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lizabethstucker · 2 years

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Book Review: Classics Mutilated: CTRL-ALT-LIT edited by Jeff Conner

Thirteen stories in which classic tales and authors are combined with horror or fantasy tales and/or tropes. Or, as the editor calls it, Monster Lit, only with an updated twist or two to keep the new sub-genre alive. Each story has a black and white drawing that invokes the tale that will follow. I’m tempted to copy some of them to frame, they are that good. I’ve never heard of this publisher, IDW out of San Diego until I stumbled across this book at my used book store.

As with any collection, there are highs and lows. Sadly I DNF’d two of the stories, one due to animal/animal-human hybrid abuse. Abuse, especially of animals and children, is a hard line for me, one I do not handle well. If it is a main part of a story, I’m not reading, no matter who the author is or how talented they might be. Most of the stories within this collection were good enough, a few were fantastic. Would I recommend it? Primarily for horror fans. The literature side was more prevalent at the beginning compared to later in the story. A good read overall. 3 out of 5.

“The Fairest of Them All” by Sean Taylor. The dwarves worry about the human girl that they’ve taken into their lives and home. Leader, believed to be the oldest, knows that sooner or later the Wicked Queen will find Snow. Then there will be choices to be made. When an enchanted mirror is discovered deep in the mine, with a girl trapped inside, they take it to Snow. Wow, this really twists the two stories (“Snow White & the Seven Dwarves” and “Alice in Wonderland”) off-kilter, yet there is also a certain logic to this mashup. As they say, “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely”. 4 out of 5

“Anne-Droid of Green Gables” by Lezli Robyn. Matthew Cuthbert needed help on the farm so, using his savings, he purchased a refurbished prototype android that was never put into mass production. Only he didn’t get the expected androgynous adult droid. Instead he receives a female child overflowing with curiosity about the world and longing for both a bosom friend and a forever home. Let’s start with that illustration, an adorable mix of android and big-eyed rag doll. It makes you want to hug her and keep her safe. As to the story, there are a few changes, other than the obvious. For instance, Matthew and Marilla are a married couple rather than siblings. I absolutely enjoyed this sweet story! 4.5 out of 5

“Little Women in Black” by Louisa May Alcott & Rick Hautala. The March girls are knitting socks for the Union soldiers while lamenting being poor. Their father is serving as a chaplain in Mr. Lincoln’s Army. Beth appears to be a ghost, unable to interact with her family despite her best efforts, yet still present. Jo is still tomboyish, although there are hints that she might actually be trans, or would’ve been in modern times. She makes it clear that she would much prefer to be male and fights the attempts to make her into a proper woman. Jo still meets Laurie, but here we’re given strong hints that he is from another planet. I was fascinated by this story, but I felt it deserved expansion. 4 out of 5

“Death Stopped for Miss Dickinson” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch. Poet Emily Dickinson, very much an introvert, meets a mysterious man in the graveyard outside her window. She becomes terrified that he could become immortal if her sister doesn’t destroy all her work after dying. The tale is jumpy, told from different viewpoints, but never settling long enough to connect. Perhaps a more fluid method of storytelling would’ve increased my enjoyment as there were some jewels of pure beauty in the story, but the nonlinear method just constantly jolted my enjoyment. And, by the way, was Thomas Higgonson really needed? I think not. My first disappointing story. 3 out of 5.

“Twilight of the Gods” by Chris Ryall. Loki is exiled to Jotunheim, his presence unwanted by the people of Asgard. Fine with him as Asgard was no longer working for him. He’s dropped into a new environment that helps Loki find himself. That’s pretty much as far as I got. I could blame Marvel and Tom Hiddleston giving us such a marvelous and witty version of Loki or perhaps the fact that this is a mashup with 90210, a series that I abhorred (along with all the other CW/UPN series in this vapid style), but the reality is that Ryall’s writing voice alternately bored and annoyed me. DNF

“Pokky Man” by Marc Laidlaw. When Hemlock Pyne was found “asleep” at a Pokkypet Reserve, his films were turned over to filmmaker Vernor Hertzwig. Hertzwig interviews Pyne’s friends and acquaintances as well. Huh, a skewed look at Pokeman and Werner Hertzog in this deep dive of what happened to Pyne. Or perhaps it should be why it happened is more accurate. After the disappointments of the last two stories, I was happy to find myself engrossed once again. Strange and intriguing. 3.5 out of 5

“Vicious” by Mark Morris. Sid Vicious is sick, turning on his friends and bandmates, dealing with what is probably crabs, and not giving a shit about pretty much anything when a beautiful black woman appears in the broom closet where Sid had fucked the American fangirl. He’s at a crossroads and must make a decision that will direct his life. This one was hard to rate, but the writing is hardcore and, based on what I remember of Vicious, dead on characterwise. 3.5 out of 5

“From Hell’s Heart” by Nancy Collins. Three men, all new to the trapping trade, decide to pool their resources and partner up. It is successful until the night they trap a strange creature who manages to bite one of them in the hand. As the hand becomes horribly infected, the unnamed narrator goes to the trading post for laudanum, meeting a man named Ahab, a former sea captain, who asks to accompany him back to the cabin where his two partners await. Once there, they discover one man dead and the other no longer recognizable as human. Ahab relates an extraordinary tale before following the creature into the night. I delayed reading this for a bit as I was not a fan of either Moby Dick nor Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, the inspirations for this story. Yet I found it surprisingly intriguing, although with a most disturbing ending. 3 out of 5.

“Frankenbilly” by John Shirley. While working as a soundman on the set of “Billy the Kid Versus Dracula”, our unnamed narrator meets a mysterious cowboy who claims to be the real Billy the Kid, although he prefers to be called Henry now. He relates a strange tale of how he met the doctor who inspired Mary Shelley’s Dr. Frankenstein before changing his mind about letting that story out. The mixture of fact (the film, the location, the actors involved, some of the history of Billy and Pat) and fiction makes for an interesting horror tale. 3.5 out of 5.

“The Green Menace” by Thomas Tessier. Fleeing Washington after his Senate censure, Senator Joe McCarthy checks into a fishing lodge in the middle of Wisconsin to reconsider his future plans, brood, and do some heavy drinking. Instead he finds himself at war with frogs unlike any he has seen before. I’m honestly not certain why this story appealed to me considering my absolute abhorrence of McCarthy, but it did pull me into its universe. I was pleased to see that the narrator, young Kurt, comes to see McCarthy for what he really was as he grew up and did some research. 3.5 out of 5.

“Quoth the Rock Star” by Rio Youers. When a raven appears at a Doors concert, Jim Morrison is drawn to follow the creature despite believing that it might be a hallucination due to LSD. Walking through the streets of Baltimore, Jim comes to believe that it might be the soul of a broken person. He didn’t expect to meet the long dead Edgar Allan Poe. There begins a partial meeting of two men with much in common, merging into a fight for control, for life, for another chance to create. Two troubled geniuses, both burning themself out through depression, in desperate search for love and a different life. Youers’ voice is so compelling. Knowledge of both men’s lives and works will definitely add to a reader’s enjoyment. 4 out of 5.

“The Happiest Hell on Earth” by John Skipp & Cody Goodfellow. After 37 years in solitary confinement, the elephant man breaks loose, committing suicide, and leaving behind a manuscript that describes how the Animal Wars came to be. I was nervous enough to read this story based on the art that preceded it, but once I started reading, I knew it was more than I could stomach. The animal and animal/hybrid abuse is throughout the entire story, the callousness too much for me. Before I quit, I saw references to Dr. Moreau, another story I find difficult to read, and some barely disguised swipes at Disney. DNF

“Dread Island” by Joe R. Lansdale. Huck Finn and Jim are convinced by Becky Thatcher to go after Tom Sawyer and Joe Hardy when they decide to go to Dread Island. The island, set in the middle of the Mississippi River, can only be seen on the first night of a full moon. Its reputation is that of deadly danger, but Huck cannot abandon his friend and disappoint Becky. Jim reluctantly goes with him. I’ve never read anything from Lansdale before although I’m aware that he has a strong fan base in SFF. If his books are as imaginative and engrossing as this story, I can understand why. First I love that the relationship between Jim and Huck is very father and son as well as friends. Plus Jim is so much more knowledgeable about things and Huck is willing to listen, even if he still insists on going after Tom. Lansdale has mixed Twain’s Huck with Uncle Remus’ Brer animals and Cthulhu into a horrifying adventure. There are even a few recognizable guest appearances from both literature and history, giving a hint as to how this island operates. Brilliant! 4 out of 5.

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 2 months

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#ace ventura #cannibal Corpse #Hammer smashed face #90s #90's #tomb of the mutilated #death metal #classic albums #osdm #oldschool death metal #usa

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typewriter-worries · 1 year

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like the knife clings to the wound

Speeches for Doctor Frankenstein, Margaret Atwood | Unknown | Essay on What Is & Isn't, Cameron Awkward-Rich

#if you know the painting name and painter please let me know!#margaret atwood #cameron awkward rich #speeches for doctor frankenstein #webweaving #web weaving #dark academia #classic academia #light academia #literature #tw gore #tw body mutilation

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scottheim · 1 year

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I love posters from 70s/80s Bigfoot / Sasquatch films

#bigfoot #sasquatch #boggy creek #peter graves #night of the demon #yeti #abominable snowman #sun classic #shriek of the mutilated

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ozlices · 8 months

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fnaf help wanted 2 level where you charge freddy's head and get stalked by monty or something idk [throwing darts at the wall]

WAIT NO

LET US REPAIR GLAMROCK BONNIE.... AND REUNITE THEM....🥺

#mine #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf hw #fronnie #i mean im fine with either but i think the fandom collectively deserves the second one #pull a classic unbury your gays it'd be so iconic.#i mean ig we could also repair freddy... since his body. is mutilated. BUT WE DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE IT IS #who stole his body. why is there a prototype replacement where his body should be that's also headless.#give me answers through gay people.

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thesexiestselkie · 8 months

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Wait fall break isn't a thing outside of North Carolina?????

#i didn't realize this until i was watching a video on the 1984 north carolina classic The Mutilator...

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jellyloveru · 1 year

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wats a dream

#балаболим #overslept. ough.#oh well i needed that.#that also means that I had a little bit of time to dream so. i think it's a plus) was the world of edd dream. kinda funky)#with all of the humor that was in the original. a bit dumb but endearing in places lol)))#like. it was in a classic era and during zombie outbreak. people are being dumb not seeing who's zombie and who's not #(one guy gets pinned to a wall by a zed and goes 'oh. you could have just told me you liked me!' *tears out tongue out of mutilated mouth*)#(ну как и говорил. не юмор а испанский стыд но покекать чуток можно. мне кажется бошка его воссоздала хорошо))) )#anyway. the main four are leaders now. and by far NOT the edgy kind. edd is in a superhero suit and tom puts in eyes/pupils-#-seemingly to seem normal? he hears on tv something about 'whiteeyed ___' (hero? didn't hear) and gets nervous.#('you PROMISED you wouldn't tell them :(!' at edd while he's holding a contact lense. wait. why did tom have white eyes...?)#ANYWAY. that was nearly the end but from what i got the four was in a basement (gru-like basement lol) and each had henchmen.#(because i saw edd's run around in a red face mask. didn't see other's. maybe they take turns with the same henchmen..?)#edd was happy about the outbreak (among other things i've forgot) tоrd said 'scary' and matt said 'sad'. already said tom's #oh right. outfits. was too focused on the other two so i didn't see tom's or tоrds but edd had a red and black superhero suit #matt had a light-blue jean jacket instead of a black/purple one. he had a #- a brightly orange fire drawn on the back of it. oh also tom had rather shorter hair.#yeah... that's all i think. there was something else but i can't pull it out)

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being-kindrad · 4 months

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Andrea Dworkin's classic Beauty Hurts diagram from Woman Hating (1974), updated for modern procedures, fifty years later.

A first step in the process of liberation (women from their oppression, men from the unfreedom of their fetishism) is the radical redefining of the relationship between women and their bodies. The body must be freed, liberated, quite literally: from paint and girdles and all varieties of crap. Women must stop mutilating their bodies and start living in them. Perhaps the notion of beauty which will then organically emerge will be truly democratic and demonstrate a respect for human life in its infinite, and most honorable, variety. —Andrea Dworkin, Woman Hating (1974)

#feminism #radical feminism #anti beauty culture #anti beauty industry #anti beauty standards #anti makeup #andrea dworkin #dworkin #beauty culture #women #woman hating #woman

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harmonysanreads · 5 months

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I need a neuvillette dragon courting us but we don't notice till he's all sad cause he thought we was purposely ignoring his courting attempts😩😩🙌🙌🥲

Out of curiosity, I googled 'dragon courting rituals' but unfortunately, I didn't find anything unique or remarkable there. However, it is my theory that "dragon courting" in Neuvillette's case, will contain some traditions that will appear rather strange to humans. Reinforced by Neuvillette's voice line on vishaps:

This gets progressively funnier depending on which ‘era’ of Neuvillette you're in.

My personal favorite is freshly reincarnated Neuvillette, equiped with the emotional intelligence of a pebble and a teaspoon of understanding of the human world. He's confused about his predicament as he is and then the world throws this.. creature he feels the need to keep close in his life as if to screw him up some more. He observes you an unhealthy amount, yes, but, cannot make sense of the majority of what he sees. His memory is fragmented as well so he only recalls some things from his previous life. It takes more time than it should for him to accept that no, dropping freshly hunted animals or the mutilated remains of your enemies at your feet won't succeed in making you less afraid of him. He then opts for crystals, ores, gold—you know, the shiny things but, even those fail to make you rethink him as anything other than a monster. You can deny him for only a limited time as well because, in this stage of his life, he's the least patient. As the desires of his new form fester, he becomes more lenient towards brute methods.

His rough edges smoothen over the course of his time as Iudex. He at least, recognizes that courting in the human society puts consideration on matters such as mutual respect, compatibility, consent etc. and tries to follow decorum. While he isn't the most suave gentleman who'll effortlessly sweep you off your feet yet, he's not borderline savage at least.

Present Neuvillette on the other hand, is much more careful and does thorough research before making a move. If he's 100% okay with the repercussions that'll follow, he doesn't even need to rely on grand gestures to send the message to the public. His presence or, his name alone is sufficient to mark you. All he needs to do is talk to you in a certain way and in a consistent manner for Fontaine to eat it up. It may not be clear to you, but, it's obvious to everyone else and that's enough to eliminate the majority of competition. He'll still do some of the classic courting stuff like gift giving and (in his case) sampling water together. The insistence on being subtle might just become his undoing though, especially if you're equally oblivious.

#thinking about pre chief justice neuvillette and the emotional hevoc being his darling would bring #neuvillette brainrot #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #yandere genshin impact

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 days

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A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity.

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly.

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight.

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over.

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

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uncanny-tranny · 1 year

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Don't get me wrong, I think it's perfectly acceptable that trans people don't always have certain surgeries and procedures, but I think something is to be said about the amount of trans people I have seen bash a certain gender-affirming procedure.

It's totally fine to not want some or any surgeries, but it's still transphobic to say "I think the results are ugly/look mutilated" or that trans surgery is "rudimentary" or "experimental" - even if you're also trans.

The idea that certain gender-affirming surgeries are mutilation or experimental is a classic form of transphobia, so it really does hurt seeing other trans people propelling those same talking points.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #i dunno i just want to find resources for gender-affirming care without hearing how my body is mutilated and gross #transphobia #transphobia tw #cis people can look but don't touch please #gender-affirming care is very much not experimental

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 6 months

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ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔟𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 - 𝔗𝔬𝔪𝔟 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 (յգգշ)

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kiitoskiitos · 6 months

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You can now buy my zine Mutilation grindset in my etsy store!!

It includes comics, essays and more. Many liked classics from me and also plenty new stuff only included in this zine. Read all the specifics in the item listing. Thank you for your support!

>>>link to store<<<

#transgender #comic #zine #sorry this took a long while... had to learn how etsy works and try mailing etc. very exited to share this one!!!#i've worked on this a lot this summer. it feels like a really good start to what i aim to do with art and my output.#tried to keep it affordable since it is my first zine and i am still learning.#if you have any guestions. ask away. i'm cleaning my ask box next #<3 #also keep in mind i'm going to start sending these next monday (13th)

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beanjang-draws · 2 months

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You won’t stop talking about Plague Ponies — What is it?

Plague Ponies is what I’m calling my MLP Infection AU series! I jumped on the bandwagon because I love putting ponies in situations. I started this on TikTok, but that place is a terrible place to post anything but finished videos, so I’m brainrotting on my blog <3

My au will be a little bit of a slow-burn, focusing on character interactions when the stakes are much higher than they were during most of the show.

This is a grimdark, so things will get a little grim, a little dark. The standard blood, death, gore, body horror, and toxic situationships. There will be doomed yuri, corruption arcs, redemption arcs, regression arcs, and lots of angst.

What I will NOT be including in this series:

• Sexual/birth horror (rape, necrophilia, infant death, infant mutilation, graphic depictions of abortion, forced pregnancy)

• Mental illness diagnoses in character profiles (and no “insanity meters” or uses of common mlp grimdark “classics” such as Cupcakes-esque Pinkimina, crazy Twilight, Little Miss Rarity, etc.)

While I love dark, psychological horror, I want to treat these characters with integrity and not rely on shock value. I love the infection aus I’ve been seeing, but too many of them veer into being distasteful for the sake of nostalgia or something. I personally think we’ve grown past that phase of the fandom.

The first half of Plague Ponies will be focusing on Ponyville, taking place shortly after season 4, episode 7 (Bats!), focusing on the Mane Six and various background characters shown throughout the show. I created this wanting to explore character personalities, so I’ll try not to change too much of the original characters’ core personalities, but everything is based on my own interpretation of the characters, so it may be a little different from someone else’s vision of the show.

While I will feature some characters from later seasons in the show, I didn’t really watch it regularly after season 4, so later editions to the Ponyverse may not show up. Sorry Tirek.

As I upload I’ll edit this post and link the “episodes” below the cut so it’s all in one place.

Thank you for reading :3

Season 1

Episode 1: Break-time

Episode 2: Research

Episode 3: At the Barn

Episode 4: In the Orchard

#beanbong #plague ponies #mlp grimdark #mlp infection au #my little pony #mlp fim #my litte pony friendship is magic

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artist-issues · 9 months

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About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

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