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droctaviolovecraft · 2 months ago

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TW: Violence/gore

"(ง •̀_•́)ง"

ANM #: ANM-237 - "Captain Franz Ferdinand"

Danger Level: Snit 🟡 | Uncontained ❌️

Lead Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Anomaly Type: Rural, ogre-like, military, hunter

Containment: ANM-237 is currently uncontained and remains in its natural habitat, a remote swamp in Eastern Europe near the German border. Mobile Task Force ("Gardeners") has been assigned to monitor the location and activities of ANM-237, maintaining a perimeter around the swamp to prevent unauthorized access. Any civilian attempting to enter the area should be detained and amnesticized.

Efforts to communicate with ANM-237 must be conducted from a safe distance using illustrated boards. Personnel are advised not to enter ANM-237’s territory without explicit authorization and appropriate protective equipment due to the highly infectious nature of the bacteria on the arrows shot by ANM-237.

Description: ANM-237 is a humanoid entity resembling an ogre from medieval culture, standing approximately 4.20 meters (13 feet, 9 inches) tall. It has a bulky and muscular physique, covered in thick, dark hair, with very thick, bronze-toned skin. Its mouth and hands are often stained with dried blood. ANM-237's facial features include a broad, flat face, a prominent underbite, and thick, yellowed teeth, which it appears to never brush. Its eyes are large and yellowish-white, indicative of chronic sleep deprivation, giving it a wild, lupine appearance.

ANM-237's hair is disheveled and straight, with a rough, uneven cut, likely made using a primitive tool, such as a sharp flint. It maintains a beard along its sideburns, creating a rudimentary style. ANM-237 wears old, tattered medieval leather armor, scavenged from abandoned ruins and held together by leather straps and frayed ropes.

ANM-237 exhibits a unique form of non-verbal communication through crude yet coherent drawings. Despite its unrecognizable native language and illiteracy, ANM-237 quickly grasps basic ideas conveyed through illustrations. Its own drawings often depict historical figures, particularly military leaders, showing a deep fascination with history and war.

The entity refers to itself as "Captain Franz Ferdinand," drawing a parallel with the historical Austro-Hungarian archduke whose assassination triggered World War I. ANM-237 demonstrates a nuanced understanding of complex historical events and military strategies, often identifying key figures and their roles in various conflicts through its sketches.

ANM-237's diet primarily consists of human remains, which it obtains through hunting or scavenging. Its preference is for heads, which it consumes and uses to mark its territory around the swamp by impaling them on stumps or tying them to branches. ANM-237 has shown rudimentary cooking skills, preparing its meals using an improvised stone hearth in its dwelling.

ANM-237 is heavily armed with a bow and an improvised wooden sword, as well as a quiver made from human skin and other materials, and a machete made from human bones. Its arrows are contaminated with a potent mixture of bacteria capable of causing severe infections in humans. Its swamp is filled with primitive traps, and it is often observed singing guttural chants while dancing around its fire. It is important to note that due to its exaggerated size, its weapons are made to be used more nimbly by its large hands; thus, its knife is the size of a machete, and its arrows are equivalent to ballista bolts.

ANM-237's movements are clumsy but deliberate, reflecting its immense size and strength. It walks on two sturdy legs, each ending in a large, calloused foot with five thick toes and gnarled nails. Despite its imposing stature, ANM-237 exhibits a surprising level of dexterity when engaged in tasks requiring fine motor skills, such as drawing or cooking.

Incident Report: Initial Attempt to Interact with ANM-237

Date: 11/03/20██

Location: [REDACTED] Swamp, Eastern Europe

Assigned Personnel:

Dr. Emil Krauss (Lead Researcher)

Agent R. DeWitt (Field Operator)

Agent S. Oleski (Field Operator)

MTF "Gardeners"

Preface:

After initial sightings of ANM-237, a containment team was dispatched to establish contact and assess the viability of containment. Due to the entity’s apparent illiteracy and unrecognized native language, researchers prepared a series of drawings to communicate basic ideas and intentions.

[...]

[BEGIN LOG]

10:02 AM:

The team sets up a temporary observation post 200 meters from ANM-237's known location. Dr. Krauss, using binoculars, observes ANM-237 near a campfire, apparently cooking the carcass of a recently hunted human. The initial approach strategy is discussed.

10:15 AM:

Agents DeWitt and Oleski approach the edge of ANM-237's territory, equipped with protective gear and a stack of pre-drawn sketches. They begin by placing some sketches on the ground and retreating 50 meters, maintaining communication at a distance.

10:20 AM:

ANM-237 notices the stack of papers and cautiously approaches. It inspects the sketches, which depict a group of humans gathering peacefully, offering food in exchange for conversation. ANM-237 appears intrigued but confused.

10:25 AM:

ANM-237 responds by drawing on the board with charcoal from its campfire. It crudely sketches an imposing figure surrounded by smaller humans, arrows drawn from the smaller figures to the larger one, implying leadership. ANM-237 labels itself as “Captain” (misspelled) and points to its own chest.

10:30 AM:

Dr. Krauss instructs the team to present additional sketches. They draw a simplified map of the area with a small building labeled "Home" (representing a containment cell). They depict ANM-237 inside, engaging in activities such as drawing, eating, and interacting with researchers.

10:35 AM:

ANM-237 examines the map and draws a large “X” over the “Home,” then sketches itself holding a club and standing over several stick-figure humans. It appears agitated and begins circling the team's position.

10:40 AM:

Agent DeWitt attempts to calm the situation by drawing a figure offering a gift (food) to ANM-237, accompanied by an arrow pointing to ANM-237’s mouth, symbolizing friendship and sharing. ANM-237 pauses, observing the drawing carefully.

10:45 AM:

ANM-237 responds with a surprisingly detailed sketch of a battlefield, labeling one side as "Friends" and the other as "Enemies." It places itself leading the “Friends” against the “Enemies,” who are depicted with human faces contorted in fear or agony.

10:50 AM:

Dr. Krauss and the team recognize ANM-237's fixation on conflict and its self-identification as a leader. A new sketch is prepared, depicting ANM-237 in a similar “leader” role but among researchers, suggesting cooperation instead of conflict.

10:55 AM:

ANM-237 seems to consider this for several minutes, then draws a simple sketch of a human head being eaten, adding several lines to indicate its territory. It then circles the head in its sketch with a thick line, pointing to it and then to itself.

11:00 AM:

ANM-237 becomes visibly agitated, possibly interpreting the containment proposal as a challenge to its authority or autonomy. It smashes a rock with its fists, shattering it, and emits a guttural roar.

11:05 AM:

MTF is placed on high alert as ANM-237 begins patrolling the perimeter of its territory, watching the team. Any further attempts at communication are suspended, and the team withdraws to a safer distance to avoid escalation.

[END LOG]

Post-Incident Analysis:

The use of drawings proved effective in eliciting responses from ANM-237 but highlighted its resistance to perceived control or containment. Its self-proclaimed role as a "leader" complicates efforts to communicate containment intentions without provoking aggression.

Future attempts should focus on establishing communication through symbolic representations of mutual respect and autonomy, rather than direct containment proposals. ANM-237's fixation on leadership roles may be leveraged to guide its behavior into less hostile patterns.

Final Notes:

ANM-237's behavior suggests a combination of primitive savagery and childlike curiosity, particularly in its fascination with the world beyond its swampy domain. Its self-proclaimed role as a “captain” and its focus on historical military figures indicate a possible desire for recognition or an attempt to imitate human social hierarchies.

Efforts to study ANM-237’s historical knowledge are ongoing, with the potential to uncover the source of its anomalous understanding of human history. Researchers are advised to proceed with caution, as ANM-237’s unpredictable nature and deadly capabilities pose a significant risk to personnel.g

#scp #scp foundation #writing #mothra institution #art #horror #original scp

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cleolinda · 2 years ago

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Tyrannosaurus Rex (Zoologist, 2018)

(Zoologist Perfumes)

Zoologist Tyrannosaurus Rex is a gargantuan scent that sinks its teeth into the world of delicate fragrances and rips it wide open. Primitive woods and florals seize you and snatch you away to an ancient era. Smoky, charred wood warns of the danger of smouldering fire, setting your senses on edge, while droplets of metallic rose oxide offer a chilling premonition of blood-lust. The mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex is sometimes menacing, sometimes fascinating, but never, ever ordinary.

Perfumer: Antonio Gardoni Top Notes: Bergamot, Black Pepper, Fir, Laurel Leaf, Neroli, Nutmeg Heart Notes: Champaca, Geranium, Jasmine, Osmanthus, Rose, Ylang Ylang Base Notes: Resins, Cade, Cedar, Civet [synthetic], Frankincense, Leather [synthetic], Patchouli, Sandalwood, Vanilla

As is my wont, I read user reviews across various sites first. These reviews described Horrors. The word "barbecue" was used more than once. But once again, I look at this list of notes and I think, all of this sounds fine. Civet musk can be a little hard to handle; I haven't worn or smelled it much. But I actually like the scent of black pepper, that's fine. "Cade" seems to be smoky distilled juniper tar, and the Parfumo listing replaces the word cade with "Canary Islands juniper." Love a juniper, sounds good. Not sure what "resins" we're talking about, but I enjoy some incense, and "resins" are frequently in that ballpark. Let's give it a whirl.

For some reason, I opened the sample without gloves or even a tissue in my hand, which is what I usually do. I get perfume headaches, after all, and if I get one from just opening a vial, we're putting it back. So I wasn't really ready to wear it, but I was curious. Tyrannosaurus Rex got on my fingertips—

(Troubled Birds)

—and there was nothing I could do about it.

T-Rex does not wash off. It doesn't. I went back to the notes to figure out why. And also, to figure out HOW it opens with a huge belch of slaughterhouse.

Like, I knew, I KNEW this was going to happen, I keep saying that I did my research and I knew what was going to happen when I put this or that fragrance on and then somehow I'm still left reeling when that's exactly what happens. The first thing—well, let's skip to the second thing right now. The Fragrantica note listing specifies "kyara incense" rather than "resins," and that's a precious Japanese incense that—ohhhh, it's oud. You have to follow this linguistic chain of kyara to aloeswood to agarwood to oud, but that's what it is.

Raw materials such as agarwood are becoming increasingly rare due to the depletion of the wild resource. [...] The highest regarded wood, ranjyatai, dates back to at least the 10th century and is kyara wood from Laos or Vietnam, and was used by emperors and warlords for its fragrance. It is said to contain so much resin that it can be used many times over. (Wikipedia: Incense in Japan)

If patchouli is the funk of kings, oud is the odor of emperors. It's not going to wash off, and perhaps more to the point, it would be an extravagant waste if you tried. Oud is valued in Indian perfumery, but it's particularly loved in Arabian fragrance—and I'm talking about both ancient traditions and modern industries here. It's been getting more popular in European and American fragrance for maybe the 10+ years or so, softened for the Western market as "the new patchouli." If I'd known that T-Rex was going to lead me here, I would have scoped out some oud fragrances and planned a whole deep-dive post; instead, we'll do that sometime in the future. For now, I'm aware that oud is—"polarizing," that's a good word:

Maybe you've had a whiff of some popular fragrances featuring oud, like Tom Ford Oud Wood, Byredo Our Immortel, or Maison Francis Kurkdjian Oud Satin Mood. They're distinctively different compositions that all share telltale qualities that oud offers. For one, they last a long time. Even after an oud fragrance dries down on the skin, you can still detect a trace of it radiating from one's body heat — musky, earthy, woody, and a bit smoky, like an incense. It's difficult to describe, but once you've smelled oud, you can most likely recognize it anywhere. On its own, it's quite polarizing, but when combined with a fragrance's note composition, it can add depth and complexity to any kind of scent. (Allure)

To be blunt about it: what this article dances around is the fact that a lot of people think that some ouds smell "sweaty" or even "fecal." I've personally seen this over and over in English-language user reviews at Fragrantica, Basenotes, that kind of all-encompassing database site. And I think there could be a cultural lack of appreciation at play there; it’s also true that some things just do not work with some people, biochemically, no matter how open-minded they are. I wanted to fistfight some European aldehydes. It happens. It’s also true that oud genuinely contains indole, a chemical that also makes some jasmine, ylang ylang, and gardenia flowers smell unpleasantly animalic or, yes, like shit. (Notice that jasmine and ylang are also in T-Rex.) I've never had a problem smelling white florals as unpleasant—and I’ve had jasmine and gardenia plants in my yard—just strong as fuck. I’ve also been lucky enough that the "urine" note in Mitsouko doesn't come out on me. Maybe, in trying T-Rex, the chemistry odds will actually be in my favor.

And I have to say, as a disclaimer: "kyara incense" isn't the official wording on the Zoologist website; I don’t know where this information came from. But after smelling the perfume—I'm not very experienced with oud, but I'm going to say, it tracks. Especially if your goal is to make a—let's say, "confrontational" fragrance.

But I don't think indolic notes are really the big news in T-Rex. The first thing I got was the rose: "Droplets of metallic rose oxide offer a chilling premonition of blood-lust." Bear in mind that rust is iron oxide; T-Rex gives off a very similarly rusty, blood-coppery note from that rose oxide, rather like raw beef. And I can tell it's truly the oxide note, because I can smell actual rose kind of trailing behind it.

My first thought was, who the fuck has ever used rose oxide in a perfume before? Well, it turns out that it doesn't smell like an rogue episode of Hannibal broke out when it's used in a rose accord or a fruit context:

Rose Oxide is the perfect aroma chemical for [a] vibrating, elegant and pulsating rose scent. It is used in many fragrances and [has a] highly impactful high cis quality, fresh, radiant and powerful. It is ideal for all kinds of compounds, used as an ingredient in cosmetics, personal care products, fragrances, cleaners, detergents, home care, perfumes etc. [...] It also adds to the flavor of select fruits like lychee and Gewürztraminer [a wine grape.] Rose oxide is a flavor rich component and can be seen in some essential oils like the Bulgarian rose oil and in roses. Rose oxide is one of the important fragrance materials in creating rosy notes for perfumes. (essentialoil.in)

(That link includes a lot of actual chemical notation, if you're interested in that. Note: "Cis" in this context refers to the spatial arrangement of atoms, "all on one side," not in an opposing "transverse" setup. Today I learned!)

Along that line, the supplier Pell Wall describes their rose oxide as "Floral-rose, green-geranium, bright-clean, metallic, wet. Diffusive and powerful." You'll notice that geranium is also in T-Rex; I would imagine, to boost the rose note, but also to underline the green notes of laurel and evergreen that create a dark, earthy wilderness under the raw meat aspect. I'm guessing that the juniper tar (an interesting nod to the tar pits people associate, however incorrectly, with dinosaur bones) adds some volcanic smoke, although it doesn't actually blend with the "meat" for me. Animalic civet and indole notes must be what give some flesh to the blood. And then of course, you also have the leathery skin of the dinosaur, combined with that (synthetic) civet musk. I'm not sure if the black pepper functions as the darkness of the forest, the wearer's sensation of encroaching threat, or, uh, seasoning.

So, on my skin, I’m getting both a dark dinosaur habitat sort of foundation, and then also “bloodlust” lurching through, with perhaps also the indolic effluvia associated with an abattoir, and I am using fancy words to dance around how gnarly this is. I do not like the slaughterhouse accord. Somehow, who could have guessed, I do not like it. I don't get much leather in the drydown, but in my experience, my skin just eats leather notes, I never get them. The "habitat" base is not very Me, but I actually do enjoy it a little? I already had essential oils of half the notes; I’m down with a lot of them in theory. It’s mostly the oud, the black pepper, and the juniper tar that lend such a menacing tone, I think. It's kind of stony and green, but a very dark and trampled green; it reassures me that I could try more oud and be okay, probably.

And of course, The Funk of Kings is in there—a patchouli that may be as harsh and peppery as the one I got at the beginning of Coco Mademoiselle. Between the stay-funkt patchouli and the immortal oud, I never had a chance of washing this off. (In fairness to me, I tried it twice and I did ride out the second wear.) If you're going to try this, buckle up and commit to it. Tyrannosaurus Rex is the Fuck Around and Find Out of perfume, and I'm not sure who actually wears it for the sake of wearing it. Maybe that suits an extinct animal, on some level: it's stored in your fragrance collection to be exhibited now and then, a marvel of creation, but not given life very often on the skin. You know what would happen if you did—you saw the end of Jurassic Park, and this perfume did too.

Perfume discussion masterpost

#uh jurassic park spoilers I guess #perfume #perfume discussion #perfume: zoologist #gifs #note: oud #note: rose #note: indole

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shallowrambles · 2 months ago

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What I like about Sam, is he doesn’t seem have a complex about his perceived “femininity.” No matter how much Dean teases him, it never seems to hit. It doesn’t seem to be a sore spot. (“Maybe he thinks you’re compensating, Dean.)

Sam is bothered by not feeling STRONG/powerful, but that seems a little more targeted/nuanced than gender styling/performance. Sam seems to move through the world of “mad men” masculinity with some ease compared to Dean, who even in early seasons is shown to be a bit of a Tryhard.

Sam seems to me to be more bothered by being a “low-caste” “untouchable.” (Aside///In religions studies, sacred executioners were sometimes incredibly shrouded/outcast in old religions, which is fascinating.)

HENRY: Hunters? Hunters are apes.

I think too of Uriel’s mud monkeys comments. Ketch and Hess in s12 calling hunters stupid soldiers/DOGS. Rowena’s Rageddy-Anne/FILTH. Her “dirty little body” (because she was poor). He seems very connected to these high-powered ideas of purity/higher class… stuff that swirls with ideas of polluted blood/half-breed.

i just… I personally feel he doesn’t feel the need to compensate so much about gender and sex, and that’s illuminating, especially in the era/culture he’s growing up in. Sam wants to BE strong to be strong, he wants to be elite. He actually seems to want to be perceived/ come off as gentler than he really is. (I.E. his preference for nondescript vehicles…)

I perceive him as wanting to be seen as more high-class, united in theme with ambition-characters like Crowley and Rowena, but not as idealistic in his snootiness as someone like Henry.

So that’s just where I place more weight/analysis. Sam doesn’t hate hunting. In fact, he kinda seems to love it more than other characters do. What he hates if that it puts him in the less posh, respected class.

I think I’ve said this before but lower classes get stuck with terms like dirty/filthy/primitive animals and tye classist charge of sexual deviancy/incest… (hi, zachariah! This backfired with Adam btw, because Zachariah overestimated Adam’s valuation of class and his love for his struggling, single-parent mom. BTW, Adam seems way more aware of things his caretaker-mom gave up to raise him… just way more emotional intelligence.)

///

Anyhoo, the lower classes tend to turn around and hurl insults at the higher classes about effeminate/wussy/soft to combat the fact that the higher classes are technically more successful/masculine/potent. (We see that with Gwen Campbell, when faced with Dean’s cushy life she’s probably actually jealous of.)

These gender-performance barbs ultimately come from a place of weakness, because performing a crass gender stereotype doesn’t cost lower classes as much to perform. You can “other” the higher classes on a budget that way! (Paraphrasing Wally from s12: “Maybe I can’t own a suit like yours, Mick Davies, but you got soft hands, you pussy…”)

BTW: Mick Davies and Sam got along like a house on fire. I doubt Mick’d have gotten on that well with more blue collar peeps like Eileen, Dean, Cas*, Mary…

Of note, the demons in the show also trade in innuendo… because they’re coming from a low place trying desperately to punch up at figures that aren’t even very moved by the insults (we see this when Crowley tries to insult Cas or Lucifer).

#samwena

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azula-nyx · 2 years ago

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An angsty idea inspired by ¨the Cody is Onyx Prime theory¨.

What if after Optimus gave Jack the key to vector sigma Jack started to hear the voices of the 13 Primes 🤔??

Jack slowly starts to lose his cool because 13 guys are screaming in his brain remarking to him about all the ¨bad stuff and mistakes¨ he is doing.

Just a little idea.

Uff, while this has the potential to be very angsty, all these beings, easily demigods, whispering in the mind of a teenager and slowly driving him into insanity....

But looking at this from another perspective, this can also turn up to be quite comical:

*Inside Jack's Mindscape, several figures are bickering*

"Youngling, if you wish to court this red-headed human, you need to be more decisive..."

"I do not think they would be right for you, too meek, the pink haired one has more drive....she has fire. Strong-willed, yes, she will be an appropriate mate"

"Child, how do you manage to survive with this....primitive technology? Although it is fascinating in its own right...."

"Brat, why this wannabe usurper is so...annoying? Besides, you should have turned his helm into what your species call "cheese" in that mine, one day you will come to regret that moment of hesitation, child"

"Speaking of Him...why does he keep using the life-essence of our long life enemy as....a recreational drug?"

"Because he's stupid as frag, that's why"

"Psss, youngling, Do you want me to teach you quantum physics? Ask the little youngling with the glass contraption on his optics....he's a special one... he intrigues me"

"Jackson, you would certainly benefit from being taught the intricacies of data organizing, don't you think?"

"Your Carrier seems intent on creating a Harem, child...such a noble objective, providing you with a worthy Sire, not like that useless other Progenitor of yours"

*The Primes keep bickering are if they were five years old, meanwhile in the real world*

R: "Jack, are you alright? You look.....like you have a lot in mind"

M: "Like shit, Raf, he looks like shit. Seriously, dude, you zoned out for like... 15 minutes. What's up?"

J: *hearing EVERYTHING in his mind*....fuck my life. Is this what Bee felt when he had Megatron stuck in his head? Optimus, WHY?!"

#Transformers #TFP #Jack Darby #ft #The Primes #Miko Nakadai #Rafael Esquivel #The Primes acting as Jack wine aunts is a MUST

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futurebird · 1 year ago

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A world without vertebrates: Myrmecos, the planet of the ants!

So, I've been looking for a solution to the question: Why did vertebrates fail to flourish on Myrmecos?

I think I have the answer: No Armored Fishes. If there were no armored fish then the Eurypterids would have continued to be apex predators longer. Some might have filled the hunting niche of early tetrapods. Arthropods were already on land, but you get a second wave.

The land gets built up with arthropods and fish are trapped in the seas!

And in this universe earth is the exception. Not only is earth far away from all of the other living planets it's one of the few with land vertebrates. The armored fish driving tetrapods on to land was a kind of ripple in the intended pattern. It threw everything off!

And just looking at The Dunk-- it is kind of unnatural, don't you think?

This also means that the ants will keep describing humans as "intelligent life from the sea" -- even as we keep explaining that everything came from the sea and it was a long time ago...

To them having a backbone means you are adapted to living in the water.

(I'm adding "Evolution of Ant" to my list of things to draw.)

It would be like one of those old-school natural history museum murals. Starting with single-celled life in the tidal pools of early Myrmecos, then the first multicellular life, then the first sea arthropods, then a momentous moment when a little crab creature first steps on land! Then the early insects, primitive solitary wasps with the glimmers of consciousness, eusocial insects discovering fire ... and at last ants! -----

Hmm it occurs to me reading about the history of human aviation and all of those people longing "to fly" might make ants very uncomfortable.

The ants have never had much fascination with flight. (Space is another matter.) Any queen or drone can fly. It's considered a sign of maturity to pull one's wings off and get on with life.

Flying has primitive, and also vaguely sexual connotations so all the documentaries about people like the Wright Brothers just make Humans sound hopelessly horny.

#ants #speculative biology #speculative evolution #planet myrmecos #the rise of the ants #humans are fish #a world without vertebrates

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montyterrible · 4 months ago

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Born to Hench, Forced to “Boss!!”

I’m not a Minion hater exactly—no more so than I am, ambiently-like, of anything “mainstream” or “popular.” At the same time, I also don’t tend to engage with any media in a “lol so wacky I’m going INSANE from exposing myself to this!” sort of way either. When I really think about it, you could see the Minions as particularly cynical, like the Disney animal sidekick thing on steroids. They have a simple, pleasant design (emphasizing the body/head, deemphasizing the limbs and fine detail) with room for a smidgeon of individuality/visual flexibility using a satisfyingly limited number of features or elements like eyes, and which makes them more or less Engineered for Marketability as a toy or just plastered on one thing or another. There’s an enormous Minion (I think) sticker around here somewhere that a friend of mine gave me once when I was visiting him that he (I think) got from a cereal box as a “prize.” It’s my understanding that Minion memes were somewhat ubiquitous on Facebook at one point, though I can also easily imagine adults (namely parents) harboring a deep-seated hatred of these things.

Upon initially firing up Minions (2015) and hearing those eminently recognizable chattering voices “singing” the Universal Pictures theme, I thought my fears were going to be confirmed—that this was going to be a very annoying movie for me. I imagined being a parent in one room hearing that tell-tale sound for the umpteenth time coming from a TV in another, and what that might feel like. I didn’t end up following this “lol so wacky I’m going etc.” thread any further, though, because I actually found the Minions (and their movie) pretty easy to like!

On the one hand, yes, they are adorable: visually, but also in terms of personality and thanks to the ambiguity of their emotional and intellectual maturity. The Bob character, in particular, is very child-esque, but all of the Minions are vaguely characterized in this same way, and so it’s easy to feel drawn to them in their extremes of feeling, to want to nurture or at least pet them. “Part child, part dog” may be another intentional element of their design, meant to reach children and parents and childless adults all in some primal way. Ironically, the chattering wasn’t an annoyance, and I think it may actually have made the predictably goofy and usually physical humor I expected from the movie more palatable. Rather than an endless slog of “That was SO awesome!” or other “That just happened!”-adjacent running commentary on every precious goof, you instead get these intervals (sometimes surprisingly long for such a movie) where no coherent sentence is uttered. The Minions speak a winning mix of total gibberish and real language (English, Spanish, etc.), and I’ll be damned if there isn’t a certain… confidence to having that be the medium of communication, visuals aside, of bits and pieces of this movie.

On another hand, I find the very concept of a “Minion” kind of fascinating. The movie starts with an initially wordless sequence showing off Minion evolution—how from their most primitive, water-bound state they’ve always latched onto the largest and most dangerous other creatures without conflict, which is a compulsion that takes them onto the land and forward through history until they gravitate toward humans and then “supervillains” specifically. The Minions are apparently immortal(?) and so, critically, out-live their beloved masters, sometimes apparently killing them by accident. I know I’m late to the Minions party in this regard, but that’s just such a weird and compelling baseline concept. Minions being so “Assigned Henchman at Birth” while also potentially, actually being the superior animal just makes for an interesting hook.

While Minions has a recognizable-enough dramatic plot, I found it kind of oddly… “empowering” to watch. You don’t so much feel tension or stress about the scraps and scrapes the Minions get into, so much as you eagerly wait to see how they’ll easily overcome the inconvenience and defeat their enemies. I’m not joking when I say that the Minions have more in common with Alucard from the manga/anime Hellsing than they do with other protagonists in similar movies. They’re essentially “over-powered.” There are some great, fun bits of action or imagery here, though a favorite might be when the Minions’ boss-turned-enemy, Scarlet Overkill, tries to have them tortured, and this includes a bit where the Minions are gleefully slipping through and playing around with a noose. It’s fleetingly dark, perhaps surprisingly daring.

(Of course, the “3 edgy 5 you” take that I’ve even heard out in the real world about the Minions is “lol Did they work for Hitler? lol” And this movie makes clear that, no, they did not. After serving Napoleon, the Minions were in exile in an icy cave until 1968, thus avoiding the Harry Potter problem of mixing magical beings and the Holocaust.)

I was also just surprised at how twisty the plot of Minions is. I did not expect Bob to pull the mythical Sword from the Stone, or for the spurned, exploded Scarlet to return for one last attempt at the Queen of England’s crown when it felt like the movie was already over. I had a harder time thinking of really distinct swerves than I expected writing this up, but it’s all just kind of inherently Interesting. The way that this world pivots around professional villainy (even if only in secret circles) reminded me a little bit of The Venture Bros. This still isn’t evil evil—It’s easy enough to see the Minions as conventionally likeable if not exactly heroic and Scarlet Overkill as conventionally threatening and villainous, but it’s a fun enough, kid-friendly flirtation that at least sort of eschews predictable plotting.

There are some character designs that rely a bit on fatphobic imagery for their visual identity/comedy potential, but I think the most offensive thing about the movie is its treatment of The Queen, who cutesily throws down with the Minions when they attempt to steal her crown for Scarlet and who is hanging out at a pub arm wrestling after she’s dethroned. Her toothiness might qualify as gentle caricature, but I would have (cruel Leftist that I am) preferred a much meaner treatment. I mean, really, the Minions should be latching onto her, right? What with the whole legacy of colonialism and so forth? Her being a sort of apex thief and whatnot?

I jest—Obviously, that’s far too subversive and cerebral for such a Childish property! The Minions are instead drawn to the biggest cartoon of villainy, which means Scarlet at first but then ultimately a young Gru. Minions almost tells a standalone story using the critters but then has to wrap back around to Despicable Me, which means there’s a heavy Gru emphasis at the very end and during the little credits sequences. I would have preferred that it not do this (and also that Scarlet be an anthropomorphized wolf-woman for the entire movie and not just the “bedtime porry” scene), but I know this isn’t really For me, in the end, and have just accepted that with as good as a shrug. Which is how I’ve felt about the Minions as a property and/or marketing gimmick for years now.

#movies #movie review #despicable me #minions #despicable minions

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adarkrainbow · 2 years ago

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The Yaga journal: A system of supernatural characters

Baba-Yaga’s house, as depicted in Bill Willingham’s Fables

The second article of the journal is “The Baba Yaga and the other supernatural characters of the fairytale. Do they form a system?” by Lise Gruel-Apert.

The Baba Yaga, or the crone. The princess, or fair maiden. The dragon, snake or devil. These are a few of the several supernatural characters that the hero or heroine of the fairytale meets during their quest. Vladimir Propp heavily talked about them in his “Historical roots of the fairytale”. This article doesn’t want to study these characters from a psycho-analysis point of view, because Gruel-Apert considers that the psychoanalysis doesn’t include enough the economical and socio-cultural context of the fairytale. This article will try to study the baba Yaga in her context, in the socio-cultural environment of which she belongs.

However the writer mentions that such a reading can lead to many mistakes - because no matter how many interpretation and analysis one gives to a fairytale, it will stay blurry and unclear, for the fairytale itself is a foggy and unclear material. It is the realm of the “Once upon a time”, of the “In a certain kingdom, in a certain State”, where nothing is clarified. Ever since the 19th century, numerous fairytale interpretations were created, each following the different fashion of the time (first were the “moralizing” interpretations and the “Christianizing” interpretations, then came the “mythology” interpretations and the “meteorological” ones, then the “psychanalytic” ones, etc...). Gruel-Apert shares the opinion of a certain Luzel on this subject: that the mistake is that each searcher tried to stick only to one theory, reducing the fairytale to this exclusive theory. So the author of the article wishes to do an “inductive” rather than “deductive” study - that is to say, just like Propp, going from the text towards the formation of a theory (instead of taking a theory and applying it to the text).

As Propp repeatedly said, the fairytale relies on the separation between our world and the “other world, the other side”, and on the travel from one to another - and the supernatural characters of the fairytale belong to the “other world”. The baba Yaga is the most emblematic, fascinating, and yet mysterious of those supernatural figures.

I) The Baba Yaga

Should we say “Baba-Yaga” or “the baba Yaga”? Should there be an article? It is hard to tell since the Slavic languages do not have articles, so technically speaking both ways are correct. However the Russian term “baba” is not a first name, or a person’s name, it is actually a word meaning “the woman of the lower class, the female peasant”. As for the name “Yaga”, it might be a deformation of “snake” - so her name might mean the “Snake woman”. The baba Yaga has several “aspects” to her character.

1) The abductor baba Yaga. Appearing suddenly out of nowhere, she steals away a little boy to roast him. But tricked by the boy-hero, she rather eats her own daughter. She appears as a huntress, and moves around in her mortar - she waits until she can rush on her prey (a prey that “smells like a Russian”, that is to say is alive). She is a cannibal, and she is a character revealing a society that is based on hunting but also knows primitive agriculture (the use of the mortar). She appears in tales such as “Small-Thomas” or “Filiouchka” (tales number 78 and 80 of Afanassiev’s fairytales).

2) The warrior baba Yaga. In the tale “Small Piece” (tale number 76), tricked again by the hero, the baba Yaga kills her forty-one daughters instead of the forty-one brother-protagonists (including Small Piece/Small Bit). Near a lake, the baba Yaga fights them: she is as an Amazon, riding on a horse, with a fire-projecting shield. There is a clear divide between girls and boys. In the fairytale “Ivachko-Bear-cub” (tale number 105-106) she fights the companions of the hero, and cuts from each of them a strip of skin on the back. The hero inverts the situation by cutting three skin-strips from the back of the baba Yaga. The baba Yaga escape him, and returns under the ground, where she lives with her daughter - but the adult daughter betrays her mother to go away with Ivachko-Bear-cub. There is a divide baba Yaga/hero, but also daughter/mother.

3) The donor baba Yaga. The hero of the story reaches a small isba in the forest, undergoes there trials, and receives gifts allowing them to cross from one realm to another and fulfill their goal (the quest of the desired person). According to Propp, the little isba marks the frontier between the two worlds.

4) The baba Yaga guardian of the realm of the dead. According to Propp’s analysis, the small isba is equivalent to a coffin: the Baba Yaga fills it from one corner to another, she is lying down on her stove with her nose touching the ceiling. She has a leg of bone, and she hates the smell of living things. Propp interprets the stay in the small isba as a remnant of the initiation rite of primitive societies, which caused a “temporary death”. For him, the baba Yaga is a caricature of the ritual’s leader.

5) The baba Yaga (or the Crone) mistress of the forest and of the wild animals. In “The Beauty of all Beauties”, tale number 119, she is said to rule over all the animals of the world - the beasts of the forest, the fishes, and the bird. In the sylvan world, the woman/mother/crone is the ruler.

6) Baba Yaga as a sexual or familial character. The author rejects the analysis of Propp that claims “While she is mother and mistress of all animals, she doesn’t have human children”. She points out that, while it is true she doesn’t have a husband or a son, she has daughters (sometimes one, other times three, sometimes many more). As for her sexual attributes, fairytales insist a lot on her breasts, instead of her genitalia. She is said to have her “teats tied to a hook” in one story, which proves that it is rather the maternity of the baba Yaga that is interesting, rather than her sexuality proper.

7) The soldar side of the baba Yaga. In two famous stories (Vassilissa the Beautiful, number 75, and Maria Marievna, tale 121) she commands the celestial phenomenon, but this aspect is quite limited in tales.

In conclusion: if the Baba Yaga was perceived as the leader of an initiation rite, as a great goddess with multiple attributes - but she is before all a spirit tied to the forest and the hunt. She has daughters rather than sons, and her behavior changes depending on genders: she defends girls but attacks boys, there is a clear “maternal clan” at work. Like many spirits of nature, she is benevolent and malevolent at the same time, which manifests in the trial she imposes to the hero. For Propp, her ugly appearance and old age were meant to say that she belonged to a “dead and outdated religion” - she is an “archaic character”.

II) The princess

The character of the princess also corresponds to the various names of: The Maiden-Tsar/the King-Girl ; the frog princess ; the daughter of the baba Yaga ; Vassilissa the Magical ; the Beautiful Daughter.

She is of a beauty that is hard to describe - her beauty is equivalent to the one of the sun, as she is tied to the day and to gold. The princess is also tied to the water of springs - in “The Water of Youth and the Beautiful Girl”, tale 135, the water of youth and life appears out of her hands and feet. There are three different “subtypes” to her. First subtype: she is the beautiful girl ravished away, but strangely in the other world she is found as a ruler and not as a prisoner, the captured prey becomes the one giving orders. This contradiction hasn’t been studied enough for the writer of the article. Second subtype: she is the Girl-King, an Amazon character with an immense strength and leading a group of female warriors. When the hero finds her sleeping, her breath is “like the one of the oak tree’s leaf” (Water of Youth and the Beautiful Girl), and in one version of the story collected by Khoudiakov “apple-trees grow from her arm-pits”. She symbolies the sleeping earth. Third subtype: Vassilissa the Magic One, the frog-princess, they are the creators of a civilized nature, they invent agriculture, they invent marriage, they are cultural heros.

III) The snake or the adversary

The snake is the main form taken by the “Adversary”. But he appears under different names: the she-snake, the dragon or she-dragon, Tchoudo-Youdo, the devil, the Hurricane, Kactcheï the Immortal.

The word meaning snake in the Slavic languages is “zmeja”, a word coming from “zemlja”, the earth - the snake is the animal that comes out of the earth. In Slavic legends, the snake has positive sides: he has the power to heal, he owns riches, he guards the hearth. In some fairytales he is even the magical helper (Helena the Wizardess, tale number 182).

However, most of the time, the dragon wishes to live with a maiden or a woman that was ravished (Roll-little-pea, tale 96-98) or to devour her (The Apple of Youth and the Kingdom below, tale 133). The dragon will also try to eat the hero (The Dragon and the Gypsy, tale 111, The two Ivan-sons of soldier, tale 117). Hence why the hero has to fght the dragon: the hero will cuts his heads, which will be difficult because he has many and they grow back. A second fight, more dangerous, is the fight with the mace - the head of the snake or dragon has to be placed under the earth. It is an archaic fight that highlights the monster’s tie to the earth - the same way the creature tried to eat the hero, the hero needs to have the creature “eaten” by the earth. The third type of fight, the most dangerous of all, is the one that happens when the dragons are killed, and when their women and mother enters: the mother-dragon opens a maw that goes from the heaven to the earth, and gulps down everything in front of her. The hero is only saved by a miracle, and never by his own means (it is a group of blacksmiths or a winged horse that saves the day). We have here a fight with a female figure of devoration. So the female dragon is extremely unpredictable and dangerous.

Another role of the dragon is to try to marry the hero. He has so many females around hm that he can ask the hero, before the fight “Do you come to marry one of my sisters or daughters?”, while the hero answer “I am not here to marry in your family, I am here to beat you up!” (Hurricane the Brave, tale 100). While this function of “wedding-planner” is not that present for the dragon, it is very present for the Tsar of the Water or for the devil. The Tsar of the Water, Tchoudo-Youdo, the devil/Tchort, all belong to the category of the “Adversary”. Surrounded by wives and daughters, they are tied to the motif of the “sell in advance”, aka “Give what you have in your house without knowing it”. These demonic characters take a son away from his father to marry him. They are marriage-creators as much as devourers.

IV) The relationship between the Baba Yaga and her daughter, the Hag and the Maiden

Sometimes the Baba Yaga is merely the guardian of the kingdom of the Beautiful Girl, and she is submissive to the latter (variations of the “Water of Youth” tales, tales 134, 136-138, 140). However these two characters, of different generations and cultures, are often tied by a parentage. Sometimes they are mother/daughters (the hero married the Baba Yaga’s daughter in “Go I don’t know where, bring back I don’t know what, tale 164) ; other times they are aunt and niece (in Tchoudo-Youdo and Vassilissa the Magic Girl, tale 172) ; and they can be grand-mother and grand-daughter (the tales on the Finiste bird, tales 179 180). The young girls or the maidens are always descendants of the baba Yaga - a baba Yaga who herself has sisters. However the baba Yaga is never part of the hero’s family - she is of the family of the wife, of the bride-to-be, of the searched woman.

However these characters are opposites. Sometimes the opposition is direct: in Ivachko-Bear-cub, the daughter of the baba Yaga wishes to leave the world of her mother, and tells the hero how to kill her. The character of the baba Yaga daughter’s is simple: is she is a child, she will be killed accidentally by her mother, if she is adult, she will have her mother killed. Meanwhile, the characters of Vassilissa the Magic Girl/the princess frog are more complex. They create a wold different from the one of their mother/aunt/grand-mother, a world not relying on the forest and the hunt, but on field and agricultures: they realizes agricultural and domestic chores, which are unusual in the wild and sylvan world they come from, they train and domesticate animals, they build bridges and palaces, through their dance they create civilization or prepare weddings. They do not attack directly the baba Yaga, but they create a new world, and so they wish to leave the archaic world - and thus fight other supernatural beings.

There are however many common points between the Old One and the Young One. The princess of the silver-kingdom in “The three kingdoms”, tale 93, welcomes the hero by saying “Until then I had never seen nor smelled the body of a Russian man, but today one is here before me!” - which are the exact same words the baba Yaga uses in other tales. In “The Two Ivan-sons of soldier”, the story ends when the beautiful maiden turns into a lionness, swells up to monstrous proportions, and devours the two heroes. So the maiden can eat people, just like the baba Yaga... In a variation of “The princess-frog” tale (number 207), the character is indeed the regular frog-princess that can “create from a gesture of her hand, gardens and meadows” - but she has a threatening cannibalism. When she arrives at her mother’s home where the hero is hidden, she says “It smells like a Russian man! If Ivan-tsarevitch was under my hand, I’d rip him to pieces!”. Strangely here it is the mother that moderates her daughter, and advices the hero: the mother/daughter roles are inverted, the daughter fulfilling the role of the ogress, while the mother is civilized. But the hero still ends up figuratively devoured, since the frog, now in love with him, takes him away to her “seventh kingdom”. In the tale “The Water of Youth and the Beautiful Girl”, the titular Beautiful Girl, raped in her sleep by the hero, kills him, then after calming down and finding him to be a pretty boy, she heals the deadly wound with the water of youth-and-life that comes from her hand - the man is resurrected and they marry. So in conclusion, between the two different generations, we find two characters malevolent and benevolent at the same time, two cannibals, two characters tied to nature (be it wild or civilized nature), two characters placing trials on the hero, and whose advice always leads to a wedding.

V) The relationship with the male monster

We saw that the male monster (the dragon, Tchoudo-Youdo, the Tsar of the Water, the devil) is at the same time concerned with devouring and marrying. His second role, as a marriage-driven character, is quite enigmatic when present in the dragon’s character - and to see things a bit clearly, we must look at other male supernatural characters.

The water monster, the devil, Tchoudo-Youdo all have an unclear physical appearance, but their names reveal their heretical nature. They are called the “Miscreant Tsar”, “Tchoudo-Youdo the Outlaw”, “The Tsar with an unbaptized forehead”, “Satan”, “the devil” or “Hell”. They have a female entourage: they only have daughters, sometimes a sister. The daughter is an essential figure that can even be part of the tale’s title (The Devil and the clever girl, tale 173). But the baba Yaga also appears though this female parentage. In “Tchoudo-Youdo and Vassilissa the Magic One”, tale 172, baba Yaga reveals that Tchoudo-Youdo is her brother. And just like the male monster, the baba Yaga also has sisters (such as in “Finiste-Clear-Falcon”, tale 180). And we also saw earlier that Vassilissa the Magic Girl, who can be the daughter of Tchoudo Youdo, also is regularly the daughter, niece or granddaughter of the baba Yaga (or of the Old Woman of the Forest): we are here in a family. But which type of family are we confronted with? If we study the members of the baba Yaga’s family, we discover the intervention of a “father” or even of two fathers.

For example, let’s look at “The Tsar of the Water and Vassilissa the Magic Girl”, also known as “The Devil and the clever girl”. This tale is as ancient as it is famous: in the fairytale Aarne-Thompson Index, it is the AT 313. It is found in numerous places in Europe, its most ancient traces date back to Babylon, and the myth of Jason and Medea relies on its structure. It is very present in the oral fairytales of France, and of course in Russia it has numerous rich and archaic versions. The starting scene in the Russian tales is relatively stable: a travelling tsar is thirsty. As he is about to drink from a lake, a monster appears out of the water, holds the tsar’s beard and says he will only let him go if he gives him what he has in his home, without knowing what it is. The tsar, who believes he knows everything, agrees, but in truth he gave up his recently newborn son. The son will only be given when he reaches puberty - this is the motif of the “sell in advance”. However the monster out of the water - the Tsar of the Water - turns out to be the father of Vassilissa the Magical Maiden. So we have a fairytale with two fathers - the father of the hero (Ivan-tsarevitch) and the father of the intended bride, Vassilissa. But we have an anomaly here: the first father, Ivan’s father, didn’t know that he was about to have a child, while the second father, Vassilissa’s father, knew that the first father was about to have a child. As a result it seems that the first father’s isn’t regularly in the presence of his wife, or maybe doesn’t form a true couple with this female partner - he might be a man from a different clan than her. But the father of Vassilissa seems to be from the same clan as Ivan’s mother, since he knows what is happening to her, he knows that she is pregnant. The first father is a new father, an ordinary and biological father, with a very limited power, while the second is a powerful sorcerer, talented when it comes to marrying his daughters - because Vassilissa has variously numbered “sisters”.

The daughters of the powerful sorcerer can be three, twelve, or seven 77 in the tale 172, or a hundred - and nothing is ever said about their mother, so maybe they are not actually sisters, but cousins, and maybe the tsar of the water is their uncle rather than their father. We can take into account the fact that, even in modern Russian, the wors “brat” and “sestra” mean as much “cousin” as they mean “brother/sister”. So the father of Vassilissa might be her father-uncle, and we would come back to an archaic form of family. The father-uncle is the male leader of a family unit where only girls and wives are taken into account when drawing the bloodlines. The baba Yaga, who is also defined by her descendants, belongs to this clan and, by her role of guardian, by her orders, she “leads” this clan in her own way. It seems thus that Ivan’s marriage is organized by the clan of his mother, while the father of Ivan has no voice to the chapter. So, in the Russian fairytale, there is a very clear clan-structure, of “maternal clan” type, with an old woman, guardian of the order, a male leader, father-uncle, and numerous daughters or sisters, forming the uterine bloodline.

Maybe we can have more clues if we look at the epic Russian songs - much more misogynistic than the Russian fairytales. For example, in the famous novgorodian song “Sadko”: after a shipwreck, Sadko is at the palace of the sea-king. The sea-king wants to marry him with one of his three hundred girls, but Saint Nicholas appears and tells Sadko: “Choose the last girl that will be presented to you, but do not make love with her, only then will you be able to return to Novgorod”. Through his abstinence, Sadko finds himself the following morning all alone, but back in his hometown. If he had not restrained himself, he would have been absorbed, “drowned” by the maternal clan of the sea-king. We find here again the “swallowing” theme: for the hero, champion of the patriarchy, marrying in a maternal clan means disappearing, be absorbed, be swallowed.

#russian folklore #russian fairytales #afanassiev fairytales #baba yaga #fairytale archetypes #family in fairytales #marriage in fairytales

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ddagent · 2 years ago

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“Silk and Lace”

John/Delenn | Alien Roommate AU | FR12 | 2,008 words Delenn keeps borrowing John's clothes. So he takes his new roommate shopping. Part of the Alien Roommate verse.

For @stardustinthesky, who is equally obsessed with Delenn wearing John's clothes.

So, I've started making some John/Delenn AU gifsets and, after I watched Tron, I fell in love with scientist John bringing his work home with him. You can see the gifsets here and here.

I'm open for prompts of this verse; feel free to prompt me at my tumblr. Happy reading!

“I think we need to buy you some clothes.”

Delenn glanced up from the novel she was reading – one of many stacked by the armchair in the corner – as a line formed across her brow. “Clothes?” She plucked at the shirt – his shirt – that she wore. “Is this not sufficient?”

Sufficient enough to keep me occupied with cold showers for the next month. John had come home from the observatory to find his alien roommate swathed in his clothes. A royal blue button-down draped over Delenn’s slight frame; the sleeves rolled back over her forearms, revealing the cerulean swirls that decorated her porcelain skin. Her legs were bare; beautiful, shapely legs that curled beneath her. Delenn was wearing his underwear – boxer briefs that he would never be able to wear again without thinking of her. No socks. Just a beautiful alien woman wearing his things.

Continue Reading at AO3 or Continue Below

“It is—” John rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to linger on the curve of Delenn’s breasts under his shirt; the open collar revealing her décolletage. “—it’s more that, if you’re staying on Earth, you really should have your own things. We can go shopping this weekend, if you like.”

“Would that–would that be acceptable?”

John considered the logistics of taking his half-alien roommate-slash-fugitive out in Seattle to shop. Bester had long-since moved his attentions to the east coast; an extra-large baseball cap or a beanie hat should cover her bone crest. Thank God for the Seattle weather. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be together; we won’t be out for very long. Just need to get the essentials.”

So they made a plan for Saturday. Delenn was, again, dressed in borrowed clothes to venture outside the confines of his apartment. He’d donated a pair of jeans that were a little too snug; a different button down, one that he wore often for work (only thing that was clean; not so he could think about her at work, fantasise about smelling her scent on his clothes). A University of Washington sweatshirt and a Mariners beanie completed the ensemble. Delenn looked far too cute, drowning in his clothes. Cute enough to kiss.

“We should go,” John blurted as the thought – not for the first time – crossed his mind. He brushed past Delenn to open the front door. “We don’t want to run into too many people.”

Delenn nodded. “Of course.” She pulled the beanie hat over her still unfamiliar ears and took a tentative step outside the apartment. “Lead on, Doctor Sheridan.”

It was the first time Delenn was to leave his apartment since John had found her crashed ship and brought her home. He guided her down the fire escape, avoiding the tweaking net curtains and the elevator that rattled and groaned with every tug of the cables up and up. Unfortunately, his new roommate was far too curious for her own good. Delenn was fascinated by all the sights, sounds – smells – of Seattle.

“Delenn,” he gently chastised. “We need to be discreet.”

Her nose wrinkled at the mail boxes outside the apartment, a question dying on her lips, before joining him in heading for his car. “Are you to tell me, John Sheridan, that you would not be equally as inquisitive if you found yourself on Yedor?”

She had him there. “Fine. But unless there’s a Minbari equivalent of Alfred Bester, we need to be cautious.”

They eventually made it into John’s car; Delenn less dismissive of the primitive and destructive technology that got them around the city. The pair headed for a few boutiques downtown that Susan had recommended with an amused tone. The entire journey, Delenn’s nose was pressed against the glass, taking in the sights of the human world. Outside the confines of the car, her hand slipped into his automatically and they walked along the pavement, hips bumping as the early morning shoppers jostled them closer. Eventually they stopped at the first boutique, a little place with no CCTV and just enough foot traffic that the employees wouldn’t remember them if Bester ever came sniffing back around. The woman at the counter smiled as they entered, Delenn marvelling at the bell above the door.

“We have markets on Minbar,” Delenn explained. “The worker caste sell the wares they create out of joy, a sense of…service to themselves. But for places such as these, they often come to the homes of those who require them. Our clothes serve a very specific function. They are not intended to be ornamental. Like your…what did you call them?” Delenn turned and placed a hand above his chest, thumb brushing along his sternum. “The material with the oranges on them?”

“Ties?” She nodded, her face lighting up in delight at a new word for her vocabulary. “Yeah, they’re pretty decorative. I guess that’s part of our human charm – dressing nice.”

Delenn did not reply. Instead, she quickly became enamoured with the racks of clothes on display. She looked at each of them in turn, examining the fabric and stitching in great detail. When Delenn had first arrived on Earth, her clothing had been loose, in faded pink and tan, with little ornament save from a crystal pendant that now resided in a small keepsake box she kept under her side of the bed. John had no doubt that the Minbari cared little for fashion; Delenn had spent a week in his clothes, after all. But he also knew that she was fascinated by everything human and he’d have to make some considerable room in his closet.

“Can I help at all?”

John smiled politely at the shop assistant. “Hi. My girlfriend just flew in yesterday – she’s from Europe – but the airline lost her luggage. We’re looking to pick up a few things. Dresses, jeans, a coat, some pyjamas.” John swallowed. “Underwear.”

“Not a problem. Happened to me more than once. If I could drive to see my sister in Maine, I would.” She turned to Delenn. “What do you like the look of, sweetheart?”

“This.”

Delenn reached for a dress in velvet green. The sleeves and skirt were long; the bodice cutting low on her breasts. There was another, too, in burgundy that stole Delenn’s attention. This one had laces pulling the bodice tight, with lace embroidery over the skirt. She seemed to appreciate clothes that were textured, that felt unique under her fingertips. Together, the shop assistant and Delenn gathered every item Delenn said she wished to own and the three of them travelled to the back room where the changing rooms were located. The woman left them alone to source some underwear for Delenn (“Not sure of the American sizes, sweetheart? You look like a small to me; I’ll be right back.”) and John waited patiently outside for Delenn to try on the first dress.

She emerged in a soft pink dress, the fabric floating around her knees. Delenn twirled in front of the mirror. “It’s beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Delenn flushed high on her cheeks. She turned her attention back to the mirror; once again, her fingers pulled at the edge of the beanie. “The hat, perhaps, does not suit?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you try the burgundy one?”

She darted in to change dresses, not questioning matching blue with burgundy. When Delenn emerged, her hands were smoothing over the silk fabric of the bodice; the pads of her fingers tying the laces in knots. John shot a glance over his shoulder, heart thrumming at the huge risk, but quickly yanked the beanie off of Delenn’s head. She stared, lost in her reflection. John had watched her, at home, running her fingers through the curls that fell over her shoulders; the half crest that adorned her skull. Now she stood, hands mapping her sides in the form-fitting dress. Her touch stole, not for the first time, to her ears, her throat.

“It is quite, uh, revealing?” Delenn asked. “Would the purpose of this dress be to attract a mate?”

“Not always. Women on Earth, they dress for themselves as much as a mate.” John leaned in; hand pressed to the small of her back. “Though it’s a good thing we’re not letting you out; you’d turn so many heads you’d be sued for whiplash.” Delenn’s gaze settled upon him, a question forming on her lips. “You look attractive, Delenn. Sexy.”

“Sexy.”

Delenn pondered his words while John retreated, wondering why he had called his alien roommate sexy when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Thankfully, approaching footsteps signalled for Delenn to retreat back into the dressing room, beanie in hand. Unfortunately, the shop assistant returned with a small bundle of bras and panties; black and green and red. Wisps of silk and lace. The woman winked at John as she laid them down beside him; the implication clear that Delenn’s ‘boyfriend’ would get equal joy out of the purchase. He crossed his legs, struggling not to fixate on the image of Delenn wearing very little. In front of him, Delenn continued to emerge wearing dress after dress, overjoyed by the weight of fabric in her hands and the swoosh as she spun in front of the mirror. They weren’t anything special; no designer labels, no fancy fabrics. But they were unique and they would be hers.

When the shop assistant brought over some nightgowns for Delenn to wear, John pressed his credit card into her hand. “We’ll take it all.”

They emerged from the boutiques laden with bags: a pair of sneakers, some ballet flats, an array of dresses, three nightgowns, a midnight blue robe with moons and stars embroidered upon the lapel, and a hat and scarf set that was not emblazoned with any Seattle sports team. After a visit to Theo’s second-hand bookstore on the corner, the pair returned to John’s – to their apartment. Saturday afternoon was spent clearing out one half of John’s closet and Delenn sharing extracts from her favourite sonnets in a battered paperback with lines rippling down the spine. She lay, head at the foot of their bed, skirts splayed across the sheets, as she recited poetry to him.

He was a goner.

But, to his relief, Delenn would no longer be wearing his clothes. There were nightgowns, with long sleeves and frilly lace. John would finally get his pyjama shirt back. Yet, when it came time for bed, John could only find his shorts. No shirt. That was when Delenn emerged from the bathroom in the soft, blue sleep shirt he wore; the familiar socks keeping her feet warm. She stared, sheepishly, at her toes encased in the thick wool socks.

John just shook his head and threw back the covers for them both to get under. All that work, all that money, and she was still wearing his things. “You’re a thief, Delenn. You know that, right? A thief.” Delenn just beamed and practically jumped in the bed beside him. He laughed as she began stacking pillows on her side. “First my shirt, then my pillows. What else are you going to steal, huh?”

“Minbari do not steal.”

“Oh yeah?” He yanked out a pillow from underneath Delenn’s head and tapped her stomach lightly with it. “What do you call that, huh? That shirt is mine.”

“I am…” Delenn trailed off as she searched for the word, wrenching the pillow out of his grip with far superior strength to his own. “Borrowing. I am borrowing your shirt. It smells like home.”

John was momentarily blindsided. It smelt like home. It smells like you. He retreated back to his side of the bed, giving up on a counter-attack, as he watched Delenn pull the duvet up to her chin. Ever since her transformation, her internal temperature had been unable to regulate. Seattle was too warm during the day; too cold at night. So they huddled together, under the sheets, sharing a pyjama set. John didn’t mind sharing, not really. He was happy to share his bed, his clothes, his apartment. His heart he’d given to her a long time ago.

#john x delenn #b5fic #ship: john x delenn #dd: fanfic

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dustedmagazine · 1 year ago

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Ratboys — The Window (Topshelf)

Ratboys are a boisterous, emotions-on-sleeves indie rock band out of Chicago on the verge of something big. The band, which started as a duo but now includes four regular members, has five full-lengths to its credit, including this one. Although you could trace an arc from mid-teens basic rock to early 2020s Crutchfield-adjacent twangy mayhem, these albums have a consistent core. The Ratboys sound centers around the yelping, gulping, volatile singing of one Julia Steiner and a ferocious guitar racket courtesy of the other founder Dave Sagan.

This album begins in a buzz of feedback and the album’s hardest-charging beat and riffery. It’s called “Making Noise for the Ones You Love,” and indeed, it busts out the doors and grabs the ears, whether Ratboys loves you or not. Marcus Nuccio wallops the skins off his kits behind this one, kayo-ing the beat with reckless abandon, while big spirals of rock guitar arc off the primitive assault. But it’s Steiner’s keening, confiding, sharp-edged vocals that catch you up. She can wail like a banshee or sing conversationally, with a little rasp on her finish and a chirruping high range that cuts through the mix. She sounds a little like the Beths’ Elizabeth Stokes and a whole lot like Allison Crutchfield, especially her work in Swearin’ which has a similar volume and aggression.

Not all of these cuts turn up to 11. The title, for instance, is relatively quiet, a mesh of nearly folky picking and Steiner in a sweeter, more country mode. The song, she says, is about her grandparents in the pandemic, her grandmother in a nursing home, her grandfather unable to visit, only allowed to view his life partner through a window. It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking song, full of rapturous, anthemic guitars and soaring choruses, and Steiner gets a full helping of emotion without sentimentality.

“It’s Alive,” is maybe the best song here, with its cool toned, contemplative verses and its lit-on-fire surging chorus. There are big bloopy slide notes and tamped back palm mutes in a song that swirls and eddies around a rock-solid rhythmic core. And again, those vocals, crazy excess and sweet solace wrapped up together with a wild bird’s cry in there somewhere. You can’t take your ear off someone this fascinating and unpredictable. She swoops and swoons and growls like Kristin Hersh but more country, and it’s worth a listen just to hear what she’ll do next.

Jennifer Kelly

#ratboys #the window #topshelf #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #indie #rock #twang #chicago #Bandcamp

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lanyisse · 2 years ago

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Seafoam and Sapphire

Aemond x OC (m/f)

Excerpt from Chapter 12 (slow burn, smut)

Somewhere above the godsforsaken waterlogged castle at Pyke, Vhagar had taken to the skies.

It was a strange thing, the connection Aemond felt with his massive dragon, his soul tied to hers in ways he couldn't even begin to understand. So he didn't question the innate feeling that told him Vhagar was currently circling well above the low-hanging clouds, stretching out her battered wings beneath the setting sun, enjoying one last moment of warmth before she was forced to return and await his next move. Aemond only winced when he felt a familiar sense of reproach, trying to ignore Vhagar's subtle reminder that, while she might accept his mastery over her, she did not always enjoy his company. He didn't know when or why, but someday, Aemond knew, their conflict would come to a head. And he knew with absolute certainty that the conflict would not end without blood and fire.

In that moment, the sapphire nestled where his eye had once sat chafed at his hollow socket, Aemond schooling his features to a confident grin to hide his grimace of pain. Everything had its cost, after all. Which brought his thoughts back to the discussion at hand and the infuriatingly fascinating black-haired woman glowering at him across the primitive war-chamber table. Marrying Lilian Greyjoy would infuriate not only his brother's small council and his mother, but should the Baratheons discover that they had been handed the youngest son instead of the second, the possible alliance would rapidly grow more tenuous.

Aemond couldn't bring himself to care.

"Perhaps we should continue the negotiations in the morning," Lilian said, her soft words slamming into Aemond like a fist to the gut. Aemond was not a stranger to women using every asset at their disposal to capture his regard; how was it that this cold, disobedient island queen managed to ensnare every ounce of his attention with little more than a choreographed smirk and a few acerbic words? Toying with the idea of marrying her had taken on entirely different proportions now that Lilian was mere feet away, her presence keeping his body at full attention, his fingers itching to reach out and pull her onto the table, digging into that flawless skin deep enough to leave marks.

"Yes," Aemond heard himself agreeing, still toying with the possibility of ordering her glowering gaggle of advisors out of the room and consummating his marriage right then and there. "We will resume negotiations first thing in the morning." Watching the assembled men nod in agreement, Aemond winced when the unnatural priest caught his eye, the man's yellowed gaze deeply unsettling. Aemond had never been a true believer, accepting the seven as little more than a necessary ritual; the way that this follower of the Drowned God spoke, the unshaken devotion and otherworldliness of the ragged man made him want to unsheathe his sword.

Part of him knew that time was of the essence—he should already be on Vhagar and flying to Storm's end. Negotiations here did not require a night of consideration; Lilian knew that she had him and his brother over a barrel, and the whole room was aware of just how desperately the Greens required the Ironborn. House Greyjoy gaining a dragon through marriage was an outcome no man would have dared predict a year ago, but times had changed, and the Velaryons were breathing down Aegon's neck, ready to flay him at any misstep.

So, logically, there was no reason for Aemond to concur with Lilian's request for a respite. No reason at all. Yet he found himself standing, following a manservant to the rooms he had been assigned, slipping off his dragonriding leathers with a soft sigh, and collapsing in a firm chair placed close to the crackling fire in his small fireplace. Her eyes were the most curious blue-grey, Aemond mused. What would they look like flying open in shock and pleasure as he entered her for the first time? Would she be feisty, scratching at his back, leaving bloody trails down his skin as they rutted like wild beasts? His aching cock underscored just how much he hoped that would be the case.

It had been torture keeping a straight face, sitting at the Greyjoys' war table to negotiate, all the while pretending that he wasn't as hard as a fucking rock, every shift in his chair agonizing. Lilian had undoubtedly chosen that sinful dress with his gaze in mind; the tantalizing glimpses of her bosom he'd been able to catch when she leaned forward in her seat had almost been enough to have him stumbling over his words. Only Lilian's knowing smirk had forced his mind back to the topic at hand, her victorious glance sending a bolt of contrary stubbornness shooting through him; a dress would not be enough to bring Aemond Targaryen to his knees.

With the prospect of spending the evening's meal watching Lilian sip on her wine and slip morsels of food between her full lips, Aemond unlaced the front of his leather breeches, taking himself in hand. Gods, it almost hurt as he stroked himself, his head tilted back over the back of the chair, and his lips fell open as he found himself rapidly approaching his peak. How could it be that he'd never lusted for anything this badly?

Aemond thought he was finally beginning to understand why a man might go to war over a woman.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #ao3 #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond stannies #lilian greyjoy #seafoam and sapphire #greyjoy oc #house of the dragon

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anotherghoul666 · 2 years ago

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12, 18, 37! I hope you're having a good night!

Hi Trouble!! ❤️❤️ Thank you for the ask!

12. Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? Yes. Multiple times. Because of a variety of reasons. I recall having done that a good handful of times in my university years, especially during exam weeks and finals. I'd have a normal day then stay up to study, then loose track of time, spend overnight at the library, ride out the fatigue-induced delirium by watching the sunrise at the top of the hill my university was on, overlooking the city, listening to 70s prog rock and crying, then walk into one more day of exams, do my whole day, hit my second wind and be unable to sleep after that XD I've also had to do that a few times in the past few years. Isomnia is a thing. I work night shifts but sometimes I have to flip myself on a day shift for formations or meetings or family activities or trips so 30-ish hours is something semi-usual for me. When I got covid last summer I coughed so much I was completely unable to sleep for almost three days until my pharmacist found a syrup that finally stopped my coughing spasm and then I slept for an entire 24 hours at once to recover. It happens XD

18. Are you scared of spiders? So. On one hand spiders fascinate me. I like the concept of the creature. I think they look rad. I like them in theory. In practice, it's the skittering man. I can't deal with how fast they walk and how they crawl up walls, I feel spiders outsmart us humans routinely and it makes me uncomfortable to see them walk. That's probably a very primitive, lizard brain response that I haven't been able to outgrow yet. Spiders skittering spike my adrenaline. I like spiders outside of my house, I love them in nature, I watch them make their webs and shit and they're such architects, I'd never hurt one in nature. But I feel like, dude, if you're INSIDE MY HOME you're tresspassing and I have a right to defend myself and my people / pets, you know? XD

37. Is it easier to forgive or forget? Oooooh hitting with the deep shit are we! I like this! I feel like both are difficult for me. My neurodivergent brain registers and preserves strong painful moments in my life like an archive, like a damn museum. If a situation or a person ellicits a strong negative emotion in me, it's like a mark, it will stay there forever. I can recall entire conversations word for word from years and years back, from when I was a kid even, and it blows people's minds how accurate my memory is. I wish I could uninstall that function honestly, or have that level of memory for positive things at least, but I don't. Positive moments I have to actively produce physical memories from like pictures and videos or else I will 100% forget about them. I don't know which kind of trauma response that is, but that's how my brain functions and I gotta deal with it XD So like, I don't forget. I can make myself not think of the thing, I can think of other stuff, it's not like every negative memory I've ever had pops out in my mind constantly otherwise I would not function. But the archive is always there and it's pristine. On the other hand, I'm also a person that's sometimes fueled by spite and I motivate myself via anger lots. I am a spiteful motherfucker, I hold grudges. I've put a lot of work into deconstructing the anger in therapy over the years, but part of it is also to accept that this is how I am and it's ok. I vibe with acceptance therapy a lot. So. I hold on to grudges. It's weirdly comfortable. It's a comfort zone to begrudge. Sometimes I just don't want to forgive cause I loose the fire and the motivation to do better or maintain distance with someone toxic. I have boundaries, but what gives me the strength to hold them up proudly and say, no more, never doing that again / letting someone do that to me again, it's the grudge sometimes. Forgiveness is a strange beast. I'll forgive when the anger doesn't serve me anymore. I forgive once I'm done using something as fuel, once it drains more evergy than it provides. I don't forgive for others, I forgive for myself, and that's a process that's not the easiest. tl;dr they're both hard as fuck for me XD woops!

Those were super interesting to jump into, thanks Trouble! :D

#asks #yall get to learn about the deep layers of my brain in this one hahaha

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eclipse89 · 1 year ago

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hypotheses on astrology

long post

from the beginning of our history, humanity has been fascinated with the unknown. with things operating beyond the basic physicality of our reality. we used to call it gods, or magic, which were in fact large parts of real life back then.

and then slowly, we started explaining them. we got smarter, more curious, more persistent. not all of the explanations were right of course, but they got less and less wrong over time.

what used to be magic, became explained by primitive science. unknowns became known- more than that, they became grounded aspects of physical reality. no longer were the huge unexplainable voids that popped up whenever something different or new happened, we simply rationalized what was happening and fit it nicely into whatever current model of reality or physics we had like a missing puzzle piece.

enter religion.

i think it’s inherent to the human experience, to crave some form of escapism. to delude ourselves into thinking that this basic, physical reality can't be all there is. because if it was, we'd know everything. curiousity would be obsolete. obviously this is far from the case currently, i'll get to why that is later.

but for a time, religion filled that void well. it gave us a common story to believe in, a community, plus a nice bit of escapism in the stories of heaven and hell, angels and demons, (or their relative equivalents in other religions), etc. and science of course, kept tracking on alongside it- albeit, while contradicting and attacking eachother once in a while, but still doing it’s job and explaining those last straggler unknowns that always seemed to pop up.

the thing about science though, to do experiments and to figure out those unknowns, you have to be able to y’know. experiment on them. naturally, the most physically accessible and common stuff is what got figured out first (plants, animals, rocks, you get the idea) while things like weather phenomena took a while to understand due to their transient and unpredictable nature.

astronomy has always been in an odd spot in that, because without some technology (telescopes, say) there are a very limited number of things you can figure out scientifically. it’s nearly impossible to actually understand and totally make sense of what you’re seeing, beyond very surface-level observations (admittedly, very useful observations in terms of navigating and such) without it.

astrology started as simply a way to make sense of, and give meaning to, what astronomy was seeing. which made a lot of sense back then, considering that science and logic was not enough to figure out what was happening up there.

until the advent of the telescope, and of modern astronomy, space was one of the largest remaining unknowns of the human world.

astrology, was sort of a way to explain that unknown- but not really. it explained it in the same way that saying ‘’zeus is angry’’ explains a thunderstorm. which for some people, or most people, was a sufficient explanation.

in 1543, Copernicus proposed heliocentrism.

in 1609, Galileo first built his telescope.

in 1687, Newton stated the three laws of motion.

by the 1700‘s, space had been explained. the void had been filled (or so we thought, at least). astrology had become a relic, it had become mostly obsolete.

yet somehow,

‘’A 2005 Gallup poll and a 2009 survey by the Pew Research Center reported that 25% of US adults believe in astrology, while a 2018 Pew survey found a figure of 29%.’’

and

‘’Indian politics have also been influenced by astrology. In 2001, Indian scientists and politicians debated and critiqued a proposal to use state money to fund research into astrology’‘

and

‘’In Japan, strong belief in astrology has led to dramatic changes in the fertility rate and the number of abortions in the years of Fire Horse.‘‘

think about it. if i asked you what your horoscope is, the majority of you would know which month/period corresponds to which sign. in fact, according to a YouGov poll, 90% of Americans select a sign when asked.

so, what happened?

how did something that was essentially dead, become insanely prevalent in cultures all across the globe? debatably, you could even say equally or close to as prevalent as the actual science that killed it.

my hypothesis, is that is was caused by two things. one moreso than the other, but both contribute to it i believe.

the first, lesser thing, would be this: increasingly throughout the past few decades or more, religion has been becoming less popular than ever. not just in america, but across most of the world, religion is on the decline. check any study, all the data points are there.

as i said earlier, religion was the greatest provider of a good unknown, of divine escapism- of a controlling force, a reason for the things that happen.

religion is declining, but we haven’t lost that primal desire for something beyond us. and to a degree, astrology does provide this. not quite as much as religion of course, but for the right people it also does the trick. if you believe that something not under our control- something beyond humanity, controls or at least influences us and our decisions and our personalities and everything that happens in our lives, doesn’t that sound familiar?

i can’t conclusively prove that there’s a link here. maybe someone else did, somewhere- i wouldn’t be surprised if so, but i can’t. all i can prove is that it’s possible, which it very much is.

my second possibility is to do with astronomy:

know how earlier, i said that we had unknowns? voids, where we had no information or data about a phenomenon and had to either leave it as an unknown or just come up with the most logical explanation we can think of (and with no data, this goes exactly as you’d expect)

these voids don’t exist universally. there are experts on obscure topics, in their minds the void is small, while for the rest of us the void is incomprehensible. we trust in experts on things like this, we know there are people out there getting rid of these voids even though we personally still perceive them.

astronomy was, in ancient times, something done by almost everyone. it was, firstly, beautiful- in many cases, one and the same with a religious experience. and secondly, it was necessary. navigation by stars was something almost everyone could directly benefit from knowing how to do.

throughout time the practice was alienated (pun unintended) from the public by multiple different things. the oldest things would probably settling, agriculture, etc, that made it less beneficial to learn to navigate by the stars.

another large one would be religion, as i said previously science and religion of course conflicted at many times and religion often won. religion also had closer ties to the ruling powers in most cases, giving it greater sway than individual scientists.

at this point capital s Science still continued; astronomy still did continue formally, but by the times where the large discoveries occurred and we figured out that ‘’space’’ knowledge void, the general public largely did not have any knowledge regarding astronomy. by the time the real technological innovation hit in the past couple centuries, astronomy has been relegated to the experts.

the reason i would consider this a bad thing, and the reason it ties into astrology, is because astronomy isn’t some very obscure topic that only a couple experts should even be considering.

by and large, for the general public and apart from those few experts, we’ve reversed the filling of a knowledge void.

a person from ancient times, would most likely know more about astronomy than the average person today- or at the very least, would definitely have more experience with it.

and now that there’s this huge unknown again, the alternatives that can explain it in a satisfying way are looking all the more appealing.

i propose mainly, that this knowledge loss in astronomy, has led to a high in the popularity and prevalence of astrology with the general public in the last few decades.

astrology isn’t based on any science whatsoever. we know this. even people that believe in astrology, know this. because that isn’t the point of it. science is what explains the unexplainable; of course something that’s trying to hold on to that last little thread of an unknown in our world, isn’t going to be remotely related to its antithesis.

to refute astrology using logic or science is absolute folly, because it isn’t even attempting to say that it adheres to the rules of either of those.

refute astrology by learning astronomy.

refute astrology by teaching others astronomy.

refute astrology by, little by little, filling that knowledge void we created. a fire dies without oxygen.

#Astronomy #astrology #astronomy thoughts #normalize astronomy #space #Night Sky #history

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