#desperate every day for hamlet retellings

[meremothh]

cries so hard that we will never get a mechs album about hamlet. i don’t know how they’d retell it but i KNOW it would be amazing. half the mind to do it myself but god. what a fucked up world huh.

[bronanlynch]

once again I've watched more anime than done anything else this week but I promise I also have other stuff to talk abt

listening (podcast):

Great Gundam Project: almost done with their 0079 episodes and it's so funny to hear how confused and surprised they are that Newtypes don't get mentioned until the last 10 episodes. also, once again, hearing them talk about Char reminds me that I miss seeing Char on my television screen :/

Palisade: once again it was crazy good this week. shout out to fucked up dream sequences/visions of alternate futures, gotta genuinely be one of my favorite storytelling devices

listening (music): MakeDamnSure by Taking Back Sunday, which is going on my Partizan/Palisade playlist for Balence reasons

reading:

Imperial Uncle: got to more fun reveals that make the main relationship a lot tastier and more fun. still having a good time with this one

The Death I Gave Him: part of the appeal of this book for me (other than that I love Hamlet & Hamlet retellings) is the romance with the sentient lab AI. this should shock absolutely no one (at least no one who knows me as the Sokrates/Integrity guy lol) but I'm real into stuff that explores like, how intimacy works when you don't each have your own separate bodies

A Power Unbound: also started & finished something I've been looking forward to, A Power Unbound by Freya Marske, the third book in a romance/historical fantasy trilogy (different main characters for each) set mostly in Edwardian England. I've enjoyed the other books in the series, and I enjoyed this one too (though I think I prefer the other two for reasons that probably don't have to do with the actual quality of this book and have more to do with what I like & don't like in a main relationship, and actually it's a testament to how strong the writing was that the relationship worked for me anyway, because it did feel earned in terms of both characterization & themes, even though it's the sort of relationship dynamic that I tend to be hesitant about because I often see it done very badly in fanfic in ways that do a disservice to the personalities of both characters involved). anyway. my actual review is that I love fucked up magic houses and there are several of those in this book so shout out to that, and one of the main characters is extremely my type (short, angry, hates the aristocracy, etc)

watching:

I'm in Love with the Villainess: we're caught up now, and I do love class conflict even if I'm sure it's going to be incredibly simplistic and silly because that's the show this is (which I am fine with, to be clear, this is a romance anime based on lovingly parodying otome games, I am treating it with the same kind of seriousness that I would treat something like Scum Villain)

Bakeoff: I'm glad that this year they seem to be better about not putting way too much weight on the showstopper and sometimes deciding star baker based on other challenges like. finally some respect for people who do really well in the signature!!

Legend of the Galactic Heroes: I mean. I've been posting through it about this one so I don't think I have any new insights here just. man. I love it when a major character death is done really well. what a show (positive)

Gundam Seed: you may, at this point, be asking why Seed is our next Gundam after finishing ZZ, especially when every week I talk about pining for Char. the answer is because my roommate watched some of it a while ago and wanted to revisit it, and also because we're saving Char's Counterattack for when we get really desperate for Gundam that isn't Seed. anyway. Seed is fun so far!

the above description of Gundam Seed was written a few days ago when we first started but before we got to the info dump about what's up with Coordinators & Naturals so I'm editing this to say: oof. it really is like what if someone took all of the parts of the original Newtype stuff that I was most skeptical about, took out all of the metaphorical stuff from Zeta that redeemed the concept for me, and then explicitly added literal eugenics. don't like that!

the other thing about Seed is the misogyny which like. god. at least the misogyny in Zeta felt more interesting to think about. at least it felt like Tomino was saying things about gender even if I didn't always like it. this is just peak early 2000s misogyny where everyone including the writers hates women so much that every man comes across as incredibly gay because their relationships with other men are treated so much more seriously

at this point you might be asking what I actually like about this show since I've been complaining for several paragraphs and the answer is I love it when childhood friends end up on the opposite sides of a war. also, a lot of Seed feels like it's trying very hard to Be A Gundam Show (for better or worse tbh, I can feel myself being marketed to, I can practically hear Bandai being like, hey remember how cool it is when a blue-and-white mobile suit fights a pinkish-red mobile suit, don't you want to buy some models), and I am not immune to classic Gundam shit like "oops these kids are involved in a war now because the military was developing a top-secret superweapon right next to where they live" and "your lives are at risk and/or you might get arrested for trying to protect your friends because the higher-ups are incompetent/selfish/do not care about you." I am also not immune to squads of edgy anime boys, or giant robots that each have their own special weapon/power, or whatever the fuck Le Creuset's got going on. I love him. I still miss Char and he's not quite filling that void but I do love him

playing:

another session of my Blades in the Dark campaign, based on the image below (from here). the crew was asked to get the sea serpent to go away and leave ships alone, and absolutely no one was surprised that the secret actual mission was to protect the sea serpent (a baby one) from the coast guard who were going to try to make it leave but more violently because we're playing Blades like it's a game about befriending creatures (see also: Missy is currently trying to resocialize a former fighting goat and Xiao Yun collects extremely fucked up birds)

Ace Attorney 5: not very far into the trial but man. sorry for falling for the trilogy nostalgia but I love to have Edgeworth as a prosecutor, I love the energy that he and Phoenix have, I'm such a sucker for defense attorney & prosecutor working together to find the truth and also they're in love

making: vaguely spanakopita-inspired stuffed pastry wreath. we made it once before and put too much extra vegetable in that released too much water while it was baking so the dough just straight up did not cook. we did it better this time! the dough is actually baked! (it's store-bought crescent rolls, we did not make the dough). anyway. there's spinach and mushroom and herbed goat cheese in there, and it's tasty

drinking: the grocery store had peppermint bark creme liqueur, and it's pretty good in hot chocolate

writing: continued to pick away at a zine fic, figured out what I want to write for my Nirvana in Fire exchange fic, and also did a little bit more on the Integrity fic that I've been working on. it has been a minute since I've written an action scene huh

The Principality knows how to contain divines, to leash them, to defang them and bend their powers to its will. And Integrity is an old divine, and never among the most awe-inspiring. Integrity is a small, quiet thing, precise and intimate and not suited for flashy displays of power like many of its fellows. But it is a divine nonetheless, and when it fights, it brings death. Orbit-and-Integrity steps into the corridor where the Princept fled. Orbit bares their remaining teeth, blood pooling in their mouth and seeping through the seams that begin to open in Integrity’s armor where it no longer has the focus to keep them closed.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Of Monsters and Men (pt. 1)

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier travel to a small seaside village after being hired to take care of a monster that has been terrorizing the villagers for months. However when they arrive, Geralt finds that the monster in question isn’t so easy to kill. 

A/N: This was getting to be quite lengthy, so I decided to split it into parts. This is the story I wanted to write when I first started watching the Witcher on Netflix and I am nervous and excited to finally be sharing it here!! Like with all my fics, I try to keep my Y/N has physically non-descript as possible, she/her and vibe are the only descriptors. I’ve also not proof-read but will edit errors as I see them post post lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!! Your feedback is always welcome :’)

this is approx. 2200 words and is largely setting the scene. I expect this to story to be told in no more than 3 parts. 

                              _________________________

When Geralt and Jaskier rode up to the quiet coastal village, they were struck by how calm and peaceful it was. The sound of waves lapping against the rocky shoreline, the rhythmic bumping of boats against the docks, and the soft clatter of driftwood windchimes melted together to create an atmosphere that soothed Jaskier to his core. He found himself gaping at the sights that surrounded him in wonder; truly taken by the way setting sun cast a golden glow on everything and painted the cloud-laced sky in rich hues of pink and orange.

“This place…” he sighed theatrically, waving his arms around, “is wonderful! Geralt are you not moved by the sight of it all? Does your soul not sing out! Oh, Geralt! Wow!”  

The witcher only rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. Jaskier was always so blown away by the simplest things and it both amused and annoyed Geralt. Yes, the sky and the sea were beautiful sights, but more importantly, they were merciless vehicles of danger, death, and destruction; and Geralt knew better than to romanticize things that were, at their core, dangerous.

Sensing the bard’s eyes on him, Geralt gave him a hum of acknowledgement hoping it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier’s need for collective appreciation. It was, as he dreaded, insufficient.

“Come now, Geralt!” he enthused, “take that stick out your arse for a moment and appreciate the sights and sounds of this charming inlet! Listen to the sea! The chimes, Geralt! Listen to how the wind tickles the –”

“For fucks sake, Jaskier! It’s a fucking port city just like any other. This place is one bad storm away from being wiped out by that scenic sea of yours!”

“Yeesh,” Jaskier said letting out a low whistle. “Was it the stick in the arse bit? Too far?”

“Jask-”

“- because look, you are very stoic but – and I mean this as a compliment Geralt, so don’t get your leather in a –”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted gruffly as he dismounted Roach with a huff. “Will you please shut up! Let’s just find the stables and the inn and get this over with.” Without waiting for Jaskier to catch up to him, he led his mare deeper into town.

Jaskier, refusing to let Geralt’s gruff exterior get him down, dismounted gracefully and lightly jogged to meet up with him, his lute clacking loudly against his back as he ran.

“Remind me again what dreadful little creature brings us out to this enchanting harbor?” he asked, still jogging a little to keep up with the witcher’s long strides.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Oh, ho-ho! A mystery? Always makes for a good song. What do we know so far?”

Geralt stopped and turned slightly towards the bard before speaking.

“Apparently a creature has been killing and dismembering men in town. They are being killed at all hours, bodies found in town, at sea, or out in the surrounding forests. Seems nowhere is safe.” Geralt let his cat-like eyes linger on the bard’s horrified expression for a moment before turning back and keeping on the path into town, shaking his head at Jaskier’s queasiness.

“Yeesh – Geralt! You’re not serious! Why would you bring me with you!?” Jaskier picked up the pace, suddenly wanting to be closer to his friend.

“You invited yourself,” Geralt said, trying to contain his smile, “as always.”

“Of course, I invited myself! You’re far to proud to admit you’d miss me.” Jaskier retorted. “Let’s get these horses to the stables, get rooms, and find food so that you can sort this out as quickly as inhumanly possible,” he said, speaking quickly and with a light waver, trying to pretend the quaint seaside village around him didn’t now leave him chilled to the bone.

“Hmm,” Geralt chuckled, happy to have managed to scare the bard into silence, at least for the time being.

The local pub was busier than Jaskier had expected when they rode into town. Seems the reason the village was so peaceful upon arrival was because everyone had already made their way to the bar. Fortunately, he’d managed to nab them a table by the stone fireplace; after a day of riding alongside the sea, Jaskier was desperate for a cold ale and a warm fire.

“Alrighty then, Geralt,” Jaskier said, holding his hands up to the hearth, “what have we got so far?”

“Not much,” he replied, tearing apart the loaf of bread a barmaid had brought over moments prior, “a couple people stopped me at the inn to ask me if I was here to kill the beast, but they didn’t have any information to offer besides the fact that it was a constant threat.”

“Well, maybe you’ll have more luck here – I mean look around, you’d think the whole town’s come to drink!”

“Port cities, Jask,” Geralt said, letting his gaze scan the room slowly, “the people here either spend their days at the mercy of the sea or waiting for their loved ones to come home. You drink for sorrow and for hope of a bright tomorrow.”

“That was poetic as fuck, Geralt! My influence?” he teased, shooting the witcher a cheeky grin, who merely grunted distractedly in reply.

Now ignoring his still-talking friend, Geralt’s eyes had landed on the two women working behind the bar. One was talking excitedly and kept casting quick glances toward the bard, blushing brightly when she caught his eye, while the other was watching Geralt with inquisitive eyes.

“… I tell you Geralt the more you allow yourself to – oh! Speaking of which, here come a few now!” Jaskier flourished, winking enthusiastically at the blushing barmaid who was making her way towards them sheepishly.

Geralt sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, already tired of the flirting he was about to witness. To his surprise and great pleasure, Jaskier got up and met her halfway, leaving him in peace with his thoughts.

Having brought his attention back down to the bread before him, Geralt didn’t notice that he had company until she was right in front of him. Sensing her presence, he shot his gaze up quickly, and found her staring at his wolf medallion with a quirked brow.

“Forgive me,” she started, her deep, velvet-like voice washing over Geralt like morning sun after a cold night, “but you’re… a witcher?”

“I am,” he replied, giving her a crooked smile, his own voice, low and gravely and smooth, not going unnoticed by the woman before him. “Geralt, of Rivia.”

“Oh fuck,” she said, with a breathy sort of laugh, “so you’re not a witcher, you’re the Witcher then, aren’t you?”

Geralt let out a low and modest grunt, shaking his head at the comment. He thought himself immune to the scrutiny and awe that came with being the White Wolf, having carried the title for so long, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that left him shy.

“I’m,” he faltered needing to stop to clear his throat, having made the mistake to look her in the eyes, “just a witcher. Really.”

“Well, they don’t send you out for just anything, do they? For you to be out here in our little hamlet…” she squinted at him with a small tilt of her head, “we must be under some kind of threat. Should I be worried?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, –” he stopped, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Y/N,” she replied quickly, offering Geralt a warm smile despite the fact that she’d just crossed her arms, “and I mean we do get the odd ruffian coming through town. They always make a mess of things, don’t they? Beyond that, well, I suppose alcohol does breed violence in some,” she gave a light, one shouldered shrug, “but that’s not the kind of crime that would reach your ears.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to consider Y/N’s words. She seemed almost too friendly, and there was something about her that both drew him in and had him putting up his guard.

“A monster has been picking the men of the village off one by one.” Leaning back into his chair to put some distance between them. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be aware, considering,” he nodded towards the bar, “your job here.”

“Meaning what?” she retorted, wearing a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only that you must hear a lot,” he gestured vaguely to the crowd surrounding them, “and see a lot, doing what you do. I would have expected that the disappearance and dismemberment of men in town would be something of note.”

“Well,” Y’N tsked, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been brought out here on something of a fool’s errand. There’s no monster here; the tale of disappearing men has been told here for months. It started with a woman, too embarrassed to admit that the man who impregnated her left her overnight, telling everyone that a creature from the forest killed him. From there the story grew wilder with every retelling.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, watching Y/N carefully with narrow eyes, “I was told dismembered body parts were turning up, consistently, after each disappearance, and that they were being identified as belonging to the latest victim. Besides, I was hired to come here. Why would someone pay me coin to rid a town of ghost?”

“People struck by tragedy will claim to see many things, Sir Geralt,” she replied softly, “not all of them will be true. A dead fish floating at sea, a creature mauled by wolves by the roads, rotten meats abandoned by vendors…” she shrugged, “the mind will twist the truth in order to bring comfort. Who hired you?” 

She added that last question quickly, and Geralt could tell it was calculated. Sensing this, he only replied with a quirked brow and a tilt of his head. 

Y/N betrayed no sense of frustration when she realized the Witcher wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead, her eyes softened, and she smiled at Geralt with what he perceived as pity. 

“Look, the truth is that there is no monster here. Isn’t that right Thalia?”

“Sorry, what?” Thalia, who had just walked back over the Geralt’s table with a tray of ales in her hands, was breathlessly giggling at something Jaskier had whispered in her ear. As she and Jaskier placed four ales on the table, Y/N took a seat across from the Witcher and quickly explained got the two up to speed.

“Oh goodness, that! I can not believe our town’s little lore made it to your ears, Sir Geralt!” She said with wide eyes as she snuggled up next to Jaskier, clinking her tankard with his before taking a generous sip.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier coughed on his ale, “you’re telling me there’s no monster here? That we might actually be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation here without any horrible monster-killing business? Geralt this is good news!” he exclaimed, smacking his free hand on the table for emphasis.

Geralt only growled out a hum in response, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

“I’ll admit,” Thalia continued, seemingly unaware of the tension between the Witcher and her friend, “it’s scary to think about – you know, murder – but when you actually think about who disappears, it’s not difficult to see the truth.”

At this, Geralt turned his fierce gaze away from Y/N. “What do you mean, ‘who disappears’?”

“O-only that the men who leave aren’t really the type that anyone would miss.” She replied, stuttering a little against her best efforts to not recoil at Geralt’s inhuman eye-contact. “They were mean, violent types. The kind of man that would get crueler the more he drank. Just, awful, evil men, right Y/N?”

Y/N nodded quickly in agreement, taking a slow sip of her ale. “Good riddance.”

“Exactly!” Thalia agreed, clinking her glass to Y/N’s.

“Hell, I’ll drink to that,” Jaskier laughed, before picking his lute up off the floor. “What do you say ladies, a song?”

Thalia cheered loudly and encouraged the rest of the patrons to listen to the bard, letting them all know that he was in fact, the one who traveled with the great White Wolf. Jaskier was positively floating from the adoration as he danced around the pub, pulling cheers and applause after every song.

All the while, Geralt never took his eyes off of Y/N, who had retreated back to the bar after finishing her drink.

Geralt wasn’t sure what to believe. He had a strange feeling about this place from the moment he and the bard arrived, and it frustrated him to no end that even after hours in town, he was no closer to understanding the source of his discomfort. One thing was for certain, something about the story he heard here tonight did not add up, and he definitely didn’t trust its source.

Y/N was standing behind the bar washing glasses, but she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. Instead, her eyes were trained on the crowd before her. Geralt watched her as she scanned the pub with calm, slow-moving eyes that jumped from patron to patron.

The witcher was distracted for a moment when Jaskier sauntered into his sightline, singing a loud chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Despite himself, Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the bard, whose face was flushed from the ales and the exertion.

However, as Geralt watched Jaskier twirl across the crowded pub, something in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Y/N had turned he head and was staring right at him with a pair of pitch-black eyes.  

Like a shot, Geralt turned his gaze to the woman behind the bar – his heart beating loudly in his ears – only to find her smiling warmly at him, her eyes their normal shade.

Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to his wolf-head medallion, hoping it would signal the presence of some supernatural evil. But he felt nothing.

He didn’t know what she was, but she was not human.

[fromthemouthofkings]

10 Favorite Characters

Thank you @wisteria-lodge​ for tagging me!!

1. Grand Admiral Thrawn (the Thrawn trilogy by Timothy Zahn)

I stan 1 (one) blue alien Sherlock Holmes

[image description: the cover of The Last Command by Timothy Zahn, showing Thrawn as a blue-skinned humanoid with blue-black hair and glowing red eyes, wearing a white Imperial uniform. end id]

So I’m specifically talking about the book character here; I have no idea what’s going on in the Star Wars TV shows. But Thrawn of the Star Wars Legends universe (and the newer canon book, Thrawn) is hands-down one of the best and most interesting characters I’ve ever seen. He’s brilliant, creating battle strategies by studying his opponents’ cultural art to understand their cultural psychology and look for weaknesses in their thinking. And despite being a morally grey character, he’s not unduly arrogant and is actually extremely likeable--he has to work hard to get into the Imperial command structure that heavily discriminates against non-humans, his motivation is the best interest of his people, the Chiss, and he is always willing to explain his thinking to his close allies and friends. And who else would respond to being stabbed by smiling and saying, “But it was so artistically done?”

2. Beren (specifically, from Philosopher-At-Large’s script/screenplay adaptation of Tolkien’s story of Beren and Luthien, A Boy, A Girl, & A Dog: The Lay of Leithian Dramatic Script Project, which can be read in full here: https://rustbucket.net/leithian/index.html)

Do we not all want to yell at the gods about theodicy until they answer our questions to our satisfaction? I specifically pick Beren not from the original Silmarillion, as much as I love Tolkien’s work, but from Philosopher-At-Large’s script retelling, because A Boy, A Girl, & A Dog might just be my favorite work of literature of all time--fanwork, original fiction, or otherwise. I stumbled across it via a fanart of Beren on DeviantArt, like, six or seven years ago that referenced it, and my life has never been the same. It was hard to pick a favorite character, since literally all of the Script’s characters hold a special place in my heart, but I love Beren’s gentle, dry humor and his grim, determined, reckless stubbornness. His relationship with Luthien is of course the driving point of the story, but I thought that his relationships with Finrod and the other members of their company, and his backstory in Dorthonian and his interactions with the Valar were spectacularly done as well. This story is full of the grim determination to at least try and keep loving people, to keep throwing yourself at a problem and refuse to back down until you find a satisfactory solution, and Beren is right there at the heart of that, and I think that makes him pretty hopepunk.

3. Hamlet (Hamlet by William Shakespeare)

What is there to say about Hamlet that hasn’t already been said a thousand times by people significantly more learned and eloquent than me? I love him. He’s a genre-savvy protagonist trapped in a world where nothing! Fucking! Makes! Sense! My poor emo boy. I feel so much for him, being trapped in a situation where he needs to learn the truth in order to move forward and finally act, but there’s no way for him to get at the truth, so instead he just spirals further and further into fey, frustrated, erratic “madness.” Such a disaster bi. Definitely in love with his tired functional gay bf Horatio. Drama queen and Pretentious Asshole TM. In any decent modern au, he loves Hot Topic and gets all his clothes from there. I don’t even really do theater, but I’d love to have a chance to play him onstage.

4. James Dunworthy (the Oxford Time Travel series by Connie Willis)

The Oxford Time Travel series by Connie Willis ranges from hilarious (To Say Nothing of the Dog) to heartbreaking (Doomsday Book) and Mr. Dunworthy is right in the middle of all of it. For those who haven’t read it, the premise of the series is that time travel has been discovered, but we can’t use it to change the past, so instead it’s mainly just used by historians going back in time to study history, and Mr. Dunworthy is the head of the history department at Oxford University in the year 2060. He might be strict, but he has strong dad vibes, and, just, cares so much for all of his historians. He basically adopts Colin when Colin is stranded in Oxford over Christmas during an epidemic, he regularly puts himself in danger to look for lost historians, he helped invent time travel, and he knows that the point of studying the past is caring about the people who lived there. I want him to be my dad.

5. The 9th Doctor (Doctor Who)

Okay, I love 10 and 12 and 13 almost as much as I love 9, but 9 has to be my favorite Doctor. He was my first doctor, and what really got me hooked on the series was his kindness--hard-won and hard-clung to after the trauma of the time war. It isn’t always easy for him--the time war took everything away from him, and you can see how he’s tempted to be angry and bitter and harsh--but even so, he insists on helping people, on atoning for his mistakes, on nonviolence and using kindness and cleverness to fix things instead of violence and hate. He says, guns are bad and bananas are good, and every person is important, and when asked if he’s a coward or a killer, he says, “Coward. Any day.” And that philosophy, that choice, has left a deep impact on me.

[image description: gif of the 9th doctor saying “Who said you’re not important?” from New Who Season 1 episode 8, “Father’s Day.” end id]

6. Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

The whole premise of a group of thieves, criminals and con artists getting together to take down corrupt people in power is great, and Eliot is my favorite. He may have done some seriously bad shit in the past, but now he’s just devoted to taking care of the team, and particularly his hacker and his thief. I don’t know that he believes he’s worthy of their love, but he’s still somehow the most mature and emotionally stable member of the team; he knows how to control his anger and live alongside his regrets, and despite his grumbling, he dives headfirst into protecting the rest of the team and keeping them safe. Bonus points for being in an almost-canon ot3, and for the passion that he brings to his cooking. Also, I headcanon him as gray aro and transmasc, because I can.

[image description: gif of Eliot standing back-to-back with Parker and Hardison. end id]

7. Jon Sims (The Magnus Archives)

I’m only on season 3 of TMA so far, but I love Jon with all my heart. Working at a supernatural research institute, after having had a supernatural encounter of your own, and still choosing not to really believe in the supernatural until it knocks down the door to your office and riddles you with worms? Big mood. He’s a stubborn workaholic disaster ace, and I relate because I too struggle to interact with people and tend to get lost in obscure research projects for hours at a time. Somebody give this boy a hug and then a nap.

8. River Taam (Firefly)

Once again, there are a lot of good characters in Firefly, and I was hard-pressed to pick just one of them to put on this list. But River is a sweet summer child slowly overcoming trauma to find the joy and delight in the world around her that she had before the Academy, and I want all the best things for her. Bonus points go to Simon, who gave up everything he knew to save his sister, and Mal, who stubbornly sticks to his own code of honor even after loosing the war and much of his faith.

9. Lancelot (The Once and Future King by T. H. White)

A splendidly complex and morally grey take on our favorite legendary hero. T. H. White writes a Lancelot who struggles deeply with guilt and pride and imposter syndrome--who struggles desperately to do what is right and to channel the traits he finds in himself--both strengths and flaws--into doing the right thing. His scrupulosity is sadly relatable, and the lines “It is so fatally easy to make young children believe that they are horrible” and “ You could not give up a human heart as you could give up drinking. The drink was yours, and you could give it up: but your lover’s soul was not your own: it was not at your disposal; you had a duty towards it” are both absolutely haunting. It’s only implied in the book, but T. H. White admitted in letters that Lancelot enjoys pain, and is probably bi as well, and a bit in love with Arthur, and that he feels very guilty about it, and I just want a fluffy modern adaptation where Arthur and Guenevere and Lancelot can be in the kinky ployamarous triad that they deserve and just be happy together.

10. Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling)

While I have some problems these days with the Harry Potter series and the transphobia of its author, it’s possible to like something without minimizing its flaws, and this list would not be complete without Luna Lovegood. I spent significant portions of middle school pretending to be her. She taught me how to embrace my own unabashed weirdness, and I wouldn't be the same without her.

@a-nerdy-shade-of-purple @conan-concocting-chaos @one-supportive-august​ @the-lyra-cal-trans​ @the-eleftheria​ @dumpstertrash​

[rhetoricandlogic]

The Castle of Crossed Destinies - Italo Calvino

"We began to spread out the cards on the table, face up, and to give them their proper value in games, or their true meaning in the reading of fortunes. And yet none of us seemed to wish to begin playing, and still less to question the future, since we were as if drained of all future, suspended in a journey that had not ended nor was to end. There was something else we saw in those tarots, something that no longer allowed us to take our eyes from the gilded pieces of that mosaic." (6) The Castle of Crossed Destinies is essentially a two-part book made up of "interconnected" short stories or vignettes narrated by a group of travelers through tarot cards. The idea is that the travelers have magically lost the power of speech, and so they attempt to tell each other their histories-in-brief using different interpretations of the tarot cards. Part One of the book, "The Castle of Crossed Destinies," used the Italian Bembo deck (now obsolete), while Part Two, "The Tavern of Crossed Destinies," uses the French Marseilles deck. The difference is crucial since Calvino bases his interpretations primarily on the individual pictorial illustrations rather than on the usual "mystic" interpretations used in reading an entire tarot spread. Although the stories told in both Parts One and Two share thematic similarities, the different decks introduce variations in Calvino's invented and retold tales. Calvino also shows the illustrated cards in the margins of the stories, in the order that they appear in the narrative. The stories are "told" in two files, horizontal or vertical, and interconnect at points--hence my use of "interconnected" at the beginning of this paragraph. I bought this book because of my recent passionate love affair with Calvino, rekindled by a re-reading of if on a winter's night a traveler and by the brand-new experience of Cosmicomics and Invisible Cities, all of which I absolutely adored. [See the earlier review of Cosmicomics somewhere in my archives...] Again, reading Calvino is a lot like drinking heavy cream; either you love it or its too rich and smothers you. I have to admit, The Castle of Crossed Destinies was vaguely disappointing, but I am still an ardent lover of everything Calvino does. I have a lot to say about this book, but for the sake of space and my poor dying wrists, I'll try to keep it short. Reading this book, I uncovered two major premises that Calvino was working with, the first and more obvious being the use of tarot cards to tell a story in pictures. I thought that premise was brilliant, but I did think that the execution was lacking, more so in "Castle" than in "Tavern." To me, "Castle" didn't pull me in as much as it could have; it seemed too relaxed, and I didn't see the desperation of a group of mute travelers urgently wishing to tell their stories. I got more of that in "Tavern," when each story seemed to possess an undercurrent of desperation, and Calvino keeps reiterating that "it is difficult to fit one card to another [...] because for every new card the young man tries to align with others, ten hands are outstretched to take it from him and insert it in another story each one is constructing" (65). Although Calvino doesn't take pains to develop these characters--and understandably so since it isn't at all what he's trying to get at--I sympathized/empathized with them more in "Tavern." I have other reasons for liking Part Two also; I'll get into that in a minute. Despite being vaguely disappointed in the execution, I do think Calvino delivered in terms of ideas. In Part One, I loved the idea of selling a city's soul "The Alchemist Who Sold His Soul," and "The Doomed Bride" was interesting, and I thought the pivotal stories of Roland were written beautifully. But there is, as always, the problem of losing something in the translation between written and pictorial art. I have a working knowledge of tarot readings and common interpretations, and I tried to find larger images of the cards Calvino was working with, but the Bembo deck is pretty much obsolete, so I ended up giving myself eyestrain trying to study and interpret the illustrations in the margins of the book. The "Tavern" ran a little differently since it's fairly easy to come by illustrations of the Marseilles deck, and I had fun going back and retelling the stories myself through different interpretations, reversals, etc. I really enjoyed just about all the stories in "The Tavern," especially "I Try Also to Tell My Tale" (but maybe that's me as a writer!). I also love that Calvino encourages "authorial instinct" by including his method of spreading the cards, e.g. from Part One "The Castle":

thus allowing for new interpretations reversing Calvino's stories, or altogether new stories told along the diagonals and around the square. His tarot spread in "The Tavern" more explicitly tells many more stories using more of the available space and most of the possible directions... So, "The Tavern," then. Now, this could be my personal reading of the book and of Calvino's intention, but what I really enjoyed about The Castle, particularly Part Two "The Tavern," was the less apparent premise that all stories are one. In "The Castle" Calvino makes clear references to literary figures like Faust and Roland but portrays them in a different light or under different circumstances (though Roland, I believe, is more or less a straight retelling? I don't know about Astolpho). In "The Tavern," Calvino invents his own stories and then relates them in detail to literature and mythology: the stories of Hamlet, Oedipus, Justine, Perceval, Lady Macbeth, Faust (again!), Helen of Troy, and King Lear. He also makes references to St. Jerome and St. George and the dragon in his own tale, "The Writer's Tale," which judging by the scarcity of marginal illustrations relies only lightly on the tarot cards and instead tries to explain the purpose of storytelling. And this, I think, is the pivotal story of the entire novel. In that story, "I Also Try to Tell My Tale," figures from all of the other stories appear even though the anonymous narrator here has not narrated the other stories. The characters do not belong to him. He then spends pages describing how he believes the extroverted St. George and the introverted St. Jerome can be made out to be each other, "in the way painters and writers have of believing in a story that has gone through many forms, and with painting and repainting, writing and rewriting, if it was not true, has become so" (108). I think because the execution of his premise in "The Tavern" became so lucid, I enjoyed Part Two more thoroughly than I did Part One, although in retrospect, once I'd figured out what he was going for, I liked the whole book very much. The unspoken question here is perhaps what I found most intriguing about the book: how many stories exist in the world, and what if we run out of them? As a writer, I subconsciously worry that one day all the stories will be told, or maybe they have been told already, and then what am I going to do? Is it inevitable, can it be avoided? Do stories possess a limitless capacity for retelling, reworking; do they ever get old? I don't know. Calvino admits in "The Writer's Tale" that he also doesn't know. But he offers a possible solution, and the possibility of many retellings, as compensation, and once I figured out what he was saying, the writer in me really appreciated that. Maybe it's because of that little worry of mine that I did, by the end of the novel, enjoy it so tremendously that I immediately reread it and studied the tarot cards to make up my own versions. I have to admit I found something intensely freeing about Calvino's conclusion, "And perhaps they really are one story, the life of the same man: maturity, old age, and death" (109). That it's all right that all stories emerge from one another, take new shape in their own reversals, can be reworked across tangent diagonals and at crossroads with other people's stories. Who would have thought that King Lear could also exist in Hamlet? But it does.

[adozenforks]

I pray that Apollo grants you the gift of prophecy

cries so hard that we will never get a mechs album about hamlet. i don’t know how they’d retell it but i KNOW it would be amazing. half the mind to do it myself but god. what a fucked up world huh.