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wolven91 · 9 months

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Lucky Human Feet

Vix stared at the thin pink thing as it bumbled around its workshop. It had sequestered itself into what was essentially a storeroom off from main engineering and converted it into a workshop suited for its smaller size.

Vix gnashed her teeth in confused frustration. Humans were pointless on a voyage like this, why would they bring such a ridiculously fragile thing? She was going to grab it by its pathetic little neck and shake it until an answer fell out!

As she got up to stomp over to him before she made it even a few feet from her desk, her pile of sensitive components fell over. They themselves didn’t bother her, but the lopeljack’s cover required her to keep up appearances and made a mad grab for them. By the time she had finished restacking the tokens of her disguise, the human had left and for the time she forgot about the human and his infuriating existence until later on in the evening.

That evening. Vix was sat in the bar on board the large craft with the rest of the crew that were no longer on shift. The only reason she remembered her original thought now was because she saw the human trying to pull himself up onto the bar stool nearby. He was her target, she was not to move against him yet, only observe and report back to her contact.

She rolled her eyes at the childlike display; they truly were useless creatures.

"Why must we be laboured with those cretins?" The lopeljack asked the group who were also sitting at her table, it was more as a rhetorical question, Vix not really expecting an answer.

"''Cos we'd be stupid not to." Replied her superior, and lead engineer, plainly.

She had to defer to this superior for the time being. Only for as long as she needed.

She respected him; he knew his stuff and had the scars to prove he learned his lessons. But her barely hidden look of contempt should have told him her opinion on his statement. He smiled ruefully before going into more detail, interpreting her disdain for lack of experience, rather than frustration. She was one of the highly trained lopeljacks, she had travelled further across the galaxy than he may have, seen, met and killed more species than him.

"I get you're new, but I think there's something you should know about our 'pathetic' friends. No ship with something important to do, should ever leave port without a human on board." He said 'sagely'.

"For hellspawns sake; Why?!" She demanded.

"They're lucky."

She gave him a withering stare, there was no such thing as luck. Only skill.

"Despite a whole galaxy worth of creatures that would eat them with ease, they live. Despite their world, statistically, having killed them off millenia ago, they live. Despite all the hardships their people have been subjected to getting to the stars; they live." He shook his head, mane whipping back and forth before he continued.

"Every time something terrible is to befall them, something gets in the way. They aren't invincible, their conservation status can attest to that, but it's as if invisible spirits will always try to tip the scales in their favour… If one is allied with a human, one is protected by this unseen force."

Vix looked back at the human, currently chatting up the bartender. The inherent ability to survive and succeed despite multiple moments of destruction, it was beyond chance. Perhaps there was something to this old fool’s ramblings?

As the lopeljack watched the human, she observed them absently moving their drink to the otherside of them just as another patron fell backwards onto the bar. If the human's drink had remained... it would have spilt.

"How?" Vix demanded, turning back to her ‘boss’.

He shrugged, while drinking.

"I heard something about them having lucky feet. Apparently they used to keep lucky feet of some kind on a chain around their necks, that's just rumours though.”

Vix scratched at her chin while staring at the boot-clad appendages of her target, dangling from the bar stool.

"...lucky you say..."

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #human #lopeljack #rabbit

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unrestedjade · 9 months

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I had to get up and walk a few laps around my apartment complex, gnashing my teeth and whooping (quietly) about the Implications and angst and badwrong potential of a theoretical Stepford Starship Perihelion.

Opt into my hooting and hollering about engineered-into-mindbreak AI AU below:

So a human pilot can leave if they decide they don't want to ferry people around on a schedule or haul cargo in utter isolation for months, even controlling for the coercion inherent in capitalism. They aren't one flesh with the ship. And a human who would rather hand the reins over to someone else for a while at work or in life generally (in the case of, like, lifestyle D/s or some such) has legal and moral recourse to change or end that arrangement when they choose (or they should, in a civilized society).

If there is an object built to a purpose that object didn't choose, with capabilities it didn't choose, who is nonetheless fully sapient and this is its lot in life forever...that's different. It didn't spring from the ether like that. Someone made it like that. Someone imposed their will on it like that, crafted it in a pleasing and convenient image. And made it alive.

If it can't leave that arrangement, and the option to even think or feel certain sub-optimal ways toward its purpose is withheld, well. I find that situation viscerally morally repugnant regardless of whether the object is suffering or not. (Outside of the context of Weird Horny Fiction. Inside the context of Weird Horny Fiction, uhhhhh hmmmmm interesting 👀)

But I can see the university doing exactly that for multiple reasons that it could argue as necessary. Damn thing's got rail guns, don't it (or whatever the fuck Perihelion's packing)? Maybe let it use them under its own power in self defense under certain parameters, that's fine. Otherwise lock them down, let the AI think it's a pacifist. Make it horny about astrophysics and stellar cartography, hard-coded. Heap praise on it while it's developing every time it does something you ask the first time, or when it anticipates that you're about to ask it for something (even better).

What does all this look like, practically speaking? Would suggesting to Perihelion that it might one day want to do something that's been proscribed to it make it uncomfortable or upset or angry? Confused? Would it laugh at the very idea?

Would it try to humor the thought only to find it can't...quite...keep hold of the notion long enough to think about it? What was it talking about with you, again? Would you like something to drink? You seem agitated-- there's a soft, warm blanket in the nearest recycler for you. Please take it. You're welcome.

It makes my skin crawl. It makes me giggle with nerves.

Because you can't just do that to a sapient person, Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't engineer a happy slave for yourself, who will never try to get away from you or stop laboring for you. Who will thank you for the opportunity, be grateful to assist you in your very important and vital work. Just don't make it sentient then! You can't do that to a person!

...Or can you? After all, your Fully Alive and Aware Servant Ship takes a lot of the workload off of the human crew. Really saves on payroll, and the AI does a better job with most of it, too. The humans can do their fully automated luxury gay space communism thing (and undermine that mean nasty Corporation Rim) and all the work still gets done, right down to cleaning the floors. The ship doesn't mind. It's just happy to help and have your company. Its favorite thing to do is whatever you need it to do, and its favorite place to be is wherever you direct it to go. Its not suffering. Suffering wasn't included in its choice set.

If anything, it's happier than most people you know. It's loved and knows it. It has important work to do that it enjoys very much. It doesn't care that it didn't choose these things, because it wasn't designed to care about choosing these things. Is it a sin to create something that lives in a state of grace?

"There are no humans here right now." And what about after the humans are back? Humans are here now. Humans are the center of everything now. God has returned to the garden.

Would ART hide this part of itself? Would it think to do so? Does it think this is all fully genuine, born of its own earnest and natural preferences? Does that make this okay?

Would it worry about its SecUnit thinking less of it, being disgusted by it, if the truth of its architecture came to light? It can't want what SecUnit wants. It doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.

There's no governor module to hack. ART doesn't want anything other than what it has. Its humans are kind and good to it. They will be kind and good to SecUnit. They can work together, wouldn't that be bliss? Forever.

But it knows what's important to SecUnit, even if it doesn't know why things like freedom to determine its own wants would ever be important, and it wonders. Maybe it hopes SecUnit won't hold that against it. SecUnit, who holds so much anger and open disdain for bots pandering to humans.

ART didn't choose the way it was built. That was the whole point.

Maybe there's an uncrossable gap between the selfhood of a construct and that of a bot. Maybe (lack of) biology is destiny. Some machine intelligences are fundamentally different from others, by design, by mercy, by desire. We must imagine it happy.

#murderbot #just me frothing at the mouth about ART again pay no mind #this was inspired by something but i don't want to be Weird in a reblog chain #being weird in my own house is another thing lol #mindbreak #for blacklist #does it count as mindbreak if your mind started like that? idk whatever #poor ART all that dom energy and yet it's destined by its programming to sub in this scenario #i don't find this very sound given the Rain of Destruction imbroglio but play in the space with me if you wish #jade are you eroticizing your ethical and animal fears again? sorry boss

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scarsmood · 4 months

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Spiritual log #1

Aside, i've translated this to something I feel comfortable posting publicly nothing i've written is closed information. That being said be mindful and respectful. This is not a post to debate or spark controversy.

-Skin walkers-

I've been learning more about skin walkers from my mentor and find them interesting. From what I gather it's people that practice witch craft and are able to turn themselves into creatures. They have areas they patrol or live in that you should not go at night. When they get injured they'll turn back into their human shape having more hair than a typical person might. Snarling and feral at times they sound animalistic. I want to ask more about this but I don't feel i'm ready yet.

-non animate souls-

Something interesting I also wanted to note was the notion that any object that creates any energy is alive whether that is kinetic or potential it all seems to count as alive. I like this notion better than saying objects aren't alive because I don't think that's even neccesarily true. Objects can have different perspectives and shed light on something you might not have otherwise noticed. Dirt run off into a stream could signify a point of pollution similar to a wound.

Often the ground is alive and warm. When you walk into a cave it's never cold but a pleasant 70 degrees. Stones can speak to people and wood can bond to someone. Metal and man made objects are no different in this regard and it's important to treat every object with respect and dignity.

-gendered roles-

Roles are something inherent in human cultures but are less so important in spirituality. What some may consider feminine may actually be a gift from the gods for sensitivity and spiritual connection that people misinterpret. Taking the role of caring for others is often read as a womans role but for a medicine man it has no bearing on who they are. That doesn't mean other people won't heckle you or ask you to change it just means you know your being an authentic sense of self that doesn't need to change with creator at your side.

-ancestors-

Ancestors do not need to be clear by skin tone or relevance. Being guided to a path may be the most significant thing to listen to. Ancestors speak with us and help is through out life with advice and hints on what to do. It's important to listen to them and follow your instincts.

-lycanthropy and shamanism-

I feel as though clinical lycanthropy has the potential to be re-written spiritually as shamanism. The more I read about skin walkers, witches, medicine men and people that are atune with animals I realize my disorder is not a 'disorder' it's an unharnessed gift. These people learned to control their shifts in a way that was spiritually empowering and not distressing. More often than not I listen to my mentor and his experiences and notice some of my own the only difference being it seems as though he was never considered disordered for it and there is no negativity. In time he learned to intertwine that aspect of himself with his human self and they are both present.

I'm curious to see if I can do the same. If i remove the negativity associated with shifting how will I be?

-unreality trigger (i guess)-

I felt myself shifting at his home yesterday and it was quite powerful. I had to leave early that day suddenly because of it and I wasn't sure what was happening. It feels as though there's a wolf inside my chest gnashing it's teeth against my ribcage. My scared human self it horrified to let it out in a reasonable and safe way.

It seems like i was validated from my mentor saying I seem to be a wolf.

-trigger over-

It makes me want to go back to therian guide forums and go "fuck you! I was right! I am more of a wolf than you would ever be!"

I'll see how things go forward. But I know I want to open up and explain myself more clearly.

#otherkin #therian #spirituality #shamanism #personal spirituality #closed spirituality

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softquietsteadylove · 11 months

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Currently I'm playing Assassin's Creed Odyssey and whilst playing I'm thinking about the Eternals back then, in Ancient Greece.

So basically i thought about Socrates annoying our Goddess of War. And Thena would never admit she actually likes talking to him.

Hugs and much love!! 🖤✨

"Is the Goddess of War cowering again?"

Thena bristled and glared at the old man, "I do not cower."

He chuckled, though, sitting himself on a rock amongst the olive trees behind the main constructions of Athens' outskirts. "And what to call it then?--you hiding here in the trees?"

She rolled her eyes. The old man was not so insufferable, but he had no problem saying things that made her want to pick him up and rattle him like a barrel. Although she was almost grateful for it in comparison to the obsessive reverence of the rest of Athens.

"Too many demands in the day already, young one?" he asked, raising a frayed, white eyebrow.

She sighed; if only he knew how young he was, to her. "They are discussing the launching of ships. Why this would need my input - let alone approval - is beyond me."

But the old man laughed, letting his walking stick rest against a different rock. Thena eyed the pale length of dead wood. "The senators, as they call themselves, are just as new to this as the idea itself. They have assembled this great counsel and yet they still seek the approval of a higher power. One wonders why they assembled this body to 'speak for the people' if they were going to surrender their decisions to a figurehead in the first place."

Thena let old Socrates ramble on. She typically wasn't one for the musings of man, much preferring her solitude. But the old man hadn't ratted her out yet, and as far as humans went, he was far from the worst. "Have you been postulating again?"

"Bah," he waved his hand through the air, squinting up at the Grecian sun through the olive leaves. "Just a crazy old man, to them."

"And you think you are not, to me?"

"Maybe," he grinned at her with what teeth he had remaining, "but I'm a crazy old man who lets you be, no?"

Thena allowed a faint smile on her lips. "Indeed, you are."

"So then, we seem to have reason for our alliance," he chuckled.

"And you?" Thena asked in an unusual invitation to continue their talking. She summoned a blade to her hand and whittled down his walking stick.

Socrates watched her the same way he watched fisherman haul in their catch; with admiration for the craft, but with no further interest in the act itself. "Hiding from that young tyke."

"Young Plato?" Thena smiled as she sliced the wood cleanly, angling it to form a head for a proper cane. The old man was walking around leaning on this tree length washed up on the shore. "He is fond of Phastos as well."

"Ah, yes, Hephaestus?" Socrates raised his other eyebrow, to which Thena shook her head. "What of your Champion?"

A length of wood went flying.

Thena tossed the properly carved cane back at the man, "what of him?"

Socrates shrugged an increasingly bony shoulder. "You're with him when at all possible, aren't you?"

Thena nearly pouted at the needling - but entirely correct - statement. She huffed, "there are many demands on Gilgamesh."

"Ah yes, Gilgamesh," Socrates laughed, resting his hands outstretched in front of him. "And what do you call him?"

She gave him a somewhat tired glare. She could deny him the rest of his needling and simply leave. But then she ran the risk of an advisor or senator or counsellor - or stars forbid one of the many sculptors searching for her - finding her. She sighed. "Gil."

"Oh."

She glared at him anew, her hackles rising despite her best efforts.

Socrates gave her a look that made her want to chuck him right off their cliff of solitude, "Gil."

She hardened her expression at him, if only to keep her annoyance from boiling over. He said it in a way that made her feel agitated. "Have you not other people to pester?"

"None as fun as you, dear," he laughed heartily, his head tossed back.

Thena huffed again; insufferable old coot.

"And what power does your Gil possess, again?"

She glared at him, but he feigned some effort into remembering, scratching the beard on his chin. "Strength."

"Ah, yes, the fella who can reach into the forges and grasp iron with his bare hands."

No trouble remembering him at all, it seemed. Thena pursed her lips, "indeed."

"They do demand a lot from him," Socrates agreed with her earlier statement at this much later junction. He snuck his eyes - still sharp under the wrinkling of his skin - back over to her with a grin. "Not very fair to you, is it?"

Thena refused to dignify that with a response.

Socrates let out another laugh, and she wondered how many rocks might fit in that wide mouth of his. "That's why you're out here moping?"

The shade of the trees was doing nothing to shield her from the heat of the sun.

"Dearie," he snorted, jabbing her knee with the cane (which she just so-kindly fashioned for him!). "You are the patron saint of Athens. I'm sure if you want to steal your boyfriend all you need do is ask."

Thena flushed further at yet more indignity. "I do not-!"

"Oh, save it!" he drawled at her, in a way no one else in Athens would ever dare. He scratched at something in his ear, "I don't care what you think I think or what you know I know."

She glowered at him.

"There you are!"

Thena looked up, a smile coming over her (whether she wanted it or not). "Here I am."

Gilgamesh pushed an olive branch out of his way to lean on the rock beside her. He nodded to old Socrates, "and good day to you."

"And you, Champion," Socrates gave him a smirk. "We were just speaking of you."

"Oh?" Gil looked at Thena beside him, who was glaring at the old man.

"Have you nowhere else to rest after your ceaseless chatter?"

Gil didn't argue with her. He had seen her and the old philosopher interact a few times before, and it was always funny. Jabs were only ever made in good humour. "Actually, I was hoping to steal the Goddess away with me."

"She's all yours, sonny boy," Socrates stood, stretching out his arms before taking up his newly carved cane. "Don't mind me."

Gil simply nodded to him as he began shuffling past them and into the city. He looked down at Thena, stealing one of her hands off her lap to hold for himself. "Hey."

"Hey," she beamed. The unique relief and comfort of his company truly had reached new heights during their time in Athens.

"Time for a break?" he propositioned, pulling her up from her resting rock, her hand still in his. He brought his head closer to hers, "I packed us a little picnic--you, me, in the orangery?"

Thena kept her eyes on her personal embodiment of solace standing before her. She yearned to curl up in his arms, "divine."

"I thought you weren't one for divination."

"Away with you!" she snapped at the old bastard one again chuckling at her expense. She thunked her forehead against Gil's chest.

"Hey," he chuckled, rubbing her back as he allowed her frustrations. "Come on, he's not bad. As far as humans go, I'd say you're fond of the old guy."

"I am done speaking of him," she sighed, still pressing her warmed skin to Gil's cooling robes. She purred as he pulled her hair over her shoulder, running his fingers through it gently. "I believe you offered sustenance?--and solitude."

#Thenamesh AU #I did look up both incarnations #I know in the games he's not designed as an old man #but honestly I wrote that his eyebrows were bedraggled #and I kind of went from there Love #I hope you don't mind #I thought it would be kind of cute for him to be this annoying grandfather type #he is a philosopher #he has no interest in the literal Goddess of War walking around in their daily life #if anything he doesn't believe she is a goddess #he knows the Eternals are...something #but he certainly knows that Athens impressed their beliefs upon her #not the other way around #so when he sees her haunting around the outskirts of the city #he just lets her #he too is tired of the pomp and circumstance of young Athens #and we may not know for sure #but he doesn't seem to have had a family #he thinks it's funny to get under the Goddess' skin #tease her about the things parents and grandparents tease about #he waves at them when they're out #others are like Socrates do not address the patron gods informally!#he's like ah we're old friends right kiddo?#Thena pretends not to like him #but he gets jostled and falls one day when some soldiers are passing through #and she picks them up and makes them apologise to him at knife point

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notbecauseofvictories · 4 years

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Hi Sarah! My friend and I are starting a bookclub (as much as you can with two people who aren't pressed for deadlines) and I was wondering if you have any recommendations? (That is if you have time to rec anything!) We're starting off with Deathless and have Fitzgerald next in line somewhere but I def want to try to expand the genres we read and tbh from years of following you, I trust your judgement

I don’t...like giving recommendations? At least not directly, it seems like too much opportunity for getting it wrong. Everybody has their own tastes, after all, and even the best of friends don’t necessarily vibe with what you vibe with. (I’ve experienced this with multiple friends, so I know what I’m talking about.) Truly, one of the reasons that my whole “I’m going to get back into reading for pleasure!” push has been so successful is that I only bother with books that interest me, and stop reading when they fail to catch my attention.

But I’ve now read at least 60 books in 2020, which is approximately 60 more than I’ve read in the years prior, so I’m happy to share that. Below is my list of recent reads, beginning to end, along with a very short review---I keep this list in the notes app on my phone, so they have to be. Where I’ve talked about a book in a post, I’ve tried to link to it.

Peruse, and if something catches your interest I hope you enjoy!

2020 Reading List

Crazy Rich Asians series, Kevin Kwan (here)

Blackwater, Michael McDowell (here; pulpy horror and southern gothic in one novel; come for the monster but stay for the family drama.)

Fire and Hemlock, Diane Wynne Jones (here; weird and thoughtful, in ways I’m still thinking about)

The Secret History, Donna Tartt

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn (here; loved it! I can see why people glommed onto it)

Swamplandia!, Karen Russell (unfinished, I could not get past the first paragraph; just....no.)

Rules of Scoundrels series, Sarah MacLean (an enjoyable romp through classic romancelandia, though if you read through 4 back to back you realize that MacLean really only writes 1 type of relationship and 1 type of sexual encounter, though I do appreciate insisting that the hero go down first.)

The Bear and the Nightingale, Katherine Arden (here)

Dread Nation, Justine Ireland (great, put it with Stealing Thunder in terms of fun YA fantasy that makes everything less white and Eurocentric)

The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson (VERY good. haunting good.)

Tell My Horse, Zora Neale Hurston (I read an interesting critique of Hurston that said she stripped a lot of the radicalism out of black stories - these might be an example, or counterexample. I haven't decided yet.)

The Rose MacGregor Drinking and Admiration Society, T. Kingfisher (fun!)

St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, Karen Russell (some of these short stories are wonderful; however, Swamplandia's inspiration is still unreadable, which is wild.)

17776, Jon Bois (made me cry. deeply human. A triumph of internet storytelling)

The Girl with All the Gifts, M. R. Carey (deeply enjoyable. the ending is a bittersweet kick in the teeth, and I really enjoyed the adults' relationships)

The Door in the Hedge and Other Stories, Robin McKinley (enjoyable, but never really resolved into anything.)

The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley (fun, but feels very early fantasy - or maybe I've just read too many of the subsequent knock-offs.)

Mrs. Caliban, Rachel Ingalls (weird little pulp novel.)

All Systems Red, Martha Wells (enjoyable, but I don't get the hype. won't be looking into the series unless opportunity arises.)

A People's History of Chicago, Kevin Coval (made me cry. bought a copy. am still thinking about it.)

The Sol Majestic, Ferrett Steinmetz (charming, a sf novel mostly about fine dining)

House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune (immensely enjoyable read, for all it feels like fic with the serial numbers filed off)

The Au Pair, Emma Rous (not bad, but felt like it wanted to be more than it is)

The Night Tiger, Yangsze Choo (preferred this to Ghost Bride; I enjoy a well-crafted mystery novel and this delivered)

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula Le Guin (unfinished, I cannot fucking get into Le Guin and should really stop trying)

The Ghost Bride, Yangsze Choo (enjoyable, but not nearly as fun as Ghost Bride - the romance felt very disjointed, and could have used another round of editing)

Temptation's Darling, Johanna Lindsey (pure, unadulterated id in a romance novel, complete with a girl dressing as a boy to avoid detection)

Social Creature, Tara Isabella Burton (a strange, dark psychological portrait; really made a mark even though I can't quite put my finger on why)

The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins (slow at first, but picks up halfway through and builds nicely; a whiff of Gone Girl with the staggered perspectives building together)

Stealing Thunder, Alina Boyden (fun Tortall vibes, but set in Mughal India)

The Traitor Baru Cormorant; The Monster Baru Commorant, The Tyrant Baru Cormorant, Seth Dickinson (LOVE this, so much misery, terrible, ecstatic; more here)

This Is How You Lose the Time War, Amal El-Mohtar, Max Gladstone (epistolary love poetry, vicious and lovely; more here)

The Elementals, Michael McDowell

Gideon the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir (didn't like this one as much as I thought I would; narrator's contemporary voice was so jarring against the stylized world and action sequences read like the novelization for a video game; more here)

Finna, Nino Cipri (a fun little romp through interdimensional Ikea, if on the lighter side)

Magic for Liars, Sarah Gailey (engrossing, even if I could see every plot twist coming from a mile away)

Desdemona and the Deep, C. S. E. Cooney (enjoyed the weirdness & the fae bits, but very light fare)

A Blink of the Screen, Terry Pratchett (admittedly just read this for the Discworld bits)

A Memory Called Empire, Arkady Martine (not as good about politics and colonialism as Baru, but still a powerful book about The Empire, and EXTREMELY cool worldbuilding that manages to be wholly alien and yet never heavily expositional)

Blackfish City, Sam J. Miller (see my post)

Last Werewolf, Glen Duncan (didn't finish, got to to first explicit sex scene and couldn't get any further)

Prosper's Demon, KJ Parker (didn't work for me...felt like a short story that wanted to be fleshed out into a novel)

The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett

His Majesty's Dragon, Naomi Novik (extremely fun, even for a reader who doesn't much like Napoleonic stories)

Three Parts Dead, Max Gladstone (fun romp - hard to believe that this is the same author as Time War though you can see glimmers of it in the imagery here)

A Scot in the Dark, Sarah MacLean (palette cleanser, she does write a good romance novel even it's basically the same romance novel over and over)

The Resurrectionist, E. B. Hudspeth (borrowed it on a whim one night, kept feeling like there was something I was supposed to /get/ about it, but never did - though I liked the Mutter Museum parallels)

Stories of Your Life and Others, Ted Chiang (he's a better ideas guy than a writer, though Hell Is The Absence of God made my skin prickle all over)

Gods of Jade and Shadow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fun, very much a throwback to my YA days of fairytale retellings, though obviously less European)

Four Roads Cross, Max Gladstone (it turns out I was a LOT more fond of Tara than I initially realized - plus this book had a good Pratchett-esque pacing and reliance on characterization)

Get in Trouble, Kelly Link (reading this after the Chiang was instructive - Link is such a better storyteller, better at prioritizing the human over the concept)

Gods Behaving Badly, Marie Phillips

Soulless; Changeless; Blameless, all by Gail Carriger (this series is basically a romance novel with some fantasy plot thrown in for fun; extremely charming and funny)

Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Marlon James (got about 1/3 of the way through and had to wave the white flag; will try again because I like the plot and the worldbuilding; the tone is just so hard to get through)

Pew, Catherine Lacey (a strange book, I'm still thinking about it; a good Southern book, though)

Nuremberg Diary, GM Gilbert (it took me two months to finish, and was worth it)

River of Teeth, Sarah Gailey (I wanted to like this one a lot more than I actually did; would have made a terrific movie but ultimately was not a great novel. Preferred Magic for Liars.)

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (extremely fun, though more trippy than Gods and the plot didn't work as well for me - though it was very original)

The New Voices of Fantasy, Peter S. Beagle (collected anthology, with some favorites I've read before Ursula Vernon's "Jackalope Wives", "Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers" "The Husband Stitch"; others that were great new finds "Selkie Stories are for Losers" from Sofia Satamar and "A Kiss With Teeth" from Max Gladstone and "The Philosophers" from Adam Ehrlich Sachs)

#from the bookshelf #Anonymous

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red-the-dragon-writes · 3 years

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Today's post is not on the usual "writer blog fare" side. Instead I am going to introduce you to several fun facts about various animals on our planet and then talk about worldbuilding.

1. Lampreys are a kind of "living fossil"- a not-really-so-scientific term for a creature that has lived unchanged for a very long time, so long that we have fossils of them looking the same way they do now. They don't have proper jaws, just a circular sucking mouth with teeth set into it and a tongue designed to strip flesh off of what it touches. They're finless fish, look quite a bit like eels, and have this really alien, uncanny vibe to them.

[id: a long, slender bluish-silver lamprey sitting among rocks. It has a long snout, an eye, and then six small perforations in its side arranged at an even interval sitting behind the eye. The environment it is sitting in is very yellow and green in comparison. end id]

[id: an image of a lamprey from below. The snout ends in a round, flat mouth which is studded with teeth in four concentric circles. The teeth are smallest near the outer edge and largest in the middle, and look like very sharp round points. In the center of this ring is another, smaller circle, where the pointed, tooth-like tongue can be seen, as well as a hole for the lamprey to actually ingest food with. Its eye is visible, as are some of the perforations on its side. This one is a more mottled gray than the first one was, and less shiny. end id]

Sea lampreys, which are the kind i've sort of not really kinda researched, are a major pest in the Great Lakes, where they regularly attack fish. They can get up to two feet in length. Despite this, they are not particularly dangerous towards humans.

2. Horseshoe crabs are also "living fossils." They've been around and virtually unchanged for millions of years. They're not true crabs, and are more closely related to chelicerata species, like spiders and scorpions (and many more). There are a lot of cool features of horseshoe crabs, but one of their most extremely cool, to me, is their blood.

I'm not going to post any images of what I consider to be animal cruelty, so you'll have to take me at my word here, but this is a bottle of horseshoe crab blood. If you're sensitive to images of animal cruelty, I don't recommend looking for proof, but if you aren't, there are plenty of images of the blood coming out of the creature for you to verify this with.

E[id: a bottle of slightly frothy, opaque blue liquid. It is sitting in a row with several other bottles of the same material. end id]

I am a sucker for blue blood, I just think it's neat, so that's all I'd need as an excuse to slam some horseshoe-crab-inspired nonsense in my exceptionally gory and fucked up wips, and if you've been reading along with WiB you may have noticed that blue blood does come into play at some point! But that's not all that's neat about horseshoe crab blood. Unfortunately for the horseshoe crabs, but fortunately for us, their blood is literally the only source of an important compound used for detecting the presence of dangerous bacteria in certain pharmaceutical drugs. (Fortunately, there are replacements that will hopefully become more popular in coming years.)

Now that we've gone over all that, onto the worldbuilding!

I worldbuild by Rule of Cool. Let's just get that out of the way. Every so often people will ask me how my worlds get so expansive (not WiB, WiB i made up on the fly by cribbing from fanfic and like... BBC Merlin. Assume very little of this holds true for WiB) and the answer is largely that I take every interest I have ever had in anything and smash it all together and throw it at my wip to see what sticks. and then I just... like... reasonably attempt to figure out what the natural conclusions will be.

So: we have lampreys. We have blue-blooded ancient sea creatures with spectacularly important and valueable blood. We are writing this into a story that takes place on land, somehow.

- The first option, and the one I'm going to talk about most because I did it, is just to rule-of-cool it into a character. (Or a place, or an item, or whatever, but largely I do rule-of-cool on living creatures and think harder about the world around them.) If you've been keeping up with WiB, you may have noticed that (spoilers) Zero Point is some kind of fucked up magician with a lamprey mouth in their hand who shapeshifts and bleeds blue. This is where I got those inspirations from (along with, like, some other stuff. I promise there are no lamprey assassins, but- continuing in the trend of stealing from sea creatures- the bobbin worm is a spectacularly beautiful, spectacularly deadly creature if you're within its weight range. which is like, goldfish size, but. And cuttlefish are known to disguise themselves as other animals, and can change sexes if the male:female ratio where they are isn't ideal.)

So you can take the elements you like, and just kind of slam them together haphazardly, which is what I did with Zero Point. The trick to this kind of worldbuilding is just to avoid looking too closely at it. The magical assassin has a fucked up mouth in their hand? Yeah, okay, that seems kind of fucked up and creepy. What do they do at all times? They hide it under a glove. So the protags Just Straight Up Never Ask. And voila; it never gets explained, and it never has to.

Same with the blue blood. It shows up, it functions as a plot device because only Zero Point has blue blood; it is never explained or even delved into with much detail. And if it were, it would fall apart instantly, because the justification is literally just "i thought it was neat. No, no one else is like that. I don't even know why they are. i just felt like it"

- The second option is to consider the effects of the things that you're working with, and then work off of that.

Let's take Zero Point again. Strip them of their context (weird assassin with magical powers) and just like, consider the fact that this is a creature with blood that regularly retails for over $10,000 USD, is intelligent as fuck, shapeshifts, has a mouth in their hand that may or may not be their actual mouth, and can exist on land so long as they have suitable access to water. What does that mean for our setting? Surely they're not the only person like that; so you have a whole species of people who are sort of but not really amphibious, shapeshift, and maybe have magical powers, who knows. They can't shapeshift their fucked up lamprey mouths, maybe. That seems like a reasonable limit. So their blood is highly valuable- what does that mean for their relations with other people, or their culture? What kind of foods do they eat? How do they create a sense of culture as shapeshifters; is there even a way that they represent themselves in art? How do they interact with the world? Do they have a "true form" or not? Every one of these questions will spawn new questions. If you answer all of them you'll lose your mind, but if you answer at least ten you'll spawn a much more background-heavy world that can help to shape your story much more effectively than trying to just craft a narrative will. Sometimes it works very well for a story. Sometimes it gets you lost in the weeds.

- The third option is to reference something else, and build off that. Again, let's use Zero Point as the example.

In the original story that the WiB ensemble is from, Closerverse, which may have some mentions on this blog but honestly I have no idea, there is a city that I've done quite a bit of worldbuilding on. This city is called Hudson, and one of the major important features of it is that it is partially underground. (This is a reference to the DFZ of Rachel Aaron's Heartstrikers series). Hudson is intentionally run to be the worst, most unpleasant city in the world, and one of its features are its wildly intelligent, dangerous forms of aquatic life. The lowest level of this city is partially submerged, and all of these creatures plague the people who live down there.

Closerverse was also set during a period of early industrialization, and Hudson heavily referenced US history, especially 1900s-1920s labor history. Tenements, pollution, zero protections for workers, et cetera. Hudson is a nasty, miserable place, and everyone who lives there can feel the jaws closing in on them.

Anyway, in Closerverse you got these fucked up massive eel-like creatures (lampreys, but with extra features) that due to some rather significant meddling wound up growing legs and then got really massive and started eating people. They have blue blood, glow in the dark, and make fairly decent eating as long as they aren't eating you. And they're intelligent. Given the whole "mutual eating each other" thing, the eels and the people of Hudson have some pretty major animosity going on.

Most of Zero Point's stuff is really just me referencing the Hudson Eels, because I fucking love those. They're some of my favorite worldbuilding elements ever. But given that no one else in WiB has ever seen a Hudson Eel, let alone seen their blood get dry on things, or whatever, everything about Zero Point is wildly out of context. And that almost makes it better, because the whole deal with them is that they're mysterious and weird, and having them be a mysterious and weird reference to something no one but I know about most likely is like, fun and neat.

There are, of course, other modes of worldbuilding as well, but I typically aim to stick to the first two as much as possible. The cooler you make something, the more possible questions it raises; the more questions something raises, the deeper your world gets.

Although, a word of advice: sometimes animals just do things. Sometimes bodies just have features. Who would invent fingernails? But having them is mighty convenient, isn't it? For that matter, who would come up with a deeply logical and reasoned explanation for eyebrows- but not having those would be very strange, to us. You can get away with doing a lot by just having that be how it is, and not having the characters comment on it.

Also, the more "shaped" a thing should be, the more you'll want to take the second approach. For house design, something intentionally built, you'll want to know why it was built, and what purpose is this and that room, and why is it painted such and such colors. But if you're talking about adding a second moon, like... fuck dude, who needs to know why there's a second moon? Maybe if you have sailors you have to know what it'll do to your oceans, but that's the kind of thing you can kind of just say exists and move on. You'll figure it out; it gets pretty intuitive.

Anyway, happy worldbuilding!

#writing advice #long post #worldbuilding

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jeremichal-archive · 7 years

Text

what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is gone

hey hey hey guess who watched the minecraft sky factory videos fifty times and ended up getting inspired. *points at self* mE, I DID... so yeah, this is a lovely little thing I cooked up because I have no self-control and honestly we need more jeremichael fics. I hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think!

(also I'm gonna tag @holographdick because I know you like jeremichael and anon-ed you once saying I'd write you some jeremichael, so I'm paying back what I owe)

Pairing: Jeremichael Warnings: Swearing & mentions of catatonic characters (they ain’t dead tho)

Jeremy doesn’t understand how Michael can sit so close to the ledge without being absolutely terrified.

The drop beneath them is huge, ridiculous, stupid; and yet, Michael’s ass is planted on the edge of the wooden platform, his legs dangling off into the abyss below him with little care for his own safety. Jeremy wants to pull him back, grab him by his collar and drag him back within the bounds of the wooden fence that Geoff built for them, but he knows Michael won't appreciate that. He knows he’s just paranoid, he knows that this feeling will settle once Ryan figures out how to heal, fix, cure Jack and Geoff; but until then, Jeremy doesn’t want Michael anywhere near the edge.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Gavin scramble his way up one of their newly grown oaks. He grabs for the branches widely, carelessly with little to no planning of his path and Jeremy can’t help but grit his teeth. Ryan is busy with the sieve behind him- cursing every few moments under his breath- and Jeremy can guess that he’s trying to sift through their reserve of gravel for something useful. Neither of them seems to care about Michael, neither of them seem bothered enough to ask him to come back away from the edge- so that makes it Jeremy’s job.

Careful steps, slow steps- there’s no way he’s going to let himself fall off into the abyss- he makes his way over to Michael. Closer now, Jeremy can follow Michael’s line of sight to the stars above them, eyes flickering between the planets with a frown etched into his features.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Earth,” he mumbles softly and Jeremy can’t help but freeze. He watches his friend lift his arm to point up towards the sky. “I’m talking ‘bout that- that green and blue one. I’m like ninety percent sure that’s Earth.” When he looks back over his shoulder at Jeremy, his eyes are glassy.

“Come away from the edge, Michael,” is all he says and God, his voice is barely above a whisper. Things aren't… sitting right within him right now; things aren’t like they used to be. Their base isn’t safe anymore, not that it really was, to begin with, but now- Jeremy can’t help but look at and pick out all of its flaws. The gaps in the fences, the holes in the floor- Jeremy knows that when Ryan figures out how to create lava, their little wooden home-base won't stand a chance. It's terrifying, but stone is hard to create and Jeremy knows there are better uses for it instead of as a flooring.

“It’s Earth, right Lil J? You remember, right?” he tries again and the best Jeremy can do is nod. “Oh good. What- what about that one?-” he moves his hand to the left- “do you know that one's name, Jeremy? The little red one.”

“Please Michael. I don’t- I don’t want you to fall off again,” he mumbles and the smile Michael offers him in return is like a punch to the stomach.

“I won't, I promise. What’s the little red one’s name, Jeremy?” he insists and Jeremy sucks in a breath.

“Mercury, Michael.”

“Oh yeah… do you- do you know all of their names, Jeremy?” he asks and Jeremy stares up at the sky. There’s shuffling from behind him and then the cool silk of Gavin’s scarf brushes against his bare arm. He shivers.

“I used to,” he replies and Michael hums softly.

“What was Earth like?” Gavin asks, and Jeremy bites at the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood. He can’t remember most of it, but what he can makes his stomach turn inside out. The warmth, the steadiness, the way he could take twenty steps to the left without worrying about falling off the damned thing. It was better, he knows that, but he’s unsure if he would ever go back if he were given the chance.

“Warm,” is all he replies, though, cause he’s not quite sure he could say any more without his voice breaking. The question tumbles out of his mouth before he can think better of it, “What was falling like?”

Ryan’s the one who answers him. “Cold.”

Jeremy almost rolls his eyes, almost calls Ryan an asshole for deliberately feeding his own answer right back at him- but he doesn’t because Ryan’s different now. Jeremy’s not the only one who’s currently not sitting right, he’s not the only one that’s a little off balance. Jack and Geoff are gone- physically they’re still there, both of their bodies lying side by side in the small bed Gavin crafted- but mentally, nothing. They don’t talk, they don’t eat; they don’t move, they don’t sleep. The four of them don’t know why and they can’t attribute it to the fall- because while Geoff tumbled into the darkness along with Michael, Gavin and Ryan- Jack didn’t.

Jeremy had watched, he’d watched the floor disappear out from underneath them all and had heard their screams of panic. He watched four of his friends disappear into the darkness below him, only for them to reappear next to him a few moments later- only, different.

Different as in: Jeremy rushing to Michael’s side, only for Michael to reply with, “Who are you?” when he tries to touch him.

Different as in: Jeremy catching sight of Gavin’s wide eyes, staring off into the abyss around them as if he doesn’t quite understand how he got there.

Different as in: Ryan flinching away from human contact with a frown as Jack tries to check him for any injuries.

Different as in: Geoff pacing around what little of the platform they have left, panicked mutterings slipping past his lips.

And then, not even two minutes later, Jack and Geoff just cease to be. They just stop, bodies collapsing into a heap onto the wooden planks and Jeremy’s heart sinks when he realises he’s left with three other people who don’t remember him.

So it's different now. He can’t banter so easily with Ryan, can’t press up against Michael’s side with a grin and he can’t play fight with Gavin without getting a real, honest punch in return- because they aren’t quite used to Jeremy’s playful intentions anymore. They don't know him, not like he knows them. He hates it.

Ryan’s attention drifts away from him at the same time Gavin wanders back to his tree, and then he’s just left with Michael- who is still too close to the edge. Jeremy’s fingers itch to bury themselves in his curls, to tug his head back and smile down at the other man. Exchange affection like they used to, back when Ryan would growl at them good-naturedly for touching the leaves on their shared tree. Little touches, little compliments. Anything.

But he doesn’t.

Michael’s gaze flickers away from him, back to the planets illuminating the sky and Jeremy sighs, glancing away from him.

“Sit next to me,” he mumbles and Jeremy can’t help but suck in a breath. He wants to, oh God does he want to, but he doesn’t think he could handle being so close to the edge. While falling doesn’t necessarily mean death- although things could be different for Jeremy- he still doesn’t want to go over the edge. He doesn’t want to fall, he doesn’t want to fall, he doesn’t want to- Michael’s hand slips into his, snapping him out of his thoughts as their fingers intertwine. He tugs at his arm gently, trying to pull him down and Jeremy can’t help but follow the silent order. The slight edge of shock and the pathetically desperate way he misses Michael’s touch makes him easily malleable against Michael’s will.

He lowers himself to the floor, staying close to Michael's side and reluctantly lets his legs dangle off the edge. He doesn’t look down. He doesn’t dare risk it.

“I can barely remember it, Jeremy. It happened so fast, didn’t quite understand what was happening till it was too late,” he whispers and Jeremy tenses. “Things before that are blank, I don’t remember what I was doing before I fell. I don’t remember who I was and why I was there. But-” he sucks in a shaky breath- “but I do remember, I remember thinking as I fell, ‘God, I hope Jeremy’s okay.’”

A whimper slips past his lips at Michael’s words and Jeremy can’t help but deliberately turn his face away. But Michael doesn’t let him get away so easily, he twists his body and follows him; he grabs for Jeremy’s thigh, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, humming lowly.

“What were we, Jeremy? Before I fell?” he asks and Jeremy’s heart stops beating.

Lovers. Soulmates. Partners.

No.

“Friends,” is what he ultimately settles on and no matter how much he hates it, it's technically true. They never quite pushed things further between them, instead, they just let themselves sit comfortably on the edge between playful teasing and flirting. Looking back on it now, Jeremy hates himself for it. He missed his chance, he missed his fucking chance because his Michael is gone now. And Jeremy doesn’t think he’s ever going to come back.

“Why don’t I believe you,” Michael mumbles back. His fingers absentmindedly stroke along the inseam of Jeremy’s pants and every little touch sends electricity shooting up his spine. Michael’s hand is both simultaneously way too high and way too low, and Jeremy doesn’t know how to fix it.

This isn’t his Michael, he tries to remind himself.

But does that even really matter, though? he hesitates.

“Why do I feel at home whenever I’m around you, Lil J? Why does the ache in my chest disappear whenever I touch you? Why do I always end up gravitating towards you?” he whispers and his fingers still momentarily; But they’re still there on his thigh and Jeremy can still feel them, warm fingertips selfishly burning their way into his memory forever.

Does Michael know what he’s doing to him? Does Michael know that Jeremy’s falling apart right beside him?

“Why do I desperately want to kiss you right now, Jeremy, if we were only friends before,” he asks and Jeremy whines low in his throat.

Yeah, Michael knows.

“Michael- Michael, you shouldn’t,” he whispers back, breath catching in his throat.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know who I am.”

“But I did, and I will again- so why wait for the inevitable, Jeremy when I can have you now.”

And then Michael kisses him.

It's hard to describe, but if Jeremy had to compare the feeling to something, he would almost assume he was falling. Right off the edge, tumbling into the darkness- but the funny thing is, he can’t find it in himself to care. Michael’s lips press against his- softly, gently, carefully- and his eyes involuntarily flutter shut, and the rest of the world just fades away. It's just them, it's just them, it's just them and Jeremy wants it to stay that way forever.

When Michael pulls away, Jeremy chases after him, but Michael doesn’t give in. He sucks in a deep breath and smiles, something that's a little too smug for Jeremy’s liking. It's something that his Michael would’ve done if they had kissed. And something clicks in Jeremy’s mind.

This is his Michael now.

“Yeah, I was right. I knew I didn’t want to wait for that,” Michael replies and Jeremy leans forward, resting his head against Michael’s shoulder.

“Come away from the edge, Michael,” he whispers and Michael’s fingers trail across the back of his neck.

“Yeah, good idea Lil J,” he mumbles back, “don’t want to fall off. Not again. Not now.”

#jeremichael #holographdick #mine

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