#this book would have been so much better if it was more distinct from alien vibes

[bereft-of-frogs]

me, after finishing something completely unrelated: idk I just look forward to the day that space horror isn’t quite as beholden to Alien, you know?

*is literally on the way to see Alien: Romulus*

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Unprofessional

This wasn't part of the deal.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He’s not sure how, or when this happened.

It’s been not even a full three weeks at this point, and you’re currently happily reading a new book about how to treat and prevent interplanetary bacterial infections, a book he’d bought you just recently after you’d shown interest in it. Now that, in itself, is exactly what you should be doing- after all, that’s why he took you in, and that’s why you’re here. What definitely did escalate however, is how much he spends on things regarding you that aren’t necessary.

Proper bedding, new clothes, a more comfortable identification collar, a new AC unit in his ship, hell, he’s even started to study himself about what you should properly eat to stay healthy. This isn’t what he thought this would be like. And the worst part about it-

Every time he sees your amazed expression, and hears your genuine gratitude, he feels all warm inside, distinctive purring sound of satisfaction threatening to start sounding the moment you look happy.

You make it hard to stay away.

He wants to sleep close to you these days, just to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, and it’s very obvious why that would be. It’s not just sexual need manifesting some feelings he might not have, it’s deeper than that. If he wanted sexual satisfaction he can just do it himself- he doesn’t need someone else for that, nor does he really crave it often. But looking at you, he could see himself indulge in physical activities more often than he did in the past.

But is it all really worth it?

He doesn’t know you well at all yet. He’s not sure if you’re actually as docile and loyal as you appear to be, or if it’s all just an act to gain something from him later on. He can’t yet be sure that you won’t stab him in the back the moment he turns it towards you, so he will have to see and learn a little more about you before he actually makes any kind of move into a friendly direction.

Better safe than sorry, as humans say.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“interesting!” the man Yoongi introduced as Seokjin beams, smiling kindly at you. “and you’re keeping her as a partner?”

“She’s simply there so you stop nagging about me not taking proper care about my health.” Yoongi denies, looking through the fridge while his cat-like tail sways around with interest. It’s a little odd to you how he doesn’t outright deny the possibility of being his partner- but you also don’t question it, because it’s not your place to do so.

“Hm, that does soothe my worries quite a bit.” Seokjin nods, before he puts a hand onto your shoulder- something Yoongi instantly glances at from an angle, feeling oddly irritated. “Come, let me make you a proper meal. Do you have any preferences ?” He asks, hand on your back as he leads and helps you onto a chair that’s a little too tall to hop onto.

Yoongis tail snaps up a little at the sight. He doesn’t like what he’s seeing, though he’s not sure why.

“I’m okay with anything.” You tell the older alien, who nods.

“Hm, but do you have anything you like the most?” He wonders, making you visibly fall into thought, before you shake your head.

“I haven’t eaten.. many things yet. So I don’t really know.” You say, more quietly, a little hesitant, carefully looking for Yoongi as if you need his approval to make sure what you’re saying is right.

Seokjin looks at you for a moment, before he turns his head to Yoongi.

“Where.. did you meet her?” He asks, and you can sense his nervousness a little, making you slightly uneasy.

“I stumbled upon her on an outpost.” Yoongi responds. “she asked to be taken along to my next stop, and I took her in instead because she’s pretty low-maintenance and doesn’t need money as payment.” He shrugs.

Seokjin looks back at you, before he walks closer again. “can I.. see your back for a second?” He asks, and you nod, not sure what he’s trying to find- and even Yoongi is confused, walking closer to his friend who carefully lifts your shirt to inspect your skin.

It’s when the older one’s fingers trace some faint small scars that Yoongi looks more closely, and recognizes it as numbers most likely burned in near your lower spine.

“Jin..” Yoongi quietly says, snapping his friend out of his trance as he lowers your shirt again, and shakes whatever he’s felt for a moment off, smiling kindly again.

“I’ll make you something warm to eat.” He excuses himself to occupy his thoughts with cooking for now, while Yoongi stands close to you for just a moment longer. You share a glance with him- but his eyes reassure you, tell you not to worry.

So you don’t.

After making sure you’re not upset or uncomfortable, Yoongi offers to help Seokjin out of hearing range from you- careful as he’s not sure how to really speak up on the very obvious question. “Jin.” He sighs, putting a hand on the older one’s for a second to halt his movements. “is it her?” yoongi asks-

But Jin shakes his head, emotions obvious on his face.

“No.” He answers, defeat evident in his voice. “the number.. it matches, but not entirely. It’s fine though. I just.. thought.” He brushes off, before he moves to chop some more vegetables again.

Seokjin’s mate is a touchy subject. For years he’s been searching by now- but there’s no trace anymore, no lead, no hint at where to look for. Without his partner, Seokijin would’ve never been able to go back home. But the price he paid for it still left scars that reopen on occasion, just like today.

“Maybe she knows something?” yoongi worries, but Jin shakes his head.

“Its fine, Yoongi.” He denies any further talk about it. “just.. forget it.”

When you’re back on the ship after a very filling meal, yoongi feels a bit exhausted- but also glad to be back in his personal home again, environment safe to him as he watches you sleep as the ship breaks orbit again. “Yoongi?” You ask from your sleeping bag, and his ears turn towards you- a common sign he’s listening. “why did Seokjin get upset over my Number?” You wonder, and the alien sighs.

“Because his former partner had a similar number on her back.” He explains vaguely. He doesn’t like talking about stuff that doesn’t involve him- but he also wants to make sure you know that it’s nothing to do with you either. “She died on Gaehos, after they both got attacked by a wild.. alien species.” He offers. “or at least, that’s what we all believe. Jin.. still holds hope that his partner somehow survived. Which isn’t likely.”

“what were they doing there in the first place?” You wonder.

“Seokjin used to travel a lot.” Yoongi remembers. “He was an intergalactic research agent, and his partner was assigned to him. He fell in love along the way, I guess..” yoongi shrugs.

“Oh.” You say, accepting this as enough info to be reassured that at least, it wasn’t about you. “I hope he finds his partner one day.” You mumble, before you snuggle up more into your sleeping bag to finally rest-

And Yoongi can only sigh to himself, unable to understand this unreasonable clinging to hope that’s not even there.

A truly human habit, apparently.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He’s currently busy repairing.. Something. You’re not sure what it is, or what it’s used for- it looks like a small turbine maybe? But to be fair, you’re not meant to understand that thing, or it’s purpose. You’ve rather been put into service to understand him- and that seems to prove more difficult than you have initially assumed.

He’s very obviously a Xaqal- but his behavior is sometimes incredibly unpredictable.

While his kind lives in large groups, and prefers the security of those communities, they’re also quickly irritated and combative to anyone they don’t seem a member of their chosen group. Yoongi however appears to prefer to live in solitude- never complaining about being lonely, or actively reaching out to you for comfort. Sure, sometimes, when the ship hits turbulence, he will actually sleep closer to you- but you assume that that’s actually more so him ‘protecting what’s his’, to make sure you don't get hurt so to speak. Not because he likes you as a person, but simply because you’re a member of his chosen ‘group’.

But other times, very rarely, he does things that completely throw that entire narrative of him being a ‘typical’ member of his kind right out the window. From little gifts he presents you like blankets or your very own water bottle, to the way he never seems to turn down any opportunity to help you with things.

“Yoongi?” You ask him suddenly, making one of his cat-like ears turn towards you, a sign that he’s listening. “Are you feeling okay?” You wonder, and at that he puts the screwdriver down to look at you, face unreadable.

“I feel fine.” He answers, staring you down with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Just.. Because you’re acting like you don’t feel well.” You explain. “One of the books I recently started reading states that Xaqal people instinctively start to turn towards solitude when they become unwell.” You state, and he sighs, pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah well, I’m not like those examples you have in your books.” He denies, turning back towards his task. “I feel fine. I just like being alone.”

“Oh.” You just say, before you nod, and move towards your strange.. setup in the middle of the of the rather small spaceship right across his navigation panel, to move everything out the way and into a more secluded corner. This however seems to irritate him- eyes staring at what you’re doing, fur on his tail slowly standing up to give it a puffy appearance, a reaction he cannot control, body a lot more open about his feelings than he is with his words.

“What’re you doing?” He questions, clearly upset.

“I- You said you like being alone. So I want to give you space?” You explain, and he hates that it makes sense. It makes sense that you should give him space if he likes being alone so much- but he also doesn’t want you to be so far away where he can barely notice you. But he also doesn’t want to confuse you any further, because frankly, he doesn’t really know what he wants and what he prefers now either- so how are you supposed to know?

“I can stay if you like?” You ask, though the hesitation and slight confusion is clear in your tone. He gets ready to wave you off-

But he nods. Because even though he can’t explain it, he wants you to stay within his reach.

“Okay.” You nod, sitting a bit away from him now, before you think- something he picks up on.

“What is it?” He asks, and you look at him with something in your eyes that’s dangerous- most likely because you’re probably unaware you’re even doing this to him.

“Could I.. could I maybe have something to take notes with?” You ask, before you further clarify. “so that I can understand you better.” You say, and he can’t help but stare at you for a moment, dumbfounded.

Yes. Of course you can. Anything you fucking want-

“Sure..” he mumbles out, before he occupies himself again, tail curling around himself protectively as he hides his face behind his hair. “just.. remind me next time we stop.” He says to himself mostly, and you nod, even though he can’t see that.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say, before you move to pick up your book again-

That sweet tone of yours still echoing in his head long after you stopped talking.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

When he opens his eyes, he’s... home?

He remembers this field. Thousands of flowers, their heart-shaped, red leaves large and covered in drops of morning dew. He knows he’s dreaming right away, because this field no longer exists like this. It’s long been destroyed in order to build more factories- but he remembers his mother and father taking him and all the other ‘siblings’ he had throughout his childhood there. He always enjoyed just laying there amongst the slightly fruity scented flowers, simply staring up at the skies, trying to make out what shapes the clouds might be trying to display this time.

It’s nice that he’s dreaming about this, every now and then. Like a comfort-dream, haunting him softly whenever he feels.. Left alone.

Left behind.

He can hear something, from the left. His head turns, and he spots you- wearing a simple white gown, no shoes or jewelry, even your collar no longer there. You look free, completely unbound to anything as you run around chasing the few fluttering insects that swarm around you, butterflies with long tails, circling around your body like their dancing with you.

You’re really pretty. And in a dream like this, he doesn’t need to look away- he can stare at you however long he likes, taking you in for once.

Once you spot him, you make your way over to where he’s laying down, sitting close to him in the sea of flowers. You don’t say anything, and he likes it that way- words aren’t really needed here in his dream. He just wants to feel your company, even while it’s just his imagination, wants to just be himself without the world expecting the opposite, or worse yet, shaming him for such needs. It’s a gentle moment, nothing but serenety for a while as you sit next to him and take the scenery in around you. It’s obvious that you’re curious, and he wonders why you don’t ask to have things explained.

Your home must be very different. But then again- are you even a human born on planet earth?

It could be. And if you are, he wonders what earth looked like to you when you grew up there. He wonders how long you had until you inevitably became nothing but a wandering body, seeking some sense of purpose no matter what kind. Thinking about it now, he’s glad you’re with him. Who knows what else might’ve become of you if you’d gotten picked up by someone else.

“Yoongi?”

The moment his head snaps up, he realizes that he didn’t just dream- he daydreamed of all things, having gotten lost in the memories of last night’s actual dream while waiting for you to finally emerge from the doctor’s office. “Sorry it took so long- it took longer since you told them to do a full check-up.” You explain, giving the paperwork to him. He takes the papers after looking over them for just a second, before he looks at you.

“Everything good?” He asks, short as ever- and you nod, with a happy smile on your face. That reaction alone convinces him that you’re telling the truth, and aren’t just trying to pacify him by claiming to be alright.

Still- he will take a look at them more in depth later on.

As you both start walking through the neon-lit streets of the relatively new planet, you pass quite a few stores- one of them selling clothes that catch his eye. A comfortable, white sundress and next to it a functional bodysuit clearly made for both comfort and safety during interplanetary travel- and he stops, making you in turn stop as well to check why he’s no longer moving. He points at the faceless mannequins, but doesn’t say anything- yet still, you appear to understand.

“You’re right. That might be good for future travels.” You nod, before your face falls. “Oh- but.. That's too expensive. Could you.. I mean, would it be okay if you gave me 200? I’ll give them back to you-” You start, but he just sighs, and enters the store with you running after him.

“Go see if they have your size.” He instructs you, shamelessly also observing which you one you pick just for future reference.

While he’s waiting, you’re trying on the functional bodysuit- for a moment enjoying the new fabric and comfortable fit, while also letting the feeling of being cared for envelop you. Yoongi is a really nice person, even though he often corrects you on that. You’re not quite sure why, if its just an act of protection or if he genuinely believes in his own claims- but to you, personally, he’s a very kind man.

A bit rough around the edges, but nothing too harsh.

When you emerge from the changing rooms again, it’s with a little happy jump in every step; happy about your newfound favorite item of clothing, which will both make traveling a lot more comfortable, and make you feel a lot better about yourself. It’s a bit of proof that Yoongi seems to think about keeping you around long-term, and you like the idea of a permanent ‘home’ a lot.

Though, when you move to pay for it, Yoongi simply nods you towards him, pointing to a bag he already has in his hand. “I paid for it.” He says, and you can’t help but feel caught off guard by it for a moment, before you reluctantly put the folded clothing into the bag where something white is already waiting. “Are you hungry?” He asks, as you both exit the store, not quite looking at you, but making it still clear that he’s got you in his peripheral vision at any time, just to make sure you won’t get lost.

One more of those subtle hints that he looks after you, in one way or another.

You shake your head in honestly, because you genuinely don’t feel like you need to eat anything at the moment. It’s a rare new feeling you have these days, no longer every going thirsty or hungry to bed. He provides for you, and you in return try and become someone who can provide for him as well- so that he can always find a use in you, and never starts to feel like you’re a nuisance.

You want a permanent home. And yoongi feels like be could be just that.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You lied to him.

He’s reading your paperwork you got from the doctor’s office, ship now having taken off again, giving him a good time to take a proper look at the check-up data he’s received. And while you told him that everything is alright, he’s stumbled upon a few notes in your paperwork that make it clear that it’s actually not. It’s nothing life-threatening, absolutely not- but it is something that he has to be aware of.

Are you scared of him finding out? Scared he’ll just discard you like a cheap slave? And if so- has something happened to you before that would warrant such a fear?

Maybe he’s too intimidating after all. Maybe he needs to be.. Just a little softer with you. But he also doesn’t want to pamper you, or cause you to feel too comfortable around- because you need some fear in you to survive. You won’t survive if you’re ever separated somewhere, and he doesn’t want to lose you.

He invested, after all. Not just money. Yeah, that’s exactly why. No other reason at all.

His dreams still won’t let him go whenever he rests. You invade them constantly, and the scenarios he manifests in his sleep become more and more.. inappropriate, so to speak. He’s not sure if it’s simple natural need or something deeper- but he knows he can’t act on it, can’t just use you like that. He also doesn’t like the thought of visiting any of the adult entertainment houses on any planet he comes across; not because he’s in any way ashamed of himself or his desire, but simply because he sees an act like that as something intimate. He’s had his fill of meaningless get-togethers when he was younger, wild and with the need to prove something to himself.

He doesn’t like the thought any longer. He craves something permanent, something stable.

Could you provide that? Possibly a new exchange? Part of the contract, so to speak. He shakes off the thought of it however, feeling a shudder run down his spine just not from cold or the thought of you ever feeling like you need to appease him no matter the cost just for your own wellbeing- but because of your hand, right on his neck, brushing over it in a gentle way.

He turns around, but you just sheepishly look at him. “there was some dust- sorry, I’ll ask before I touch you next time.” You apologize, while his tail wraps around his waist. Why is he feeling uneasy now?

“Its.. fine.” He mumbles. “as long as it’s just you.” He offers- though when you stay silent, and he looks up because of that, he spots something that’ll stay in his mind for weeks no doubt.

You’re shy. It’s obvious from the shape of your eyes and your slightly parted lips. You nod, silently, before you answer.

“I- Yes. Okay.” You agree. “You can uh- you know. Touch me too. I don’t mind, as long as, like you said.. it’s you.” You admit, looking down at his shoes. It’s quiet for a good moment or two, silent thoughts running through both of your heads, and its obvious you still want to say something else in addition- but you don’t. Because it’s him who speaks first, almost without his control.

It’s like the words fall from his lips before he can stop them- though so strong and thick like syrup that he can’t just keep it in his head.

“Thats good- I don’t like sharing.” He speaks, before he attempts to look busy looking at the navigation panel in front of him.

“yoongi?” You ask, a little timid in your tone. “What.. is there something on your mind?” You ask, but he shakes his head.

“No.” He denies.

“Then.. am I bothering you?” You question, but again, his answer is the same.

“No.” He repeats. “Why are you asking that?” He wonders, looking at you again.

“I’m not sure but.. you just seem distracted lately.” You tell him. “and uh.. whenever you drift off, you look at me, or at least my direction. So I just thought.. it might have something to do with me.” You explain your thoughts, making him sigh.

Of course. To be fair, he wasn’t very subtle about things.

“I don’t know.” He offers you. “I’m going to be fair- I do have you on my mind. I just.. don’t know why, and in what nature.” He tells you, and you sit down on the floor close by- something he shakes his head at, as he instead pats a part of his table in front of him that’s free of any cluttered important equipment. You take the invitation, mostly because you’ve never really been this close to him. Once you sit on the smooth surface, feet no longer touching the floor, your leg easily brushes against his as he leans back in his chair.

“What do you mean, in what nature?” You wonder, and he tilts his head a bit in thought.

“I’m not sure if it’s just hormones or lust, or something more complicated.” He bluntly reveals.

“Oh.”

There’s a good moment of silence yet again, where he watches you chew your lip a bit, deep in thought, before you speak up once more. “I-“ you seem a bit hesitant, though you continue the moment he nods in encouragement. “I want you to know that, whenever I’m, you know, nice to you, I’m not doing it just because you’re technically my boss.” You say. “I’m doing it because.. Well, because it’s you.” You say. "I believe you deserve being nice to.” You offer.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Yoongi sighs, as he crosses his arms almost defensively- though you can spot the slightest twitch in the corners of his lips. “But.. I’ll remember that.” He says, before he adds another sentence that sounds awfully soft compared to his usual tone-

“And I hope you’ll remember that I’ll do the same for you.”

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He feels a lot lighter now knowing you know what's going on with him.

It's obvious that he still doesn't know what he really thinks of you- but he's noticed that it doesn't seem to bother you at all. He's quite relieved to see that your behavior or view on him hasn't changed at all- if anything, you seem to be more at ease than ever before, openly trusting in his abilities to provide whatever you might need. You no longer walk after him like a shadow or slave; instead you walk ahead even, eagerly taking in the scenery of the new planet you've stopped on.

"You wanna have some?" Asks an elderly woman with a scar over her cheeks and eye, while she watches you look at the steaming bowls of food she has prepared at her little spot. "Hm.. get your K'shar here, you look hungry." She says, pointing to your collar- and you're unsure what she means.

So you instantly look for Yoongi, who walks closer.

"Here." He offers an appropriate amount of money, though the woman gives him a confused look.

"You work for him?" She asks you, and you nod- making her chuckle as she shakes her head, but offers two bowls to Yoongi. "I'd doubt you but you smell the same. S' he treating you good?" She wonders, and you don't even need to think before you nod.

"Very." You say.

"Thats what counts. Don't let those rats in the cities put mud in your brain. He's good if he treats you good." She tells you, and you accept it with a thanks, though you're not sure why she said it.

It's only as you walk towards the Inn you'll be staying at, that you speak up about it.

"Why does everyone seem to think I have it bad with you?" You wonder, and Yoongi shrugs.

"Because my kind tends to be the slave, not the master." He simply explains to you, while he scans the entrance with a device in his hand, so the door opens. "Thats just how it is."

"I can't imagine you in my spot." You shake your head, carefully carrying the food as you walk up the stairs to your room- Number 374, as he'd told you when you arrived here.

"Why not?" He asks, opening the door for you to walk through.

"Cause you're.. wild. I'm not sure how else to explain." You say. "You do your own thing." You shrug, setting down the food before you sit on the large bed- the only, you notice.

"I'll take it as a compliment." He says, as he sits down at the tiny desk where you had put down the food earlier. "Now come here. Let's eat." He commands- though it's more offered than demanded.

The moment you sit down across from him, and begin to eat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, that is, until you hear something you haven't really.

He chuckles.

"You don't have to force yourself." He teases almost. "Go to bed. I'll clean up." He offers you, and you nod, grateful, before you simply walk to the bed to throw yourself in it- not moving at all after that, too exhausted from the long trip.

So, just before he cleans up, you can feel a blanket being placed over your body-

Another gesture so kind that you can't help but wonder what could be, only if things were just a little different.

If only he would start to be a bit more.. Unprofessional.

[feyd-meowtha]

So I saw Dune 2 the other day and obviously I loved it but I have so many thoughts on why the look and characterisations of the Harkonnens (and especially Feyd) actually took a lot of the complexity and interest out of the characters and the house in general.

Like I've been saying it since the first film but the decision to make them so bald and monochrome and almost alien looking really undermines the eventual point (which they do stress in the second movie) that the Atreides and the Harkonnens are the same family. There is no house Harkonnen Vs house Atreides really because they're all related and doing essentially exactly the same thing as one another (with an 'honourable' coat of paint on the part of the Atreides.)

Having the harkonnens be so visually distinct and inhuman looking muddies that point a whole lot. Like in the book Jessica, the baron and alia all share the visual tell of that copper hair and that link is so much visually weaker in the movies.

I totally understand why they did it, it's already complicated enough for the viewers to keep track of the houses and characters and the bleak harkonnens aesthetic makes that easier. Don't get me wrong, there are aspects of the look that I really like and I think it would have been great to incorporate some of that dark, brutalist aesthetic without going quite so far to dehumanise them. But yeah.

And that's without even mentioning the changes to Feyd Rauthas character that, for me, really go against the whole point of his being a foil to Paul. In the new movies theyve seemingly gone in for him being the anti-paul in that he is totally amoral and viscerally cruel and ambitious but in the books I always saw it much more as him being very similar to Paul, his fate just being what would have happened to Paul if he was put in the same position. They've both been bred for the same date, but Paul was raised by a loving family while Feyd was taken from his (more on the parents thing being changed in another post) and cared for by a pedophile, a sadist and a brother who hates him and killed his parents. That'll fuck you up for sure, and is a much more interesting point of comparison that just making him a 'sociopath'. I will explain all of this better in another post maybe.

I just feel like it was a missed opportunity to present another side of the 'young person pushed into fucked up role' thing that was flattened a lot by the edgy psychopath angle they went for. And that's without removing the poison angle from his character and making his driving motivation honour which could not be further from the truth.

Gonna have to write some fuckin fic to straighten this out that's for sure.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i do feel sad sometimes that i didn't have any access to english folk trads when i was growing up. i got into irish folk stuff as a tween in part because that was the only sort of folk i really knew about; i didn't have many local musicians to learn from so i got it from youtube and clannad CDs. as an adult most of the folk that's available to me is actually scottish, even though i'm a very long way from scotland, just due to the vibes of where i live. when i play sessions in donegal i don't have the same tunes as people there but i don't have english ones either, i've mostly got scottish ones and there's nothing wrong with that but it's also not grounded in any of the communities i'm actually a member of. there's something about having to borrow it from elsewhere because your own communities have become disconnected that DOES feel alienating

my parents are classically trained (though not musicians by profession) so i grew up with a lot of music but none of it was trad – i played in youth orchestras and wind bands and pit orchs for musicals. they didn't have any interest in folk music even though i know my paternal grandad did play it because i have his "fiddler's tunebook" from 1953 (i never met my paternal grandad though, he died before i was born). it would have made a difference if they did, i think, but our area didn't really have any folk going on, so maybe not that much difference unless they were keen enough to travel for it. they always thought of it as faintly embarrassing, though. when i got into irish music my family referred to it as "diddly diddly music", but in general it would be a lot more socially acceptable to say you do irish dance than to confess to being a clog dancer

but i think a huge part of it is also a class thing. the middle class classical musicians vs the peasant folk musicians, the highly trained dancers in studios vs the everyman in the pub in his boots... there's been a lot of social mobility in my family history and a couple of generations back they were a lot poorer so maybe that's why the folk got left behind as a remnant of those years

and i wonder if that's maybe at the root of a lot of english weirdness about folk traditions. like modern competitive irish dancing as we know it is basically the invention of the gaelic league and a lot of its distinctive features, such as the upright upper body, were specifically constructed to distinguish it from the more relaxed "peasant" styles and to make it a socially acceptable and sophisticated form of national heritage etc etc (catherine foley has an interesting book on the history of it if you want more on that). and this was obviously largely a response to colonisation. the same didn't really happen to the music tho. and the english, as the colonisers, had nothing to defend their heritage against, so that's part of why so much of it got lost, but also never elevated it from being the tradition of working people and peasants and whatever. and the english are SO weird about class (as something quite distinct from income/wealth) so of course folk music and dance would often get pushed aside in favour of ballet and classical music as the acceptably middle class arts, and therefore the folk trads get relegated to an embarrassing footnote that you don't admit to participating in in polite company (read: middle class company)

dunno. some sociologists and ethnomusicologists have probably written about this in more depth and with actual data and better wording. i'm just musing on my own experiences and observations

[nerdsbianhokie]

Decided to do @queerliblib s summer bingo cause I like reading and ticking boxes.

The rainbow books are spaces I already have a book in my immediate to-read pile, so I can track what I will fill in for sure.

List of books I've read below the cut

Format switch: The Rainbow Parade by Emily Neilson, read in a read along formet.

This one was tricky cause I cannot read ebooks, no matter how much I try. So, I figured I'd go for something shorter and saw that they have read along books and decided to go with that. It's a cute little story that my conservative brother would not want to read to his child and that's a massive win.

Stonewall Award winner: The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

This has been sitting on my shelf for months and I read it in one sitting this morning. I really liked it, but it's another tick in the 'most young adult stories don't do it for me anymore' colomn, which if very long if i'm honest. Do recomend.

Memoir: All Boys Aren't Blue by George M. Johnson

A memoir about growing up black and gay. The voice was really good, and enhanced because it was read by the author.

Book with a Protagonist Older than 40: How Y'all Doing by Leslie Jordan

Focus of a memoir is the protagonist, right? Imma say it is. I've never been into instagram and such, so I didn't see Leslie Jordan's contant beyond what filtered to tumblr, but knew enough about him to be interested. A genuinly funny read, and he narrated it so well in the audio book.

Queer non-fiction: The Women's House of Detention: A Queer History of a Forgotten Prison by Hugh Ryan

An interesting and difficult read. Really highlights the cruelty of the criminal legal system and how pivitol it is to the queer community in New York.

Indigenous Author: This Town Sleeps by Dennis E. Staples

An interesting quick read. The audio book made switching POVs confusing at times, but not enough to really pull me out of the story. I adore the dog's name and the reason behind it.

Genre fiction: The Route of Ice and Salt by José Luis Zárate and translated by David Bowles

A retelling of the journey of The Demeter from Dracula, from the pov of the gay captain. Very literary and very good.

Comic, manga, or graphic novel: Anne: An Adpatation of Anne of Green Gables (Sort Of) by Kathleen Gros

I started another book for this one, but couldn't get into it, then I saw this one while browsing the library on libby and was hooked. A quick, easy read and very sweet. I love this version of Anne and the ways the original book events are adapted.

Set in the past: The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow

Such a good read. I love the small bits of world building done through the differences in tales and rhymes we have today. Each character is very distinct and I would die for James Juniper.

Coming of age: The Western Alienation Merit Badge by Nancy Jo Cullen

tbh, I had no real idea what to expect with this one, probably more connections to merit badges. Really got into it and very emotional at points.

Main character doesn't share an identity with you: Melissa by Alex Gino

I've heard of this one, obviously, but never read it. It's very cute and I really enjoyed it.

Queer Picture book: Let Me Out: a pop-out about coming out! by Omis Razavi

Got this one through their crowdfunding years ago. It's great

Do a subject heading search to find a book: The Trees Grew Because I Bled There: Collected Stories by Eric LaRocca

I searched horror and found this one. Some of the stories are better than others, and the writing style made it a little hard for me to get into some of them, but very good overall.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Introduction

Once, the study of ‘primitive money’ – shell currencies, feather currencies, wampum, Fijian whale teeth, Tiv iron bars, and so forth – was the stock and trade of economic anthropology. In recent decades there’s been almost nothing written on the subject. James Carrier’s otherwise comprehensive Handbook of economic anthropology (2010) not only considers the matter not worth a chapter, it contains not a single mention of wampum, or trade beads, anywhere in the book. We don’t even know what to call such items any more. ‘Primitive currencies’ or ‘primitive valuables’ will obviously no longer do; French economists who propose to re-label them ‘paleo-moneys’ (Servet 1981, 1982) or even ‘savage money’ (Rospabe´ 1995) are hardly better. Akin and Robbins’ (1999) decision, when dealing with traditional money-forms in Melanesia, to use the term ‘local currencies’ (as opposed to state ones), while at least not obviously offensive, seems an obvious a place-holder, something to use until a better term comes up.

One reason it’s hard to come up with better terminology is that there’s no consensus on what, if anything, actually makes a string of Indian Ocean trade beads, or California woodpecker scalps, different from a shekel or a pound. Is it something in the nature of the object? Or is it a matter of the kind of transactions in which it is used? Or is it the conceptual apparatus, the cosmological assumptions, the notions of value, surrounding it? Or, alternately, are we just looking at a meaningless default category, where the term ‘primitive currencies’ is applied to any widely circulating valuable that is not used primarily for commercial purposes?

I would like to propose a solution. The key distinction here is between currencies that are used primarily to further the exchange of material goods, and those primarily used to transform social relationships. The first can be referred to as commercial currencies, because even though they may be used for social purposes, their primary purpose is seen to lie in buying, selling, renting or otherwise disposing of alienable property. The second should best be referred to as ‘social currencies’. They may also be used to buy and sell material goods (often they are, but not always), but their primary purpose is seen to lie in arranging marriages, resolving conflicts, consoling mourners, making treaties, assembling followers for military expeditions or competitive feasts, making gifts or rewarding services. For this reason, I also propose to call those economic systems in which social currencies predominate ‘human economies’. I must emphasise (much though I really shouldn’t have to) that this is not because they are necessarily more humane, in the sense of less brutal, more caring, than impersonal market economies. Some certainly are; others are extraordinarily brutal and destructive. What distinguishes human economies is merely that they recognise that the chief business of any social system – or, indeed, of any system of the production and distribution of material goods – is the creation and mutual fashioning of human beings. Indeed, one could well argue that it’s only the emergence of commercial currencies that made it possible to imagine an ‘economy’ in the sense we are used to using it today at all – that is, an autonomous domain of human activity primarily concerned with creating and allocating material possessions, and not primarily about the creation of people and social relations – let alone, see how people behave within that domain as a model for human aims and aspirations more generally. Historically, the endless repetition of the ‘myth of barter’ has played a key role in making it possible to imagine that such an autonomous sphere of activity exists, and, of course, of creating the institutional arrangements that could make it possible.

[gaylittleguys]

2024 movie recap

New watches:

2024 releases:

I Saw The TV Glow: AUGH. Amazing. Definitely top movie of the year. Heartbreaking and gutwrenching, stunningly beautiful and extremely hitting all the boxes of things I love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie that captures the feeling of suffocating in yourself that this does. Had to get it on dvd though I have yet to prepare myself to rewatch it… haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw it in July.

Smile 2: ACTUALLY really really good! I didn’t really like the first one (which I watched the day before seeing this) but 2 is LEAGUES better. Really makes use of the premise and is scary and unsettling AND has some really sick practical effects!

Cuckoo: I really liked this. I didn’t see a lot of talk about it, though. It was weird and PLEASE watch it without looking anything up. I went in pretty much blind and it was great. Hunter Schafer is amazing and we should get Dan Steven’s to play more unsettling European creeps

Abigail: Dan Stevens again lmao. This was really really fun it was everything it needed to be! Watch this vampire child attack the fun cast of characters!

The Wild Robot: sooooo cute 😭 such a gorgeous movie too. I cried most of the way thought it (positive) (bc it was very cute) aughhh the robot learning emotions got me augghhhhh noooo

Dune 2: I actually didn’t like it as much as the first half, but that’s also a pretty high bar to be fair. Stunning movie.

New to me:

Brazil: wow! Definitely taking a lot of inspiration from 1984, this has such an interesting intricate world. Not as ‘weird’ as I had been told, but definitely a surreal dystopian journey.

Dark City: I have no idea how I hadn’t heard of this movie until this year??? I loved it, such a strange distinct style, and the kind of weird story I like. Near the ending I think it wasn’t quite as strong as the rest of it, but really good!! Check it out!!

Silence of the lambs: watched for the first time somehow. I did really like it, it’s extremely well acted, and sickeningly tense. It’s objectively a really amazing movie, definitely worth its status as a classic. But. It’s really hard to ignore how much it pushed real life transphobia which adds another layer onto an already difficult watch.

(Sillay) anthology horror: Campfire Tales, The Monster Club, and Creepshow. Apparently I’d seen some of Campfire Tales before?? It was silly, very campy (ha) very much the caliber of stories told around a campfire. Monster Club was unique, the in-between story was a lot more memorable than the actual tales, much help from Vincent Price. I LOVED Creepshow, it was 100% up my alley and was such a treat, a really fun homage to old horror comics.

2024 was the year of Alien a bit lol, watched the rerelease of the original in theatres for my birthday, which was fantastic. Watched both Prometheus and Covenant in a weekend while sick, and Romulus as well. I don’t think Prometheus deserves the dislike it got, Covenant was pretty bad (except for the little chestburster guy) and Romulus was fun and had some excellent practical effects.

The Exorcist (1973) and The Pope’s Exorcist double feature was a blast, I think The Exorcist would have hit better at the time or if I was more religious, but I liked it. The Pope’s Exorcist was a BLAST however it was very fun and kind of bad and I do keep telling people about the Catholic Avengers ending and the funniest sequel bait I’ve ever seen

Redline kicked ass what a fun movie and just stunning to look at. Lu Over The Wall was so so good too, I loved how gloopy the animation was.

Nimona was honestly kind of disappointing for me :( I was definitely holding it to the book which I loved and was rly important to me as a teen. It was cute and would have probably been better if I didn’t have something to compare it to, but honestly it felt a little toothless? I wanted to like it a lot more than I did. Rip goldenloin’s hair too 😔

Cursed and Wild Country: my only 2 werewolf movies this year :( I’m falling behind… Cursed had the bones of a good movie, you can really tell it was screwed over by the studio. The sfx are great and the werewolf suit is fantastic, but they ditch it to use ugly cgi or just have the werewolves in human form 😔 Wild Country was fun in a kind of bad way! The werewolves look kinda like boars? Bears??

The Sudbury Devil and The VVitch: New England religious horror lets gooooo. The Witch was great, loved the sense of atmosphere, and it was really immersed in the time in a way that’s rare to see. The Sudbury Devil was definitely trying really hard, but I don’t think it quite achieved its aims. It’s disorienting in a confusing way, not a surreal way, and it doesn’t feel as grounded in the time somehow, although I do like its commitment to period accurate pronunciations! A strange watch.

Barbarian: REALLY good. Nauseating horror. Didn’t know much before going in and I think that was a good choice!

Donnie Darko: was ok. Seemed like it was Trying to be really smart without reeeaaallllyyyyy saying anything smart. Was expecting it to be weirder than it was.

Blue Velvet: 4th times the charm on finishing this lmao. I did like it, but not as much as Lynch’s other work I’ve seen.

Singing in the rain: this one’s a classic for a reason!!!! It’s great!!

DnD delayed double feature: Dungeons and Dragons (2000) was uh. A journey. I actually would not really recommend it as it was stretching even a so-bad-it’s-good watch with friends. I don’t know why a dnd movie is seemingly so allergic to having anything dnd-ish in it. Not even Jeremy Irons as the villain and his strange blue lipped henchman could save this. The cast of heroes are completely forgettable and contribute somehow basically nothing to the plot. #ripSnails. HOWEVER, the new one, which I’ve seen before, is great!! Really fun to watch again with my dnd group. :)

Legend: what the fuck. Just check this out. How’d this get made. What’s going on.

Honourable horror mentions: Tucker and Dale vs Evil, Bloody Valentine, High Life, Infinity Pool, The Others

Rewatches:

The Green Knight: yesssss my beloved green knight ❤️ bought the special dvd for this this year. The people I know have seen this are pretty split on it, but I love it.

Jaws my angel ❤️

The Thing my love ❤️

Dead Poets Society: hadn’t seen this since I saw it in high school, still heartbreaking. What a good movie.

The Last Unicorn: didn’t really like this as a kid, but I hadn’t seen it for a while. It’s soo pretty. I really loved it on this rewatch.

[swadloom]

I love the d&d outer planes they would be so good if they didn't SUCK!! Anyways here's a nerdy and very personally opinioned ramble about them from a guy who's barely gotten to DM before, mostly just based on what I know from the DMG. If there's any stories that do something more interesting with them I'd like to hear about it!! I have no idea where some wikis are getting the rest of their lore lmao

The main ones like the 9 Hells, Celestia, Mechanus etc are good settings but the ones in-between alignments are just like. Really empty-feeling from what I've read of them?? The only ones I like that much in their base worldbuilding is the Beastlands and Gehenna, and besides that like. What plot hooks and adventures could you make out of Acheron. They work as worldbuilding for the most part, but have so much wasted potential as settings to explore in the corners of the universe

The good-neutral ones (Arcadia & Ysgard) versus the neutral-evil ones (Acheron & Pandemonium) just don't feel that neutral-aligned? They're both very nice/bad places. In fact Carceri seems more Lawful Evil than Chaotic Evil, and vice-versa for Acheron, from what little we're given from them. Honestly I just think the base books don't have many well written Neutral monsters and settings alike tbh.

Which gets into Limbo. I know lots of people like the concept behind Limbo but I feel like you could make Elemental Chaos the exact same thing. It's nowhere near as distinct as Mechanus, and also I love the design and concept of the Slaadi but they are NOT the embodiment of Chaotic Neutral they should be (I promise I don't usually take alignment that seriously I just think their role in the planes is potentially interesting yk TvT). Personally I like reflavoring Limbo as a surreal alien infested void that spoots out new, highly volatile critters for no reason that don't look like living things, and could mess up the order of the world if they create something especially law-defying.

I may be biased since I don't like the Abyss aesthetic much, but I really don't like how they're supposed to be Devils opposites as infinite creatures without hirearchy!! Then the book tells you the hierarchy they follow anyways. GUAH. They should be more varied and customizable like humanoids are right? Opposed to Devils being molded to whatever form Hell needs to serve Hell's hirearchy, no two Demons are the same brand of evil. Mine are inspired by Journey to the West type demons: they have similar broad weaknesses and abilities but their personalities are all distinct, they're out for themselves, and they tend to have one special skill.

Stuff like those who go to the Nine Hells or the Abyss presumably becoming fiends but few other planes having unique creatures to them is just kinda weird. Like some of these just don't make sense as afterlives like they're said to be, and I think having distinct inhabitants of each plane would make them work better. Imagine the type of person who tows the line between chaotic neutral and evil filling up Pandemonium and what kind of creature their spirits would be, or what kinds of celestials occupy Chaotic Good Arborea, there's some fun stuff there! Also im a little gayboy who likes it when heaven is weird about free will in stories and I want more Lawful creatures following that pattern like Angels and Modrons do with more Chaotic ones as foils you get me

Uh yea that was my dumb lil planes rant, they're one of my favorite things to use in game settings just building off the concepts but I usually add a whole bunch first. I've been planning to draw some of my ideas for planar entities too (like Acheron being where tragic heroes and vengeful spirits fight in perpetual Kill Bill fashion or Pandemonium having coral guys who fuse and unfuse into monstrosities over and over. There's POTENTIAL guys. hough)

[nostalgebraist]

Thank you for this. Some (spoiler-free) reactions:

I think this is ultimately why I stuck with Almost Nowhere despite struggling to follow many aspects of the plot (while I lost too much motivation only a dozen or so chapters into HPMoR): I felt like I was being taken somewhere and was able to enjoy where it was taking me. The whole novel felt like a slightly surreal dream and an escape to a far vaster space than the one I inhabit in real life.

This is exactly what I was aiming for, so it's good to hear I hit the mark! A lot of my favorite books feel this way, and it's an effect I strive to produce in my own writing.

Almost Nowhere is the most cerebral fiction-writing I've ever read [...] Almost Nowhere, on the other hand, took me on a vast, sweeping journey, where an even greater proportion [relative to HPMoR] of the scenes carry a colder, more dispassionately intellectual ambience, where moments of raw emotional intimacy are rather few and far between but are far better written when they do occur.

While I don't exactly find this reaction surprising, it's interestingly different from how the book feels to me.

There's a lot of emotion in AN. Some of the pivotal plot points involve emotionally-driven decisions; we spend a lot of time watching the characters and wallowing in their angsts and anxieties; and in the later parts of the story there's simply a lot of ranting, rhapsodizing, emotional dialogue of all kinds.

But I might have a distorted impression of how much this shapes the feel of the story for ordinary readers, for reasons like:

I have the luxury of totally understanding what's happening when it happens, which the reader generally doesn't (and shouldn't). If a scene doesn't entirely make sense except in light of later information, that takes you out of the moment.

The story contains a lot of descriptions of emotion, but that's not the same thing as emotional immediacy for the reader. Like everything else in AN, this stuff is always partially hidden behind some sort of smokescreen; you're always made to feel like you're peering in on something alien, something we can't take at face value, something that is "not for us" (as the refrain in the book goes).

And I made this connection the most during Part 2 of Almost Nowhere, recalling that the fictional novel TNC is explained to have a sort of middle "lucid section" made of vignettes which mostly consist of coherent dialog but in which the characters have different relationships than they did at the outset (i.e. in TNC the two main characters who were siblings now appear to be married). I felt sort of drawn toward experiencing the journey that TNC would take me along, particularly the middle lucid section part just consisting of little dialog scenes, and I felt like in a way I got some version of that through Part 2 of Almost Nowhere.

That's pretty cool! I had not made that connection before. Glad I could give you an unexpectedly "reading TNC"-like experience.

The idea that we eventually get to see the characters get together and write the book that we are now reading doesn't seem original to this work of fiction, but I can't think precisely where I've seen it anywhere else, and it was fun. Rob's ability, as shown (to a milder extent) in The Northern Caves to be able to speak and write in very distinct character voices is impressive and maximally showcased here.

Thanks.

Although it wasn't my only reference point, all of the talking-to-the-reader stuff in AN was most directly inspired by the Terra Ignota series. Of particular note is the fact that I read the final book in that series in late 2021, right around the time I started getting serious about AN and dramatically increased my writing pace. As a result, that book heavily influenced AN in a lot of ways.

Azad was a pleasure to read and I had to enjoy the scenes where he was present or narrating

It's funny, Azad has been very divisive.

I've heard multiple people say Azad was their favorite character. And I've heard multiple other people -- roughly the same number of people, I think -- say he's their least favorite element of the book, in some cases even having trouble finishing it specifically because they hated him so much.

(In a way, this is the most flattering outcome from my perspective. If no one loathed Azad except some of his fellow characters, I would be worried I didn't make him loathe-able enough.)

My brief, vague, scattered review of Almost Nowhere

Welp, I finished it, all 1079 pages of it. (Really 1077 pages with the first and last essentially acting as a front and back cover.) As the book is of an unwieldy length and I don't have much time or brainpower at the moment, this post is going to comment on just some aspects of it. Also, as I never managed to gain anything close to mastery of exactly how the plot worked, most of this is going to be vague and avoid discussions of the plot events, character decisions or traits, or anything that specific really. I think a couple of people wrote spoilery reviews; I don't feel very capable of this (nor of giving a very good description of the novel to someone else at a level of concreteness that they would reasonable expect.)

So, I would say no concrete spoilers to follow, and only a couple of quite vague ones.

I noted this in other posts written while I was in the midst of the novel, but I have to say it again because it's one of the most pertinent parts of my experience reading this: Almost Nowhere is the most cerebral fiction-writing I've ever read (with the possible exception of the few chapters of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality that I've read), on just about every level including narrative style, plot mechanics, and the ideas and themes explored -- there are even occasional fictional-scientific lectures inserted from time to time (which I found quite enjoyable actually)! More generally, the writing just screams of sheer IQ points both on the part of the author and on the part of the expected audience, in the use of a dazzling vocabulary as much as the elaborate plot and fictional-scientific situations one has to keep track of the characters being in. (It's interesting to note, though, that the cast of characters is actually quite modest, perhaps the fewest I've ever seen for a novel of this size: the complexity of the plot doesn't arise from a complexity of relationships among characters but from a distorted timeline and an array of alternate-reality situations.)

For this reason, I can't help but continue to compare this work to what I've read of Eliezer Yudkowsky, who similarly exudes sheer IQ and writes with an unabashedly cerebral style. Rob (the author, Tumblr-user Nostalgebraist) may not care much for the comparison, since as far as I know he doesn't align himself with Yudkowsky's rationalist movement or consider himself particularly in sympathy with Yudkowsky's worldview. But, while I have very little experience with Yudkowsky's fiction-writing (the main thing I've read of his is the Sequences), my impression is that their fiction is extremely different, that Yudkowsky's fiction comes across as just a transparent "mouthpiece" for his rationalist views and ideas, and that Yudkowsky has far less talent for fictional narrative. HPMoR (or what I've read of it) gives me an interesting plot and characters and makes me think about rationalist-y ideas in a direct, easy-to-follow way. Truly emotional non-cerebralness is actually pretty frequent in HPMoR but conveyed in a way I recall finding rather awkward. Almost Nowhere, on the other hand, took me on a vast, sweeping journey, where an even greater proportion of the scenes carry a colder, more dispassionately intellectual ambience, where moments of raw emotional intimacy are rather few and far between but are far better written when they do occur.

I think this is ultimately why I stuck with Almost Nowhere despite struggling to follow many aspects of the plot (while I lost too much motivation only a dozen or so chapters into HPMoR): I felt like I was being taken somewhere and was able to enjoy where it was taking me. The whole novel felt like a slightly surreal dream and an escape to a far vaster space than the one I inhabit in real life. Perhaps the feeling of being in a dream enabled my brain not to particularly care about precisely following the intricacies of the plot, as tends to be one's brain state in dreams. Of course, I shouldn't leave this as an implied "excuse" for not doing a good job of following: among the main reasons were intellectual fatigue from the general nature and business of the rest of my life, being a bit too rushed to get through the novel so that I can move to the rest of my reading list, general mental laziness, and, well, a dash of general mental ineptitude I suppose.

Specifically, what I struggled throughout to follow was some of the timeline shenanigans and that paths carved out within them by various individual characters, as well as recalling characters' experiences and motives at different times, and just generally keeping track of the scifi mechanics. I also had a tendency to glaze over some of dense dialogs that were more... I hate to keep using the word cerebral but don't know how else to characterize them... or that were more technical or jargon-filled or sounding like computer coding. Regarding the scifi mechanics, I did enjoy the occasional lengthy "lessons" delivered by characters and mostly followed their teachings but had a tendency to forget many of the finer (but still important) points later on -- for instance, Sylvie's big fictionally-written-lesson chapter at the end was really fun reading and I followed the interesting ideas going on but (even though it was near the end) did have trouble remembering everything in it pretty shortly afterwards.

The fictional-scientific mechanics themselves made for a very interesting elaborate thought experiment, and for the most part they made a lot of sense, as in, some hypothetical universe could work under these mechanics. I'm not sure that keeping vague links between different paths among alternate realities in the form of dreams or nostalgium doesn't seem like a bit of a cheat, but I'd have to think over it more deeply before deciding that, and I liked how it played in the story. I was a bit taken aback near the beginning about the role of Maryam Mirzakhani's fictional-scientific discoveries since as far as I knew Mirzakhani never worked on such things, but I much later realized that the earlier parts of the novel were written when she was still alive and young and potentially able to make discoveries of that nature in the then-future (for those who don't know, she tragically died in the late 2010's at age 40, partway through the writing of Almost Nowhere and shortly after becoming the first woman to get the Fields Medal).

As I've mentioned, the cast of distinguishable characters is very modest for such a huge novel. The characterization of each is on the subtle side, and to some extent I don't think I ever truly got to understand the deepest layers of Grant and Cordelia because I didn't put in the right amount of effort. I expect the only two which are memorable enough to stick with me for years when I look back on reading this are Azad and Sylvie. Azad was a pleasure to read and I had to enjoy the scenes where he was present or narrating -- interestingly he has one major Bad Moment around the middle of the novel in which he behaves in a certain way that earns him a ton of criticism at the time, and then after all the fuss is made it all seems to sort of get forgotten about. I don't know what I'm really supposed to think of him ultimately, but I'll miss his beautifully intellectual soul. Sylvie's scenes, in contrast, are a bit grating to read, but I suspect they're supposed to be. In a way, I know even less how I should feel about him than about Azad: his deepest biases and motives frequently seemed to exist in an occasionally-clashing tension. The bleak cacophony surrounding him is punctuated with sharp humor that I appreciate: he's a bit of dark vortex but he's also such a good boy.

The idea that we eventually get to see the characters get together and write the book that we are now reading doesn't seem original to this work of fiction, but I can't think precisely where I've seen it anywhere else, and it was fun. Rob's ability, as shown (to a milder extent) in The Northern Caves to be able to speak and write in very distinct character voices is impressive and maximally showcased here.

The novel, as Rob pointed out in one of his posts about it, comes with three distinct parts, the second of which distinguishes itself by having chapters numbered in Arabic numerals with chapter titles and is built of scenes with an entirely different flow. This second part was easily my favorite to read and felt more like surreal and placidly dreamlike escapism than any other area of the book. I don't know if anyone else has made comparisons between the fictional-novel-within-the-fiction-novel The Northern Caves (Rob's novel called The Northern Caves is the only other of his that I've read -- and liked a lot -- and its plot revolves around a bizarrely opaque thousand-plus-page novel of the same title), but I couldn't help being reminded of my conception of the fictional novel TNC throughout Almost Nowhere (also a thousand-plus-paged rather difficult novel, with surreal aspects to the narrative and layer upon layer of meaning, even if it doesn't devolve into apparent nonsense partway through). And I made this connection the most during Part 2 of Almost Nowhere, recalling that the fictional novel TNC is explained to have a sort of middle "lucid section" made of vignettes which mostly consist of coherent dialog but in which the characters have different relationships than they did at the outset (i.e. in TNC the two main characters who were siblings now appear to be married). I felt sort of drawn toward experiencing the journey that TNC would take me along, particularly the middle lucid section part just consisting of little dialog scenes, and I felt like in a way I got some version of that through Part 2 of Almost Nowhere.

(This is the most spoilery I'll get:) The final chapter of the novel ends on the point of view of the character who I had forgotten (but soon realized) was the one the very first chapter began on. It felt only fitting to go back to the first part of the first chapter and skim it, to close the loop (so to speak). I was almost never actually emotionally moved by Almost Nowhere exactly, but with the ending-looped-back-to-the-beginning it came close.

I remember when the novel was first finished this past summer, Nostalgebraist made a post discussing the finished product a bit, and I ran into one or two effortposts by other people discussing how they felt about the plot and characters. I didn't want to spoil them at the time, and I didn't want to look for them just after finishing before I wrote my own thing (this post), but I'd like to find them now and would appreciate anyone pointing me to them (I can probably find the Nostalgebraist posts easily enough).

Anyway, it's impressive work Rob, congrats on finishing such a hefty project, and thanks for giving me a unique fiction-reading experience I'll never forget!

[andorerso]

“You’re worth any fight.” pllllsssssss.

Few people would expect this from the calm and collected Captain Andor, but he could be a bit of a brat when he was sick or in pain. Jyn knew this better than anyone. She’d experienced it firsthand a few times during the year they’d known each other.

But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to deal with, especially since she wasn’t exactly known for her patience. When things got hard, she’d always found it easier to just cut her losses and walk away. But that was before, and this was now. For Cassian, she was trying.

Even if sometimes, he seemed intent on pushing her away.

“Could you just leave me alone?” Cassian hissed, leaning against the wall for support, brushing off her helping hand. He’d only gotten up to use the fresher, but he seemed a little unsteady on his feet, and she feared he’d fall over before making it back to bed.

His back was acting up. He hadn’t been sleeping properly for days, and he was tired and cranky and in pain. It’d been over a week now, and it’d gotten so bad that when she forced him to the medbay at last, the meddroids took him off active duty and ordered him to bed rest. Not something that helped his mood, obviously.

She knew it had nothing to do with her, but at the same time, she could feel him getting more and more irritated. No matter how much she tried to soothe him, it only made things worse. It seemed like Cassian didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t want to be cared for, and while she could understand where he was coming from, she just didn’t know what else to do.

When things had been reversed, he stayed by her side. He didn’t let himself be deterred even when she was nasty to him and tried to force him away, and eventually, he broke down her walls. It was an alien experience, to let someone else take care of you, to completely put yourself in their hands and trust them with your life, but if she could do it, so could he. She was determined to wait it out.

“Just leave me,” Cassian continued, not even looking at her now, something darker in his tone. There was a double meaning there that she didn’t like. She knew exactly what he was doing, and she wouldn’t have it.

“No.”

“Jyn –”

“I’ll go if you want to be alone, but I’ll call Kay to make sure you stay put. And even if I go, I’m not leaving you.”

She wanted to make the distinction very clear.

Cassian, of course, understood what she was saying, but he didn’t seem too touched by it. The snort he let out was derisive and mean. “Then you’re a fool.”

Jyn stared at him silently for a second, trying to quell the hurt rising in her chest, reminding herself once again that his behavior wasn’t really about her. It was self-sabotage more than anything, a cry for help. It was a tactic she would have – and did use in the past. Push people away to see if they’d stick around, then gloat darkly when they didn’t. I always knew they wouldn’t stay when things got bad. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Jyn knew all about those.

But Cassian had challenged her views on loyalty and home and family, (I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad. Welcome home.) and she owed it to him to prove the trust he gave her was well-founded.

“Stop it, Cassian Andor,” she said, firm but not unkind. “Look at me.”

He didn’t obey right away, but she waited it out, never taking his eyes off him until he finally lifted his head and faced her. He seemed wary and a little ashamed, holding her gaze but just barely so. It was enough. Looking into his eyes, she could read him like a book.

And she could see it, that underlying dread that she’d indeed leave him. Because of what, his condition? It was a ludicrous thought, yet she understood where his fear was coming from. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have similar fears sometimes. If he was anything like her, he was probably thinking that he’d rather push her away and end it on his terms than wait it out and be crushed when she abandoned him. He’d rather be in control of the narrative.

That’s what she would do. It was frightening, sometimes, how similar they were.

“I’m not going to leave you,” she repeated, more forceful, and as open and unguarded as she knew to be. “I’ll be by your side through anything.”

“Why?” he asked, a little distrustful. It was, once again, more of a reflection on his feelings about himself than her. Like he couldn’t possibly imagine why she’d stick around for him.

“Because you’re worth any fight. Because I want to. And because I know you’ll be my side too.”

That gave him pause, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mulled it over. Reflecting his feelings for her back at him, reversing their situation and putting him in her shoes always worked best. She knew he wouldn’t be leaving her if she was the injured one, and she knew he couldn’t argue with that either. Sometimes, all he needed was a different perspective.

Slowly, Cassian met her eyes, still a little unsure, but looking for reassurance, looking to believe her.

“It goes both ways,” he said, half a statement, half a question.

The hint of a smile pulled her lips up as she remembered those words. It’d only been a year, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Her life had changed so much since. And only for the better.

She gave him a nod. “Yes. It goes both ways.”

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker, Episode 138

I think it is easy to forget that literally every episode that aired in the year of Our Common Era, 2021, has taken place over the span of *Spurt voice* eleven days. Well. It has. And, indeed, the last seven episodes have covered roughly two days.

The reason this is only about wizard NPCs is because they serve as a sort of audience surrogate in that they are nerds who don't go outside, vs. D&D PCs who see more shit in two to eleven days than most people would see in a lifetime; case in point, Essek's current state of shock. This is also making it very hard to check in with the other wizards. But also this is not about accuracy, even though I am usually right about everything. This is about...honestly I'm not sure, other than wizards.

What I'm trying to say is:

Caleb Widogast is a PC, not an NPC, and is not included in these strange statistics*.

Currently sidelined: Pumat Sol, Oremid Hass, Ludinus Da'leth, Astrid Beck, E_dwulf Grieve

Obligatory self-indulgent Vess Derogna song parody: Tomb....takers, killed you in your room, they’ll end the world soon but hey/you cult wizard, lost in a blizzard, whatever you’ve done, well, murdered, you’ll stay

Trent Ikithon: I am 100% serious that while I have made Narrative Sense In Actual Play Media in the rock on which I will cast my Temple of the Gods, if the final boss is Trent riding on Uk'otoa...I won't be mad. Like does it seem tonally off? Yes; Critical Role is not humorless high fantasy by any means** but they are not actively trying to seem like something that should be airbrushed on a van, usually. But will it be pretty awesome? Yeah.

Trent on the other hand is pretty fucking mad, presumably, because Caleb continues to leave him on read and also picked up a little something called Mind Blank, which is actually useful and not in fact No Thoughts Head Empty. With that said I don't think it's increased; I think we're just at a steady simmer.

Conclusion: 7/10.

Essek Thelyss: Okay I am a dabbler in both cosmic horror and mathematics; I enjoy many elements of both but am an expert in neither. But if I may drop the jokes for a second, how incredible is it that in this alien setting of a city that is an unwitting and unwilling amalgam of consciousnesses, with all the trappings of classic cosmic horror, two people decided to take a scientific risk with things seen as forbidden or foreign by their respective cultures...and won.

I don't know what will befall Essek and he's clearly still having a pretty rough time of it, even though unlike Caduceus I don't think he was brought to the brink of profanity again, yet; but no matter what happens at least he'll have the nat 20 of instant long rest. No matter what happens...he was right about dunamancy. Fucking ironic how much potential the dynasty is wasting, really.

With that said he does have a red eye now even though all he (and, to be fair, Fjord, Veth, and Caduceus as well) did was fight off an eldritch abomination without rolling what must have been like a 20 Wisdom save DC. Like, he (and Fjord, Veth, and Caduceus) do not deserve this. You think this man has a positive wisdom score? In this economy? (actually, he might, I say, looking at Caleb 'Wisdom Ostensibly 16' Widogast).

Conclusion: keeping him at 8/10. It's funny because he is fully on an emotional roller coaster but it's averaging out to about an 8/10 each time; it's just that he's constantly beset by horrors beyond imagination and really terrible rolls but also incredible validation of his beliefs that had so long been ignored. The man's mental state is basically a sine wave, which interestingly enough is itself influencing his mental state.***

Yussa Errenis: The Prodigal Most Interesting Man in Exandria returneth! Wensforth, play Freedom! 836 PD. You know, he should probably feel a little bit of shame, because he should know better, but also he probably does not. Anyway please enjoy the lines I had for Yussa while he was trapped in Cognouza that I did not ultimately use:

aha no don’t get your consciousness sucked into an ancient city you’re so sexy

Here am I floating in an ancient and terrible world-devouring city/far out in the planes/Threshold crests are blue and there’s nothing I can do

Making bad choices and joining the voices it’s...YUSSA ERRENIS

Conclusion: I'm going to say 6/10 but rapidly decreasing. Also Wensforth has had several days to clean the tower...maybe he just won't tell Yussa? He probably will though.

Allura Vyesoren: she's going to facepalm so long that Kima starts timing it, isn't she. She's going to get a series of messages like "hey so the Mighty Nein seem to be doing well! they freed me from the city which sucked me in like some spicy ramen when I did an astral projection...also something happened in my tower?" She's going to just stare out the window for a long moment. She is going to ask herself, much as I have many a time, what the fuck is in the water in Wildemount.

Conclusion: 3/10. Hey, at least she got some news on the Mighty Nein and the city!

Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk: consider: after over 35 years, give or take, in your own perception of time, trapped in a gem, you finally come across some people. Consider that one of them apparently can't resist a big shiny wizard trap. Now consider that this guy went into your +1 Demiplane of Wizard Murdering AND got his mind fully schlorped by Aeorians and yet you are still, inconceivably, stuck in this fucking gem. This is where he draws the line? At a teensy little bodily possession? What the fuck dude.

Conclusion: I'm pretty sure he's already a few large handfuls of iron filings short of a component pouch (which is to say, full up on the batshit) already but this cannot be helping.

*this will be the first but probably not the last cosmic horror and/or math joke because I actually forgot to make cat jokes last night, so thoroughly did the Nein demolish Cree. Speaking of Cree's fate...call that a Furrier Transform.

**high fantasy is a complicated distinction and the wikipedia page includes Discworld which does not seem right to me; it also includes the Belgariad, a series for which I have great fondness having inhaled the first three books while sick in bed as a fourteen year old and having reread several times, but which is explicitly written by a guy who was like what if I made something as formulaic as possible but also literally everyone is either super sarcastic or a huge moron but anyway imo High Fantasy is actually frequently fucking hilarious and a sign of the skill of the creator(s) is whether it's hilarious by accident or on purpose.

***something something Heisenberg uncertainty principle. I had a joke here but it got very convoluted and that is actually not a pun although if you understand why it could be a pun, good work.

[dastardlydandelion]

took me a min to get to this, i have since watched up thru s3e04!

I totally understand the concern it may become too convoluted/complicated to be enjoyable. to my recollection that *is* what happened with the show LOST and while i didn't personally watch LOST, ik some of the people behind that show also created From. but for now i think the mysteries presented to us do have some direction so i'm going to have faith they'll pull off instead of devolving into kookaburra nonsense!!

as for favorite characters, ooh. ykw i have to give From props on that front, i appreciate that the characters are all pretty well-written. they all have distinct personalities and motives and act accordingly. i feel like you can track the internal logic of most of the characters' decisions within their personal context and perceptions, thus i tend to empathize with them even when i don't agree with said decisions (Sarah as a notable example considering what she did in the first episode, what we learned about both why and Sarah herself since, and where she's at now), or when they're getting on my nerves! So i don't particularly dislike anyone...except Dale. fucking Dale, smdh...urgh i kinda hate Randall too, albeit one of the reasons Randall drives me so crazy is bc as much as i hate to admit it, i know in this situation?? uh, i would low-key *be* Randall. 😬

i wouldn't be as bad, like i wouldn't be going out of my way to piss everybody off and unlike Randall, i'd have the sense of self-preservation to recognize that mouthing off to Donna and/or Boyd is a no-no. you mouth off to Donna and/or Boyd, congrats, you've just rendered yourself alienated and outnumbered by 95% of the population of Fromville. but like, his paranoia?? yup, that'd be me. i would be super paranoid and suspicious of everything, wondering all about candid camera and plants and the possibility of government experimentation, etc. these aren't completely dissimilar to some of the paranoia things i get fixated over on a semi-regular basis. pop me in Fromville and it'd all be cranked up to eleven. 🙃

at least unlike Dale tho, Randall tries to help sometimes. he tried to help when he thought Tabitha was buried under the house, he saved Julie and Ethan in s3e01, tried to help Boyd last episode. Randall will try in earnest too, Dale only ever helps out when Donna makes him and complains the whole damn time, smdh.

the one thing i will critique, going back to characters and motivation and whatnot, uh, THESE PEOPLE NEED TO BE HAVING TOWN MEETINGS! i am not the first to point this out, everybody and their brother watching From has been saying this, but c'mon! too much wild shit happens in Fromville for us not to be having town meetings, communicating about our visions and broken glass voices and worms under our skin, etc. 🙄

but faves...for sure Donna! ngl i'd love a roll in the hay or two or ten with Donna. wouldn't mind macking on Kristi either. i also have a soft spot for Jade, he makes me laugh. Tabitha is up there, Tian-Chen is up there, R.I.P Tian-Chen. Fatima and Ellis would be really cool to hang out with and get stoned with. Victor and his backstory are wholly intriguing. Elgin is adorable, i have a soft spot for characters who spend time with their grandparents. Sarah is also so very fascinating to me, i hunger to learn more about her & Nathan's background, and why Fromville voices wanted her to do what she did in s1.

as for theories, well i know a lot of people suspect fairies! and that the Boy In White is some kind of fairy. Tbvh my american ass has only a rudimentary understanding of fairy folklore and this is a great opportunity for me to do more research, so i better understand these theories. atm i know some fans have made very good cases and a lot of solid meta on this but idk enough about faries to put my own two cents in.

however, i think it's worth mentioning that neither Ethan's book, The Flight of The Cromenockle, nor the nursery rhyme Bakta knew that proceeded the arrival of the music box monster actually exist in our world. i think it's little things like this that suggest From is more concerned with its own original mythos and internally based lore. even if heavily inspired by specific folklore/legends/creatures that we understand in our world, i don't think these phenomena will be identical in From. i don't think we're going to name-drop a changeling or a J’Ba Fofi in From, even if some of the creatures are possibly inspired by and/or similar to them.

i do think the the place itself is sentient and malicious. there is some speculation in Yellowjackets that Laura Lee was killed by The Wilderness bc Wilderness felt threatened by her devout Christianity. Laura Lee stopped the seance and presented a different interpretation of supernatural influence thru an established belief system she was likely too deeply faithful to, to ever abandon it for The Wilderness. i think it's possible Fromville is similar. Father Khatri notes that of all the books there, not a single bible. the crow busts thru the window before Tillie can even reveal the tarot cards, let alone discuss Fatima's reading. i think Fromville might be territorial and intentional in suppressing any other mystical influence that may distract from its own prowess.

going off of the Yellowjackets comparison, uh, if it is indeed real, i don't think The Wilderness is evil. harsh? absolutely. primordial? Beyond the shadow of a doubt. the plane crash itself may have been perceived as a sacrifice. "It's not evil, it's just hungry. Like us," dream!Lottie tells a dying Nat. Van believes The Wilderness is lonely. It is probably both these things and possibly needs to be worshipped in order to exist.

but Fromville? yeah, that place is straight up evil!! it thrives on suffering, despair, and pain. the very first song it plays on the jukebox in s1e01 is a taunt, in hindsight. it manifests itself in personally painful ways to several residents. so on that note, i agree with the theory that trauma is what informs *who* it is that winds up in the town.

when we first ran out of food in Fromville, ngl i was suspecting the town might be trying to drive its residents (captives) to cannibalism. that does not seem to be the case since we found food growing by the cabins in the woods...

those cabins in the woods tho!! so there has been the theory floating around that Eloise is alive. as of the latest episode Victor said she died but Victor's memories are not 100% reliable. he didn't even recall he had a sister until recently! he relies on drawings and objects of the deceased to fill in the gaps of his memory.

so i wonder if Eloise was one of the people living in the woods? i do think it was *people* in the cabins at least at one point.

one theory i find very probable is that Fromville cycles and that the people who fail to escape before losing all hope within the set cycle time turn into the monsters that come out at night. the internal anatomy indicates the monsters used to be human. They are all in period clothing. i believe those were people from the previous cycle and that's why none of them look modern but none of them are dressed in anything older than around the 1950s, either.

i think the theory that Tabitha is Miranda reincarnated is possible! i'm also not entirely convinced, it is compelling though! i think it's more possible than the timeloop theory. i don't agree with the timeloop theory because i think there's too much evidence to suggest that time passes in From. things in From get older, they don't reset. the monsters are in dated clothing. Marielle tells Kristi she's been gone for 6 months and Kristi does not dispute this timeframe.

i don't think Fatima is turning into one of the monsters that comes out at night, as others have theorized. obviously something horrific is taking place and she is undergoing some kind of transformation (or at the least behaving on behalf of her certainly inhuman fetus) but not one of the night monsters. Fatima appears to be developing a taste for human flesh, and the night monsters don't appear to eat the people they kill.

speaking of monsters, i think the wet woman in the kimono Elgin keeps seeing is benign! i believe introducing her alongside the cicada monster outbreak was a misdirect and that she was not actually trying to drown Elgin in that scene. i think the cicadas and/or music box ballerina manifestation were what was actually trying to drown him and that she possibly came to him then because she also suffered drowning (she always looks wet). Kimono Lady has not tried to harm Elgin in her other appearances. Boy In White and Anghkooey kids are similarly creepy but seemingly benign beings who manifest to specific people.

i think the theory that Fromville is a pocket universe holds potential. it's a throwaway line from Dale during Fatima's party, that we as the audience were quickly shuttled away from because 1) fucking Dale and 2) a drunk Ellis and scuffle quickly take center stage. but i never forgot that line and From being in an entirely different universe than our world would go a long way in accounting for its elusiveness.

that's about all i got for now, bud! How about you?? Care to share your thoughts/feelings/theories on From and its characters??

hello again, friend!! are you familiar with the epix/MGM+ series, From? just wondering, as the third season premieres at the end of the month and it's also fitting for the spooky season.

Oooh, yes! I'm really looking forward to the rest of s03 (I've seen the 1st episode and I'm excited). I hope it won't fall apart (become too complicated and mysterious to be enjoyable) down the line, but right now it's still spooky and digestible.

Feel free to tell me about your feelings, possible theories, favorite characters, and such!

[balioc]

A Taxonomy of Magic

This is a purely and relentlessly thematic/Doylist set of categories. 

The question is: What is the magic for, in this universe that was created to have magic?

Or, even better: What is nature of the fantasy that’s on display here?

Because it is, literally, fantasy.  It’s pretty much always someone’s secret desire.

(NOTE: “Magic” here is being used to mean “usually actual magic that is coded as such, but also, like, psionics and superhero powers and other kinds of Weird Unnatural Stuff that has been embedded in a fictional world.”)

(NOTE: These categories often commingle and intersect.  I am definitely not claiming that the boundaries between them are rigid.)

I. Magic as The Gun That Can Be Wielded Only By Nerds

Notable example: Dungeons & Dragons

Of all the magic-fantasies on offer, I think of this one as being the clearest and most distinctive.  It’s a power fantasy, in a very direct sense.  Specifically, it’s the fantasy that certain mental abilities or personality traits -- especially “raw intelligence” -- can translate directly into concrete power.  Being magical gives you the wherewithal to hold your own in base-level interpersonal dominance struggles. 

(D&D wizardry is “as a science nerd, I can use my brainpower to blast you in the face with lightning.”  Similarly, sorcery is “as a colorful weirdo, I can use my force of personality to blast you in the face with lightning,” and warlockry is “as a goth/emo kid, I can use my raw power of alienation to blast you in the face with lightning.”)   

You see this a lot in media centered on fighting, unsurprisingly, and it tends to focus on the combative applications and the pure destructive/coercive force of magic (even if magic is notionally capable of doing lots of different things).   It often presents magic specifically as a parallel alternative to brawn-based fighting power.  There’s often an unconscious/reflexive trope that the heights of magic look like “blowing things up real good” / “wizarding war.” 

II. Magic as The Numinous Hidden Glory of the World

Notable examples: Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, H.P. Lovecraft’s Dream Cycle

The point of magic, in this formulation, is that it is special.  It is intrinsically wondrous and marvelous.  Interacting with it puts you in a heightened-state-of-existence.  It is -- ultimately -- a metaphor for The Secret Unnameable Yearnings of Your Soul, the glorious jouissance that always seems just out of reach.

It doesn’t so much matter how the magic actually functions, or even what outcomes it produces.  The important thing is what magic is, which is...magical.

This is how you get works that are all about magic but seem entirely disinterested in questions like “what can you achieve with magic?,” “how does the presence of magic change the world?,” etc.  One of the major ways, anyway.

The Numinous Hidden Glory fantasy often revolves around an idea of the magic world, the other-place where everything is drenched in jouissance.  [Sometimes the magic world is another plane of existence, sometimes it’s a hidden society within the “real world,” doesn’t matter.]  The real point of magic, as it’s often presented, is being in that magic world; once you’re there, everything is awesome, even if the actual things you’re seeing and doing are ordinary-seeming or silly.  A magic school is worlds better than a regular school, because it’s magic, even if it’s got exactly the same tedium of classes and social drama that you know from the real world. 

Fantasies of this kind often feature a lot of lush memorable detail that doesn’t particularly cohere in any way.  It all just adds to the magic-ness. 

III. Magic as the Atavistic Anti-Civilizational Power

Notable examples: A Song of Ice and Fire, Godzilla

According to the terms of this fantasy, the point of magic is that it doesn’t make sense.  It doesn’t make sense within the logic of civilized human thought, anyway.  It is nature and chaos given concrete form; it is the thing that tears away at the systems that we, in our [Promethean nobility / overweening hubris], try to build. 

There’s not a baked-in value judgment here.  This kind of magic can be presented as good, bad, or some of both.  Same with civilization, for that matter.

It’s often presented as Old Myths and Folkways that have More Truth and Power Than Seems Reasonable.  Narratively, it often serves as a dramatized version of the failure of episteme, and of the kind of entropic decay that in real life can take centuries to devour empires and ideologies.

This kind of magic is almost always the province of savages, actual inhuman monsters, or (occasionally) the very downtrodden. 

(I think it is enormously telling that in A Song of Ice and Fire -- a series that is jammed full of exotic cults and ancient half-forgotten peoples, all of whom have magic that seems to work and beliefs that at least touch on mysterious truths -- only the Westerosi version of High Medieval Catholicism, the religion to which most of the people we see notionally adhere, is actually just a pack of empty lies.)  

IV. Magic as an Overstuffed Toybox

Notable examples: Naruto, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Or, sometimes, we care about what magic actually does.  More than that -- sometimes we want to see magic doing really interesting things, and then other magic intersecting with it in ways that are even more interesting.

The fantasy here, in simplest terms, is “magic can achieve any arbitrary cool effect.”  There doesn’t tend to be an overarching system that explains how it’s all supposed to come together, or if there is, it tends to be kind of lame and hand-wavey -- a rigorous system of Magic Physics, delineating the limits of the possible, would get in the way of all the cool effects we want to show!

Once again, this shows up a lot in combat-heavy narratives.  Less with the genericized D&D-style “magic is a fist that can punch harder than your regular meat fist,” and more with people throwing weird and wacky powers at each other in order to show how those powers can be used creatively to overcome opposition.  Sometimes, instead of combat, you get magicians using their cool-effects magic to MacGuyver their way out of problems or even trying to resolve large-scale social problems.  Issues of magic usage within the narrative being “fair” or “unfair” or “cheesy” are important here in ways that they generally aren’t elsewhere, since the fantasy on offer comes close to being a game. 

(Ratfic often falls into this category.) 

V. Magic as Alternate-Universe Science

Notable examples: the Cosmere books

This covers most of what gets called “hard fantasy.”  The fantasy on offer is a pretty straightforward one -- “magic has actual rules, you can learn them, and once you’ve learned them you can make predictions and achieve outcomes.”  It’s puzzle-y in the way that the previous fantasy was game-y.  It’s often a superstimulus for the feeling of learning a system in the way that video game grinding is a superstimulus for the feeling of rewarding labor. 

The magic effects on offer tend to be less ridiculous and “broken” than toybox magic, because any logic you can use to achieve a ridiculous effect is going to influence the rest of the magic system, and special cases that aren’t grounded in sufficiently-compelling logic will ruin the fantasy. 

Not super common.

VI.  Magic as Psychology-Made-Real

Notable examples: Revolutionary Girl Utena, Persona

This kind of magic makes explicit, and diagetic, what is implicit and metatextual in most fantasy settings.  The magic is an outgrowth of thought, emotion, and belief.  Things have power in the world because they have power in your head.  The things that seem real in the deepest darkest parts of your mind are actually real. 

This is where you get inner demons manifested as actual demons (servile or hostile or anything in between), swords forged from literal hope, dungeons and labyrinths custom-tailored to reflect someone’s trauma, etc. 

The fantasy, of course, is that your inner drama matters. 

My personal favorite.

VII.  Magic as Pure Window Dressing

Notable examples: later Final Fantasy games, Warhammer 40K

This one is weird; it doesn’t really make sense on its own, only metatextually.  I think of its prevalence as an indicator of the extent to which fantasy has become a cultural staple. 

The fantasy on offer in these works is that you are in a fantasy world that is filled with fantasy tropes.  And that’s it.

Because the important thing here is that the magic doesn’t really do anything at all, or at least, it doesn’t do anything that non-magic can’t do equally well.  It doesn’t even serve as an indication that Things are Special, because as presented in-setting, magic isn’t Special.  Being a wizard is just a job, like being a baker or a tailor or something -- or, usually, like being a soldier, because the magic on offer is usually a very-simple kind of combat magic.  And unlike in D&D, it’s not like magic is used only or chiefly by a particularly noteworthy kind of person.  It’s just...there. 

The great stories of the world, in these works, don’t tend to feature magic as anything more than a minor element.  The point is to reassure the audience that this is the kind of world, the kind of story, that has magic. 

-------------------------------------------------

Thoughts?  Critiques?  Other categories to suggest? 

[cabensonsgirly]

👼Baby's Got Trouble. Don't Know How To Live. Don't Want To Die. (Cordelia Goode)👼

Cordelia Goode x fem!reader

👼Part 6 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Slice 2👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak

Somewhat au but more so later xx

👼Wordcount: 3131👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fiona (I know a lot of y'all hate her so she's here for you to hate her more xx), slow-burn, angst, fluff, mentions of blood, mild violence, feelings👼

👼You closed your eyes, resting your hands flat against the cold wood of the door as you started your breathing exercises. Soon each breath came in and filled your lungs as if you were breathing for the first time ever, each one as refreshing as the last. When you opened your eyes and swore in shock upon seeing there was another blonde standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were some alien.👼

As you put what clothing you had in the set of drawers you realised you would need to go shopping very soon or else you’d end up wearing a towel while you waited for your items to wash and dry. You hoped that classes today finished quickly so that you could bus to the mall and spend what little money you had in savings on clothing. Shit. That’s another problem. You didn’t have a job anymore so should you need new shoes or personal items how are you going to be able to pay for them?

You swore loudly and hit the drawers in frustration, why couldn’t you just be normal? Outside you could hear the girls speaking, well- yelling: “Hey! That new girl seems to have anger issues! Cordelia are you sure she’s not gonna murder us or anything?” It feels as though the walls have ears, which wouldn’t be surprising seeing as the whole building felt like it was pulsing with energy. Maybe it was the sheer amount of witches converging in this one place or maybe it was the history of the building itself. A quick google search shows that this place was built in the late 1700s or something so, to put it mildly, it was really fucking old.

You take your phone off charge and slip it into your back pocket before leaving your room, closing the door behind you although you feel as though a shut door wont stop the others from snooping. The moment the door clicked shut behind you it was as if air was sucked from your lungs, each breath becoming harder no matter how deep a breath you took. You closed your eyes, resting your hands flat against the cold wood of the door as you started your breathing exercises. Soon each breath came in and filled your lungs as if you were breathing for the first time ever, each one as refreshing as the last. When you opened your eyes and swore in shock upon seeing there was another blonde standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were some alien.

“You’ve got a mouth on you. I like it. The rest of you?” She steps back, tilting her head to the side as she looks you up and down before shrugging “You’re alright looking. Could probably do with better clothes or none at all but hey, we all start somewhere, right?” You give her an incredulous look “thanks, I guess?” before moving past her and heading down the stairs, thanking the stars that Cordelia is at the bottom of them. “I saw you and Madison having a chat, hopefully she wasn’t too” she screws her face up a little and does a vague gesture with her hands “Madisony.”

You laugh lightly, a light blush settling on Cordelia’s cheeks as well. “She was- is, certainly something. Said that I would look better with nicer clothes on or none at all. Which I mean…” You bite your bottom lip slightly and give her a wink before laughing “God I’m sorry. That was- That was not appropriate.” Cordelia blinks a few times in shock, her cheeks taking on a darker colour and she looks down then back at you before turning away completely. “I- Well… Let’s- I’ll show you where we have breakfast.”

It didn’t take you long for you to get settled in at the academy, after the first week of trepidation and nerves had ran their course, you found yourself getting along well with most of the girls there; you and Cordelia had become closer too, surprising yourself with how quickly you had become close to her in six months. Madison still felt the need to get you out of your clothing because apparently nothing you wore looked good on you. You couldn’t care less about what she had to say, you were more concerned about what the hellhound had to say, Fiona. Don’t let her catch you saying that though or else you’d find yourself becoming well acquainted with the wall.

The woman fucking terrified you, and it wasn’t just because she was Supreme. She just gave off the distinct impression that she hated everyone, especially her daughter which pissed you off to no end. Here Cordelia was running the academy while her mother is off galivanting around the world, in fact, she’s still running it but according to Fiona she was a disgrace. Maybe you should introduce her to your own mother, they would get on like a house on fire, which is probably what the outcome would be.

Both women were alcoholics and smoked as though cigarettes would soon go out of fashion, both women also hated their daughters with a burning passion. You could understand your mother hating you, but you couldn’t understand why Fiona hated Cordelia; she was an amazing woman and mentor to you, she treated you like you were the most precious being she’s ever met and even when you slipped up, she was there to help you until you were successful.

In order to avoid running into the hellhound that had returned, you spent most, if not all, of your time outside under one of the trees reading through books and notes. The woman rarely went into the garden so you felt quite safe out here. It was peaceful, the wind danced through the leaves making them join in on the waltz, the sounds that the birds sung took you away from being in the city and into the wilderness, it amazed you how much life was on this property despite it being surrounded by so many other buildings, it should be suffocating but it isn’t.

You rest your head back against the tree, looking up through its branches and leaves to see speckles of blue from the sky poke through. “So this is where you run off to hide when the Supreme comes back to play… I don’t know what my daughter sees in you. All you do is sit around with your nose in those damned books or spend time in that greenhouse Cordelia insists on having. Are you even really a witch?”

Your head snapped down to see who was speaking, but you already had a clear idea of who it was. Your eyes landed on the older blonde, your cheeks taking on colour due to embarrassment. “I- I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t a witch, ma’am. Surely you’d know that being the Supreme and all.” She scoffed and narrowed her eyes at you, “And I thought you’d know a rhetorical question when it hits you in the face, but clearly you don’t. The only thing that could be more obvious is your silly little infatuation with Cordelia. I don’t know who is more idiotic between the two of you. You for liking my daughter, or my daughter for thinking you are capable of becoming a powerful witch.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that if she caught you, you would end up rather worse for wear. You close your books then pick them up as you stand, “well, as always, ma’am, it hasn’t been a pleasure. I know for a fact that one day, Cordelia will be an incredibly powerful witch and you will regret all the times you have treated her like shit.” In a move that surprises not only yourself but the Supreme, you found yourself disappearing before reappearing in Cordelia’s office, startling her.

“How- How did I just? I was- your mom and in the garden and now- what?” You turned around, checking to see if you were actually in one piece and actually in Cordelia’s office before looking at her, confusion visible on your face. She pushes back from her desk before standing up and making her way over to you, her eyebrows furrowed in thought and her eyes twinkling with curiosity behind her glasses.

“Transmutation. The ability to move from one place to another instantaneously without occupying the space in between… You have to have where you want to be clear in mind but even then it can still end catastrophically.” Cordelia whispers as she walks around you slowly, examining to see whether or not you’re injured in anyway before returning to stand in front of you, a proud smile on her face. “It’s one of the skills a witch must master in order to become Supreme, but that is still quite some time away for you. Of all the places you could go to escape from being tormented by my mother… you chose here.”

You blush and look down, a shy smile on your face “Where else would I go?” You raise your gaze to meet hers, biting your bottom lip slightly when you notice her cheeks are now a lovely shade of pink. “Oh- Well- well there’s so many rooms here and- and you have your own and- and there’s just- there are so many places but- but you chose here and I just-“ You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at how flustered Cordelia has become. “Delia,” you grin, shaking your head slightly “has anyone told you lately how cute you are when flustered?”

The blonde’s eyes widen and her cheeks take on an even darker colour, she pushes her glasses up her nose, taking her bottom lip between her teeth shyly. “No- No well- No because usually they just think I’m being annoying because I tend to ramble and then I get embarrassed and just trail off before I get told to shut up” she rushes out, her voice barely above a whisper. You move your hand and brush some of her hair behind her ear, your hand lingering on her cheek before you both spring away from each other when the door opens.

“Ah Cordelia, there you are. I was wondering where you were, your mother is in one of her moods again. Something about ‘that new witch’ and ‘she just vanished after running her mouth’, she is drinking herself into a stupor, you know how she gets.” You move out of the way so Myrtle can enter the room, your blush only darkening at her words.

“So, little witch, what did you do and say to get our Supreme in such a mood?” Your eyes dart between her and Cordelia, desperately hoping she would make you disappear but nothing happened, and you were too flustered to make yourself disappear. “I- I didn’t really- I didn’t do anything that- that would make any rational witch- er, sorry Delia you know what I mean though… would make anyone flip their lid. She- She was talking poorly about Delia and I couldn’t just let her continue because Delia is wonderful and beautiful and amazing and smart and” You go wide-eyed and look down “I- Sorry… I- Anyway” you clear your throat before looking back at Myrtle.

“So- So I said that Delia will become an extremely powerful witch one day and- and that she’d regret all the times she has treated Delia like shit. Then- Then apparently I transmuted into Delia’s office.” Myrtle raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips tugging up in a faint smirk as she turns to look at Cordelia. “Seems like you have a witch in shining armour, Cordelia. One who is growing into her abilities more each time I see her; you’re an excellent mentor to her. Little witch, I think the girls were looking for you.”

You dip your head, a shy smile on your face before you take your leave, thanking both witches as you close the door behind you. Your hand lingered on the doorknob as you rest your forehead against the door, your eyes closing briefly. If you weren’t careful, you thought you’d end up back in the room again, you wouldn’t complain if that were the case but you were already borderline inappropriate with the headmistress so you took your leave, heading to where the girls slept knowing this is where they spend most of their time. Each step you took on the floor bounced off the walls, the sound echoing throughout the neoclassical interior.

Myrtle lets out a sigh, shaking her head as she sits down in front of Cordelia’s desk. She runs her hand over the surface before resting it on her lap on top of her other one, “What are you doing, Cordelia? What is going on between you two? Nobody, not even your mother, was capable of transmuting under such duress at that age, yet Yn did. She did, and she found herself in your office. So don’t lie to me, Cordelia.”

Cordelia runs her fingers through her head as she paces back and forth in front of Myrtle, stopping occasionally to rub her face with her hands before continuing, clearly bugged by something. “Nothing. Nothing is going on between us. It- It can’t happen. She’s my student. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Not even accounting for what the others would think and say about it. They’d say I’m playing favourites and- and that she’s only getting good grades because she’s sleeping with me. I can’t. It- It can’t happen.” She shakes her head and slumps into her seat, leaning against her desk where she rests her face in her hands, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s- It’s not a good idea, Myrtle.”

The red-haired witch makes an exasperated sound, looking at Cordelia with an expression she hadn’t seen since Myrtle had had enough of Fiona. “Don’t make the same mistakes as your mother, Cordelia. You are stopping yourself from being happy because you’re too afraid of what might happen.” She sits back in the seat, pointing a finger at the blonde “you are still scared about what your mother has to say about you.” Myrtle’s expression softens, her eyes no longer steely but now filled with nothing but sincerity for the woman that sat in front of her. “You can’t go through life like this. You need to find out what you want, and whether or not you are willing to do whatever it takes to get there.”

Meanwhile you were currently sitting in a small circle on the floor with Madison, Queenie, and Zoe. You had been roped into a game of Truth or Dare, which is a game you had managed to avoid for a vast majority of your life because you hated it. Why did you hate this game? Because it gave people the perfect opportunity to force information out of you, and into doing things you wouldn’t usually do. “Yn, truth of dare? No you can’t opt out, we’ve been over this already” you groan in annoyance, rolling your eyes before responding “truth.”

Madison claps her hands together and her eyes sparkle dangerously, a look you had desperately been trying to prevent from being directed towards you seeing as the last time she gave you that look you had found yourself pinned against your bedroom wall with her pressed up against you because you had said she wouldn’t win in a fight against you, yet she did and you ended up with very angry marks on your neck for the rest of the week. You breathed out a quiet “shit” which the other girls laughed and nodded in agreement with.

“Are you sleeping with Cordelia?” She quirked an eyebrow, a salacious smirk spreading across her face. In comparison, you blushed furiously, your eyes wide in shock and you didn’t come to until Zoe gave you a hard smack on your back, forcing you to cough out a breath before you started breathing normally again. “No! No. No I don’t- No! No. We’ve never- I haven’t- No.” You shake your head in disbelief “jesus Mad, where the fuck did that come from??”

All the girls had started laughing, Madison’s being the loudest of them all. “There is clearly something going on between you two, you both practically eye-fuck each whenever you’re in the same room. So, spill.”

You shoot her a glare, taking a few deep breathes to stop yourself from tossing her across the room like Fiona does. “There isn’t anything going on Madison, for fuck sake. Nothing can happen. Nothing will ever happen. She’s my teacher, our teacher. She’s the fucking headmistress of this place! And besides, you lot would say I’m only passing because I’m sleeping with her.” You sigh sadly and stand up before leaving “this is why no one likes you Madison.” The walk back to your room felt like it took forever, each step seeming to take you further away from your destination, the only thing running through your mind was how close you were to Cordelia yet somehow so far from her.

“Why do you look like how my daughter is after spending five minutes alone with me? What happened, did she break your poor little heart?” The woman laughs, the sound shooting through you as the waft of smoke from her cigarette hits you. “Although she is pathetic, she is also a Goode and she can do so much better than you.” You look at Fiona, a defeated expression on your face as you shrugged “Nothing has happened between us. Nothing will ever happen between us. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m not the one ruining the Goode name, you have that sorted out all on your own.”

You move past her and into your room, going to close the door but a shriek is torn from you as your flung against the wall, hitting it with a thud before landing unceremoniously on the floor. You scramble to sit up against the wall, eyes never leaving Fiona as she moves further into your room, her eyes wild. “You may be skilled with transmutation, and you may be my stupid daughter’s favourite, but I am still the fucking Supreme.”

You wipe your nose, cursing quietly when your hand comes away red; closing your eyes you took a deep breath, then when you opened them and exhaled the bleeding had stopped. “What- What do you want then, my Supreme?” You sneered at her despite feeling anything close to fighting. The older woman flicks her hair out of her face, tilting her chin up as she looks down at you “I want you to remember your fucking place. I don’t care how quickly you’re learning to master magic, you will never be at the same level as me.” She moves closer to you until she’s standing over you, her nose screwed up in disgust “you will never be anything more than a nobody that was picked up off the streets because her own family didn’t want her. You aren’t even wanted here.” Fiona gave you one more look over, shaking her head before she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 31: Flowers

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

It's time for the CHOICE. You reminisce, finally get the truth of that big memory. Maybe getting a little bit closer to Kung Lao. There's a storm coming and it's time to get ready.

A/N: Wow, the choice is here! I told you it was a weird normal choice haha. I hope you guys enjoy, this has been a blast. Each choice WILL be different enough that the story is still worth reading on both ends. They will have dramatic differences, honestly. Thank you guys so much for reading. This has been such fun.

Schedule change: The Oncoming Storm will diverge into two separate stories here- Firestorm and Lightning. Lightning updates on Monday and Firestorm on Friday. I have a few new stories in the works too so this will give me more time to plan and write. It's only one less day posting, honestly.

Part 30 Lightning Part 1 (Kung Lao) Firestorm Part 1 (Liu Kang) Volcanic Charge Part 1 (Both) Chapter Index

You tried to rest, you really did, but you were having a hard time being alone with only your thoughts for company. For some time, you sat at your desk and tried to read but you couldn’t focus on the notes. Plus, you had terrible handwriting. Liu Kang had been right. You wound up, instead, playing with the flower that rested nearby. You decided you’d cherish it a little bit longer before finding a way to press it and keep it preserved.

Sitting still was torture so you decided to take a walk. A short walk. You didn’t even bother putting on your shoes to try and discourage from going too far. Twisting the stem of the flower in your hand, you walked until you realized you’d gone much further than intended. Oh well. You weren’t pushing yourself too hard. You’d needed a change of scenery and fresh air, that was all. You found a balcony nearby and took a seat near the edge so you could watch the world across the ravine.

It was beautiful.

You twisted the flower between your fingers, admiring the purple petals. It was a small and frail thing. Small but also a sweet reminder of things long past. Those memories were so far from you now in your adult life that it was more like remembering pages from a book rather than scenes from your own history. The story, as distant as it was, was still precious to you.

Memory was a funny thing.

You’d replayed that day over and over in your mind for years after it had happened.

Your grandma had a love-hate relationship with Kung Lao at the time. She’d loved that you had a friend but had hated that the boy had been so rebellious. Your grandma had said things like ‘when you married that boy’. Once, on her deathbed, grandma had asked if you were still with Kung Lao. You’d told her yes because it had made grandma happy.

Your grandmother had always called you sensitive because of your visions, you supposed. You always had the distinct feeling that she’d known more about what was happening to you than anyone else had.

Back then the word sensitive had felt like an insult.

As an adult, you understood that it just wasn’t that simple. Grandma had always loved you even as sensitive as you were. Your mother and father had never been able to look you in the eye after it had begun. You had no doubt that they loved you, but it had been different. At nine years old that had been a lot to process. You would probably benefit from therapy but the monks in Raiden’s Temple were such gossips you were certain you’d have to outsource.

The flower spun above your fingers, and you held your other hand around it to protect it from the wind.

You were out of breath as you chased Kung Lao up the hillside through the thick and overgrown brush between the trees. He was almost constantly just far enough away from you that you couldn’t seem to catch up. Your legs were wobbly, fingers going numb, lips tingling.

Yesterday had been a mess.

You’d fallen in the kitchen while having a fit and had hit the back of your head on the counter. Grandma had taken care of you, but you’d still felt sick that morning. Then Kung Lao had wanted to see you. You’d fought with grandma about it. You begged and pled. After having such a bad day you’d only wanted to spend time with Kung Lao and feel normal.

But then Kung Lao had been funny all day.

He was even a little mean. You wondered what you had done wrong.

“Keep up, weirdo!” He’d called back to you teasingly and you nearly stopped in your tracks. He had never once before called you any of the awful names that the other kids in town had called you. To hear the insult from his lips was jarring, so much so that you thought you’d heard him wrong or imagined it.

“I need a minute! You have to slow down!” You called to him while you caught your breath. You leaned against the tree nearest you and gasped. Your heart felt like it was going to burst, and your mouth kept filling with sick spit. You were uncomfortable. Grandma had made you promise to take it easy. You were going to get in so much trouble if grandma found out that you were running through the woods that far from home.

Kung Lao reappeared through the trees, and he was smiling but still not himself. “What? Are you weak, Y/N? Gonna fall over? Can’t even make it up a little hill?”

“You’re being a jerk.” You coughed and his expression changed, but only briefly. He then turned away from you.

“Keep up, weirdo!”

“Don’t call me that!” The names stung. He’d never hinted that he’d believed those things about you so why was he saying them now? He’d been adamantly against the other kids giving you a hard time because you were different. Now there he was doing the same. Something was wrong but you didn’t understand what. Kung Lao was always difficult to understand when he was acting funny. He kept secrets.

You ran to catch up with him, stumbled over a loose stone, and then fell. You caught yourself in the dirt but hit hard. Your palms scraped against the ground and so did your knees. You sat there panicked and not breathing. Not because it’d hurt. You’d gotten good at handling pain over the past year. It was because you were bleeding and that had become a problem. When you bled, you just kept bleeding instead of healing. You were going to be in so, so much trouble when you got back to Grandma’s.

“You’re too slow, weirdo!”

Your eyes filled with tears.

This had to be a bad dream. Kung Lao would never treat you like this. You got up and watched the blood drip over your torn tights and then ran back through the trees toward your grandma’s farm. You didn’t want to hear those horrible words in his voice anymore. You’d had enough. Everywhere you went they called you terrible names or looked at you like you didn’t belong.

The only place that you had ever felt like you belonged was with Kung Lao and today he had made you feel like everyone else had.

An alien.

A freak.

The farm came into view and so you stopped at the tree line. If you went back, then grandma was going to be upset with you. She wouldn’t yell but she would be disappointed which was worse. Then you wouldn’t be allowed to watch television. It would be just you and the studies left behind by the tutor that came during the week to help you keep up with your education.

You took off your shoes and your tights, then replaced your shoes before using the tights to wipe the blood from your knees and your palms. The blood was quickly replaced. You leaned against one of the trees, hiding behind the bushes in a place where you had often snuck away to read or hide from your family.

The last time that you’d fallen, you’d skinned your elbow and it had gotten terribly infected. You’d been sick for weeks. Your parents had been so upset that you’d felt like you’d broken a rule just because you’d fallen on the way to the doctor. They’d reassured you that it was an accident but the disappointment that radiated from them when they looked at you spoke differently.

Grandma had never once blamed you for the things you couldn’t control. But this had been in your control. You knew that Kung Lao had been pushing you too hard, but you also hadn’t told him how sick you had been that morning and the night before. This was your fault. You should have told him that you weren’t up to the task of hiking wherever he had been dragging you. He’d said it had been a beautiful surprise.

The trip had been a surprise, alright, but not in the way that you had hoped it would be. It felt like a nightmare.

You hadn’t meant to fall! You’d been winded and now your hands and knees were scraped, and you’d be in trouble. Your tights were ruined too. Grandma had threatened to wrap you up in a bubble wrap before sending you off to play with ‘that boy’ and now you wondered if you’d ever be allowed outside to play with him again.

He’d called you names.

For the first time ever.

He’d called you those awful names that the other kids called you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks, your nose was plugged up and you sniffled, burying your face in your arms as you pulled your knees closer to your chest. You cried. You didn’t cry much those days, not anymore. When you’d first gotten sick, you’d cried all the time. Now you reserved your tears for hiding in your closet where no one would see. Your dad would get angry when you cried, something you’d never wanted.

Now you hid your tears.

Footsteps crunched on the grass and leaves beside you, and you wiped your eyes furiously to hide your tears but you was too stuffed up to do it well. Kung Lao sat next to you in silence, arms folded against his knees, watching you. You sniffled and frowned, trying to look mad but you weren’t sure it was actually working.

“We better get you cleaned up or you’re going to get in trouble again.” Kung Lao poked the side of your knee, and you scooted an inch away from him. He scooted with you.

“I don’t need your help.” You held your destroyed tights over your bloody knees to keep them from dipping down your leg. The scrapes weren’t that bad, they just seemed to bleed more than everyone else’s scrapes did.

“Well, it’s my fault.”

“Just leave me alone, Kung Lao.” You tried to shoo him away and he tried to pull the tights away from your knees so that he could take a look. “Stop it.”

He pouted and crossed his legs, hands at his ankles as he rocked forward and then back, letting his hands catch him as he leaned back. “I’m sorry.”

“Go away.”

“I know that those names are mean. I wasn’t thinking. You never react to them when anyone calls you them. They don’t seem to bother you.” He shrugged, looking off to the side as if embarrassed. You relaxed a little bit. “I don’t think I realized how mean it was until I saw how hurt you were just now.”

You sniffled.

“I’m dumb sometimes.” He slumped his shoulders. “You always act so strong. I didn’t think it’d hurt.”

You were used to being called mean names by others but coming from him it had hurt. You were only strong when you heard those names because their opinion of you hadn’t mattered. Kung Lao’s did.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sighed. Kung Lao jumped to his feet.

“I’ll go get some bandages!”

“Okay.” You wouldn’t fight him. He ran off, presumably to climb through your bedroom window and get the bandages that were kept on your side table. You wiped your eyes and willed away your upset. Kung Lao often acted before he thought. At least he’d apologized even if it had still hurt your feelings. You were, admittedly, sensitive after the night you’d had.

It didn’t take him long to return. Together you cleaned the scrapes with the little wipes that your grandma had bought and then Kung Lao placed little sticky bandages on your knees. It was sloppy and not how you would have done it, but it was sweet of him to try. Together you wrapped your palms with gauze and he did a much better job with that.

“Grandma is probably going to notice.”

“I don’t know. Your grandma doesn’t see very well. She doesn’t even notice when I’m in your room half the time.”

“Yeah, even so, mom��s going to notice when she visits tomorrow.” He wasn’t wrong. Grandma didn’t have the best eyes. Even with her glasses she struggled to read instructions and usually asked you to do it. But your mom noticed when you had so much as a loose thread on your dress or if your hair was even a little messy.

“You can blame it on me.” Kung Lao grinned. “That way you won’t get in trouble.”

“Mom already doesn’t like you.”

“What? Why not?”

“She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“I could see that.” Kung Lao laughed.

“I won’t be allowed to see you anymore if I blame it on you. I’d rather just get into trouble for falling.” You picked up your tights. You’d get in trouble for that too. Your mom would go on and on about how money didn’t grow on trees. You’d never liked tights anyway. Besides that, your parents never seemed to be happy with you anymore anyway. What was a little extra trouble?

Kung Lao stood and offered you his hand. You took it and got to your feet. Together you made your way the short distance back to the farmhouse. A fence surrounded the old field behind it that your grandma hadn’t tended to in years. It was overgrown with weeds mostly now.

“When are you going to be allowed to go back home?”

“When I’m better.” That was what your parents had said every time you asked.

“You should just lie and say that you’re better then! Then we can play in town. This is a long walk for me.”

You laughed and climbed beneath the gap in the fence. You had wasted most of the afternoon and if you didn’t get back inside before dark then you were going to get in trouble for that too. You were pretty sure that you were already going to get in trouble. You weren’t a good liar. Every time you tried, you stuttered and got nervous and wound up giving yourself away so you didn’t really try anymore. Except for when it came to lying about if you were okay or not. You’d gotten good at pretending that you weren’t upset when you were.

“I have to go home, Kung Lao.” You waved to him and turned away.

“Wait, Y/N!” He called to you. You hurried back to the fence that he was leaning against, arms folded.

“What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered purple flower. Then he offered it to you, averting his eyes and looking shy for maybe the first time you’d ever seen. You stared at the flower in surprise. You’d seen that kind of flower before, but they were mostly red or white. You’d never see it purple before.

“It’s why I wanted you to follow me.” He shrugged and his cheeks were redder than you’d noticed before. Maybe from their afternoon of sunshine or maybe because he was embarrassed. Why was he embarrassed? “I found them the other day and they reminded me of you. I wanted you to see them. Then I was a jerk and you ran away instead so… I brought one back for you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Had he been mean because he’d been embarrassed to do something so sweet? You didn’t know what any of it meant but it was cute to see him acting this way. He was usually so confident.

“You’re terrible.” Was what you went with. He laughed. “Making fun of me just to do something sweet.”

“Yeah, I am pretty terrible.” He beamed, back to his old self just like that. You took the flower from him and twisted the stem between your fingers. It was crumpled up from being in his pocket but it was still special and beautiful. You decided that you’d hide it. Your grandma wouldn’t let you keep it after it died, and you wanted to keep it forever.

“Thank you, Kung Lao.” You smiled and then used the fence to lean up to his height and give him a kiss on the cheek like you’d seen girls do in movies. You’d never done that before to anyone but your mom, sister, and grandma. His face turned beat red and you took a step back, holding the flower close to your chest. He grinned from ear to ear. “I have to go! Goodbye, Kung Lao!”

“Consider lying so that you can come back to town!” He shouted after you and you laughed before returning to your grandma’s house.

You twisted the stem of the flower in your hand just as you had done as a child. There had been so much of that day that you’d forgotten. It wasn’t like you sat in the memory all the time. That next day your mom had come to visit and had brought the terrible news that Kung Lao had died.

You’d been heartbroken, or that was the word that your grandma had used to defend you when your mom had told you to grow up. You hadn’t understood the notion of heartbreak at that age.

That had been what it was though. Heartbreak. Grandma had known your heart better than you ever had.

After that you’d refused to date for a long time. When you turned sixteen your mother had begun to set you up with boys from town or from neighboring towns. You’d fought with your mom about it every time and had reluctantly gone on the dates but had made it clear you weren’t interested. Your mom had told you that Kung Lao was dead and your idea of him was going to keep all other men out of your life. You’d never become a wife or a mother at that rate. You’d fought that wasn’t true or fair to accuse you of. But in the same breath you’d sabotaged every relationship you’d ever had. Your mom hadn’t been completely wrong.

You had ruined every chance at marriage that you’d had until you and your mother had become so estranged that by the time that she’d died you had barely spoken. Your father had stopped talking to you long before then outside of pleasantries around the holidays and only because your sister forced him to be polite.

Every relationship that you’d had outside of your mother’s meddling had ended with you being unable to commit. You’d never liked the idea of becoming a housewife and that was what most men that you met had wanted. You probably hadn’t given them the proper chance to prove that you’d be more than that either, though. Your older sister had settled down with a nice man from the neighboring town and had a daughter. This had continued her long running streak of being the family favorite.

You were okay with that.

Your sister had never been mean to you. In fact, she had only ever defended you. You hoped that she was doing okay. You’d been close. It had probably crushed her to think that you had died.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You turned very suddenly at the sound of Kung Lao’s voice, eyes wide and panicked. It was jarring to hear the voice of another person after being so lost in your memories.

“I’ve been standing here for like five minutes. You didn’t notice?” He was leaning against the wall of the entryway to the balcony. You felt your heart slamming in your chest. He was alive and that was still wild to you sometimes. You tried to hide the flower like a moron, like you hadn’t been mooning over your memories of him. It was too late for that. Kung Lao sat next to you. “I broke into your room when no one answered. Sorry.” He grinned and it was that same grin that a much younger him had worn after you’d kissed his cheek. “You were gone so I checked the infirmary, and you weren’t there either. That one monk, your friend, said that she’d left you earlier in the day and wasn’t your keeper. I don’t think she likes me much.”

“Chen.” You offered him her name. “I heard that you were very annoying while I was unconscious so that’s probably why she was snippy at you.”

“Well, you were unconscious for three days and I wanted to see you even if you couldn’t respond to me.” He puffed up his cheeks and pouted as he turned his gaze. You smiled and looked back down on the flower that you had hidden just beneath the hanfu you’d put on.

“Thank you for checking in on me so much. It’s sweet.”

“It’s not sweet. Purely selfish.”

“It’s sweet.” You repeated.

Kung Lao pulled the cloth away from where you’d hidden the flower and carefully took the stem from your fingertips. As you had suspected, there had been no point in hiding it.

“Wilting, huh?” He turned it over in his hands.

“Yeah, that’s what flowers do.” You shrugged and watched the ravine as he studied the flower. “Their beauty fades.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kung Lao rested it in his palm carefully, as if worried that he would crush it. You sat silently watching the ravine. “I would fill your room with flowers if it meant that you would be okay.”

You looked to him in surprise and then at the wilted flower in his palm. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears, and you fought them.

“I like having just the one.” You smiled. He cocked a curious eyebrow. “It makes it special. Only one. And the memory of the other.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He offered you the flower and you took it carefully. “Do you remember that day?”

“Every second of it.”

“You were my first kiss.” He grinned.

“Well, technically it was only a kiss on the cheek, Lao.”

“It counted. To me it counted.” He looked too proud of it to argue with him. How could you? It was incredibly sweet. You gently nudged him. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice a bit more serious, a rare thing that you both treasured and feared.

“Yeah. I’m sore and tired.” You averted your gaze.

“And…?”

“A little scared.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, that was terrifying, and you almost murdered us.” He considered and you snapped your head to him in alarm. He was smiling, even if there was still sadness behind his eyes. “Watching you struggle with this is all too familiar. I’m just glad that you’re okay now. Feeling more determined than ever.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Kung Lao stood and offered his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat. This really was far too familiar. “Come eat with me. You haven’t had real food in days.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Three days, Y/N!”

“I was unconscious and on an IV.”

“Come eat with me anyway. Maybe Liu will join us!” Kung Lao took your hand and you reluctantly let him and got to your feet. You avoided his eyes as they studied you. “Liu’s fine, Y/N. It’s just a scrape.”

“I was covered in blood, but whatever you say.” You tucked the flower within the folds of your hanfu. “We can go get food but I’m not hungry.”

“Let’s go.” He held your hand for a time as you walked but after a few minutes he seemed to become aware that he was holding it and let go. Then he shoved his hands instead in his pockets. Your feet were sore without your shoes, and you were tired by the time you made it downstairs to the dining area. He helped you grab a plate filled with food and you found a spot across from each other at one of the long tables. You mostly poked around at your food. Kung Lao filled the silence, as he often did, telling you stories about shenanigans that he and Liu Kang had gotten into as teenagers. He spoke so animatedly that you would have smiled no matter what kind of story he was telling you.

You poked at the eggroll on your plate with your chopstick and then pushed a few vegetables aside. Nothing looked appetizing and your stomach was sour.

“You’re not eating.” He pointed to you with his chopsticks, mouth full.

“Oh?” You didn’t think that he’d been paying attention. “I did say several times that I wasn’t hungry.”

“You should eat.” He spoke between bites. “And you shouldn’t worry so much. It’s going to be okay.” He picked up the eggroll from your plate and took a bite out of it with a grin. “If you aren’t going to eat it, then I am.”

“Hey!” You swatted at his hand with your chopsticks, and he stole a mushroom from your plate before eating it with a smirk. A few other monks came to join you but sat tables away from you to avoid conversation. You ignored them but could feel them looking at you every so often before conversing. Chen hadn’t been kidding. This really was far too familiar. You ignored them and you chatted casually before Kung Lao walked you back to your room.

He looked like he wanted to say something before he left but instead, he gave you a hug and promised to see you the next day.

Days past and while you hadn’t see Liu Kang even once since you’d woken up you were getting used to seeing Kung Lao and spending most of your days with him. Even so, you were worried about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had reassured you that he was just busy but you couldn’t help it. Your brain was mean.

On the fourth day after you had woken up, the temple was buzzing with excitement. The remnants of a strong typhoon would be hitting around nightfall. It would go on for a few days. You spent much of that day helping the monks prepare for the big storm. By nighttime you were all to be safely inside because of the lightning and the rain.

In the infirmary, you helped put away the last of the extra supplies they’d gotten with word of the storm. Then you helped the monks that were near the main entrance to the temple, making sure that everything was put away and secure. It felt good to be of use and while every so often someone would whisper about you, they were also kind to you.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as evening approached. It sent chills down your spine. This would be the first storm you’d seen since coming to Raiden’s Temple. It would be a doozy.

You loved what most people would consider gloomy weather. Maybe it was because so many people disliked it that you were happy to see it. No matter the reason, you were excited. You’d been drawn to bad weather like a moth to every light it came across.

Back home you would sit on the patio of your dojo and watch the rain and listen to the thunder until the lightning got too close and dangerous. You missed that.

You should have probably found a safe place to watch the storm from but the view from the front of the temple would be unbeatable. After a few days rest you were feeling more yourself and decided that watching the storm would be a treat.

Now you just had to decide where to watch it from.

The front of the temple? (Liu Kang)

Or somewhere safer inside? (Kung Lao)

You run into Chen (Both)

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Family

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

Next Excerpt

One question that I see asked in the news a lot is why there are still any ghouls left. We have a distinctive, high-impact feeding habit that requires us to stay within human society, where we are both outnumbered and outgunned. This has essentially been the case since the development of automatic firearms, and you’ve continued to develop more and more effective methods of killing us since then. How are we not extinct?

The talking heads always have lurid theories to propose. My personal favorite one, which comes up every couple of years or so, is that the government is secretly breeding us so that they have an excuse to send secret police out into the general populace for nefarious purposes pretending to be exterminators. As if they’d need the excuse {Editing Note: I’ve gotta keep my political views out of this except where they directly pertain to ghouls. No unnecessarily alienating people}. The most commonly accepted one seems to be that we just have a lot of children to compensate for our high mortality rate. Spatha calls that an R strategy, I think. Scarlet calls it the Rabbit Theory. Whatever you call it, it’s wrong. Our species has survived off the strength and compassion of our families.

Contrary to popular impressions, our “nuclear” families are pretty small. My understanding is that 1-4 children is the typical range. I’m the only confirmed only child in my friend group. Scarlet’s the youngest of three, Scorpio’s a middle child, Spatha avoids talking about her home life, and Kestrel doesn’t know her biological parents. There’s a couple of pressures that keep our family sizes small. First, it’s challenging to feed too many ghouls at once, especially ghoul children, who we don’t want worrying about where they’re going to get their meals. Second, the majority of ghoul parents are going to end up as single parents before their kids are fully grown. Either one of them is going to get killed, or they’re going to have to separate to go on the run from the exterminators; and, of course, we do still break up and get divorced sometimes.

These pressures are exaggerated by our general lack of an extended family. It’s not that all of our aunts and uncles get hunted down - even if they did, we’d still have cousins - but it’s not safe for us to have traceable extended families. When exterminators identify a ghoul, the first thing they do is put out a bulletin for all known blood relatives. The most common tactic to avoid this is, when multiple siblings make it to adulthood, at least one of them changes their identity and moves away. This isn’t always done, but it’s done often enough that document forging is a widespread and well-respected profession in the Society. It’s useful for dodging exterminators in other circumstances too. My mom and I changed our names and moved cities after exterminators killed my dad when I was 4.

Between that and the sheer number of out-and-out orphans in our Society, it should come as no surprise that we’ve developed a new family structure to fill in the gaps. The terminology we use for this structure is variable, but the term I’ve always used is “household”. A household is a sort of adopted extended family, typically formed by and centered around one particularly resourceful ghoul called a patron. The patron takes whichever ghouls they choose under their wing, introduces them to each other, and helps them coordinate their talents and resources so that they all have everything they need. Most obviously, this means making sure they all have a supply of flesh, but there are numerous other kinds of support a household can provide. I doubt I need to emphasize again how valuable a reliable source of companionship and safety is, but patrons typically have access to connections and contacts that can help the other members of the household accomplish their goals.

My household, for example, was founded by our patron Yaga. It consists of her, her adopted daughter Kestrel, my mom and I, my friends Scarlet and Scorpio and their immediate families, and four other older ghouls. There’s also Spatha, who has been reluctant to fully join the household but acts like a member in most contexts. Three of our members have reliable flesh sources, and Yaga coordinates with other ghouls to find supplementary sources to ensure that she always has a surplus on hand. This keeps all of us well-fed and lets her distribute the rest to those in need in exchange for favors and cachet that the rest of us can use for our own advancement. In turn, the rest of us pitch in for odd jobs here and there, mostly on flesh-gathering jobs of one kind or another, and we look out for each other. I’ve done a bit of babysitting with Kestrel, for example, and Yaga was able to get me and Scarlet summer jobs to save up for college.

Babysitting, by the way, is one of the most valuable services a household can provide to a ghoul parent. Given our mortality rate, it probably isn’t a surprise that there’s a good bit of cultural pressure to have children, and have them quick. Ghoul children are… a lot. When we’re newborn, we’re pretty much like human babies. Ghoul babies can nurse from ghoul mothers for awhile, which is a relief. They need to switch to flesh before their teeth come in, though, so that means flesh slurry, which is more complicated to make than you might think. For best results, you want a mix of blood, muscle tissue, organ tissue, and bone, especially marrow. We get better at pulling all our nutrients from just flesh as we mature, but babies aren’t as developed. Getting those varied tissues is a little more complicated than just getting flesh. Bone especially is challenging - more mature ghouls have no need for it, and it’s honestly kinda gross. You just have to hope that whoever you’re getting flesh from can start holding some bones for you. Not every source has easy access to bones. 

{Editing Note: I think I wrote bone too many times - it looks fake now. Bone. Bone.}

We get our ghoul teeth at the same time as our baby teeth. Our ghoul teeth fall out and are replaced too, but we keep growing new ones our whole lives, kinda like sharks. Funnily enough, I don’t think we grow extra human teeth, which seems like a strange way for evolution to take us, but what do I know, I’m not a biologist. At that point we can start eating regular flesh, and parents have the unenviable task of explaining to toddlers that they can’t just slide their teeth out whenever they want. Our other features come in a bit later - claws between 4 and 6, eyes with puberty. Let me tell you, the claws hurt coming in. I couldn’t hold a pencil for a month. My mom told the elementary school that I was deathly sick so she could keep me home, but I think Scarlet just pretended he’d broken both his hands and went in splints. I don’t envy him - stretching my claws did a lot to relieve the pain.

I’ll admit freely that, by our standards, I had a pretty charmed childhood. I fit into human society pretty easily, I had a mom who loved me and could provide for me, a patron and household to help pick up the slack, and ghoul friends my own age. I had the discipline to keep my true nature hidden from my human peers, and I don’t think I was even particularly traumatized by the pressure of performing humanity that much. I can safely attribute that to the fact that I had safe spaces throughout my life to let the charade drop. Most ghouls at least have that. Most, but not all.

Our integration into human society also means that we inevitably become entangled in human society. We become invested in the lives of our human peers, we befriend them, care about them. Sometimes we fall in love with them. Eating people seems like kind of a big secret to keep from a potential romantic partner - I certainly couldn’t manage it - but some ghouls form romantic relationships with humans nonetheless. Maybe some of these human partners eventually discover the truth and are willing to overlook it for the person they love, but I doubt it happens often. I’ve certainly never heard of it. I’ve heard of it going the other way, though, a human partner discovering the truth and reacting poorly. Someone always dies when that happens. I personally know a few ghouls who’ve dated humans, or are seriously involved with them. Frankly, it scares the hell out of me. I get that the heart wants what it wants, but some wants aren’t worth the risk.

{Editing Note: That last line feels… tense. Emotionally charged. Why? And should I change it?}

In my opinion, the gravest of these risks is what happens when a human and a ghoul decide they want to build a life together, but kids are already in the equation. The human-ghoul mixed family is probably the most toxic environment that a ghoul child could be raised in and conceivably survive. All that pressure of hiding your true nature from your peers as you grow up? That feeling of isolation that follows you everywhere you go among humans? All of the most crushing emotional turmoil I’ve described in this book so far? Imagine if there was no relief for that even at home with your family. I frankly have no idea how ghoul parents manage to feed themselves and their children without being caught, or how they manage to perform humanity so flawlessly and constantly that their literal immediate family never catches on. I don’t know how those children manage to survive to adulthood, but I imagine they have some seriously fucked up mental health problems by the time they do. Factor in the suspicion that they would inevitably face from our Society when they finally are able to join it properly - after all, who more likely to become a Judas or be Lost than a ghoul raised by humans? - and I’d be willing to bet most of them don’t make it out of their twenties.

Before we move on entirely from families in general and mixed families in particular, I’d like to take a quick aside to talk about “half-ghouls”. You hear about them in horror media fairly often, the biological child of a human and a ghoul. Authors love to ascribe all sorts of traits to these hypothetical creatures - greater and more monstrous than the sum of their parts, supernaturally strong and vicious, impossible to detect within human society, sometimes with traits that are blatantly impossible, like telepathy or mind control or just plain magic. All of that is obviously untrue, but it’s something of a point of contention as to whether or not a “half-ghoul” is even possible. None of the ghouls I’ve talked to seem to agree about whether it can happen, and a search of human medical literature was similarly inconclusive. Humans, at least, seem to think that it might be theoretically possible, but have never been able to verify it by observation or by medical experiment. Of the ghouls I know that have been romantically involved with humans, none of them have ever gotten a kid out of it. It’s one of those things where we just don’t know. If it were possible, I’m not even sure what the implications would be.