up short. He turned back to look at her, seeming baffled by her hesitation. “I still need to breathe.” “You had no such need when we visited the Chrysalis,” he pointed out. Her ears brushed the brim of her hat, laying back. “Why would the air of the Chrysalis be unsuitable?” she wondered. He grinned. “The moon you are all so keen to worship as a goddess is more like Dalamud than you think. It, too, serves as a prison, and at its heart slumbers Zodiark. The Chrysalis is as near as we are allowed to His presence.” She squinted, not merely at the brightness of the sky, but at him. “The Chrysalis is on the moon?” “In, rather, in much the same way the Sharlayan Antitower penetrates to the heart of the star, unto the borders of Hydaelyn’s influence,” Nabriales said. “Antitower?” she echoed. “What? I think I would have heard of it.” The Ascian’s smile broadened: “There is much that was kept from you,” he said. “The secrets of Sharlayan not least of all.” A wave broke upon his back, and he took a step closer to her. “I still don’t think I can do it,” she said. Nabriales merely shrugged, and then reached up to take her by the throat. With exacting delicacy he put the claw of his other forefinger to the side of her neck. She felt her pulse leap and then settle—surely the Echo would warn her somehow if she were in mortal danger.

Not that it would save her, she could not help but reflect. After all, Laurentius Daye had had her dead to rights, as Nabriales did then.

She could feel her blood trickle over her skin as he opened a slash in the side of her neck, so delicate as to be almost painless until the sea spray hit it, and then salt seared the wound. He turned her head by force, repeating the gesture on the other side. He reached into her, then, his aether commingling with hers and felt herself rearranged—not in the same way that Lensha might have done, straightening and reinforcing in the service of healing, but in a way that left her transmogrified thereafter. Her neck tensed, and new muscles flared—her gills gaped, for that was what he had opened in the sides of her neck. She pressed her hand to his, feeling the edge, and then dove past him into the water. The drag of the water tore her hat from her head, but she abandoned it, reveling instead in the coolness that suffused her.

The light that permeated did not warm, but it was altogether more temperate than had been Coerthas—it did not seem to be winter here at all. As Nabriales caught up with her and they broke from the surface, threading through forests of seaweed, she recalled the question that had struck her first when she arrived, forestalled by the sight of him in pain. He seemed relaxed—even content—then, so she opened her mouth to ask the question. It came out in a rush of bubbles, and she felt water fill her lungs.

When it had finished—and she could walk along the seabed—she repeated the question. “What is this place?” “This is the First Reflection,” he said. “Mitron and Loghrif had primed it for Rejoining before they … retired from this place. When we trigger the Ardor upon our return, it will be reabsorbed into the Source.” “It looked a lot like La Noscea,” Kallisti noted. “Functionally, it is,” he replied. “I was born not far from here,” he said, “albeit on a different Reflection.” “The Twelfth,” she said, remembering distant Dravania. “Do not ask to see it,” he said. “It was Rejoined shortly after I was uplifted, some time after the Thirteenth collapsed.” “Do you miss it?” she wondered. “Do you never wish to go home?” “Where do you think I am taking you?” he wondered, his lips quirking in a crooked smile.

He led her then to a place where the current swept out to sea, and they let it carry them—past the shelf break, and they sunk to the slope. The water dimmed much of the light overhead, everything dimmed to a murky green that reminded her, almost, of home. Their passing startled schools of fish, and once a coterie of Sahagin drew near, but Nabriales’s sigil flared over his mask, and they dared no closer. Soon, however, they came upon it.

There was a vast ruin beneath the sea, in a trench that opened before them. Its structures were in ruin, shattered glass in broken tracery, spires of corroded metal stretching upward toward a surface they would never reach. Even broken, she could see its grandeur.

“What is this?” she asked. Something stirred in her breast—some half-forgotten dream of a memory not her own. Was it his? “This was Amaurot,” Nabriales said. “The original Nabriales was born there.” Her brow knit, and she looked from the city to his masked face and back. He reached out with his empty hand. A moment later her hat settled upon the crown of her head. She tugged it into place, ears swiveling and flicking to settle it correctly. “Shall we go down there?” he asked.

He awaited no answer, only stepped from the ledge. His robes billowed around him in the water as he sank. Kallisti clutched the brim of her hat and stepped after him. There was a walkway below, but it had crumbled into dozens of rough-hewn boulders. Still, when she touched down upon it, her feet met level ground, and she looked down to find the stone underfoot smooth and unbroken, graven with an elegant, regular zig-zag pattern. Nabriales offered her one gloved hand, and she took it, careful of his claws.

She could see fish and other creatures among the ruins, flitting through the water or peeking from the crevices. Still, for a bubble several yalms wide around the pair, the stone was repaired; the facades of the buildings gleamed; even grass and trees grew in the wells in the stone. Looking back at the way they had come, however, left no trace of their passage.

“What did you mean, ‘the original Nabriales?’” she wondered. “Oh, little fool,” he laughed. “Your mothercrystal would not have told you. Before She sundered the world, there was but one race of man, and we lived free of worry or need. We were ageless beings, and given to us was the power of creation. Nabriales is not a name, but a title, and we lived here, in Amaurot.” “Your name,” she said, tail twitching sluggishly behind her, “is not Nabriales?” “No,” he said, as though this were obvious. He led her from the walkway up to one of the buildings. In one instant it was all but collapsed, the door sagging from the hinges; in the next it was pristine, lamps casting cones of light up the white marble facade. The door was heavy and paneled in bronze, and when he pushed it open they stepped into an atrium of golden yellow stone with bronze pilasters. The floor underfoot was inlaid with contrasting cream and deep brown stone. These too were bounded by gleaming metal. “So what was it?” she asked, approaching one of the empty benches there, wrought on a scale rather too broad for her. “I had thought you might like to know your own name,” he said. “You were Eris.” “We knew each other?” she said, reaching out to touch the lacquered wood. It was cold, but solid and real. “Were we lovers?” He laughed softly—not the triumphant sound she had grown so accustomed to, but something gentler, more intimate. “No,” he said. He reached out to curl his hand around her throat, tipping her chin upward. Her gaze lingered on the chandelier there, its milky glass and metal inlays reminding her of the nautilus shell motif of Sharlayan. “Who were you to me?” she asked softly. “We were rivals,” he said. “Of a kind. My colleagues and I were members of the Convocation of Fourteen, and you … were always bringing a dissenting opinion to our public addresses. Debate was something of a pastime in Amaurot, so none of us really minded. Elidibus,” he said, his tone souring, “was quite amused, actually.” “There are fourteen Ascians?” she mused. “I had assumed one for each shard, plus the Source, so wouldn’t that be fifteen?” Again his laughter sounded in her ear. “We were not Fourteen when Zodiark was made,” he said. “One of our number left after his wife, Helen, departed for one of the cities already in the grip of that first primordial calamity, which we summoned Zodiark to halt.”

“And it was her fault,” came another voice. Kallisti whipped around, her robes swirling in the water. She regarded the newcomer, and was surprised to note that he was Garlean, of all things. He wore no robes and no mask, but a dress uniform heavy with medals. He looked at her for a moment, then scoffed and snapped his fingers. The room changed around them, the details of the mosaic refining into sharper clarity. “Really, Nabriales,” he said, “stick to what you’re best at.” “What is that?” Kallisti wondered, head canting beneath the brim of her hat. “Supercilious self-aggrandizement,” the man said. “‘The Majestic.’ Well. It certainly was not architecture—and not recruitment. Do you even recall the trouble you caused, Eris?” “You knew me too,” Kallisti said, blinking in fascination. Nabriales shifted his weight, interposing himself between the pair. “Emet-Selch is of our number,” he said to her, then turned his face forward. There was a tension in his posture. “Why are you here?” “You are not subtle,” Emet-Selch said, rolling his golden eyes. “I am steward of this shard until it is rejoined, since I have no need of my mortal guise, and its original tenders sacrificed themselves to prime it. But why are you here?” “To show her the city,” Nabriales replied. “It is her birthright, which Hydaelyn has kept from her.” “Mmm,” Emet-Selch temporized. “No. I suppose, being born to the Source, she might have better claim than you, pale shade that you are. What did you think? That she might become the new Mitron? Igeyorhm has already asked me to consider elevating her half-formed pet to Loghrif’s station. But she is no Ebrietas, and this is no Eris.” “She is as much Eris as I am Nereus,” Nabriales—Nereus?—said with quiet vehemence. Emet-Selch laughed, though it sounded deadened in the water. “She actually is more Eris than that,” he pointed out. “But she is not Mitron, much as you might like to dream of her filling the seas with new life. When this shard is rejoined, we will go and find a proper Mitron. Eris was the one responsible for Menelaus’s departure from the council; it is not just that she should sit among us like she was fit to govern.” “That is Elidibus’s decision to make, not yours,” Nabriales said. “Oh, so his authority is at your convenience. I cannot imagine Lahabrea will speak for Ebrietas, and I certainly will not speak for Eris. Really, what will you do when you are denied?” Emet-Selch asked. “Put your head underwater and scream? You are already here, so I will leave you to it. Do remember,” he said, “that if things go poorly on the Source because you could not attend to the simple tasks you were given, we know exactly where to find the next Nabriales.”

It was a threat, Kallisti grasped instinctively, though she could not exactly put what it meant into words. Nabriales bristled, stepping further in front of her, blocking her view of the room beyond. When she looked to peer around him, Emet-Selch was gone. “Are you alright?” she asked. The new name felt strange upon her tongue, but she forced it over her lips just the same. “Nereus?” “He does love the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he,” the Ascian said. “Why do you remember this place and I don’t?” Kallisti wondered. “Because I was ascended, and while I can unmoor you from your mortality I cannot do that. That is reserved to Ascians of the Source—their souls are more complete and their powers greater. It is why you are stronger than me, when you remember how to be.”

She thought about that a moment, and then she pulled herself up onto one of the too-large benches, settling there with a sigh. “Elidibus knew,” she decided after a moment. “I have to assume so,” Nabriales agreed, materializing beside her. Kallisti leaned against him, letting his aether wash over her, much warmer than the seawater around them. “Who is Ebrietas?” she wondered. “She was Igeyorhm’s partner. She was not part of the Convocation.” “No, I mean, who is she now?” “Guess,” Nabriales laughed. “Who have you seen in Igeyorhm’s company of late?” “Wait, Lensha?” she said, sputtering. “The very same,” Nabriales confirmed. “She was of the faction that departed with Menelaus.”

“Who’s Menelaus?” Kallisti wondered. “I guess it would have to be Arenvald; he’s the only male Echo-blessed I can think of.” Nabriales shook his head. “We don’t always come back the same,” he said. “The other shard of Nabriales they have waiting in the wings should I ever require replacement is—you would recognize her as a Xaela Au Ra, though she would call herself something else. Menelaus could have incarnated as a woman. He has before, in eras past. But his last incarnation was shortly before the Sixth Ardor, known to you as the Calamity of Water. He usually does come back just as conditions are becoming ripe for a rejoining.” “So he could be Minfilia.” “He could, but he is not,” Nabriales said. “His absence has made us bold, it’s true; we would not have primed another shard so quickly, were he here to stand against us.”

“Why did he leave?” “He departed the council because he objected to our plans to halt the destruction of our very star. In pursuit of his wife he visited the cities across the sea, and was disturbed by what he saw there. That should have strengthened his convictions; instead it made him doubt. It is he that created Hydaelyn.” “Created Hydaelyn?” Kallisti sat upright. “And you summoned Zodiark … but that would make them …” “At last you see, little fool,” he murmured, pulling her in to press his lips to her forehead. “Your goddess is the very thing you sought to destroy. What did you think Her blessing was, to protect you from tempering? Only the very same thing.”

Kallisti closed her eyes, but found little comfort in his embrace. She slipped from his grasp, and made for the door of the room, which now seemed much too close, for all it was vast. Nabriales followed after, his restorative bubble recreating the stoop out front. She left the door open as she withdrew, until they stood in the middle of a grassy plaza, the bounds of the Ascian’s influence clearly visible.

Beyond them—past the crumbling rim of their circle—the door to the building hung open, not returned to its crumbling state. She could see the gleaming metal inlaid upon the floor within, and the warm light of the chandelier spilled out into the ruin. A school of fish swam through the shaft of light, glittering, and darted into the chamber. She waited for it to decay; to crumble back to metal skeleton and shattered rock, but it did not. It stood, unchanging, and she stood facing it, feeling unexpectedly defiant.

“If you were to revive Zodiark,” Kallisti said softly, still staring into that open door, “what would you do?” “We would restore things to how they used to be in our time. Part of this would happen automatically—when the sundered souls come together—but we would use the powers of creation restored to us to recreate the rest.” “As Emet-Selch remade that room,” she said after a moment. “I am surprised he stopped there,” Nabriales admitted. “He is fond of gilding the lily.” “And nothing would ever change again,” Kallisti asked, not quite a question. Nabriales shook his head. “Life … would continue, of course; children would be born and new concepts would be developed and refined, but the ideal is a complete existence in a perfect world.” “I thought you were bringers of chaos.” Kallisti scoffed. “But really, you’re more bound to order than anyone.” He laughed, turning to embrace her, his clawed gloves pressed to her cheeks. “You sound just like you did then,” he said. “You were never happy here.”

She watched the ebb and flow of water through the city—invisible to mortal sight, but her aetherial senses were awakened to the subtlest change. Fish swam through the ruins, and some few creatures crept toward the open door, drawn toward the light that spilled out into the street. None dared approach the pair, skirting the bubble of restoration. They might have, Kallisti assumed. There was no barrier that separated the two of them from the vast seas. They were merely discomforted by the sudden change in the environment.

So too was she.

“I don’t want this,” she said after a while. “I don’t want to suffocate under rules or tempering.” “I wonder,” Nabriales said, “were I made whole, and none could dispute that I owned the name ‘Nereus,’ would you remember me?” His expression was half screened away by the mask, but the way he pursed his lips betrayed some discomfort with the question. “I don’t know,” she said. “Well,” he murmured. “We need not worry on that now. What strictures bind you we can find a way for you to slip. You were not of Her party when She was made. She has little hope of keeping you under Her thumb.” “I am worried now,” Kallisti insisted. “If this city is my birthright, I want to abdicate. Would you choose me over this?” She reached for him, skimming her hands over his chest until she cupped his head between her palms, and put her thumbs to him to pry away the mask. It dissolved at her touch, and his dark eyes fixed on her. “Yes,” he said. “Then …” She paused, trying to organize her thoughts. “I don’t want to be Eris, and don’t really want you to be Nereus. Let them ascend the other Nabriales in your stead.” “You’re asking me to run away with you?” “Yes!” Kallisti said. “I think so.” “Where will we go?” “I don’t know!” she laughed. “Where do dragons come from? Meracydia, sure, but Lensha told me they were from somewhere else before that.” “True,” the Ascian said. “They arrived after the sundering of the shards, and none of the reflections have them.” “Then we have a destination,” Kallisti said.

He leaned down to kiss her, the warmth of him smothering in the cold, deep water. Something occurred to her, then. “If you’re giving up your title and your ancient name … what do I call you?” “My name before I was ascended …” He paused, seeming to think about it a long time. “It was … it was Brett.” “Hi, Brett,” she said, giggling. Then she said, “Do you think we have time to visit Costa del Sol before we leave?”

[grandhotelabyss]

Image: Alan Moore and Jacen Burrows, Providence #12.

I finally finished my Faust reading project, begun for Halloween 2018, when I read Marlowe and Goethe. Yesterday I completed Mann’s Doctor Faustus and wrote something of an essay in its honor. 

I bought my edition of Doctor Faustus, a used copy of the Vintage paperback of the 1997 John E. Woods translation, sometime in the spring of 2001 at Caliban Book Shop. What inspired the purchase was my political philosophy professor, a lecturer who combined deep knowledge of culture with a kind of maniacal zest that came off as cynicism protecting perfect sincerity, a fragile belief in bygone values; I remember noting down his offhand comments in my notebook, especially his observation that in the contemporary world “reason has become cunning.” 

Anyway, one night he digressed (I don’t remember the context) to tell us about Doctor Faustus. He said that when he finished reading it, he was so overcome with the genius of its allegory that he got up and ran in the hot sunshine until he collapsed. “A guy like me,” he said with a self-mocking gesture at his corpulence (which I doubt he’d mind my observing, as he seemed to consider himself a Socratic opponent of political correctness, one who told us that “Plato” was a nickname connoting “fatso”). 

Doctor Faustus, though, is a book for adults, not for 19-year-olds, so I only finished it yesterday despite having bought it almost two decades ago. I did not get up and take a run, but my brain did a somersault when I discovered a few pages from the end what I take to be the novel’s trick: the narrator is unreliable. 

I googled the old political philosophy professor last night and found that he died two years ago. He was an energetic, unsentimental man, as far as I could tell by observing him for four months from the middle rows of a stadial lecture hall, so I will take this as the moral of the story: read and run while you can.

Doctor Faustus is a vast and strange book, much stranger than its reputation; it contains passages of piscine uncanniness that forced me to allude, against my inclination, to H. P. Lovecraft (“against my inclination” because I’m not perfectly sure he wrote books for adults). These allusions were also inspired by my reading, at the end of 2018, Alan Moore and Jacen Burrows’s Providence, a disturbing graphic novel that, with Mann-like disquiet over the liaison of art and fascism, portrays Lovecraft as the messiah of our coming inhuman millennium.

Providence was also on my mind yesterday because an American politician, a celebrity socialist, quoted Alan Moore on social media, which provoked in some quarters a debate (is there anything worse than social media debate? it should be outlawed) about the politics of his work, ostensibly socialist or anarchist but also obviously drawn with a Death-in-Venice fatality to the ideas and affects of the right.

I don’t know if this is good or bad, but I have been seriously thinking about the politics of Alan Moore for as long as I have been seriously thinking about anything at all, and, without intending to, I produced three texts on the topic last year, occasioned by Miracleman, Watchmen, and Providence.

Thomas Mann, H. P. Lovecraft, Alan Moore: strange couplings here in the 21st century.

[thetygre]

30 Day Monster Challenge 2 - Day #2: Favorite Frankenstein

1.) Mary Shelley/Bernie Wrightson

Put simply, there’s no beating the classic. Mary Shelley’s original monster is a landmark in literature, the coalescence of an idea about monstrosity and humanity that has been developing since the dawn of civilization. Alright, so that might be a little grandiose, but the point stands; the original Frankenstein’s monster is still the best. Like Dracula, every new generation brings a new interpretation, and makes new connections to him. The monster has, through his influence on culture, succeeded in becoming the father of his own race. He is a true monster of God, a divine omen, an abstract entity that conveys the importance of man’s reaching scientific knowledge. He makes us question our limits, our humanity, and how much we as a species are meant to stretch and bend away from the natural order. And to this day, nobody has managed to quite capture that ideal perfectly.

But the late great Bernie Wrightson came pretty close. Known mostly as a comics artist, Wrightson’s version of Frankenstein is the one that comes to mind for me whenever I envision the monster. He is simultaneously majestic, horrifying, and pitiful. Built like an Olympian god with a face like a corpse. Wrightson’s work on his expressions can convey anger, sadness, and the creature’s own weariness for existence. Wrightson’s monster, to me at least, comes the closest to invoking Shelley’s description of Frankenstein’s attempt at an ubermensch, and his subsequent failure.

2.) Boris Karloff

There’s a lot to be said against Karloff’s Frankenstein. It created a pop cultural image that is ultimately at odds with Shelley’s work. The monster’s eloquent suffering is replaced with a series of moans and grunts, and his arc is ultimately threadbare. And yet, Karloff’s Frankenstein brings something absolutely essential to the Frankenstein mythos; innocence. The creature is a victim of its own creation, too powerful and too strange for this world. The damage it causes is the byproduct of its father’s meddling in things man was not meant to know. That’s a perspective we didn’t get a lot of in Shelley’s original novel, and for all that the Universal movie is different from the novel, it meshes with the novel’s morality by reminding the audience of an important message; the value of humanity. Karloff’s monster appeals to our humanity on the most basic level, that of an innocent suffering. In that, I think even Mary Shelley would be proud.

3.) Shuler Hensley

Aaaaand now we’re back to Van Helsing. Okay, legitimately? I think the Frankenstein’s monster is the best part of Van Helsing. I am dead serious. Like Castlevania’s Dracula, the monster here is an amalgam of all the different parts of Frankenstein pop culture. There’s alchemy, mad science, and body horror, but there’s also a search for humanity and a desire to find meaning in life. Also, like everything in this movie, overacting. Just some grade-A overacting. Hensley screams his lungs out shouting Byronic prose, which I always took to be a kind of fun dig at the original monster’s own flair for the overdramatic.

4.) Peter Boyle

Boyle doesn’t bring a lot to the table as the creature in Young Frankenstein. The movie is a loving parody, and it clearly derives mostly from the Universal Studios movie. And yet, there are some subtle hints of brilliance in this portrayal of the creature and Frankenstein. The Universal movie was a source, yes, but Mel Brooks also drew from the novel for his own spin. At the end of the movie, Gene Wilder’s Frankenstein departs from Shelley’s (who is also the character’s grandfather) by taking responsibility and trying to help his creation. And in turn, the creature forgives and protects Frankenstein. I know it’s all just for good fun, but when you start viewing it through the classic metaphors applied to the novel, it creates a more optimistic picture about human progress. (Plus, I’d be remiss if I didn’t include one of my favorite movies on this list.)

5.) Christopher Lee

Christopher Lee’s Frankenstein is actually the version that turned me on to the character. When I was a kid, Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein did nothing for me; he was too sad, too sympathetic to be a monster. Frankenstein’s monster was supposed to be scary to me; stitched out of corpses, with greasy black hair and dead eyes, angry at all the world. (Also dressed in a stylish black suit.) Lee’s monster delivered that to me. The moment I first saw him, I knew that this was how Frankenstein’s monster was supposed to look. Now that I’m older, I can appreciate Boris Karloff’s performance more, but I’ll still always have a fondness for my first favorite Frankenstein.

6.) Rory Kinnear

The youngest monster on this list, Rory Kinnear played Frankenstein’s monster, referred to variously as Adam or Caliban, in Showtime’s Penny Dreadful. Think a cheaper, tawdrier League of Extraordianry Gentlemen. Appearance-wise, Kinnear’s Frankenstein is... it’s- it’s not great. This show had the special effects budget of some pocket lint and the grace of God. But the character is what stood out here. Kinnear’s creature, more than any other, struggles to find his identity, to find a means to turn his monstrosity towards good. His constant failure as people use him and reject him embitters him even more against his creator, but gives him a common bond to other characters. In the show’s last season, Kinnear’s Frankenstein reunites with the family of the man who’s body was used to create him, stepping in apparently returned from the dead. And that and what happens afterward with the character are, I think, worthy additions to the Frankenstein mythos.

7.) Junji Ito’s Frankenstein

Leave it to Junji Ito to create the first truly repulsive Frankenstein. Lee’s came close, but Ito’s portrayal of the monster is nothing short of revolting. In the novel, it’s never made clear why exactly people are repulsed by the creature’s appearance; it might even have been all in the character’s perception. But Ito’s Frankenstein is simply hideous; it’s the first Frankenstein I can think of where you can imagine what he smells like, and it’s like rotting meat. The monster is imposing, too; Ito, like Wrightson, didn’t skimp on making his creature gigantic in proportion. It’s hard to feel sympathy for this creature, and it almost seems to take pleasure in the evil it commits against its creator. It’s easily the nastiest version of the monster you’ll ever meet.

8.) The King of Toyland

Like Van Helsing, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is just something I’m going to keep coming back to during this challenge. League’s Frankenstein is mentioned only in passing, making an actual appearance only as a background cameo, but what little is given might just be the most heartwarming version of the character I’ve read. After the canon events of the novel, Frankenstein’s creature wanders the Arctic Circle, despondent and immortal, unable to kill himself. In his wandering, the creature finds a land populated entirely by sentient dolls and toys, hidden in the North Pole behind a magical field. This is Toyland, from the Noddy series of English children’s novels.

The residents of Toyland are ruled over by Olympia, the automaton girl from the opera The Tales of Hoffman. The toys, instead of rejecting the creature, ask him to stay, claiming they need his strength to protect the land. The toys don’t see the creature as unnatural; to them, he is simply another misfit toy, an oversized doll. In time, the creature and Olympia fall in love and marry, and they rule as the king and queen of Toyland. The creature, at last, has found a place and a people he can call his own, somewhere where he is accepted, a purpose for his strength. And somehow, this was all written by Alan “Old Man Yelling at a Cloud” Moore, without a shred of irony or cynicism. And if you don’t think that’s the most sentimental shit in all of Frankenstein lore, then I don’t know what to tell you.

9.) The Flesh Golem

Before even Christopher Lee, the first version of Frankenstein’s monster that I really loved was the one in the 3rd Edition Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. Well, okay, it’s not actually Frankenstein’s monster; it’s just a ‘flesh golem’. But energized by electricity, afraid of fire, made of dead men cobbled together? Come on. My older cousin used to tell me that her idea for Frankenstein’s monster was that Frankenstein ran out of human parts, and had to resort to animal material to finish the creature. Frankenstein might have the nose of a pig, or the eyes of a horse; anything to finish the work. That idea never left me, and I thought of it every time I stared at the flesh golem, taking in the metal frame and oversized claw. I remember the first time I actually read the novel, I kept drifting back to that lanky, stitched-up construct with its monster parts and lop-sided face.

10.) The Prometheans

Another tabletop rpg rendition of Frankenstein’s monster, this was a whole game built around them. Promethean: The Created was the fourth of the New World of Darkness line or Chronicles of Darkness or whatever we call it these days. In it, players took on the role of artificially created beings, filled with supernatural energy, whose very presence twisted and corrupted the world around them. Normal humans can’t stand to look at them as a supernatural field makes them immediate targets of hatred, and they are hunted by their own twisted, monstrous bretheren who want to consume their divine power. And yet, for all that, it was a fundamentally optimistic game. Promethean marked a trend in the World of Darkness line that turned away from doom and gloom towards seeking salvation. The ultimate quest of the Prometheans is to gain their humanity, and their journey is about undertaking a pilgrimage to their ultimate realization. Promethean is about personal horror, and defining one’s own humanity.

[woolfcried]

FANDOM STARTER CALL. for a series of unfortunate events muses ( dr. abraham armstrong, bertrand baudelaire, carmelita spats, frank denouement, olivia caliban, clara caroll, jerome squalor, dinah holloway, mr. quagmire, orville moor, marjorie clarke, madelaine widdershins )

[roswell-rp-archive]

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due to inactivity (5+ days) the following blogs are on activity check:

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the following are on HIATUS and are cleared from activity check:

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Nic (Zeferino Ayala, Brynmor Evans-Llewellyn, Takaharu Mochizuki & Leonardo Amoretto) Until 26th March

Thay (Cyrus Phoenix, Ezekiel “Zeke” Moore, Alev Özberk, Theodore “Theo” Becker) Until 27th March*

Thia (Brook Tumanday, Lonette Hastings & Bryce Sirilan) Until 28th March

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 30 April 2018

Quick Bits:

Avengers #1 represents the cyclical nature of comics. While the story continues on from Marvel Legacy and highlights themes of legacy heroes and returning hosts of Celestials, on a functional level it also represents a circling back to a kind of “status quo” of the Avengers big three. Similar to what happened during Marvel’s Heroic Age branding and Avengers Prime some eight or so years ago. Jason Aaron’s meta-commentary in the book, about the changes and return of the characters is certainly interesting.

That being said, it’s also a fun book. The art from Ed McGuinness, Mark Morales, and David Curiel is suitably bombastic. I particularly like the new designs for the Final Host, weird, but still within a similar enough Kirby aesthetic. It’s also nice to see the Million BC Avengers again.

| Published by Marvel

Black Science #35 returns from its most recent break with a bit of a mindfuck. Kind of par for the course. Rick Remender basically gives us “Saving the Eververse through Couples Therapy” and it encapsulates one of the larger themes in the series of the problems with family, the mistakes made, and the lengths people go to in order to try to make things right. As usual, Matteo Scalera and Moreno Dinisio makes it look gorgeous. I think Scalera can probably make anything look visually interesting at this point.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Breathless #2 steps up the action, with Scout and Grace-Eisley trying to fight their way out of the labs, only to discover that the appearance of the drinkers hints to a deeper conspiracy. The story Pat Shand and Renzo Rodriguez is telling is fairly good. I like the use of flashbacks to flesh out Scout a wee bit more, and the art from Rodriguez and colourist Mara Jayne Carpenter, particularly some of the layouts and character designs, is quite impressive.

| Published by Black Mask Studios

Captain America #701 starts Mark Waid’s end run on the series before it gets relaunched with Ta-Nehisi Coates guiding the ship. Again, Waid is playing with time and legacy here, with the story set in the 24th century, but with an eye to travelling through Cap’s history. It’s fairly captivating, with some great art by Leonardo Romero and Matthew Wilson on the main story and flashbacks from Adam Hughes and JG Jones & Paul Mounts.

| Published by Marvel

Coda #1 is an incredible debut from Si Spurrier and Matías Bergara. The fantasy world that Spurrier and Bergara have created here feels rich, deep, and sorrowful. Living in a world where it seems like evil won, stripped magic and hope from existence, and most of those who remain live by a kind of brutal and bleak lawlessness. Or cling to what our protagonist, “Sir Hum”, would consider useless grasps at the world gone by. It reminds me a bit of The Last Unicorn mixed with Mad Max, and it’s wonderful. Spurrier’s dark humour shines through and Bergara’s art (with colour assists from Michael Doig) is stunning.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Come Into Me #2 hits a few technological, biological, ethical, and moral walls as they try to figure out how to excise a dead person’s mind from Sebastian’s body. Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson have something existentially frightening here, tapping into the kind of intellectual body horror that David Cronenberg is known for, beautifully illustrated by Piotr Kowalski and Niko Guardia.

| Published by Black Mask Studios

Dark Ark #6 begins a new arc, giving us flashbacks of Shae learning about Noah’s ark and the methods he uses to begin building his own. I like that Cullen Bunn is going back to fill us in on how the second ark came about.

| Published by AfterShock

Death or Glory #1 is a beautiful comic. Bengal’s art, from character designs, page layouts, vehicles, composition, colour choice, and more is just amazing. Visually, this is a feast. The story too is captivating. The Last Days of American Crime taught us that Rick Remender can write a mean crime story and the start of this one is really not to be missed. Glory Owens is an interesting character, her reasons for turning to crime understandable, and the world that Remender and Bengal are creating seems to be deep and fascinatingly populated.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Doctor Star and the Kingdom of Lost Tomorrows #3 continues this excellent look at the possible real world ramifications of a Ted Knight Starman analogue missing out on the life of his wife and child. Jeff Lemire excels at family dynamics and this series has just been one gut punch after another.

| Published by Dark Horse

GI Joe: A Real American Hero #251 begins a new arc of largely single issue stories focusing on an individual Joe or member of Cobra. This first part spotlights Stalker and has some great art from Alex Sanchez and Ronda Pattison.

| Published by IDW

The Gravediggers Union #6 revels in its glorious madness with an epic confrontation between the Black Temple and the Gravediggers Union for the fate of existence. Toby Cypress and Niko Guardia do a great job portraying the action and insanity of the battle.

| Published by Image

Harbinger Wars 2 Prelude #1 is pretty epic, even just as set up. This issue serves as a sequel to Eric Heisserer, Raúl Allén, and Patricia Martín’s excellent Secret Weapons mini-series, as well as the massacre of the Generation Zero kids in Harbinger Renegade last year, and the titular prelude to Harbinger Wars 2. It’s good. The American government has basically gone insane and have taken to trying to kill every psiot on Earth, so Livewire does something drastic. It’s huge.

| Published by Valiant

Hunt for Wolverine: Weapon Lost #1 is the first of the four mini-series with groups looking for Logan. It’s also the one with the most tenuous of reasons for existing, given that Kitty went to Daredevil because Multiple Man is dead (at least until the summer) and they don’t have any other detectives. Ignoring, of course, the whole load of psychics they could use, hunters and trackers like the Weapon X group, mutant trackers like Prestige and Caliban, Agent X, hell...even Deadpool. This is more just the group of people that Charles Soule wanted to write, even if the remit’s ridiculous. Regardless of the in-story or meta reason for coming together, this isn’t bad. Soule’s set up here is mostly a gathering of the group, giving us a look into the previous cop life of both Frank McGee and Misty Knight, before leading us to a welcome return of the final member of the team. It also looks damn good with art by Matteo Buffagni and Jim Charalampidis. 

| Published by Marvel

Infinity Countdown #3 advances the overall story a bit, giving us an underlying mystery as to characters coming to an understanding that reality has changed since Infinity. How, why, and what remain unknown, but it’s an interesting tidbit. Also, the conclusion of the battle over the power stone is absolutely ridiculous, it needs to be seen.

| Published by Marvel

Koshchei the Deathless #5 details the twist in the tale where Koshchei became a slave to Baba Yaga. It’s interesting how Mike Mignola dovetails Koshchei’s story with events and characters through Hellboy and BPRD history. And how horrible Baba Yaga was in her thirst for revenge.

| Published by Dark Horse

Red Sonja/Tarzan #1 is likely to make a lot of people angry. Not because it’s bad, not because it’s controversial, or anything like that. It’s because Gail Simone has created a villain in Eson Duul, an arrogant bully and poacher, that is so despicable, so cruel, so heartless, that you’ll likely want to punch him yourself. It’s interesting to see both Red Sonja and Tarzan at such a disadvantage.

| Published by Dynamite

Rogue & Gambit #5 is only partially a conclusion to the series. Sure, Kelly Thompson brings to a close the bizarre mutant stealing couples retreat arc and gives a sense of closure and reconciliation in Rogue and Gambit’s relationship, but she leaves open the door for more. Especially with questions about the series’ villain, Lavish, left up in the air. I certainly hope to see this plot thread picked up on. Also, the art from Pere Pérez and Frank D’Armata is gorgeous.

| Published by Marvel

Scales & Scoundrels #9 is a largely silent issue with Lu coming across a man who’s lost his voice, a lonely siren, and a hunt for treasure at the bottom of the ocean. This issue’s storytelling rests largely upon Galaad’s ability to portray everything visually and it pays off in spades. The art is beautiful and story flows incredibly, with the silence adding a necessary depth to the fable that Galaad and Sebastian Girner are telling here. Great work. If you haven’t picked up this series before, this is a wonderful single issue story to jump in with.

| Published by Image

Sherlock Holmes: The Vanishing Man #1 is off to a good start with a new mystery from Leah Moore and John Reppion. I really like Julius Ohta’s style. It’s somewhat similar to Cully Hamner and Adam Pollina and it adds to a pretty nice looking book.

| Published by Dynamite

Spawn #285 is another issue made so much more by the art from Jason Shawn Alexander and Lee Loughridge. The series has stepped back from the oblique horror with this arc with Todd McFarlane resuming writing duties, opting for the more familiar government and military conspiracies that have been part of the series since the beginning, but it’s entertaining.

| Published by Image

Spider-Man #240 is the second-to-last stop on the Bendis Farewell Tour, but this one feels like the big goodbye. Partially because of the long heartfelt letter from Bendis at the end of the issue, reminiscing about his years of work on Ultimate Spider-Man and all of the wonderful people he collaborated with over the span. And because this really is the end of nearly two decades’ worth of work, first with Ultimate Peter and then with Miles Morales. This conclusion is more personal, evidenced largely due to the story structure itself, being an issue of reflection and recuperation.

| Published by Marvel

Star Trek: The Next Generation - Through the Mirror #1 continues on from the recent Mirror Broken series, bringing the main timeline crew into the mix. This issue is split into two stories, a lead one with art by Marcus To and Brittany Peer in the main timeline and a back-up in the mirror universe with art by J.K. Woodward. The art throughout is great.

| Published by IDW

Transformers vs. Visionaries #5 ends the series in a pretty spectacular fashion as plots and machinations come to fruition. Wonderful art from Fico Ossio and David Garcia Cruz. It’s just a shame that we won’t really be getting more of the Visionaries with the line ending soon, because Magdalene Visaggio gave us an interesting starting point here for a new wrinkle on Cybertron.

| Published by IDW

Venomized #5 brings Cullen Bunn’s Poison trilogy to an end in a rather interesting fashion that gets to spotlight the Monsters Unleashed monsters and give a bit of closure and justice for the original five X-Men who were pretty badly beaten up in the centre act. Iban Coello also really gets to cut loose on the art in this issue as well, elevating his work even higher than before with some of the sequences.

What this series unfortunately also highlights, like the new Avengers, is the current mishmash of timing with Marvel’s continuity. This has to be after the current X-Men Blue arc because the X-Men are back on Earth, but before the recent Mighty Thor arc because of Lady Thor, and...undoubtedly other things you could point out that would probably seem like nitpicking. It kind of feels like some things in the “Fresh Start” are necessitating things to be rushed in places. So, in terms of continuity, this is a bit of a mess. 

Still, taken on its own terms, without trying to figure out how it works in the broader shared universe, this has been fun.

| Published by Marvel

Weapon X #17 begins the process of the characters wondering why this team still exists, as the status quo is shaken by Sabretooth taking lead of the team while Logan recovers from the last two issues’ birthday brawl. It feels like the beginning of the end, but Greg Pak and Fred Van Lente are still making the story fun.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Astonishing X-Men #11, Avengers: Back to Basics #5, Black Science #35, East of West #37, Giant Days #38, Go Go Power Rangers #9, Jazz Maynard #10, Maxwell’s Demons #3, October Faction: Supernatural Dreams #3, Red Sonja #15, Rick Veitch’s The One #3, Sex Criminals #24, Star Wars #47, Xerxes #2, You Are Deadpool #1

Recommended Collections: Archie - Volume 5, Reborn, Extremity - Volume 2, The Gravediggers Union - Volume 1, Scarlett’s Strike Force - Volume 1, She-Hulk - Volume 3: Jen Walters Must Die, Star Trek: Boldly Go - Volume 3, Stray Bullets: Sunshine & Roses - Volume 1, Young Terrorists

d. emerson eddy knows who put the dog in the dog house.

[norton-addiction]

More info about ‘Whither would you go?’ charity event 22 Oct 2017

It was an evening of outstanding performances, mostly. Martin Freeman read the to be or not to be speech. The Richard II and refugee speech from Sir Thomas Moore had me in tears. Tracey Anne Oberman was outstanding as Shylock and the lady who played Caliban was amazing, as was Lee Evans and the other actor. James’s scene was so funny. As Orlando, James Carr bounding in from the back of the auditorium, brandishing a hand gun and shouting loudly, interrupting a pizza picnic. 

Jack Whitehall’s character was not impressed. There followed the comedy. Really funny. I even got a bit of the pizza! But the evening wasn’t about individual performances. It was a brilliantly constructed & performed piece to remind us of our common humanity, that we all share in the sorrow of others and can all make a difference, even in a small way.

Many thanks to https://chrissicastel.tumblr.com/ ! Additionally I would like to know out about Roger Alam...

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