alwayslosingtheplot-blog

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

not the cold and flu kind of sickness, but the corrupting kind. decaying roots, deep poisons, spiraling hallways and madness and yellow and strained weak breathing. what's real and what's the fever? are you ill or are they killing you, are you rotting from the inside out? there is something in you and it wants to be free. coughing black ink instead of blood and it tastes like a haunting. a curse with no cure. a malady that says "i don't feel well" and means "i don't feel human anymore".

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Something different

Still worldbuilding, but this is for my D&D game. I just liked it and wanted to share. I asked my players for a random word that I would try to build a city around. This is the first one: Bioluminesecence. The other words are Pyramid, Hieroglyph (they did not discuss this, it just happened) and Oblivion.

Wuldor avor eth Gruna (Bioluminescence city)

Locally known as Gruna, or Gem, the full title of the city is still used in any official address to the populace or in correspondence to the outside world.

Gruna is a druidic society which grew around following the flow of water underground. Air vents used to connect the city to the surface, but after a gnomish attack used these to poison the populace, most of they were closed off and alternatives (in the growth of modified algae species in underground lakes). The Trader's Road to the upper city is now the only official path leading to the outside, but there are still a few vents which are hidden and kept secret even from most of the dwarves living within the city. There are mushrooms farms on each level, which would supply the city with what in needs for a short time during a siege, and more sources are being studied.

Gruna is all about water. The dwarves here mined, not for gold and gems, but for new sources of water that would allow their city to grow. Everything about the city is based around the flow of water. Canals locks, bridges are everywhere, gutter and ditches are build with special species to clean the waste water and almost all of the water here glows blue with bioluminescent algae and fish.

Two underwater rivers meet at the Upper most level of the city, where they flow into a large lake. The lake is built up on one side and a dam is built on the other, forming a crescent shape wall, behind which is a cliff. Behind the wall, the water is released into a set of identical twin waterfalls, which come down to the second level, and another lake, which flows into an offshoot river to one side and down into the two lower level.

The first level is the oldest part of Gruna, called Ald Gruna, and for all those outside of the city know, it is the only part. It is not very large, but every itch of space is used to create domed towers within the natural cavern. The building along the edges follow the shape of the rock, rooms carved into the rock rather than built on. These are mostly warehouses for food and weapons (although nothing of real value is kept here), and each family is giving one or two (depending on the size of the clan) for storage. Many of these lie abandoned or forgotten about for years, and a few hide the secret air vent to the surface. This is also where someone might stumble on the remanent of the resistance during the War, or signs of Gnomish spies.

The second level is called Propre, and is the largest and youngest part of the city. The aging populace mostly live in the upper city - not be design but purely because the younger people moved down into the new homes below. Almost all dwarven children can be found here, and this level is more spread out that above, with open places for meeting and playing being more common. The roads are not as wide than above, with trade coming from above in lifts between the waterfalls, back into the rock and moved out from there, or on ziplines coming from the backside of the dam's wall. Cooking and eating is more communal down in this part of the city as a result. The evaporation from the water above and below, and being lower and further away from the Trader's road means that the walls here are almost always wey and 'rain' is quite common. Awning cover most roads, angled to lead the water back into the drainage gutters. Dwarves from other dwarven cities, along with their families, are sometimes allowed into this part if they are being considered for an exchange marriage as part of the courtship rituals.

The third level has more buildings than people most of the time. This area was build as a refuge should the city above be attacked. The entrance is down a large stairs that lies hidden behind the second level that is easily blocked and defended. An air duct and lift used to lead to the surface from here, but it is closed off at the top and spikes and steel mesh all along it. People do live here, it is known as the Bachelor's quarters and is where all unmarried, but adult dwarves live in segregated dorms. This is where the journeymen live, at the end of their apprenticeships before they have completed their masterpiece and fully joined their trad, along with those who have applied for a marriage.

The fourth level has no name. It is not often spoke about, and when it is the conversations are quite. It is for experimentations. Forges down there work on dangerous items, druids test the water and experiment on modified species for food, purifying, oxygen production and other reasons. Monsters are brought from elsewhere for the last part of training for the Fishermen, and armed section of the Jurors. This is where the prison is also, and fishermen will travel down here from above occasionally to practise before heading down further, to the uninhabited crab grounds, to hunt larger prey.

The stairs that started behind Propre continues downwards, lifts and steps carrying the dwarves down and away from the city into the very depts of the earth, where the water is plentiful, but the dangers present make it too dangerous to live. Riches unimaginable lie waiting in the dark.

However, there is no personal wealth inside of Gruna, and money is used only for trading with the outside.

The only thing that matters for status in Gruna is personal and familial power.

The council is run by the leaders of the most important guilds in the city (decided every twenty years by public vote), and the current Lock Keepers. The Lock Keepers run the canals as well as controlling the flow of water and goods throughout the city. They are not a Guild, because each section has their own Lock Keeper and each one wants what is best for their own section. They have this job until they retire, do not have appendices and choose their successor (usually from the Juror or the Trader's Guild, and it is forbidden for them to choose a family member). If they die without choosing a successor, a vote among the other Lock Keepers is held.

Community is vital to the survival of the dwarves. All children as seen as belonging to the city instead of to their parents, and all are apprenticed at 12 to one of the guilds. There are hundreds of guides within Gruna, and some hold more power than others and only a few getting to vote.

Familial ties are considered when a child is to be apprenticed (and often it is as simple as a baker's child will be assigned to their parent's guild). However, stronger families will try to snap up talented children or interfere with the apprentice selection through poaching or using the courts to block certain appointments. All of them might try to snap up a Lock Keeper's child in other to get some sway over the Lock Keeper's council vote, for example, but will try stop others from doing the same.

However, despite the struggles that might happen, children are almost never killed or hurt to prevent their placement. Marriages must be considered and approved by the government, as is having children. Most of them are organised by families through a Matchmaker, who works for the Juror's Guild (who single dwarves can also apply to once they become of age without familiar input). Because of this, Dwarven children are highly valued. Any children born 'out of legality' incur fines, which are often paid back by a young adult of the family being sent on a journey to the outside world for missions for the government or the child later being apprenticed as a 'crab farmer' - a job with a high mortality rate. Religion does not play a big part in the city, as having loyalties outside of what is best for the city is seen as unneeded. People are allowed to have religions (and many do) but the understanding is that the Dwarven culture is to come before any deity, even those of Dwarven origin.

The city used to be run by a single, high-powered clan but after the Gnome poison attacks killed so many, they were all executed for failing in their duties -except for a single daughter who became a Water Seeker and was brought out to meet guests and espouse how better the new system was - and the council was enacted. The Council is made up of 18 votes, 9 for the Lock Operators and 9 split between the guilds.

Half-dwarves are quite common here in the upper city, the only part of the city 'outsiders' are allowed to enter. They are welcome, as most of them do well under the vastness of the overhead sky to farm the area near the Trader's Road which are shipped in. These farms are necessary as, even though there are food sources within the city and surrounds (and more are always being researched), the diet does need to be supplemented to meet the nutritional needs of the dwarven citizens.

Young dwarves set out into the world to sell goods and seek so highly of their own culture are gently (but not expressly) encouraged to spread their wild oats. Few of these children come back to the city itself, although more do live in the surrounding villages and towns, but Dwarves prefer to deal with Traders from other places with half-dwarven staff are given preference and better deals.

The few half-dwarves that do come into the city often become 'tour guides', guiding would-be traders or buyers around the better parts of the Upper city and showing them the forge (that was designed to impress them). They are allowed to marry and have children, but many find it difficult to do so - although the families they join more often than not embrace them (as these types of outside relationships are not seen as infidelity, but as a duty).

All Half-dwarves are considered members of the 'Farmer's' or 'Trader's' Guilds simultaneously until they are adults and are allowed to choose between them at 25. Those that do not become tour guides or outside farmers often go to work in the Bat farms (which are used to generalise fertilizers for the canals, outside farms and crab food as well as early indicators of airborne dangers).

A giant geode was recently discovered with crystals that seem to have slight magical powers, and tests are being done to see it these can be used as air purifiers, so the remaining vents to the outside world could be closed. Any failures are taken away to be forged into items for trading.

Gruna is a vast city, most of which is hidden away, and despite the lovely light of its canals and how it dances off the light of its polished stone, it hides many secrets which are just as dark and dangerous as the things that lie in the dark, dripping earth below.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

“We need you to clear the flock of banshees off the roof of parliament.”

The civil servant who’d called me was dressed in one of those suits that I think of as a ‘masquerade suit’. You’d know the cut if you saw it. It’s expensive, but not flashy. It’s well tailored, but not clingy. It does not hide or accentuate, but gives the impression of being a second skin. It is formalwear as your natural state. It is when your every stitch and fibre says: ‘this is my place’.

It’s like the glamour a vampire puts on to hide its teeth. Only it’s better, because it’s real. Oh, the things you can hide in a suit like that. It gave me goosebumps.

I tried to focus on something else, so as not to just rudely and silently stare at him. In the background, I could hear distant otherworldly screams. They made the air tremble with the promise of loss.

It was only a little comforting.

“Ma’am, we are willing to pay you a significant express bonus. And an out-of-hours bonus, if you can begin immediately.” The civil servant must have assumed my silence meant I was either sleep deprived or playing hardball. “And once you are enrolled as a contractor, we can likely offer regular future work. Especially if the flock *stays gone*.”

“It’s not a flock.” I replied softly.

“I assure you, there are … a significant number of them.”

“I’m not querying the number, but the noun. A flock is either sheep or birds.” I closed my eyes and focused on the wails. “Your guests are a ‘keening’.”

“Of course.” The civil servant smiled politely. “Well, at least we will know what to put on the invoice.”

“Some people prefer ‘bewailing’. For the alliteration. But that’s also not quite right. The plural of banshee should really be mnashee. Anglicised from ‘mná-síghe’.”

“I … see.”

“It’s Irish. Sticking an s on the end is … it’s a little like saying ‘womans’ instead of ‘women’.”

“Well. Can you banish this ‘keening’ of ‘mnashee’?”

“When did they arrive?”

“Right in the middle of a debate on the Pluto-Transmutation Act. It was quite disruptive.”

I clicked my teeth. I needed the money. But this whole situation gave me an all-over cold iron itch…

“I’ll need to see them.”

“Ah. I will fetch Ma’am a set of ear defenders.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I smiled my sliver-of-moonlight smile. “That’s why you hire a changeling.”

---

The mnashee were clad in their customary robes, dark cloth draped loosely over pale skin. Of course, it’s not exactly skin. It doesn’t really have cells. It’s not an organ. It’s just the edge of an idea. The boundary where death and grief meets human perception. So it looks like skin and it’s pale like a corpse.

What surprised me, though, were the placards they were holding. These were not exactly customary. They seemed to be made of mundane wood and cardboard - if I squinted, they stayed solid through the Veil - but the text and images seemed to have warped through close proximity with the spirits.

When things get warped, they tend to go one of two ways: spidery or squirrelly. The words had gone spidery, the words flowing into each other and splitting into vein-like strands, untethered from the cardboard. The pictures had gone squirrelly, seeming to shift and move and grow eyes that stared out at the world with feral, furtive energy.

I cleared my throat.

The keening of mnashee turned to look at me. They did not stop wailing. But the *flavour* of the wails changed. The sound was the same, but beneath it - above it, behind it, spat out of it - was a pattern. And that pattern was a meaning.

It was not communication, exactly. But it was a knowing.

So I knew, then, why they had descended upon parliament.

“It’s like I thought.” I said to the civil servant, thoughtfully. “The Act you’re trying to pass … many won’t survive it. They are just here to sing your grief.”

“The Act is necessary. The aetheric exchange is too volatile at the moment, we need to-”

“It doesn’t matter what you need. The route you’ve chosen to get there is blood-paved. This keening arrived when the first slow passing began. They will leave when the last ends.”

“We have run extensive projections and-”

“They don’t care how much you made the numbers dance.” I kept my voice politely neutral. “And I’m not here to judge you or tell you what to do. They sing what is true. Then I speak to that truth.”

“Can you make them leave or not?”

“Perhaps I could, but I will not. For it would not be honest to do to them. I will join them and I will continue to speak their knowings.”

The civil servant’s face was red, his biology betraying the lie of his perfect suit.

“Well, you can forget about the *generous* compensation package…”

“Fine. But you will still pay my call-out fee.” I sat down and prepared to wait. “Unless you want to break a bargain, that is?”

---

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[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

So... I found this and now it keeps coming to mind. You hear about "life-changing writing advice" all the time and usually its really not—but honestly this is it man.

I'm going to try it.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

No idea how many of you really care, but yes I am still writing. I just don't have anything to talk about it.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

is John green actually on tumblr or not

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Stop-and-write: Hard Mode

If you see this, stop and write at least one sentence in each of your active WIPs.

Yes, each of them.

Good luck.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one that added 35k extra words to the projected length of this fucking story ahgeilahgleiag

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

“i liked it before it was cool” well i liked it AFTER it was cool when everyone abandoned it

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

“do you think your book will get published?” i think it’ll get finished one day, maybe.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

He got mistaken for a waiter and was delighted by it. 

I can’t

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Hesperides

Is the place of dreams, Hesperides is the place of nightmares.

Come to the beach as the sun sets over the mainland and see the shadows of the roaming beasts, some as large as the city you stand in.

Come see the founding place of the religion of [[]] , come see the pond where the gods lay waiting for people to come find them.

Come all those of other faiths, for the welcoming isle cares not what you believe, only that you test that belief on the beaches of white sand and distant horrors.

Come Kings, come nobles, come those of a simple life. Come, and be humbled, and remember how small we all are, alone or together.

Come see them, and find them evermore in your dreams after you leave. Come here.

For there be monsters.

-A note from a banished jester to his former court, about the island of Hesperides, otherwise known as the humbling isle.

There is a small monastery city on the island, and some surrounding farms. The city is run by the church of Piscis, a water-based religion who believed the Gods were waiting for people to find them in a Pond on the Island.

This species of fish is said to have given the first Priestess visions and messages that saved her people. They are a highly, colorful fresh water species and it is forbidden to harm or eat them. Their ponds are maintained by the church and pilgrims are allowed to see them only with supervision.

All other fishing is considered a holy venture and is encouraged to happen as a type of prayer activity, as is singing.

Singing on the beach while looking at the mainland (and possibly catching sight of some of the megafauna that live there) is a nightly activity that is supposed to ward off evil.

The Chorus of the island is known far and wide, with many performers finding great renown after taking the opportunity to come and learn from the priestesses.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

what bugs me most about the idea that the Hero's Journey is "universal" is that the closest thing to an actual "universal" story that exists is CINDERELLA.

And what's the point of Cinderella? That she leaves. She goes to the castle and becomes a princess and LEAVES the place she started.

She does not "return changed." She does not do the Hero's Journey.

You do not get to call your theory universal if you can't account for freaking Cinderella.

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

me as a writer

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Whenever an artist who makes dark content gets outed as a sexual predator people will be like 'aha it was obvious something was up because their work was so dark and nasty' and whenever an artist who makes wholesome content gets outed as a sexual predator people will be like 'aha it was obvious something was up because their work was so aggressively wholesome' and it's like you know I think maybe you can't tell whether or not someone is a predator based on their artistic output.