#genre deconstruction

[alpaca-clouds]

Some Punk Genre Ideas

Writing that horribly long Punkpunk genre overview, that obviously missed some of the punkpunk genre, I could not help but think that there are some punk genres that are somewhat missing or could be defined. That is genres, that kinda use the punk idea and mix them with certain scenarios or retrofuturism. And I would argue, that these genre already somewhat exist in one way or another, but have not quite been defined.

Once again, I will go with this idea for punk ideology – and with the presumption that this somehow should play into the genre.

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Please note: While I absolutely think that there is a ton of stuff that could be explored in regards of retrofuturist ideas based around non-white cultures and technologies (for example by defining more punk derivatives from Amazofuturism and Afrofuturism), that is nothing for my white ass to talk about. 😉

I will start with three anime derivates – that have most certainly inspired this kinda storytelling before…

Mahoupunk

As a genre: The magical girl genre is ripe for deconstruction, and sees more and more of the sort even in western media. While traditionally the genre often concerns young girls and their magical powers in a story of self-discovery and coming of age, it also usually has a lot of potential in terms of both who the magical girls fight and who they get their powers from. I propose that Mahoupunk could feature both stories of magical girl powers being used by those in power for oppression with others – both Magical Girl and normies – trying to fight this system, or of Magical Girls awakening in a dystopic world (possible Cyberpunk), trying to change it for the better. The wide variety of the way magical girl powers can be used would allow for a variety of storytelling opportunities, given the powers can be used both in terms of combat, but also in terms of mutual aid.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic could play around with classical magical girl elements against a rather dark and gloomy backdrop. We see this already a lot in magical girl deconstructions, with the pastel colored magical girls with their hearts, ribbons and flowers against a dark skyline.

Punk-Factor: As I propose it, the genre would play around a lot with the question of “Who has power and who uses it for what?” The magical girl powers – or those, who distribute it – can be a tool of the powerful and the oppressors, but they can also be a tool for those who fight against this kinda oppression. And this fight against oppression and the trial of helping others are most certainly punk elements.

Examples: My Otome, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Note: The idea here kinda comes from my frustration over the lack of magical girl deconstructions. We have dark magical girls, yes, but most of them tend to be “magical girls but dark and gritty and people die”, rather then exploring the themes about magic and who gives it. Yes, Madoka and Uta~Kata kinda explore this a bit, but it never goes further into the who gets and who controls magic – the way that some of the following genre explore those themes.

Mechpunk

As a genre: Admittedly, this almost feels like cheating because the Mecha-Genre has been deconstructed about five hundred times already and kinda already does this on the regularly, which always makes me surprised that so few people dare to put it on Cyberpunk lists for example. What I propose as Mechpunk could also be called Gundpunk, because, let’s face it, Gundam has my ass pretty much covered. In a world where SuperRobo-style Mechas are the most effective type of war machinery, they will get used to oppress people and uphold the (often capitalist) status quo, while not rarely people from the lower classes might find themselves forced to pilot these suits. But being the effective war machines, they also can be used to break the cycle. As such the pilots might need to navigate their way between political strive and the fight for a better world.

As an aesthetic: Again, this genre feels like cheating, because at least a forth of all the Mecha anime out there play it like this – but it also has found its way into western media like this. I feel, we should embrace the aesthetic of the SuperRobo and those neat overstyled pilot suits, though. Put that in front of a rather dystopic cyberpunk backdrop and it plays a lot with the contrasts.

Punk-Factor: Again, fighting the system of oppression definitely qualifies as punk. I would also be super interested in seeing stories, where the Mechas are used in more creative and productive ways, such as mutual aid.

Examples: Basically two thirds of all the Gundam series out there, Bokurano, Iron Widow

Monpunk

As a genre: While the other two are examples of genre, that have been played around with a lot, I also have to talk about my kinda favorite anime subgenre, that has been explored too little so far: Monster taming. While not the first of its kind, Pokémon is probably the most influential part of the monster taming genre, but there are a ton of others out there. While it is obvious that this genre is heavily inspired by Shinto believes, I find it almost sad, that there are rarely any deconstructions – but Monpunk would be one of those. Monpunk would explore both the spiritual and the ecological aspects of the monsters. The creatures, that are inherently linked to their human partners, are exploited – be it by the system or their human partners themselves. Pokémon itself allows itself for such readings, and I would go as far that at least Takeshi Shudo’s novels can be read in a way that the Pokémon and trainers are exploited by a capitalist system. The genre could explore the bonds between humans and creatures, both as friends, but also as an exploitative relationship. It could also feature characters getting aware of the exploitation happening.

As an aesthetic: Something that to me really works well about the entire monster taming genre is the contrast between humans and creatures, so this is something that could be used in the design aesthetic. Slick human designs with kinda futuristic outfits meet wild creatures, that are monstrous and feature natural elements.

Punk-Factor: As so nicely pointed out by that Wikipedia description of “punk ideology”, there is also an aspect of animal rights and environmentalism to punk, which could be explored within this genre. And of course, going the Pokémon route, this could also be super interesting as a comment on capitalist systems.

Examples: The Pokémon novels by Takeshi Shudo, Kaiba, MyHiME

Note: While the capitalist reading might also work with “merch bound mons” (like the cards in Yu-Gi-Oh and its derivates, or the Beyblades), I do not think that this kinda story would quite work with what I imagine here.

Did I choose the genre based on starting with the letter M? No, I did not. It just happened to turn out that way. But I kinda find it fitting.

There is the general thing of course that a lot of western media still kinda struggles with these ideas in general. We do not get a lot of books or movies based around these genre in western media, even though I know there are quite a lot of writers who write about it. I think this is partly, because it is seen as “childish”, but partly also because people do not quite get what it could look like outside of the visual medium, which at least the mechas and mons heavily rely on in their storytelling.

Still, I would absolutely love to see these kinda stories told in all sorts of media. And god darn it, book publishers. Give those magical girl stories a chance.

Moving away from anime/manga inspired ones and going back to some more history inspired ones:

Knightpunk

Note: I know I am not the first one to propose something along these lines. I have seen the title Castlepunk and Plaguepunk thrown around quite a bit. But there is an argument to be made for a world developing technology from the medieval feudal setting onwards, with stories being told within all sorts of time periods.

As a genre: The defining feature of Knightpunk would be that it is set within an anachronistic feudal setting. There are kings and queens and nobility who hold power. The world has duchies and landlords (who actually hold land and not just houses). And most of the population are considered uneducated peasants used for menial work. While technology has improved, there are still some of the problems going around like the danger of famines. The church, too, has some hold over the people, threatening them with eternal damnation. And the knights exist to uphold the status quo. The central conflict of these stories would feature characters trying to either find a way they can exist in peace – or actually overthrow the system. There also could be stories told about the value of education, medicine and moving forward as a society.

As an aesthetic: I would argue that as an aesthetic Knightpunk already exists. There are a ton of stuff that play around with medieval fashion and of course armor and adding modern day or even futuristic elements to it.

Punk-Factor: Playing it as I imagine, the stories would be quite punk both in terms of featuring counter culture, and in terms of tackling themes of standing up against a corrupt system.

Examples: Nimona, Jupiter Ascending, Code Geass

Druidpunk

As a genre: I am surprised this is not a thing yet – but maybe I should not be that surprised after all. Druidpunk takes inspiration from the time between about 200 BC and 500 AD, with both the Roman colonization of Western Europe and the later Christianization of the area, which also included Pegan hunts. This might also be used as an inspiration for more futuristic settings build on those ideas. But the central conflicts arises from the violence that Roman and later Christian forces inflict on the Celtic population of these areas – and it would feature conflicts both of faith and of power within it, seeing that this Celtic population would often be seen as second class. It would also play around with Celtic ideas of fae and magic in a way of fighting the oppressors, as well as with ideas about the value of preserving knowledge through stories.

As an aesthetic: There is a respectful way to go about this aesthetic and one that is less so, and in this case I think both are kinda alright? You can go with playing with the aesthetics of real Celtic people of the time, maybe given them some visual updates and just lean more into stuff like the Celtic knot and what not. Buuuuuut, you also could just take your average Dungeons & Dragons Druid aesthetic and dial it up to 11. Bonus points if you use this against a more downplayed Roman aesthetic.

Punk-Factor: Admittedly, despite it featuring kinda a fight against colonization, I would argue this is a bit less punk and more about the general idea (and my frustration with how little we see written about this time from this perspective).

Examples: I don’t know if there are any books like this. You tell me.

Guillotinepunk

Note: How is this not yet a thing? I really tried looking for something along the lines of this idea, but… it does not seem to be a thing so far?

As a genre: The history of the French Revolution is a complicated one. Other than what you have been told, it did not quite fail, rather it petered out and then there came Napoleon, took part of the ideas and threw away others. But what if we use the ideas of the French revolution and tweak the setting a bit. Maybe this is retrofuturist and the Revolution just continued. Maybe the revolution happens within a more modern setting – but similarly as it did in reality. But there is strive and class struggle here. The people are rising up against the nobles, who have suppressed them for so long. Heads are rolling and for a moment things seem great. But as the revolution continues, the disagreements between the revolutionaries will become more and more clear, with factions turning against each other and a battle of ideas starting.

As an aesthetic: There are guillotines and there is the fashion of the upper class of the epoche, but taken to an extreme, that we did not quite see in reality. This might be mixed with anachronistic elements, that come to play within the aesthetic. Maybe some military aesthetics mixed in there as well.

Punk-Factor: I would argue that the French revolution is pretty darn punk. You know, those punk ideologies from above? Most of it was aspired to by the revolutionaries. Though I would argue this genre would be just a bit more, as it would also consider the rifts between different parts of such a movement – and how they might or might not be mended.

Examples: Cake Eater (2022) – I still think there gotta be others, because it is so obvious. But I cannot think of any right now.

Tsarpunk

Note: Yes, I am aware that Leigh Bardugo already coined this term, that so far is mostly used to describe anything written by her. However… You might see this coming, but… Let’s add a bit more punk to it, shall we?

As a genre: Tsarpunk could play around with Russian society before the revolution happened. There is a tsar and there is the nobility who owns, at the point, also most of the factories that are becoming more common. A lot of the poor people are serfs under them. There are people, who are willing to rise up against the system – and some of the nobility find themselves drawn between the faction of the tsar and the potential revolutionaries. Steeped in Slavic mythology, there might also be magic and creatures, that court the line between fantasy and horror elements.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic could mix up the entire Slavic influence a lot more. Aesthetically Slavic culture is very interesting, as it has a lot of intricate elements. There could also aesthetic influences be drawn from Clockpunk, as such mechanations are tied to Russian of the time a lot.

Punk-Factor: Again, Revolutions tend to be pretty darn punk, so playing up the revolutionary angle will give some punk points in my book – though if the revolution is less played up, it might also be less punk as a potential genre.

Examples: The books of Leigh Bardugo, but I would also argue that in a way The Witcher qualifies as well.

If you left me to it, I would probably be able to name some more ideas for historically inspired punk genre. After all, there is a ton of potential there, even if we just look at European history. Especially given the parts that we are looking at so far. (Note to self: I kinda wanna write something about how some of the punk genre could do more with the general idea and setting…) I do also think that kinda the issue with how some people are tackling the punk genre so far is too much of “fantasy/scifi, but with [insert historical setting]”. Instead of going: “What if Cyberpunk, but [insert settings]?” So, there is not as much as theming happening, as there could be. And I do not even necessarily mean those anti-hierarchical/anarchical punk themes. But also more general… themes. You know? THEMES!!!

Also there is a kinda genre, that would also make for an interesting exploration…

Vampunk

Note: Alright, I admit it, this is here because of my near constant vampire obsession, but I also think that vampires are a wonderful vehicle to tell punky stories, based on the simple fact that vampires inherently serve often both as the oppressor/exploiter and the marginalized.

Let me start with talking about the duality of vampires.Vampires inherently are dependent on somewhat exploit humans in most scenarios, given they need to drink human blood. As such vampires have always an incentive to somehow keep humans around and somewhat dependent on them. Often enough they are kinda equaled to nobility or in more modern settings with CEOs and boards of directors. At the same time vampires in most settings also need to keep themselves hidden, fearing some sort of anti-vampire inquisition, with this often being kinda a vague metaphor for queerness.

As a genre: Vampunk would feature a world that has some Cyberpunk features. But the world is secretly run by vampires, who work as the world’s CEO and board members, using their positions to get easy access to the blood they need to survive. However, within the vampire society there is also a large divide between the haves and the have-nots. While the upper-class vampires have power, control and all the blood they can want, the lower-class vampires often barely scrape by, their access to blood regulated through those above them. As such lower-class vampires need to figure out, whether their true allegiance should lie with the vampire upper-class or the humans so unwittingly exploited by them.

As an aesthetic: I think the best aesthetic for this would be something along the lines of Gothic Noir with maybe some punk elements within it. A gothic aesthetic is a no-brainer for this genre, though.

Punk-Factor: The genre could be very much played for punk factors, by playing these stories were much as a class struggle and around the realization that the lower class of any privilege group has as much in common with the marginalized than with the privileged upper class. It should be noted, though, that one has to be careful in this genre. The Victorian vampire had some roots in antisemitic myths and if not threat carefully constructing a genre like this might lead to unintended antisemitic readings.

Examples: Daybreakers (2009)

Fun fact, I find it weird how Daybreakers was universally loathed when it came out in 2009, but recently I actually see a lot more appreciation for that movie. And I think it shows those ideas pretty well. I would also argue that the latter Underworld movies had some of those themes. And I would also argue it is different from usual vampire fantasy on the basis of being more thematically dense. I am kinda hoping that Castlevania Nocturne goes into this direction.

Finally going to some outright futuristic ideas. Things that might kinda exist already as parts of the other punkgenre (mostly Cyberpunk), but are kinda worth exploring on their own. And yes, those again have anime examples, because…

Virtupunk

Note: This definitely is a kind of genre that already does exist but has not been explored in the punky way a lot so far. At least not intentionally.

As a genre: Virtupunk is set in a world that has some Cyberpunk features. Corporations rule a good part of the world, though it might even look like our everyday world. (Because we life under late stage capitalism.) Technology has advanced enough that virtual reality is a thing in one way or another. As such a lot of people interact with the world at least partly through the virtual reality. But even this reality is owned by corporate interest. The virtual world is a thing all on its own, though, in a way that even those corporations running it do often not quite understand. Within it AI is developing faster than anticipated – and only some people seem to understand the importance of it. The protagonist fight – at times with the AI and at times against it – to retake control of this new virtual reality. A central theme is, though, how the virtual world, that kinda functions as a metaphor for the internet, allows people to connect and organize.

As an aesthetic: While I will argue that this is definitely something that exist as a genre, there is not much of an aesthetic so far. Generally, of course, VR headsets will play into this, but not all versions of this genre interact with the virtual worlds through this. The virtual worlds themselves can often be somewhat strange and crazy, breaking with established rules of the real world.

Punk-Factor: I would argue that the central punk theme in this kinda story is even less about the “rising up” part, but rather about the connection and the means of organizing. Though there will usually be some aspects about “taking back the virtual world”.

Examples: I would argue that the main example here is Mamoru Hosoda’s kinda “internet trilogy”, with Belle being the strongest example here. .hack// does definitely also qualify. Also: Serial Experiments Lain.

Augmentpunk

Note: Now, this is a thing that appears in Cyberpunk a lot, but is barely ever thematically explored. Which I find kinda sad.

As a genre: Like Virtupunk, Augmentpunk borrows a lot from Cyberpunk, though its setting tends to be a lot more toned down. The technology taking over in this kind of stories is Augmented Reality, which might either be accessed over devices such as glasses, contacts or masks, or even be just somehow inherently accessible. The AR exists within the real world – mostly – as an additional layer. Depending on how anti-capitalist the stories wants to go, it might feature the constant barrage of advertisement the characters are put under. More often, though, this genre will explore how AR makes the lines between the real and the virtual blur, at times completely destroying concepts of reality.

As an aesthetic: Augmentpunk loves playing around with the idea of overlaying different layers to reality. You will find a lot of holographic images floating over the world and characters in this aesthetic, often contrasting colorwise with the designs of the characters otherwise. There tends to be in general a contrast between a more mundane world and a strange augmented reality.

Punk-Factor: Usually these stories to not go far into the punk themes. There might be a bit with anti-capitalism or something about our addiction to technology, but that usually is about it. It still is something I enjoy, though!

Examples: Dennou Coil, Accel World

Those are just some ideas that I have. I would also be super interested in seeing what other ideas you guys have. How could we interweave those punk attitudes with other genre/settings?

[kyolover-blog-blog]

The Funeral (Abel Ferrara, 1996)

[helenaheissner]

A Dream of Summer Rain: Chapter 27

50 Years Ago

Alistair waited for his father. And waited. And waited. And waited. They’d gone to the far north, and his father had left while Alistair slept in the cave. The cave was warmer than the frigid Arctic outside, and so Alistair waited for his father to return. 

Finally, as his stomach began to beg, he realized he would have to make his own way back. That this was part of the trial. He would have to do this on his own, but if he did, he could call himself a man from now on. 

But he did not leave. He was frightened, paralyzed more by fear than by the cold. 

And so he waited and waited and waited, until, finally, something happened: a Star descended from the night sky. A crimson sphere emerging from the black veil of winter. It was roughly the size of his head, and it came down before Alistair. He reached out for it, touched it, and the world burned. Through the light and shadows, Alistair saw something: a castle of black iron, beneath the light of a moon cleaved into four corners. Beyond it, into the west, was a land of magic, pure and unbridled, ruled by horrors beyond human comprehension. They wanted to keep all the magic for themselves. Alistair was young, but he knew beyond all else that this was wrong, and that such greed and hubris could not stand, and that someone should set the magic free. The light filled him, and the red Star settled inside his heart and filled him with warmth. He cradled the light inside him, trying to keep it all contained. Finally, he realized he could not. He tapped his hand to his chest, and his red Star emerged and guided him forward into the world. 

He left the cave, following his Destiny. 

The Star led Alistair into the south, towards his home. He made the journey, his stomach growling, the supplies his father had left him with already dwindling. Hunger and fear and confusion saturated his mind, but through sheer force of will he pushed himself forward. 

He used his magic to kill seals and start fires and melt snow. He ate like a starving animal, knowing a feast would await him when he came home. Finally, he could prove his worth. His older brother hadn’t survived the trial, and neither had his oldest sister. Amelia had survived, but only because she had cheated and snuck extra rations onto the trip. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t do that to his parents, couldn’t let them down like that. Couldn’t let the Sovereignty down like that. They deserved a child who was strong. The Albrecht’s were too old and too important a family to not live up to these standards. He had to finish this. Had to get home. 

Forward. Forward. Forward. 

After five days, he came upon the silhouette of a man in the distance. Alistair hadn’t seen another person in almost two weeks. He didn’t realize until he was almost upon him that the man was hunched over, tearing the flesh off another body laid flat on the ground. Alistair didn’t realize until he was upon them that the body on the ground was that of his own father. 

A ghoul, face contorted, fangs bared, eyes screaming crimson, was in the process of devouring Amadeus Albrecht’s corpse. 

A shockwave of vehement fury rocked Alistair. He willed his strength into his hand, and called for the Todeshander. His fist glowed white as he launched it at the ghoul. 

The ghoul cackled, and a pulse of violet light shot out. The white light around Alistair’s fist vanished, and his Star retreated inside his chest. The ghoul’s face warped further, fangs growing larger and sharper.

Alistair gulped, and the ghoul pounced on him, lowered his fangs and claws. He reached for more magic, but the ghoul pulsed with purple light each time and canceled out his spells before he could finish them. And each time, the ghoul grew just a little more monstrous. 

Alistair flailed and swung about and reached until his thumbs met the ghoul’s eyes. He pushed them in and gouged them out, the ghoul screaming as the soft matter burst and blood froze on his face. 

Alistair did not stop. He toppled the ghoul, buried fist into face until the skull had cracked open and he could crush the rotting mind of the beast with his bare hands. 

He stood over his kill and screamed. 

He went over to his father, already dead. Alistair summoned his Star, and let it lead them forward as he dragged his father’s corpse back home for burial. The ghoul had intercepted his father on the way back, which meant there were more. Alistair would have to be careful. And courageous. There was no time for cowardice now.

He wept for his father as he marched forward, forward, forward, knowing he could never share his accomplishments with the man he’d wanted to look upon them. 

Forward.

When Alistair’s Star led him home, the castle was already in ruins. Castle Albrecht was a tall, proud building in the far northern reaches of Alaska, a central fortress surrounded by four spires. Alistair came upon it to find three of the spires reduced to ash, and a gaping wound carved into the main fortress. Black ash and crimson blood decorated the white snow and gray stone. A single ghoul’s corpse was left behind, mangled and inhuman, a desperate, hungry creature not strong enough to survive his pack’s hunting trip. Bones stripped clean of meat were strewn across the land. Alistair saw a skeleton with his mothers’ fine clothes in rags all around it. 

They’d gotten everyone: his mother and his maternal uncles and cousins who lived with them, the help, their students come up from the main school to study with them personally. All dead. All eaten. 

Alistair fell to his knees and wept, his Star hanging overhead and casting a harsh, unwelcome light over the carnage. It was hours before he moved again, before he began to follow his Star south. 

He needed to keep moving. 

They would pay for this. He would have his revenge. His Star would lead him to it. And he was strong enough to take it. 

He was strong. He knew it to be true. 

***

Present Day

Isabella woke up in the darkness, everything screaming with silence. She flailed about, looking for something, anything, to hold on to amidst the pure black. The only thing she could feel were the tears streaming out her eyes, the only thing she could see the memories of waking up alone in her house as a child, of waking up alone in the Pale as a teenager, of waking up alone-

Where was Lacy? Hadn’t they been together? What had happened?

She remembered taking Lacy into town, getting dinner and then dessert. She remembered them going back to their room together, and… 

Had they… 

Maybe they had. 

That feels like an ethical violation, Isabella thought, still trying to swim through the Liminal Void, ignoring the bizarre tingle the lack of noise sent through her ears and down her spine. She swam and swam and swam through the empty black abyss, and finally, a light reached her. In the distance, a swirl of sapphire blue and crimson red lights danced about. The lights were sculpted into the form of a dozen foxes and ravens, a neon dual-colored zoetrope of scavengers.  

Inside it was Lacy. 

Isabella called out to her, but the other girl did not react. She simply sat there in her neon cage, with all the motivation of someone recently hit by a truck. Finally, Isabella kicked and clawed enough to make it over to Lacy and stood in front of the zoetrope. 

“Lacy,” Isabella said. “Are you okay? What’s-”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Lacy said, eyes wide and knuckles blanched. 

“W… What?”

“Did I stutter?”

Isabella tried to make herself stand up straight, face Lacy eye to eye, but it was difficult to designate a single direction as ‘up.’ She concentrated and used Lacy as a frame of reference, and managed to steady herself. “Lacy, what are you talking about? How did you even get here?”

“Sovereignty captured me.”

“How?”

“They attacked Peoria,” Lacy said. “Alistair came personally. Now they’ve got me locked up… Somewhere. I keep coming here when I fall asleep.”

“How did they know where we-”

“Danny,” Lacy said. “He’s been Gwen’s long lost brother this whole time. Who woulda thunk it? A traitor in our midst.” 

“That little maggot! I can’t believe-”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

Isabella blinked, gulped. “I- we were- we were on a date. We were having a nice time.”

“Were we now?” Lacy said in monotone. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Isabella blushed. “I remember… I…”

“Think real hard now. You definitely didn’t earlier.” 

“I… We went back to our room. And I asked if… If you wanted to get in the shower with me.”

“No. We never made it that far. After we ate, we went by the fountains. Remember? You pulled a weapon on me,” Lacy hissed. “You let me walk a few feet ahead and when I turned around you had that fucking World-Carver of yours out and ready and held it above your head like you were gonna bring it down into my skull. You, like everyone else, however, forgot I have super-hearing.”

No, no it couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t- she hadn’t… 

But then the memory came flooding back, of retrieving World-Carver, of holding it in her trembling hands and trying to will herself to paint the sidewalk red and be done with it already, to walk away from it all. And Lacy turned around, the look of betrayal in her eyes, sorrow and shock quickly mutating to the pure, unprocessed rage of someone whose trust had been broken. And they stood there, and Isabella shook and hyperventilated until finally she… 

She vanished. 

Pulled back into the Liminal Void. Just like the Elf-King said she would be if she didn’t go through with it when the time came. Sucked back into the darkness where she belonged. 

Isabella stammered, “I- I-”

“Betrayed me,” Lacy said. “Manipulated me. Tried to kill me.”

“I didn’t-”

“No, you didn’t even have the stomach to go through with the attempt, did you? Fuck’s sake, even Danny managed that part.”

“Lacy, please, I had no choice.”

“Yeah, I expected to hear that. Nobody ever has a choice, apparently. Because that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Lacy said, falling onto her knees, her arms limp at her sides.

“Just let me explain- I didn’t go through with it so I got sucked back here. The reason I… Was trying to do what I did-”

“Already put those pieces together on my own, thanks,” Lacy said. “Contrary to what’s apparently very popular belief, I’m not completely fucking stupid! But I guess I’m at least a little stupid, given that I chose to ignore that sword of yours and what it logically meant. Is it your Destiny? Are you the Chosen One? Are you hiding a blue Star?”

“No, I swear. I don’t have a Star- I’m not the… The… ” Oh, wait, that-

“Oh, did you just realize that actually makes it worse? Because you did have a choice, and don’t even have the Destiny excuse that Danny and Gwen both have to fall back on?” Lacy said mockingly. “Good. Job. Waitta catch up, jackass.”

The words pricked her like a thornbush, but not nearly as much as her own guilt and shame and terror over being back here for good. “I’m sorry.”

“Congrats.”

“Lacy-”

“I don’t care,” Lacy said. “I don’t need your fucking apology. You tried to kill me. You betrayed me, and you hurt me, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE I HAVE EVER MADE THE MISTAKE OF TRUSTING! You can rot in hell for all I care.”

“... You don’t mean that.”

“Actually, I do,” Lacy said. “It’s where we’re both going, after all. Save me a seat.”

“LACY-”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Lacy screamed. “GET AWAY! LEAVE!”

Despite the lack of solid ground, Isabella took a step back. Then another, then another, then another. Hands of sorrow gripping her heart, she slunk away into the darkness, reacquainting herself with oblivion.  

***

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Track List: "Blonde Hair, Black Lungs" by Sorority Noise

[glorious-spoon]

i'm very picky about tv shows, but my pickiness has only an incidental relationship to whether or not a show is "good". it needs to scratch a particular itch in my brain at the right moment. do i know what the right moment is? no. do i know what the itch is? also no. i can be relied upon to get instantly bored of 85% of tv shows and then turn the remaining 15% into a central facet of my personality for 3-5 business months and even i am incapable of predicting which one it'll be ahead of time.

[importantangeldefendor]

Zombie deconstruction!

Dr scientist man discovered a cure to the virus, but a bunch of facist fucks are trying to kill him before that Because they really love killing zombies and making them human again would fuck that power fantasy.

[shoulderpads-mcgee2]

Bravern is the Madoka of mecha anime

[yellow-yarrow]

tragic: anime that has interesting designs and solid animation has terribly stupid and weak plot

[t4tails]

"if using the final girl trope is plagiarism then everybody whos made a horror film since the texas chainsaw massacre owes the tobe hooper estate some money" everybody point and laugh at james somerton not knowing black christmas's jess bradford predates tcm's sally hardesty by a year 🤭 and that the actual tropes of sexuality surrounding the concept wouldnt be codified until halloween's laurie strode 🤭🤭 either way making sally not the first example of a final girl so this joke makes no sense 🤭

[kittykatninja321]

I went “I’m not into this but let’s hear them out” on one too many omegaverse fics and now I have thoughts and opinions and headcanons and shit. Horrifying. Please be careful it could happen to you

[scoutpologist]

"disco elysium is a detective sto-" "it's a detective rpg-" "it's about solving a mur-" wrong. baltic screen media review be upon ye

[waitineedaname]

I really love how much mp100 stands out against other shows of its genre with its finale. there isn't some final boss, there's no grand fight between good and evil. it is, like the show has always been, about emotions and self acceptance. the finale barely involves fight scenes in the traditional sense, like I wouldn't call the encounters with teru and ritsu fight scenes since neither of them intend to hurt him, and even the fight with the suzukis ends not with someone being defeated but rather with an emotional break through. the final conflict is resolved not with violence and defeat. it's resolved with honesty and compassion and self-love. I can't get over how deeply kind this series is

[transgenderer]

In Germany they have "erotik shop". In America, this is redundant. the act of shopping is inherently erotic so we call then "sex shops". (Unlike Germany, sex is forbidden in most locations)

[ackee]

watching a video on ddlc (as a certified everything hater i actually dont hate the game somehow) but the youtuber was like "this is one of the most impressive horror games of all time" like lets calm down. 🙏🏽

[helenaheissner]

A Dream of Summer Rain: Chapter 26

Fifty Years Ago

Alistair laid in the dungeon, ankle chained to the floor, playing with fire. He gathered it in his hands, a spherical pyre, and then divided it into smaller orbs, rotated them around him like planets. He made them dance, like he’d seen the Stars doing, until he heard the door to the dungeon unlocking. 

Alistair extinguished the fire, laid down, and pretended to be asleep. He pretended to snap awake at the same time his father unlocked the door at the top of the stairs. Amadeous Albrecht stood in the pale morning light, looking down on Alistair with a solemn brooding. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Father asked. 

Alistair bit his tongue for a moment. “Yes, Father,” he lied.

“You won’t provoke your older sister again?”

“I won’t, father,” Alistair lied again. 

“Very good. You must overcome your temper- it is a weakness. You have many weaknesses, and as my son you must have none. You’ll do well to remember that. Now. Come upstairs, have some breakfast.”

“Thank you, father,” Alistair said, rising from the floor and ascending the stairs.

He entered the castle’s ground floor, awash with heated air from the central furnace. He accompanied his father through the main building into the dining room, where a stone table stood with a tray of fruit and bread draped across it. His younger sister, Addison, ran over to embrace him. He took the hug affectionately, brushed an errant strand of hair from his sister’s face and revealed the bruise still on her forehead. The bruise that Amelia had put there. 

Across the table, Amelia glared at him. Both her eyes were still black. 

Alistair smirked, and then gave Amelia the middle finger. He’d seen it in one of the comic books Aunt Elleanor had brought on her last trip up from their school in Colorado. His older sister’s eyes widened and her forehead vein throbbed. 

Alistair’s mother, Penelope, smiled at her son. “How was your night?”

“Educational,” he said, and felt terribly pleased with his own cleverness.

“Ah. Well that’s good to hear.” Mother’s lack of ability to pick up on sarcasm was something to behold. They ate breakfast in silence. Same as they always did. Every day was the same: breakfast, lessons, fight with Amelia, get in trouble for it… Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe he should just take it when she disciplined him. That was always what she said she was doing. Disciplining him. Disciplining Addison. 

She’d crossed a line with that one. It was one thing to do that to him, but to Addison…  

Alistair couldn’t wait to leave home, head to school in Colorado with their aunt. She’d take Addison with them, hopefully. Get her away from this lunacy wherein Amelia could hit them as much as she liked but if either of them raised a voice or Godforbid a hand in response they were the ones in all the trouble. 

“Are you ready, my son?” his father asked. 

“Ready for what?”

“For your trial.”

Alistair’s eyes went wide. This was exactly what he’d been waiting for- if he passed his trial he’d be allowed to leave, to go to school in actual civilization. Amelia hadn’t passed hers’, so he’d be able to rub it in. That would settle it once and for all: she was weak, and he was strong. “Yes, father,” Alistair said. “I’m ready to face the world.” 

***

Present Day

Gwen woke up at the bottom of a pit ash, her body screaming at her not to move ever again. She twitched her fingers, curled her toes, just to reassure herself everything still worked. A thick coat of ash covered her; she wiped her forearm across her forehead only to leave a pile of powder above her eyes. 

Her father loomed over her at the top of the pit, barely resembling a human. He crawled down on all fours, the powder dispersing into the air with each step. “Impressive, Guinevere. Truly impressive.”  His voice was a chainsaw cutting into dead, dry wood.

Gwen wished she had enough energy to at least spit at him. 

“I should kill you,” Alistair continued, “For what you’ve done to our family. For what you’re doing to the world, resisting your mother and I. But I won’t. Because I want you to keep going, to be able to see the full-extent of your mistakes. You will never learn if you’re not given the time in which to see everything you’ve wrought. We will see each other again, daughter, and when we do,” he said, his monstrous face contorting into the most hideous smile she’d ever seen in her life, “Perhaps then you shall finally see the light.”

He stalked away into the night. Gwen wanted to follow him, to call out to him, to send her zombies at him, but she was at her limit. She tried to reach for Starlight, and it only burned her. All the Dust for miles and miles had been spent that evening, burnt through in a futile attempt at resistance. The pain and exhaustion and humiliation consumed her once again, and unconsciousness claimed her. 

***

“Gwen!” Quentin called out from behind the darkness. 

She woke before she opened her eyes. She could feel her entire body, and almost wished she couldn’t. It would be easier, now and perhaps more generally, to be numb. But that wasn’t where she was, wasn’t who she was, wasn’t what she was.

God, I need a drink, she thought.

“Gwen!” Quentin said, his hands on her body, shaking her. 

She opened her eyes, and looked up once more at the world she’d covered in ashes. 

“Oh thank God,” Quentin exclaimed, putting his hands over his mouth when he realized what he’d said. She chuckled at that. Good old Quentin. He was a mess: a gash on his forehead, an eye swelling up, his torn vestments revealing myriad scrapes and bloody wounds. 

Joshua stood atop the crater, his Hawaiian shirt a collection of loosely-bound rags, his massive eyebrows singed, and cuts and burns running up his limbs. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Ffffrh,” Gwen grunted.

Before she knew it, she was lifted off the ground- Quentin carried her in his arms. Bridal-carried, no less. She’d dreamt of this. Wished the circumstances were better. She always forgot how wonderful he was. She didn’t deserve him. She’d never deserved him. 

He brought her to the top of the crater, and she asked in a low whisper to be put down. He obliged, and when she tried to stand she found that she couldn’t just yet. She sat on the ground above her garden of ashes. 

She looked around, and saw it didn’t end there: the streets had decayed into ash and dust; buildings had fallen and dispersed into the wind, leaving only skeletons behind; odd car parts stuck out of the powdery ground alongside the bones. 

She’d done this. 

“Where’s Lacy?” Gwen asked, draping her dirty hand over her dirty forehead. 

“We haven’t been able to find her,” Quentin said.

“And Percival?” Gwen asked. “Danny- I mean Danny.”

“We haven’t found him either.”

“Isabella?”

They both looked at the ground.

Gwen covered her face with her hands, spread her fingers so that her bulging eyes could look upon all that she’d wrought. The city reeked of blood and sulfur and rotting flesh, and the sounds of pyres and screams and sirens swirled around her. “FUCK!!”

Quentin and Joshua said nothing, did nothing. 

The night sky was a bruised skin over the world, the city lights and the fires blotting out the moon and stars. Downtown Peoria was… Gone. Nothing but ash remained. Gwen sat there a while longer, drinking it in, until Alice Carmichael came thrashing forward over the ash-ground, shotgun in hand. She plodded through like she was running on a beach in sandals.

Quentin and Joshua formed a barrier in front of Gwen. Gwen didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

Alice aimed her gun with both hands. “Explain. Now. It better be good.”

“Put down the gun, Alice,” Joshua said. 

She cocked the gun. 

“Ms. Carmichael,” Quentin cautioned. “I wouldn’t-”

“Not that I think you’ll believe me,” Gwen said, her throat dry, her voice scratchy, “But this wasn’t my doing. I had no idea this was going to happen.”

“Someone told the Sovereignty we were all going to be here. They had to know that in order to plan an attack on this scale,” Alice said. “And you’re the one with the most obvious connection to them. So logic would indicate-”

“It was my little brother,” Gwen said. My baby brother is still alive, she thought. 

Both Joshua and Quentin looked back at her in shock. 

“You told me you were the last of the Albrecht brats,” Alice said, lowering the gun. “You mean to tell me there’s another one of you out there, working for your family.”

“Yes.” He’s alive. He’s been right here the whole time. Just like Elaine was. 

“And how do you know this?” Alice asked. 

“Because my father told me when we fought.”

“And you believed him?”

“It… Made sense. Due to the circumstances. And, uh, who he said it was.”

“Whom?”

“Ffffff do you remember how there was a young man traveling with us, alongside Isabella and my student Lacy? Early twenties, brown hair, blue eyes, around my height?”

“The pretty boy who smelled like my dad at the end of a long weekend?”Alice’s thin eyebrows twitched. She raised the gun and aimed. “Do you mean to tell me that you not only had a long-lost brother working for your parents, but that he’s been traveling with you for over a month, and you completely failed to recognize him?!”

He’s alive, and his allegiance is to the family. To the Sovereignty. They’ve got their claws in him. “I hadn’t seen him since he was six. And even then, he doesn’t look much like the rest of us- we all got our dad’s hair and eyes and cheekbones. Percy, even as a baby, looked more like Mom. Guess he still looks more like her. I… God, I’d forgotten what she looks like. I hadn’t seen a picture of her in over fifteen years-”

“This is still your fault,” Alice said.

Mom is still alive… And I have to kill her again.

“That’s not fair,” Quentin said. “She didn’t know-”

Alice continued, “Yeah. I’m sure she didn’t. I’m sure that in spite of all this evidence-”

“Circumstantial,” Joshua said. 

“-She had nothing to do with this catastrophic fucking failure we’ve suffered here today. Do you know how many of us I’ve watched die in the past two hours!? Probably close to a hundred. And that’s without even getting into the astronomical civilian casualties! People have died, lives have been FUCKING DESTROYED, because of your fucking family, and you don’t think you deserve to be held even a little accountable for that?!”

“I never said that,” Gwen said. He’s alive, and he betrayed you, and he betrayed Lacy. He’s working with Mom and Dad, and that means he’s betrayed the whole world.

Police sirens rang through the air.

“Even if I believe you, which I haven’t decided yet,” Alice said, “How do I know you’re not gonna waver? How do I know you’ll be able to go up against him? Against your family?”

“Because I know I can’t save him,” Gwen said. She realized it as she said it, as the words dropped out her mouth and shattered on the ground. “I don’t want to save him. He’s too far gone. I’m going to save Lacy, though. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to save her.” 

‘Your Destiny is to mentor the Dark Lord’- that was what her mother had told her when she’d asked what the Star meant, what the dreams meant. She’d been afraid of it, she’d run from it, but it was time for her to own up and do her job. 

Silence hung over the four of them, in spite of all the noise elsewhere. The police were nearly upon them.

“We should probably get moving,” Joshua said. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gwen said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m giving myself up to them.”

“What?!” Alice said. 

“We can’t do this on our own,” Gwen said. “This past evening has proven that. There aren’t enough of us. We don’t have as many mages as the Sovereignty, and we definitely don’t have an army of ghouls- we can’t win in a fair fight. We need help.”

“You’re breaking the highest of the Guild Codes if you do this,” Alice said. “We handle things on our own. The government- no government- is ever going to be trustworthy. Not with knowledge of magic and monsters. They can’t handle it.”

“We can’t fucking handle it!” Gwen found her legs, found the strength to stand up straight and rigid. “For fuck’s sake- if we stay the course, not only are we dead, the world is dead. My father wins. You can’t seriously be telling me that that’s less important than Guild regulations!”

Alice did not lower her gun.

Gwen drew a deep, cleansing breath. “You also can’t possibly be telling me that you think shooting three people dead right before the fuzz arrives is in any way a good idea.”

Alice lowered her gun, finally. “Alright. Fine. We try it your way. But when this goes tits-up, it’s on your head, Gwen. I guess it’s fitting, though, that the end of the Damocles Guild be brought about by House Albrecht.”

The squad cars came into view behind Alice, driving slowly and carefully over the rotted streets. Alice dropped her gun and put her hands up, turned around to face them. Gwen did the same. She was surprised to find not squad cars labeled with ‘Peoria Police’, but simple black SUV’s. From out of the car emerged lawmen adorned in jackets labeled ‘FBI.’

***

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Track List: "Flying Whales" by Gojira

[chipchopclipclop]

there’s a god in my ear telling me how to love you. there’s a god in my ear telling me how to save you.

[namari-hime-moved]

me and magical girl genre deconstructions are at war