#the most garbage response from a trash heap of a human being in charge of a shit pile league

[annieqattheperipheral]

I feel sick

[fortitudinem]

                    ISLE POLITICAL/SOCIAL HIERARCHY

This post is about the social structure of The Isle of the Lost, especially in relation to Maleficent and focusing mainly on the villains instead of the VKs. 

 Maleficent rules the Isle. This was accepted by everyone and came into being at roughly the time of her rebellion. Maleficent was the one responsible for rallying the villains together to try and fight back against Auradon and even when they lost the rebellion, she kept her spark. She is seen as the most powerful being on the Isle who wants control and even without magic, she commands legions of goblins and other minions. Very little happens on the Isle that she doesn't know about. It is considered that her word on a matter is law and her judgement is final, as in the case of Queen Grimhilde and Evie being banished. Maleficent gets final say in whether someone deserves respect. Respect is generally offered on the basis of crimes and magic. The worse your crime, or the more magical you are (usually both) determined the level of respect you can expect to receive.

 Under Maleficent there is, Mal, first and foremost. Not exactly considered her right hand, but as her daughter Mal is offered protections that other Isle residents are not. She gets away with a lot more and it is generally considered that she 'rules' the Isle from the ground, where Maleficent is hardly ever seen. Mal's presence is a very clear threat of Maleficent hearing about something and it is treated as such.

Maleficent also has goblin minions and some troll-like henchmen that accompany her everywhere, as a show of power. no-one has been stupid enough to try and pickpocket her, or worse, but it wouldn't look good if she did get harmed or stolen from and it might show a weakness that she can't afford, so Maleficent surrounds herself with these henchmen and they are also a more visible presence in the streets. People know to steer clear of them.

Maleficent's close company is considered to be Jafar, Cruella and the Evil Queen (now all the birthday party business is dealt with). These villains are considered to be some of the worst, and therefore the best by Isle standards. The actual level of respect they get from the younger generation, however, is limited only by their own physical abilities. Jafar's store is stolen from, and unless he catches the thieves this crime usually goes unpunished and uninvestigated by anyone but him. Cruella is openly mocked by most, kids will dare each other to play pranks on her. Cruella gains respect by being afraid of no-one, though, she shows no mercy for anyone, regardless of their own status or parentage. She's known for doling out harsh punishments. To some, that just makes it more of a challenge. The Evil Queen was a social pariah for many years and most people have long forgotten any status she might once have held. Their affiliation with Maleficent is tangental, they are closer to allies than friends.

Outside of Maleficent's close personal friends there are also other villains who are deemed worthy of respect. The list contains; Maleficent, Mother Gothel, The Evil Queen, Shan-Yu, Claude Frollo, Lady Tremaine, Jarfar, Chernabog, Governor Ratcliffe, Madame Medusa,  Ursula, Gaston, Scar, Stromboli, the Big Bad Wolf, Prince John, Hades, Cruella De Vil, Captain Hook, Aunt Sarah, Amos Slade, Kaa and Shere Khan (mal's spell book). These are people who have allied themselves with Maleficent, most are business owners, or are powerful in some other way, like commanding a large group (the huns, the pirates). Some have simply chosen to bend the knee in exchange for respect.

Outside of this list, there are a number of villains who have deemed themselves worthy of respect and strongly enforce it, but who do not come up on Maleficent's list. A lot of these villains are ones who believe that they should have a larger share of the pie, so to speak. The Queen of Hearts, Bill Sykes, Madam Mim, The Horned King, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, Rattigan, Yzma and Doctor Facilier are all excluded from Maleficent's list but all command a certain amount of respect regardless. 

Facilier is the headmaster of Dragon Hall and also owns the arcade, which is the only business of its kind on the Isle as fun is not often considered a priority. This encouragement for people to take time off and even feel happy for short periods of time is something considered strange on the Isle, as such he is placed on the outskirts of society, despite being a powerful magic user and an influential figure in the lives of the Isle children. 

Madam Mim is in charge of the 'witch faction', which isn't looking to take over the Isle, but is instead committed to teaching the would-be magic users how their powers will eventually work when the barrier is gone. They mostly keep to themselves and are deemed worthy of respect mostly due to their volatility. They have sectioned off their own area of the Isle, Maleficent pretends like it was her idea all along. Most people who aren't magic users don't enter the witches' quarter. 

The Queen of Hearts, The Horned King, Bill Sykes, Prince Hans and Yzma all consider themselves to be in charge of their own section of the Isle, under their terms. Hans and Yzma do not have gangs, but have merely claimed their own buildings and operate out of them without much desire to intermingle with the rest of the Isle. The others, however, have loftier expectations. 

The Horned King has a handful of Cauldron Born at his beck and call, he owns a shop at the furthest end of the market, as far from Maleficent's tower as he can get. The Cauldron Born are unliving, they patrol around the Isle, especially at night, and are some of the scariest things to meet in a dark alley. They are hard foes to fight. Luckily, they mostly stay inside the cauldron repair shop. Being on the Isle, the magic that holds them won't sustain, so if they are smashed to pieces, they will perish, this has stopped the Horned King from taking over completely. 

Bill Sykes has made a name for himself as something of a businessman on the Isle. He has built a small empire, though he has little desire to control the Isle as a whole, he prefers to manipulate from behind the scenes. His chop shop is the only place on the Isle to go for scrapped metal goods. He melts down scrap. It can be turned into wiring, metalware and most importantly, coins. (currency post here). Sykes is responsible for all metal coins created on the Isle and as such he is in a perfect position to also operate what is essentially a bank of sorts. He has influence all over the Isle and everyone trades with him, but he has not sworn loyalty to Maleficent and therefore is under his own protection. But that protection is usually very good, so he doesn't have much to worry about. His reputation as ruthless and violent precedes him in most instances. He has close ties with the Hearts. 

The Hearts are exiled from Wonderland and the Queen still thinks of herself as such. She strives for the day she can be returned to her seat of power. But while on the Isle she refuses to accept Maleficent's rule and lives in her own corner of the Isle, the only place where plants really grow. The family have set up a lot of different trades, a hair salon, a tea shop and they sell tonics and tinctures. But on top of that, they also have a close deal with Sykes where they create playing card money, which act like bank notes, backed by his currency. (see currency post above). Respect for the Hearts is demanded and taken by force if necessary. (Edgar Balthazar serves as runner between Sykes and The Hearts and also has been taken on as a butler in the Heart Household.) 

Rattigan has a gang that runs the transportation links for the Isle, they're known as the daredevil crew. the transport on the isle is most goblin rickshaws, but there are also humans who attack similar rickshaws to rebuilt and repurposed bicycles as a faster way to get around. They are considered an essential service, but are loyal to no-one in particular. 

These are, of course, just the villains. Amongst the villains, each has their own sidekick, who is afforded only as much protection as they themselves are able to generate, with the added benefit of having the name of a major villain added to their list. A well liked sidekick is more likely to be well taken care of, but one who shuns their villain or distances themselves without joining up with a new or secondary villain is likely to struggle on the Isle unless they can prove themselves. It for this reason people like Horace and Jasper are still following Cruella’s orders, even though they have publicly denounced her previously.  

Below even the sidekicks are the minor criminals, people who have no magical powers, who are attribute to no meaningful story. Murderers, thieves and ruffians of all varieties who were indiscriminately thrown onto the Isle who have little protection but what they can give themselves. These make up the majority of prisoners on the Isle.

As times move on and the children of the major villains (and minor criminals) begin to grow into their own, this creates a new power dynamic. Some of these children want to grab territory and power for themselves, like Uma. After twenty years a lot of the villains have become jaded and a lot of them are using their children as extensions of themselves, those who fall out of favour with or choose to denounce their parents (Uma, Harry etc) are forced to make their own way, but the new blood and a renewed sense of spirit can lend themselves to becoming a force to be reckoned with. Especially when the older generation are old, unhealthy and slowing down (for those who are human).

The gangs of the villain’s children are more likely to clash with each other, creating in-fighting and turf wars that the parents simply aren’t involved with and don’t care about. Ruling over an island of garbage is looking less and less enticing by the day and if the kids want to argue over trash heaps, the consensus is to simply let them. Ultimately, no-one is besting Maleficent or kicking her off her throne. Until, of course, Mal does.

Following the defeat of Maleficent and the disappearance of her cronies, the potential factions quickly fall to fighting, each trying to grab up as much territory as they can. The six months following Maleficent’s defeat is full of battles for land and resources, by the time Mal returns to the Isle, most people have succumbed to one leader or another.

After Uma leaves there is a grab for her territory that is swiftly beaten back by her crew, lead by Harry Hook. The next year is spent fighting small battles for the edges of constantly shifting territory, until the removal of the barrier, whereupon everyone who was fighting for territory leaves the Isle in order to try and return themselves to their former glory. The Isle is left for the taking. ( i subscribe to the uma as queen of the isle after d3, but that’s entirely up to personal preference. )

[lyricalive]

A soul is an electric force, full of potential energy.

——Can we find souls in unlikely places, and set them into motion?

中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

#01  Lullaby of a Deserted Hell

From a bird's-eye view, the figures of two sprightly maidens would appear like dolls amidst the surrounding range of artificial mountains, a stunning silvery wasteland.

The taller of the two small-looking girls, Maribel Hearn (Merry) planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the junk that encircled them in all directions.

   – "I can't believe you managed to convince me to go dumpster-diving.  Is this a step up or down from graverobbing?"

   – "We didn't rob anything from the graveyard.  I definitely want to find something worth taking from here, though."

   – "So this is a step down."

   – "Nah, it's fine.  These are all things that no one wants."

   – "Or things that no one wants to be seen.  Of course, that means…"

   – "It's the perfect place for the Secret Sealing Club!"

The club's current president, Renko Usami, pumped her fist with plenty of good cheer.  Merry smiled back, although she had mixed feelings about calling a land of literal garbage home.

   – "We can't just have normal dates, can we?"

Fortunately, at least, the garbage was not excessively odorous or grimy.  The site was a landfill specifically for electronic waste: frayed wires, boxy television frames, old phone models of all kinds.

The time was just around sunset -- more specifically 7:42 and 33 seconds, according to Renko's discerning eyes.  The mild starlight reflected off of broken LCD screens, making them appear ever so slightly less lifeless.

 #02  Rigid Paradise

   – "What exactly are we looking for...  Let me guess.  Hoping to find some retro videogames?"

   – "I won't lie.  That'd be great."

   – "But finding both a game and the console to go with it is going to be tough."

   – "Did you know, if a company manufactures more games than it can sell, they end up buried underground to get them out of circulation?"

   – "How wasteful.  At least they were given a proper funeral."

   – "The first time this happened was long ago in another country.  Thousands of unsold cartridges...  Just because they weren't popular at the time, now they'll never be played.  I'd love to give them a chance."

   – "Hee-hee, so much for a funeral.  I suppose we're not in the business of letting the dead rest in peace."

In this unique sort of graveyard, the bodies had been piling up for countless years.  Most of the material would never biodegrade, so the mounds kept accumulating, one layer buried under the next.  In fact, despite the oceans rising drastically over recent years, this dumping ground remained unusually high above sea level for the sole reason that its foundation was constantly being reinforced by layers of tightly packed waste.  

Renko, who had taken the precaution to wear pants and gloves on this excursion, knelt down to examine a mess of circuitry at the bottom of a looser heap.  Merry meanwhile nudged the tip of her shoe against the ground, pondering how deep down was the earth.

#03  Poison Body ~ Forsaken Doll

The girl in black and white impatiently murmured the time, for the fourth time that hour, before stretching her back and turning around to check on her partner.

   – "Find anything interesting yet, Merry?"

Merry, who had been spacing out for some while, quickly darted her eyes around for an improvised answer. A glint of light led her gaze to a long, flat cell phone teetering unceremoniously atop of a pile.

   – "This...  Haven't I seen this model in advertisements recently?  How did this already become trash?"

   – "Oh, you know.  Technology becomes out-of-date awfully quickly these days."

   – "Mm.  I'd like to see it as a sign of progress, but…"

   – "Yeah, it's not good at all.  We're in an age of quantity over quality."

Manufacturers who design their products to poor standards, so as to improve on them soon after, are akin to the type of trickster youkai that disguises itself in beggars' clothes to take advantage of others' low expectations.  In this selfishly self-deprecating society, it had become a disadvantage to show one's best.

   – "Everyone knows this, but thinking about it makes me so irritated."

   – "Right?  Humanity is really holding itself back."

   – "On top of that, don't they know that this is how vengeful tsukumogami are born?"

An object that has gone unused for 100 years is believed to develop a consciousness.  Some end up harmless -- but if its short life was spent being used as nothing more than throwaway capital, naturally it would make sense for it to become unhappy.

Merry laid one hand gently on the phone, as if in a gesture of sympathy.

   – "Hey, be careful not to touch more than you need to.  It may look clean, but the chemicals released by e-waste can still be toxic."

   – "Ah, right..."

She felt a bit sheepish for needing safety lessons from Renko, of all people.  But, having thought too hard about it, it became difficult for Merry to view the objects as just physical material.  A great majority of one's life was lived by virtual communication, so this material had great amounts of personal information stored in it.  Of course, the information's original source was in people's minds, so it's not as if it would be instantly forgotten once the plug was pulled.  But there were certainly more petabytes of raw data in a square meter of this dump than a human brain could hold.

#04  Electric Heritage

   – "Come to think of it, though, have you ever actually heard a story about an electronic object becoming a tsukumogami?"

   – "Well, no..."

   – "I have a theory about that.  I don't think e-waste is even capable of that transition."

   – "How do you figure?"

   – "Consider the crossover of electromagnetic fields and the detection of spirits.  Electricity is a simulation of life energy, almost too spot-on.  Like forces repel... so true life energy can't coexist with it.  Because they're flowing with this imitation power, I don't think electronics get a chance to develop real souls."

   – "I see.  Then, we can't properly call this a graveyard..."

   – "...if these bodies were never truly alive."

   – "I can't decide whether that makes me feel relieved, or lonely."

Merry let out an audible sigh against their eerily silent backdrop.  Then she braced herself to deliver the next news.

   – "But, if that's so... then why can I still feel something spiritual around here?"

Renko's eyes lit up instantly.

   – "Do you?  I was hoping you'd say that!"

   – "It just started... which is odd, since we haven't covered all that much ground since getting here.  It's as if a border connecting to somewhere else just opened."

   – "That supports the second part of the theory.  Like forces repel, but opposite forces attract.  They may not have souls themselves, but these empty vessels surely attract souls."

It felt fairly certain, now that both of their minds had helped confirm it:  Some spirit, human or non-human, seemed to have decided to take up residence in the wasteland.  Merry took a moment to feel proud of herself for her invaluable contribution.

   – "By the way, where do robots fit into your theory?"

   – "Well... I mean, there's no doubt we're getting closer every day to the A.I. revolution."

   – "Oh, my.  I knew I should have tipped our e-waiter last time we went to that café."

   – "But that's a completely different phenomenon than what births a tsukumogami, right?  It has to do with the software, not the hardware."

   – "Yes.  Though, it would seem to imply that there is a border of 'false' and 'true' life that can be crossed..."

  #05  Entrusting This World to Idols ~ Idolatrize World

   – "Now all we have to do is narrow it down, and we'll --"

As if on cue, Renko's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound from behind... music to her thrill-seeking ears.  She whirled around to catch the culprit, her eyes fixating on Merry and the dark-colored object that rested a few paces away at her feet.  The blonde girl threw her hands up in a display of innocence.

   – "I didn't do it.  It moved on its own!  I just saw it fall out of nowhere."

Renko's attempt at a professional retort failed to conceal her excited, twitching grin.

   – "Merry, Merry...  This is the most basic of physics.  An object can't move on its own!  Unless..."

They approached the rectangular object and peered over it.  It seemed to be a tablet PC, roughly twenty centimeters in length.  It had landed face up, luckily enough to not have not shattered the screen, though there was a significant surface crack down its center.

   – "Hm..."

   – "We've ruled out tsukumogami.  You think it could be... a poltergeist?"

   – "I don't know.  Rather than an outside force, the energy seems very contained in here."

   – "So then... a spirit living inside?"

   – "Something like that."

In response, the light of the screen flashed briefly on and back off.

   – "Ahh!  Electricity, a simulation of life energy..."

   – "It also works the other way around!"

This was a very lucky revelation for the two investigators, as it would have been nearly impossible to find a compatible charging cable.  In an age where each and every product was developed with its own unique cord design, this feature was marketed to consumers as a collectible game; the infinite variety, a controlled channel for creativity.

The device seemed to call out to them, understanding what they wanted.  The power flashed again, on and off and on, in a quirky rhythmical pattern that almost evoked a personality.

   – "We've definitely found something worth taking home!"

   – "Wait.  Isn't it wrong to remove a spirit from the place it's attached to?  We can't just adopt a ghost like an abandoned baby."

   – "Like you said, it's attached to the item, not the place. We're just fostering it for a bit before it moves on!"

   – "All right...  Just don't raise it to be wild like you."

   – "And you, Merry, make sure you don't spoil it!"

#06  Nostalgic Blood of the East ~ Old World

The pair reached Renko's dorm with the haunted vessel tucked inconspicuously into their satchel, grateful that the spirit hadn't chosen to bind itself to a full desktop monitor or CPU instead.  The question moving forward would be how to unlock its secrets.

   – "How old do you think it is?"

   – "Because it wasn't buried under anything, it seems like we should assume it to be fairly new.  But it just feels so out of place."

   – "Actually, I meant the spirit."

   – "Oh."

Hand in hand with the phenomenon of planned obsolescence, the fashionable aesthetics of electronics changed as often as water under a bridge.  Sleek designs were popular, then retro designs, then designs that mimicked the mimicry of two eras past, a vaguely deteriorating cycle.  As a result, it was difficult to tell which era this piece of technology belonged to.

   – "Remember that I saw a border open?  Maybe not just the spirit, but the whole item came from somewhere else..."

They had been scrutinizing the home screen for quite some time, attempting to navigate the ancient interface, and hadn't made much headway.  As far as they could tell, the data was heavily corrupted, and most of its history had been erased.  They were able to access only the most basic types of apps, like the calculator and the keyboard.

   – "Hey, Merry.  I think we should use that other thing we picked up."

   – "That?  I don't even understand how we would use it..."

As evidenced by her smug grin, the more scientifically-minded of the pair had full confidence in the strange idea she was about to suggest.

#07  A Tiny, Tiny Clever Commander

   – "I mean, really?  A mouse?"

Renko had insisted that they bring home a wired peripheral mouse, which she had spent an extra half hour scavenging for.  However, of course, the end of the cable did not match the outlet on the tablet.

Currently, she was back in the scavenging position, digging through the pile of unorganized junk that cluttered her closet (mostly books and occult items). Or rather, it looked unorganized, but she seemed to know exactly where everything was.  ...Or rather, Merry concluded, it truly was unorganized, but her eyes were sharp at scanning through even a complete mess.  She wondered if this small pile would ever become as large as the one at the dump.

   – "A-ha, found it!"

Renko had managed to track down the very particular treasure she was seeking, the final piece of their forgathered puzzle.  A small cube with many variously patterned notches rested in her open palm.  The material's finishing was uncolored and plain, likely to have been produced independently with a 3D printer rather than as a commercial product.

   – "W-Where did you get a thing like that?"

   – "I have connections you don't know, Merry."

Merry thought she had heard this line before, and felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck just like the first time.  The source was certainly shady.  Universal adapters were not at all legal.  Treating it like a Rubik's cube, and glancing back and forth for reference, Renko cleverly manipulated the block in her hand in ways that Merry was unable to understand.

Renko's partner, who had long embraced being an accomplice, appreciated her resourcefulness; she only wished to be kept more up to date when the other girl's mental plans ran ten steps ahead.  But she supposed that this was how Renko felt in return when it came to supernatural sights that she couldn't see, so perhaps they were even.

   – "Just like that?  Like magic..."

   – "Tell me, Merry.  Can you see the border of magic and science?"

With all the pieces aligned, Renko ceremoniously linked the mouse to the tablet through the intermediary box.  As a pop-up window indicated the drivers being registered, it was, they determined, a truly magical feat.  The light on the screen dimmed a bit, as if the spirit were expressing slight disappointment that it was no longer their only option for a power supply.

   – "Still...  Better technology has been around for decades.  These are so unwieldly.  Does anyone use an optical mouse anymore?"

   – "No, but no one's done this ritual in a long time either."

#08  No More Going Through Doors

Renko took Merry's hands in her own and conveyed them in a stack atop of the mouse.  Holding this pose, Merry squinted at the screen in front of her, which displayed a neatly spaced virtual keyboard with a complete set of lettering.  A mild shiver ran through her, either nervousness or excitement.

   – "Hang on.  This setup looks familiar somehow."

   – "That's right.  We're having a séance!"

Although Renko was very skilled with computers, hacking was not her expertise.  She did, however, have the kind of mind that was able to think around the box, discovering back doors.  The opportunity here was simple:  If they couldn't reach the secrets, they would consult the only one who knew -- the spirit itself.

   – "Huh!?"

   – "This mouse is a perfect planchette to use as an interface.  Sure, we have voice and touch technology.  But you don't want the spirit to possess your actual body in order to touch the screen or activate your voice, do you?"

   – "Definitely not.  ...Wait, did I ever say I wanted to be the medium at all?"

Merry pulled her hands back from the mouse and saw the screen's light flicker weakly.

   – "Oh, er...  You're right.  We didn't really decide that, did we?"

   – "Mm..."

   – "I think you'd be better suited, but I'll gladly go first.  I've always wanted to try something like this."

Merry's eyes glazed over as she thought about the prospect of communicating with the spirit.  They had assumed the sealed entity was harmless enough to bring home, but could there be some risk in directly channeling it?

Then again, what was the other option?  To leave their investigation at a dead end?

You don't belong on this side of the unknown.

A faint voice bubbled up inside of Merry, almost like an intrusive thought.  This had been happening to her increasingly often lately, though she always forgot about it after the fact.  Because, at the same time, they certainly felt like her own feelings...

Maribel Hearn was sparked with a surge of curiosity that made her want to take the lead.  These were precisely the club activities she had signed up for.  How much more dangerous could it be than anything else, so long as one made sure to follow the protocols and say goodbye at the end?

   – "No...  I'd like to do it."

Renko blinked in surprise.

   – "Really?  ...Well, gee, make up your mind.  You made me get all excited for myself.  Go ahead, but I call next!"

#09  Shoutoku Legend ~ True Administrator

Having cleared the area and turned off all the lights, Merry sat with her back straight against a chair and took a deep breath.  No candle was necessary, as the warm glow of the screen cast a ring of illumination around the table.  They had thoroughly discussed the questions they desired to ask, though the words felt awkward to speak out loud.  Nevertheless, the young medium opened her mouth.

   – "What is... your name?"

...

The atmosphere of room was deathly still.  Merry let all the muscles in her arm relax, preparing.

...

I...

   – "It's working...!"

The spirit was conscious and listening.  The planchette began to glide beneath Merry's loose grip, landing on the letter I.  When it paused on the letter for several seconds, she clicked the mouse button to confirm before the involuntary movement slowly began again.

...FO RG OT.

   – "Ah.  So it's going to be up to us to give it a name."

   – "Did you own this tablet?"

While Merry was lost in thought about a potential name, Renko chimed in with a question of her own from the opposite side of the table.  However, the spirit seemed to hesitate in answering.

Suddenly, the other girl's focus returned.  On an instinct, she broke the silence with an unexpected change of the question.

   – "Does this tablet own you?"

...

YE S.

   – "Huh... The tablet owns the spirit?  How did that happen?"

Although Renko's words were more thinking out loud than a direct question, the spirit was responsive.  Merry's hand immediately began to move.

...

SN AP.

   – "Snap...?  That sounds kind of scary."

   – "What does that mean?"

The cursor then swerved dramatically past all the letters on the keypad and down to the app menu along the bottom edge of the screen.  It hovered over an icon barely recognizable as an antique camera.

   – "Ah..."

The app launched, reproducing a dark, blurry image of the table on which the device's lens was turned.  Upon clicking the screen, a photograph was taken, and the damaged speaker emitted a distorted snapping sound.

   – "Spirit photography!"

The two girls burst out in unison, solving the riddle simultaneously.

   – "Right.  We've all heard the old belief that getting a photograph taken of you might steal a piece of your soul."

   – "It has some basis.  If captured in a photograph by accident, a minor spirit's energy might become trapped."

Somewhere in the hidden files, such a photograph must exist, binding some foreign essence to this device.  The spirit was likely eager to get free.

Merry minimized the camera app and returned to the keyboard.

   – "Who took the picture?"

...

Unlike its own, this name seemed to be one the spirit knew.  The pair observed with bated breath as the cursor navigated itself around the maze of letters.  Ultimately, it came to a halt, and Merry clicked on the final letter.

   – "...Eh?  Merry, stop kidding around!"

Merry turned to her partner with a genuine, solemn expression.

   – "I'm... not.  I swear."

Renko's face went pale. In ink-black font, three familiar syllables stood on display beside a blinking cursor.

#10  Dream World Folklore

To disprove the influence of the ideomotor effect, they had asked the question several more times, using both girls as mediums, until the spirit ultimately stopped responding altogether.

   – "Oh, no.  We scared it away..."

   – "Well, it did spook us first."

   – "Renko...  You weren't kidding about your connections, were you?"

Renko scratched her head with lingering bewilderment.

   – "Is the spirit messing with us?  Or could it be..."

Her gaze wandered over to the stream of occult paraphernalia still spilling out of the crack of her closet door, and she experienced a strange sense of longing.  The adventurous scientist was heavily accustomed to investigating mysteries from an observational and objective point of view.  Finding herself personally a step closer to the subject was a bizarre and almost gut-twisting feeling.  She supposed that this was how Merry felt in return when the focus of investigations was on her own powers, so perhaps they were even.  Almost.

After a few more sessions of séance, they managed to navigate to an encrypted folder.  A full-screen photograph had flashed open... but, before they were able to make out any details, the tablet's power instantly cut off.  Following this, it no longer responded to any input.

Their assumption would be that the spirit had been able to cross over, after deleting its digital ties to the physical container and unsealing the information it was attached to.

   – "I suppose this is goodbye..."

   – "Is the spirit free now?"

   – "I think so."

   – "That's good for it, at least."

   – "Too bad for you.  If we kept it, maybe it would have served as your personal shikigami."

   – "Isn't that a bit cold-hearted?  It was supposed to be our child!"

A shikigami is the perfect phantasmal servant.  The owner may input commands, and it carries out orders with extraordinary speed and calculation.  Of course, a normal computer already fulfills essentially the same purpose.  Outside world humans of the modern era aren't in need of such a spirit under their possession.

Even so, the force of attraction that had drawn them to cross paths with this spirit would be a mystery to chase going forward.  The two present members of the Sealing Club had a new story to tell, an urban legend that could be shared only amongst themselves.

Afterwords

Hello, this is someone who absolutely promised themself that they would publish at least one Hifuu fic per calendar year.  The idea for this one began with a conversation with my real-life partner (as is usually the case of inspiration) about the excellent aesthetic of using a computer keyboard as a Ouija board.  This subject in turn came up because of a "ghost" that haunts her keyboard by making a certain cryptic message appear on the screen at random times because the "." and "0" keys are in an easy position for us to accidentally press.  So, this story is dedicated to our precious child, ".0-chan."

Then, while it was already being written, WBaWC came out and confirmed that a technology-themed fic would be totally appropriate, and my favorite song from the soundtrack had the perfect title to be used in it.  (Also, its blatant dystopian themes justified playing up the similar themes of the Sealing Club's society even more than usual.)  And yet, despite many things lining up, it almost didn't get finished in time.  It's been such a busy and stressful year, which I hope gets better next year...

Another source of inspiration was the blog "Yukarisuggestion," whose portrayal I respect a lot.  When they drop minor bits of supernatural trivia, it definitely feels like they are coming from the youkai sage herself, very natural to accept.  I latched onto these posts in particular, finding the concept fascinating, and I only hope I interpreted it acceptably.  ...I was really aiming sharply this time at the Sealing Club's conversational aesthetic of "casual confidence in super obscure things that outside listeners would hear as nonsense," so I'm afraid some parts may have crossed the border of B.S.

Also, I wonder if it's okay that the second half of the song choices are almost entirely bad puns?

ASA    (Our ghost child's pen name would be "0.4" / "Rei-ten-shi"!)

Hifuu CD-style stories:

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  自封夢幻 〜 Sentimental Reverie

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  陶然夢幻 〜 Transcendental Revelry

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  羨望横断 〜 Unenviable Crossroads

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  外来土産 〜 Adventive Reminiscence

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3] 中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  幻想惑星直列 〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

[books-and-cookies]

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM GREY (PART 7/7)

1. I feel like I’ve been stuck for years reading this stupid series and I bet that once I finish this book, she’ll announce the next one from this shitprick’s point of view and I’ll want to read that one as well just to make a point and bottom line is fuck you author for writing these stupid books

2. “You’d always rather have sex than talk” - because he thinks with his dick, Ana, he’s the ultimate white boy fuckboy, have you learned nothing throughout these pages what have you been reading what have I been trying to teach you 3. Also, fuck me, I just realised that this series now sits at between 1500 and 2000 pages. Almost two thousand fucking pages have been written about these characters. All those trees who have dreamed big ended up paper for this shitstorm of a series. 4. The trees deserved fucking better.

5. Silent moment for the trees.

6. “If you say no, you’ll say no. I’ll have to find a way to persuade you” - good grief, Christian, heaven forbid you accept her refusal to do something, the earth would crack and dinosaurs would roam the world again, you can’t be responsible for that 7. “she wears a coquettish smile, which addresses my dick directly” - OH MY GOD YOUR DICK IS NOT A SENTIENT BEING NOBODY FINDS THIS SEXY 8. While he’s beating her with the belt, to show her how rough he actually wants to do it: “There’s no one to hear you, baby. Shout all you need” - oh sweet baby jesus, this is beyond fucked up.  9. His reactions to beating her are... wow. I mean, feast your eyes on these gems: “Her face is blotchy and smeared with tears [...] but she has never looked more magnificent”; “give her a moment, wait for the endorphins to kick in”; “She didn’t safe word. She deserved to be punished. This is what happens when you defy me, baby.” - this is nauseating, I feel physically sick. Who the fuck decided it was a good idea for this book to see the light of day and market it as a fucking romance book. FUCK YOU. 

10. “you are one fucked up son of a bitch” - Ana has finally seen reason, took her long enough, the girl is thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. 11. “I want to hold her and make the pain go away. I want her to sob in my arms” - so this way he can play saviour and executioner. Sincerely, fuck this book. I know aftercare is an important part of BDSM, but I really reaaaally don’t think you’re supposed to do something like this, this vicious, to someone who has been acquainted with this particular lifestyle two fucking weeks before. 12. About beating her: “That was without doubt, one of the most satisfying moments of my life” - sincerely, FUCK THIS BOOK TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL AND BEYOND. 13. Never has a book made me so angry. The amount of fuckery is absolutely unbelievable. And to think people were charged actual money to buy this piece of shit. 14. “I’m used to making women cry - it’s what I do.” - yes, myself included, over the precious time I’ve lost with this heaping pile of dung. 15. “She’ll feel better crying. Women do, in my experience” - fuck your experience and fuck you, you sexist piece of trash and fuck this book and just fuck everything 16. “This was too soon. Way, way too soon” 

17. He’s delusional, I swear to baby jesus, he still thinks everything is okay and that they’re going fucking sailing that afternoon

18. SHE’S FUCKING APOLOGISING TO HIM I’M FUCKING DONE 19. Dedication to the author, editor, and everyone involved with publishing this steaming pile of garbage:

20. “She cannot love a monster. She cannot love a fucked up son of a bitch” - oh, save me the waterworks, EL James, no amount of self pity would make this sorry excuse of a human being even remotely likable 21. I almost feel sorry for him, but then I remember that I’ve wasted so much time, energy and brain cells on this shit and that my default expression throughout it has been this one:

22. So good fucking riddance 23. Christian’s moping, now that Ana has left him, is like nails on a chalkboard, and by that I mean it’s physically painful to read 24. “No, she won’t forget me. Women always remember the first man they fucked, don’t they” - oh my GOD what Straight White Boy™ has written this wowowowowow. Do you think that EL James just randomly went to the first frat house she could find and interviewed the guys there for this book? I’m about 90% sure she fucking did that. 25. “I’ve become what she’s always accused me of being - her stalker” - oh honey, you’ve always been that person, embrace it, be U 26. The moping is never-ending pls put me out of my misery. but now he’s resolved to win her back and I’m SO SURPRISED oh my god this is a revelation sound the alarm who saw this coming 27. Holy fuck 28. GUYS 29. GUYS IT’S OVER

30. I did it. Again. Fuck me, this was even harder than before. Non-solicited advice to any author out there: pls never write the same novel from a different character’s point of view. Not even if you’re a good writer. Just don’t do it. 31. Thanks for being here with me, cookies, you have kept me sane.  32. Well, you, and all the booze

33. Mary out.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

Fifty Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker, Fifty Shades Freed masterpost

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[conniemayfowler]

A PRAYER FOR MOTHER EARTH

MARCH 28, 2017

I originally penned these words as the Afterword for A MILLION FRAGILE BONES. Ultimately, my publisher Joan Leggitt and I took it out of the book because we didn't feel it was the right fit. However, in light of the Trump Administration's decision to prevent the Environmental Protection Agency from enforcing climate change regulations, I feel strongly it is time to publish the piece.

Here it is in its entirety.

This abiding truth is as simple as it is profound: All living creatures are threads in a single tapestry of life. The loss of one species, the anguished deaths of 1,000 dolphins, the slow-oil-agony demise of 800,000 birds affects the entire planet, perhaps even the cosmos. As John Muir said, “When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.” We are enlarged, made better, by a healthy and vibrant Earth. We are not detached beings, divorced from our planet, only operating on the surface as if we’re bullet trains impelled by magnetic force, hovering above but never touching the tracks. We are of the Earth and of the sky. On this, our only home, we share DNA with every living organism. The worm and the butterfly. The gnat and the loon. The wolf and the crab. The whale and the ant. We are, individually and collectively, part of every molecule in our universe for every living creature is, at its essential self, stardust. One glance at the Periodic Table of Elements is a view into the building blocks that sustain and drive the complex lives of stars and every life form on our planet, including humans. Nitrogen or calcium, iron or carbon, chromium or nickel: these elements and more are created at the end of a star’s life when the energy producing nuclear reactions in the star’s heart cease, resulting in gravitational collapse. Perhaps this is the source of our origin story, the leitmotif of sacrifice: We are all sparkling moments of rebirth. But we are also astonishingly effective purveyors of death. We destroy a species, an ecosystem, a pod of dolphins caring for its young, a turtle completing her journey, a rare and mighty collective of whales that have a song like no one else in its genus, and we have effectively driven arrows into the very essence of our humanity. We have diminished our home, the thing that gives us joy, sustenance, life, an inkling of the holy. I have a friend whose hobby is deep-sea diving. She told me she stopped eating fish after she had several dynamic encounters with grouper. She claimed they are very curious, intelligent fish that often swim right up to her and seem to study her. She began making faces at them and the fish made faces back. She said she could no longer eat them because they are sentient beings, animals of intelligence with a range of emotions. Hers is not an act of anthropomorphism but of acute observation and interaction with her known world. If she’d never had those encounters, if she’d never paused long enough to notice what the fish were doing and to risk an interaction, she would have never been moved, changed. She would have continued to exist in an echo chamber of limited experiences. I have no idea how people harm animals, or clear-cut forests, or shear off mountaintops, or through greed-fueled negligence destroy rivers and oceans. In order for humans to slaughter sharks for shark fin soup (they cut off the shark’s dorsal, pectoral, and caudal fins, leaving the shark unable to swim, sentencing the animal to a prolonged, horrendous death), I believe they must enter a mindset similar to that of combatants: dehumanize your opponent. But in this case, since the opponent is a non-human animal, I suppose the process would more accurately be labeled de-recognizing. By de-recognizing another living being’s value, it’s easier to kill it. How else could one inflict such cruelty? And what madness causes men to think rhino tusk powder will make them more virile? Perhaps it is the same madness that prompts wealthy American men to travel to Africa and “trophy hunt” (a de-recognizing phrase—the animal is reduced to the status of object—for a killing ritual in which all the cards are stacked in favor of the man with the bait and gun). Somehow, cruelty inspires in these wealthy hunters, some of whom shoot the animals from the sniper-esque advantage of helicopters—a fetish-centered belief in the glory of their phalluses. They de-recognize the world in order to kill it, and for them killing translates into power, control, sex. I am no longer naïve. I understand death is integral, even necessary, to life . . . sparkling moments of rebirth. And that people create religions. And that people fear death. You must sacrifice that goat, that child, that man, that woman in order to appease the gods. Believe this man is the Son of God and you will never truly die. If you live by the Prophet’s rules, you will be given a harem of virgins in heaven (what, I wonder, do the women get?). These are all stories humankind has created in order to make peace with the inevitable black door of death. But they also prevent us from rationally dealing with the science of nature. Life begets death, death begets life. But nature offers balance in the life-death tango. A cyclone spawns off the coast of Africa and eventually makes its way to the American plains where it drops enough water to relieve drought and water crops. When humankind decides to play god, chaos ensues: global climate change, rising sea levels, acid rain, extinct species, cancer epidemics, marginalized nutritional values in our food, and an entire ocean and its inhabitants poisoned. We are living in a time where there is increasing awareness that natural disasters are also social disasters. In an essay titled, “There is No Such Thing as a Natural Disaster,” anthropologist and geographer Neil Smith writes in reference to Hurricane Katrina, “In every phase and aspect of a disaster–causes, vulnerability, preparedness, results and response, and reconstruction–the contours of disaster and the difference between who lives and who dies is to a greater or lesser extent a social calculus.” The same holds true for manmade disasters. The Gulf ecosystem and the people who depend on its health and abundance for their well-being were already stressed due to a panoply of human factors, the most pressing of which were agricultural pollutants, the megalopolis called Atlanta and their mushrooming drinking water supply needs, and the fact that everything runs downstream. As an Alligator Point neighbor once said to me, “Every time someone flushes a toilet in Atlanta, the Gulf dies a little.” Fertilizers and pesticides have affected the Gulf basin since their introduction post World War II. Indeed, one of the enduring legacies of a war that was technologically advanced for its era is the develop[L1]  and reliance on chemicals which, while killing pests, also destroy waterways and human health. In order to meet its ever-growing need for fresh drinking water, Atlanta relentlessly draws down the Flint, Chattahoochee, and Apalachicola watershed. This system, when working properly (read: not manipulated by humankind), creates the salinity balance necessary for thriving oyster beds. The proper flow of freshwater provides nutrients to the oysters without which they succumb to illness and predation. But Atlanta, because of its increasing population, has been manipulating the flow for years. As a result, when natural or manmade disasters hit the Gulf region, the oyster beds have an increasingly more difficult time bouncing back. This was the situation when the BP oil spill occurred. The oyster fields were already embattled. So, too, were the people who have for generations made their living off harvesting oysters. This is how a manmade disaster becomes a social disaster: Take away someone’s ability to make a living, especially when the livelihood is intractably tied to a cultural way of life, and everything falls apart—the individual and the community. During the hundreds of hours spent researching material for this book, I discovered a secret. It’s a secret that is beginning to slowly emerge from the shadows in large part because of the Internet. Now what was once a nearly impossible task becomes a matter of keystrokes. I have at my disposal studies, plans, reports, maps, and diagrams detailing vast fields of disposed weaponry piled in watery trash heaps in the Gulf of Mexico. After World War II, without making any ado about it, the military began using the Gulf as a garbage dump for all manner of ordnance. A 2015 article published by Texas A & M University asserts, “The ordinance includes land mines, ocean mines, torpedoes, aerial bombs and several types of chemical weapons . . . . The chemical weapons may have leaked over the decades and could pose a significant environmental problem. The military began dumping the unexploded bombs from 1946 to 1970, when the practice was banned.” And the U.S. Army sent three soldiers to my shack who were charged with digging up non-existent ordnance in my yard and all the while chemical weapons were and are, in all probability, leaking into the Gulf, mixing with petroleum and dispersant, and nothing is being done to address the situation. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Do we not understand that we get one chance to save this planet? And that saving our planet is the very definition of redemption? After experiencing the manmade destruction of my sacred place, I’ve come to understand there are people who apparently don’t possess an empathy gene and, as such, are capable of inflicting massive harm. But ignorance, apathy, and greed are just as dangerous and just as much in play. Glaciers are becoming their own rivers. Extreme weather is rampant. Species are disappearing at a rate that is up to 10,000 times greater than what would happen if humans did not exist. We are creating a period of extinction, what biologists call the sixth great extinction, and it is being primarily propelled by our addiction to fossil fuels. Gas is under three dollars a gallon, prompting a boom in truck sales. What’s next, the return of the dinosaur-sized, hydrocarbon spewing Hummer? The Florida legislature is on the precipice of opening up the entire state to fracking. This is more evidence we have elected people who are insane. Florida is essentially a thin crust of limestone veiling and protecting our lifeblood, the Florida Aquifer. The aquifer is the source of our drinking water and feeds our natural abundance. The aquifer is interconnected. You dump poisons in the north and they will circulate throughout the system. Fracking would bust through the limestone, contaminating the totality of the water table. In a First Amendment-wreaking edict, officials banned Florida Department of Environmental Protection employees from using the phrases “climate change” or “global warming.” Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, but the facts on the ground don’t change. I am reminded ever more of the Cree prophecy, “When the last tree is cut down, the last fish eaten, and the last stream poisoned, you will realize you cannot eat money.” Prior to drilling underwater wells, energy companies conduct studies to pinpoint oil deposits below the ocean floor using sonic cannons. According to Time Magazine, the cannons “emit sound waves louder than a jet engine every ten seconds for weeks at a time.” Common sense and science tells us this is detrimental to marine life. We are stressing our environment—air, water, flora, fauna—to the breaking point. Sometimes I wonder if the rich and powerful won’t be sated until everything is gone: all the sweet water, all the animals, all the good air, all of us . . . you cannot eat money. According to the excellent 2014 documentary on the Gulf oil disaster, The Great Invisible, in the past decade 111 energy bills have been proposed in Congress and only five have become law. Those five contained subsidies for nuclear and fossil fuel energy sources. The 106 bills that did not survive all contained alternative energy provisions. Fact and metaphor: Fossil fuels are hydrocarbons formed from the remains of dead animals and plants that died millions of years ago. Their transformation from corpse to the earth’s hidden blood also took millions of years. Fossil fuels—dead animals and plants that underwent transmogrification—are not renewable. Nearly every aspect of our modern life is fueled with their blood, with the fragile bones of death. As far as I can tell, wind and solar power do not intersect with any blood, ancient or otherwise. And I suspect the same will hold true for marvelous energy sources not yet invented. Life fueled on the remains of a million (and far more) fragile bones is not only unsustainable, it’s killing us. Must we do everything in our power to embrace clean, renewable energy? Resoundingly, yes. What other choice do we have? Our fossil fuel addiction is a form of slow suicide. And with each tick of the clock, our demise speeds up. Tick, tick, tick: closer to the brink. Whoosh. We cannot risk trying to perform CPR on a cadaver. My poor mother tried. It didn’t work. It never does. In Mary Oliver’s poem “Wild Geese,” she writes: You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Let us all, with infinite devotion, love this good earth. Let us understand with greater intimacy the meaning of “home.” Let us love with ever expanding intention and purpose, placing greater faith in nature and science. Let us view our planet and all its moving parts—stars, galaxies, winding rivers—with a shaman’s fierce gaze, a scientist’s deep knowledge, and a child’s open heart. Yes. Let us love enough and more than enough. Now. Today. Forever.

--Connie May Fowler

 Cozumel, Mexico