#yes this is my personal archaeology fantasy

[procrastinatorrex]

v.

There were dozens of them. Lizzie was reduced to inarticulate noises and waving her utterly unremarkable geophys results whenever someone commented– oh so sweetly– on how unfortunate it was that they couldn’t have identified all these burials a month ago when they’d started the dig. Inside the neat circle marking out Dr. Ambrose’s imaginary island, where they found absolutely nothing on geophys, there was a genuinely staggering number of burials. 

Gwaine was a little wild-eyed when Percy called him over for an update on the skeletons. He had some dirt on his cheek, he didn’t seem to have noticed. He waved the paper he’d been taking notes on. “There’s– I can’t tell you how many individuals we have yet– but it’s a lot. So far we’ve got seven more or less intact pelvic girdles, four of them are distinctly female, two are male and one we’re not sure yet, but I’m thinking male, possibly in late adolescence. In G5, over there,  we have two left femurs that both show pretty much no fusion in the growth plates– We don’t have the mandibles yet, but they must have been young.” 

“This is nothing like the knights they buried on the shore. This is a community.” Leon stared around in amazement as Professor Sur pointed to the nearest burial. “In this area, we’ve got what looks like some dogs, too, we’re pretty sure. I’ve asked Guy about calling in a specialist to see if we can get more information.” The bioarchaeologist grinned, “I do have something you’ll want to see immediately, though.”

Directly in the middle of what was now obviously an island, a huge stone lined burial was being carefully excavated. The contents of the burial were concealed by a miraculously intact lid that someone have carefully engraved with symbols that peeked out under layers of dirt and clay. Even before cleaning and preservation, it was clear that it was a magnificent, labor-intensive burial. 

Fit for a king.  

“He’s done it again.” Percy shook his head. “I can’t believe it. No one is this lucky. There was nothing here to indicate this cemetery.”   

“Dr. Chevalier! Doctor! Come quickly!” The voices came from the treeline, where a team of mostly graduate students were finishing cleaning up and documenting the last of the knight burials they’d been working on most of the summer. 

Percy stepped carefully around the archeaology being uncovered around him and then sprinted across the grass. When he got to the treeline, Nic, his lead grad student, was standing triumphantly with one palm outstretched. “Look!” It was all he needed to say. In his palm there was a small round coin. Most of the surface was obscured by a layer of dirt, and what was visible was badly scuffed, but along one edge the dirt had broken away and a few letters were just visible, stamped into the surface. Wthyr

“Uther” Percy breathed it, barely daring to hope– it was too perfect to be true. Nic was beaming, “it was in the primary burial layer, about a foot away from the remains. It looks like it was dropped when the first of the individuals was interred… it could date these burials.” 

“To the reign of King Uther, or just after, possibly.” Percy carefully indicated the ragged edge of the coin, “See here? It looks like it’s in pretty bad shape, it might have been knocking around in pockets for a while.” Percy shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

Lee came over, wearing dirty coveralls and a huge grin. “I’l be damned, Percy. You were actually on to something– we’re going to have to cover this and come back next season; there’s years of work to be done here.” 

“It’s Ambrose,” Percy shook his head. “Well, he’s going to be pleased.”

“No living with him at all after this,” Lee agreed, laughing, “gotta give it to him, though, he’s a damn wizard.”

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & Part 4

[raininyourblackeyes]

omg i have an ask that says "what's your favourite ancient civilization?" that i'm so anxious to answer actually because i don't think i'm qualified to have one...? like i did want to study archaeology but my plan was to catch up to fun stuff and detailed facts in uni once i was away from my family because that was an easier way to live since my dad only valued mathematics and physics as something i should've been spending my time on. so like to avoid being called stupid and useless and disappointment to him more than was necessary, my knowledge of history in general was restricted to basic stuff we learned in school and when i started uni i deleted most of that stuff from my memory because well turns out i won't need that and it's easier not to think of an alternate universe where the pandemic didn't happen and i got out, instead of remaining stuck with my family studying pharmacy... and even from the school stuff, we only focuesed on mesopotamia, persia, ancient egypt and then everything else was europe. so my knowledge of ancient civilizations beyong that is that they existed. i was planning to learn about as much suff as possible during that summer before starting university but that obviously didn't happen and now i feel so underqualified to actually answer that harmless little ask. like answering ancient egypt or ancient greece or ancient rome because i remember the most about them from school because we did study those the most sounds boring but i also literally would need to google english spelling and exact names for anything more fun that i remember. like my knowledge is that little. i shouldn't be getting this worked up over an ask lmao but i don't want to have this rant be an answer to it so i have to get it out before i eventually gather what little i remember and try to figure out an answer

[dailycharacteroption]

Retrograde Revision 3: Archaeologist

(art by BorjaPindado on DeviantArt, featured in Arkham Horror)

And it’s time for another revisit to some of my oldest entries on the blog, and this time, it’s the archaeologist!

I’ve said many times that certain archetypes of certain classes feel almost like entirely different careers and vocations than offshoots of the same class, and today’s entry, from Ultimate Combat, is what actually introduced me to the concept!

While this archetype has more in common with Dr. Indiana Jones or Dr. Evelyn Carnahan than it does with the real thing, it’s easy to see why bard was used as the basis for bringing this concept to life, even if the investigator rivals it in many ways. After all, a bard has access to a deep pool of knowledge and their spellcasting can be either flavored as them studying the arcane and occult secrets of ancient civilization or simply a practical skill to pick up for field work in a world where the relics of the past often have strong opinions about being recovered by modern civilizations.

This archetype also does a good job of expressing “bard that is trying to emulate the traditional skillset of a rogue.”

Regardless of that, in a world of ancient wonders and past civilizations, it only makes sense that archaeology would exist in some form in a fantasy setting, recovering relics for historical study or profit, depending on who’s doing the digging. Both can be equally devoted to the work though.

Whether it’s boldness or some form of supernatural luck, these archaeologists can draw upon seemingly otherworldly fortune when they need to, functioning similarly to a combination of inspire courage and inspire competence, but also applying to their saves and only affecting them. Insert your jokes about humming adventure music while they perform activities here.

They also train to notice small details as well as disabling mechanisms, both important skills in the trap-laden tombs they often visit.

They also gain both uncanny dodge and evasion, similar to a rogue, deftly avoiding danger.

Additionally, these bards also learn many different talents associated with rogues, including a few advanced ones as well.

This archetype is good for those that want to be a problem-solver for the party. Yes, they are especially good at dealing with traps and noticing details, but they also have access to both bardic spells and rogue talents, making them very customizable. I recommend a combination of buffing spells, utility spells, and a mix of utility and combat talents for a character that can do a little bit of everything though specializing ain’t bad either.

Unfortunately, real-world archaeology, particularly western archaeology, while scientific and historic in nature, still has nasty elements of tomb robbing in it’s own history, relics of the past curated in museums far from the very people whose cultures those items are a record of their heritage. Now, the Pathfinder Society in the Lost Omens setting subverts this by having lodges in multiple countries so that the relics deemed safe for public viewing can be put on display for the people whom find them culturally significant. Of course, villainous archaeologist associated with the Aspis Consortium could make good villains as well.

The idol of Xaxitl has vanished from the museum it was displayed in. Some blame the locals retrieving it from those who defiled their ancestors temples, but Professor Herris believes it was stolen by members of a daemonic cult and political party he has run across before, seeking to use the idol’s dark power to their own ends. The biggest challenge may not be retrieving the artifact, but dealing with the professor’s abrasive personality, however.

Isea Ferdt, the most knowledgeable authority on ancient mountain elf culture has gone missing. She was last heard from planning an expedition to a newly discovered dig site in the Amarac foothills. As certain signs depicted in mountain elf culture are beginning to manifest, discovering her whereabouts, and perhaps rescue, has become paramount, as only her expertise can correctly interpret these prophecies.

Doomsday cults are often crackpots establishments ran by deranged, but otherwise relatively harmless madmen. The Cult of the Blinding Eye, however, has recently become tenfold more dangerous than before, as if they were being guided towards their endgame by someone with the knowledge of archaic evil that they otherwise lack.

[mymanyfandomramblings]

Hi! I don't remember if anyone, including me, asked this, but do you have any headcanon about Dipper and Mabel's parents? And also Shermie?

Nobody's actually asked me about this yet, but I'm happy to talk about my headcanons.

Shermie is seven years older than the twins, and was essentially a third parent to them growing up (there is a fanfic about him coming eventually). Shermie was also Caryn's favourite son, although she tried not to be obvious about it. He also fought in the Vietnam war. Shermie moved to California shortly after Stan's 'death', when his eldest, David (Dipper and Mabel's father) was fourteen and his twin daughters were ten. David went on to study archaeology and eventually married Laura Adamson, and several years later, Dipper and Mabel were born.

My headcanons when it came to deciding David and Laura's personalities were to make it very obvious where Dipper and Mabel's personalities came from. David really loves archaelogy, and Dipper and Mabel both inherited the trait of intense obsessiveness from their father. David is also more introverted, preferring his own company or just the company of the people he loves, whereas Laura is an extreme extrovert (and yes, their great romance started with her extrovert-adopting this dorky introvert). Laura is a paramedic, and although this is a challenging job, she's not someone who can just sit around while bad things happen, as she's definitely a very protective, 'doing' person, and is the one who Dipper inherited the protective trait from.

The parents don't have favourites among their children, as Dipper and Mabel gravitate to different parents for different things. Mabel tends to confide things in her mother, whereas her father is the one she goes to talk about her random thoughts (as they are both quirky conversationists). Dipper meanwhile talks to his father about their shared interests (they both like sci-fi and fantasy), whereas he appreciates the fact that his mother is slightly less weird than the rest of the family (i.e. she will also roll her eyes at Mabel's antics occasionally). The Pines family is a very weird and very loving family.

[lastcrush]

wanted plots for all of my muses !

by no means is this comprehensive and some plots are vague so we can build on it more. you can consider this a jumping off point for when we're plotting and we're having trouble coming up with something. source link is my muse page for reference. absolutely ask more about a muse if you want more information. while most of these are slice-of-life plots, i will absolutely give supernatural, fantasy (modern or historical), & crime verses upon request.

PLEASE LIKE AND/OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN ANY OF THESE PLOTS. while i recognize that the same plot will be written out differently with a different partner, i’ll likely cap each plot at a maximum of three depending on how much attention certain ones get.

jester flores / drummer / 24 / they+she

rival band shenanigans... battle of the bands... maybe theyre on the same label and there's stress from that...

oops sorry for accidentally punching you in the face in the mosh pit meet ugly

secret relationship where the rest of the band hates the other person because they're from a rival band/label but that won't stop jester from seeing your muse

lennox greaves / f1 driver / 25 / he

rival driver ... some rivals to lovers stuff here ... fated 2 be mortal enemies and yes they do hate eachother. yes they do constantly find eachother during the after parties. yes they are nearly killing eachother on the track but thats ok

pr relationship <3 sorry i do love them...

ummm someone in another sport ? idk we can build from that..

i think nox should actually win a race once. maybe he gets transferred off of sentinel onto your muse's team. as a little treat. maybe we can combine this with the first one.

beejal shah / novelist / 26 / any

your muse Knows that bee’s mom is a high profile actress and that her dad is a politician. they know. they plan to bring this to light for some reason. maybe they dont like her. maybe they don’t like her parents. whatever. chaos. 

REALITY TV SHOW. i havent seen any but i just think it’d be fun to write bee in that type of environment considering how awful she can be. will likely require a lot of plotting. romantic or platonic or antagonistic i want them at eachother’s throats i want them to kiss i want them to be messy.

fellow authors :3 maybe they write in the same genre. maybe they write in completely different genres. r they friends? r they enemies? who knows. we'll figure it out

haha someone who is a fan of both bee's shitty webnovels and her published works and is putting 2 & 2 together .. very close to figuring out the connection .... drama !

james adeyemi / museum curator / 27 / she+they+he

idk i think it would be fun to have recent exes that just keep running into eachother and okay fine we can try again one (1) more time except it’s a mess and their friends r begging them to stop going back to eachother but they Can’t. anyway.

fellow phd candidates.... i think she should have someone to suffer with.... meet cutes i think would be fun with this

people who work at the museum with her !! archaeology nerds perhaps. maybe they dig too deep into something that's delivered to the museum and it ends up being supernatural in nature. maybe your muse is supernatural in nature.

faking dating for no fucking reason. maybe it turns into a fake engagement. hell, let's do a marriage of convenience.

percival nwodo / law associate / 28 / they+he

right so remember when i said he's based on mik.e r.oss from suits. :3 i do think a m.ike / r.achel type of ship would be fun... to me personally ..... percy should suffer, really, is what im saying. tl;dr y/m also works at the same corporate law firm and after a while of a push/pull type thing with percy, they get together ! and then much too late y/m finds out that percy has been essentially lying about who he is (re: does Not have a law degree and has never gone to harvard). angst ! fun !

alternatively, maybe indulge me in a little superhero type plot .... yeah lets pull a daredevil <3 percy & y/m run a shitty law firm together and percy is a masked vigilante at night.

shion iwasaki / medical examiner fellow / 29 / he+xe+she / half-ghoul

supernatural that has been a supernatural creature for longer and helps shion understand what he is (a ghoul) and is just genuinely nice to him and wants to see him survive

a hunter that works in the same supernatural hunting organization that his family does and is tracking him down. why? angst <3

supernatural that sees shion, a brand new half-ghoul, as an opportunity / something to exploit. maybe shion is exactly the perfect alibi they need because he's found himself investigating supernatural deaths now. idfk.

kazuharu miya / bodyguard + underground fighter / 30 / he / werewolf

sorry i am by design a sucker for bodyguard/person that they are guarding ships. give. additional reasons for giving me this : the who did this to you trope.

for you historical fantasy nerds : let haru be your muse's loyal knight. perhaps they met when haru was young and ur muse was never meant to be next in line to the throne but things happened that propelled y/m into the role of the kingdom's ruler and who better to have by your side than your childhood best friend who will take a sword for you without question?

also a sucker for people bandaging haru's dumbass up after fights.

ummm supernatural things... vampire from the clan that killed his family maybe.

naomi furukawa / private investigator / 34 / he+they

they met years ago when naomi was still in the fbi and were partners (i mean literally, they worked together, but they could have been partners). your muse is considered dead. while naomi is working a case as a PI he comes upon something that leads them to find your muse, alive. cue angst heartbreak reconnection

haha your muse is a criminal. naomi is tasked with finding them/taking them down. he thought this case was going to be small and easy but it quickly unravels into something much bigger than expected. game of cat and mouse. at eachother’s throats. one of them always one step ahead of the other.

you: give me a superhero/powered character. me: gives you a PI that is hired to investigate something that said powered person is involved in. chaos <3

nuri jeong / actor + stuntperson / 35 / they

dysfunctional celeb couple

your character does not know who nuri is and nuri is absolutely fucking elated by that. can be platonic/antagonistic

ldr :') they were together for a year and then your muse has to move for job or family or something else 12 timezones away and nuri can’t go with them because they have their own responsibilities here so they decide theyll try this LDR thing and for the first few months its going great even if it means theyre both sacrificing sleep and their health but then it starts getting a little worse and they dont call as often and theyre starting to have doubts and one of them decides enough is enough and goes on a little trip to see the other without telling them and thats as far as i got

december kelley / event photographer / 25 / they / vampire

ember meets ur muse at a wedding they are photographing (someone in the bridal party? grooms party? one of the people that is getting married? who knows.... heh...) and they hit it off... perhaps better than the marrying couple themselves

ember's gf that turned them into a vampire.... maybe she isnt dead ! maybe she went into hiding. whatever. ember's pissed now because how dare you turn them into a vampire and then abandon them?

wedding cake baker... idk its just fun to me...

lochan rao / researcher + professor / 37 / she+he

okay stay with me here. give me lochan's ex-fiancé. the fiancé broke it off because they thought she wasn’t giving them enough time. they find eachother again. lochanwants to get back together because of course she does. whether your muse agrees or doesnt is up to you but personally i’d love to explore the fall of their relationship and the rebuilding of it and the hesitance and the angst and everything that comes with it.

LOL. REBOUND!!! she deserves a little bit of a rebound. maybe it’s only one night maybe it lasts a month. maybe they stay friends after maybe they don’t maybe they were always in love with her and she sees them as temporary.

your muse work’s in the same department as lochan at the same university (or hospital works too?? we're flexible) :) a little bit of a rivalry. for fun :) maybe its more :)

lochan and your muse made a pact when they were in their twenties that if they aren’t married by forty, then they’d marry each other. with 40 close, your muse contacts lochan after over a decade of not talking. they meet up, start talking again, discuss how the pact was silly and they fall in love anyway :)

wolfgang kestrel / music store owner / 39 / they+he

right so. hes in the witness protection program. would be fun and probably dangerous if someone who he knew in his previous life finds him, huh... perhaps even someone who was involved with the reason he's there in the first place.

bites my fist... oh what i wouldnt do for a single parent (wolfgang) / teacher thing..... hes very very understandably protective of his son okay..

ummm alternatively.... wolfgang is the teacher bc he teaches music at his store sometimes. maybe ur muse would like to learn music. maybe ur muse has a kid that wants to learn

celeste owuor / editor in chief / 40 / she

i'd be a liar if i said i didnt want some devil wears prada thing. but like with a newspaper. you get it.

idk . rivals? eocs of other papers? people that celeste fucked over to get where she is? we can figure it out

situationship. at their big age. yeah. celeste keeps putting work first and your muse is fed up with it because they rightfully would like a little morsel of attention sometimes.

silas montague / firefighter / 40 / he

you know ben warren and miranda bailey from greys? yeah. that

silas keeps saving y/m and is suspicious by how its always on His Shift that theyre in danger but whatever

angel flores / hacker / 42 / he+they+xe

your muse hires angel for their hacking services and you pose it as a No Big Deal thing thats totally fine but it ends up unravelling into something else entirely. haha whoops. now youre on the run together

your muse and angel are friends. or at least as close to friends as angel manages to get to others. you notice his typically immaculate memory starting to go a little... off.

he deserves some sci-fi things. perhaps some fantasy things, even.

i'm running on fumes i think angel deserves to kiss someone and that it should be angsty. as a little treat.

santiago leon / math teacher + anti-hero / 45 / he

literally anything to do with superpowers/heros/villains etc. idk it would be fun to me in particular !

someone who Also came back to life Changed and they bond over it <3

fellow teachers :3

your character has a teenager that santi teaches math to o7 ... would be fun if santi taught at a private school and ur muse was from a very popular / influential family. for fun . i guess

magdalena diaz / trauma surgeon / 48 / they+she

someone she met in group therapy / grief therapy when her long term girlfriend passed. these two are still in contact and have occasional meet ups just to check in on eachother and make sure the other is doing well. platonic or romantic idk up2you

idk. some grey's anatomy shit <3

vivianne park / horror writer / 50 / she

if you want horror plots you want anne. she's been plagued by the Horrors since she was a child and has used that as insp for her writings that are getting increasingly more concerning.

some ghost/monster hunting business would be fun :p

hey have you seen killing eve- [i am forcefully taken off stage]

[honourablejester]

One thing I really love in D&D books are the trinket tables. They’ve so many tiny little suggested stories in them.

Some fun/curious ones from the Horror Trinkets Table from Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft:

04 A spinning top carved with four faces: happy, sad, wrathful, and dead (there’s a bunch of demonic divination items on the list, they’re awesome)

08 A pocket watch that runs backward for an hour every midnight (this seems like it would wreak havoc on its ability to actually keep time, unless it automatically reverts to normal time at 1am)

11 A wineskin that refills when interred with a dead person for a night (this seems … extremely unhygienic, maybe don’t drink that, this is how you get turned into ghoul and it’s your own fault)

15 A lantern with a black candle that never runs out and that burns with green flame (handy and atmospheric, I approve)

17 A little black book that records your dreams, and yours alone, when you sleep (handy!)

26 Pallid leather gloves crafted with ivory fingernails (shades of Carcosa and an immediate bundle of nope!)

27 Dice made from the knuckles of a notorious charlatan (I love haunted knucklebone dice, it’s an extremely specific folklore thing that I absolutely adore)

33 A music box that plays by itself whenever someone holding it dances (lonely and rather beautiful)

34 A walking cane with an iron ferrule that strikes sparks on stone (for when you want to feel like Old Scratch walking into a joint)

44 An old doll made from a dark, dense wood and missing a hand and a foot (something about that strikes me not as creepy but as well-loved)

47 A tiny spool of black thread that never runs out (not creepy at all and in fact ridiculously handy)

58 A finger that's taken root in a small pot (disgusting, but I kind of enjoy the necrobotany vibes?)

66 A moist coral figurine of a lamprey with arms, legs, and a bipedal stance (absolutely horrifying, nope, absolutely not!)

75 A single high-heeled, iron shoe (fairytales tell us definitely do not dance with that on)

76 A candle made from a severed hand (no, no, make that a magic item, I want a proper Hand of Glory damn it!)

80 A sheet with two eyeholes cut in it (… yes perfect)

95 An ornate but empty reliquary made of silver and fractured glass (look I *like* the ‘weary gothic world mourning the remains of hope’ vibe, okay? I like my mournful paladins and tired clerics taking broken faith and using to help anyway. Seal the cracked glass with more silver and fill this with holy water and fight on regardless. Have it glow faintly with the ghost of hope and bring light to a grey world as best it can)

Maybe it’s just because I studied archaeology, but I really, really love how many stories an object can hold, and putting that in a fantasy setting only makes it more so. Who made them and why? Who used them and why? What changed them to make them the way they are? Were they loved, however creepy they are now? What did they mean to those who made and used and owned them? I love the idea of trinkets so much!

[writingwithcolor]

Jurassic period alien interacting with key cultures and historical figures in Middle East & Asia throughout history

@ketchupmaster400​ said:

Hello, so my question is for a character I’ve been working on for quite a while but wasn’t sure about a few things. So basically at the beginning of the universe there was this for less being made up of dark matter and dark energy. Long story short it ends up on earth during the Jurassic Period. It has the ability to adapt and assimilate into other life animals except it’s hair is always black and it’s skin is always white and it’s eyes are always red. It lives like this going from animal to animal until it finally becomes human and gains true sentience and self awareness. As a human it lives within the Middle East and Asia wondering around trying to figure out its purpose and meaning. So what I initially wanted to do with it was have small interactions with the dark matter human and other native humans that kinda helped push humanity into the direction it is now. For example, Mehndhi came about when the dark matter human was drawing on their skin because it felt insecure about having such white skin compared to other people. And ancient Indians saw it and thought it was cool so they adopted it and developed it into Mehndi. Minor and small interactions though early history leading to grander events. Like they would be protecting Jerusalem and it’s people agains the Crusaders later on. I also had the idea of the the dark matter human later on interacting with the prophets Jesus Christ and Muhammad. With Jesus they couldn’t understand why he would sacrifice himself even though the people weren’t deserving. And then Jesus taught them that you have to put other before yourself and protecting people is life’s greatest reward. And then with the prophet Muhammad, I had the idea that their interaction was a simple conversation that mirrors the one he had with the angel Jibril, that lead to the principles of Islam. Now with these ideas I understand the great importance of how not to convey Islam and I’ve been doing reasearch, but I am white and I can understand how that may look trying to write about a different religion than my own. So I guess ultimate my question is, is this ok to do? Is it ok to have an alien creature interact with religious people and historical events as important as they were? Like I said I would try to be as accurate and as respectable as possible but I know that Islam can be a touchy subject and the last thing I would want is to disrespect anyone. The main reason I wanted the dark matter being in the Middle East was because I wanted to do something different because so much has been done with European and American stuff I wanted to explore the eastern side of the world because it’s very beau and very rich with so many cultures that I want to try and represent. I’m sorry for the long post but I wanted you guys to fully understand what my idea was. Thank you for your time and hope you stay safe.

Disclaimer:

The consensus from the moderators was that the proposed character and story is disrespectful from multiple cultural perspectives. However, we can’t ignore the reality that this is a commonly deployed trope in many popular science fiction/ thriller narratives. Stories that seek to take religious descriptions of events at face value from an areligious perspective particularly favor this approach. Thus, we have two responses:

Where we explain why we don’t believe this should be attempted.

Where we accept the possibility of our advice being ignored.

1) No - Why You Shouldn’t Do This:

Hi! I’ll give you the short answer first, and then the extended one.

Short answer: no, this is not okay.

Extended answer. I’ll divide it into three parts.

1) Prophet Muhammad as a character:

Almost every aspect of Islam, particularly Allah (and the Qur’an), the Prophet(s) and the companions at the time of Muhammad ﷺ, are strictly kept within the boundaries of real life/reality. I’ll assume this comes from a good place, and I can understand that from one side, but seriously, just avoid it. It is extremely disrespectful and something that is not even up to debate for Muslims to do, let alone for non-Muslims. Using Prophet Muhammad as a character will only bring you problems. There is no issue with mentioning the Prophet during his lifetime when talking about his attributes, personality, sayings or teachings, but in no way, we introduce fictional aspects in a domain that Muslims worked, and still work, hard to keep free from any doubtful event or incident. Let’s call it a closed period: we don’t add anything that was not actually there.

Reiterating then, don’t do this. There is a good reason why Muslims don’t have any pictures of Prophet Muhammad. We know nothing besides what history conveyed from him. 

After this being said, there is another factor you missed – Jesus is also an important figure in Islam and his story from the Islamic perspective differs (a lot) from that of the Christian perspective. And given what you said in your ask, you would be taking the Christian narrative of Jesus. If it was okay to use Prophet Muhammad as a character (reminder: it’s not) and you have had your dark matter human interacting with the biblical Jesus, it will result in a complete mess; you would be conflating two religions.

2) Crusaders and Jerusalem:

You said this dark matter human will be defending Jerusalem against the Crusaders. At first, there is really no problem with this. However, ask yourself: is this interaction a result of your character meeting with both Jesus and Prophet Muhammed? If yes, please refer to the previous point. If not, or even if you just want to maintain this part of the story, your dark matter human can interact with the important historical figures of the time. For example, if you want a Muslim in your story, you can use Salah-Ad-Din Al-Ayoubi (Saladin in the latinized version) that took back Jerusalem during the Third Crusade. Particularly, this crusade has plenty of potential characters. 

Also, featuring Muslim characters post Prophet Muhammad and his companions’ time, is completely fine, just do a thorough research.

 3) Middle Eastern/South Asian settings and Orientalism:

The last point I want to remark is with the setting you chose for your story. Many times, when we explore the SWANA or South Asian regions it’s done through an orientalist lens. Nobody is really safe from falling into orientalism, not even the people from those regions. My suggestion is educating yourself in what orientalism is and how it’s still prevalent in today’s narrative. Research orientalism in entertainment, history... and every other area you can think of. Edward Said coined this term for the first time in history, so he is a good start. There are multiple articles online that touch this subject too. For further information, I defer to middle eastern mods. 

- Asmaa

Racism and Pseudo-Archaeology:

A gigantic, unequivocal and absolute no to all of it, lmao. 

I will stick to the bit about the proposed origin of mehendi in your WIP, it’s the arc I feel I’m qualified to speak on, Asmaa has pretty much touched upon the religious and orientalism complications. 

Let me throw out one more word: pseudoarchaeology. That is, taking the cultural/spiritual/historical legacies of ancient civilizations, primarily when it involves people of colour, and crediting said legacies to be the handiwork of not just your average Outsider/White Saviour but aliens. I’ll need you to think carefully about this: why is it that in so much of media and literature pertaining to the so-called “conspiracy theories” dealing with any kind of extraterrestrial life, it’s always Non-Western civilizations like the Aztec, the ancient Egyptians, the Harappans etc who are targeted? Why is it that the achievements of the non West are so unbelievable that it’s more feasible to construct an idea of non-human, magical beings from another planet who just conveniently swooped in to build our monuments and teach us how to dress and what to believe in? If the answer makes you uncomfortable, it’s because it should: denying the Non-West agency of their own feats is not an innocent exercise in sci-fi worldbuilding, it comes loaded with implications of racial superiority and condescension towards the intellect and prowess of Non-European cultures. 

Now, turning to specifics:

Contrary to what Sarah J. Maas might believe- mehendi designs are neither mundane, purely aesthetic tattoos nor can they be co-opted by random Western fantasy characters. While henna has existed as an art form in various cultures, I’m limiting my answer to the Indian context, (specifying since you mention ancient India). Mehendi is considered one of the tenets of the Solah Shringar- sixteen ceremonial adornments for Hindu brides, one for each phase of the moon, as sanctioned by the Vedic texts. The shade of the mehendi is a signifier for the strength of the matrimonial bond: the darker the former, the stronger the latter. Each of the adornments carries significant cosmological/religious symbolism for Hindus. To put it bluntly, when you claim this to be an invention of the aliens, you are basically taking a very sacred cultural and artistic motif of our religion and going “Well actually….extraterrestrials taught them all this.”

In terms of Ayurveda (Traditional holistic South Asian medicine)  , mehendi was used for its medicinal properties. It works as a cooling agent on the skin and helps to alleviate stress, particularly for the bride-to-be. Not really nice to think that aliens lent us the secrets of Ayurvedic science (pseudoarchaeology all over again). 

I’m just not feeling this arc at all. The closest possible alternative I could see to this is the ancient Indian characters incorporating some specific stylistic motifs in their mehendi in acknowledgement to this entity, in the same vein of characters incorporating motifs of tribute into their armour or house insignia, but even so, I’m not sure how well that would play out. If you do go ahead with this idea, I cannot affirm that it will not receive backlash.

-Mimi

These articles might help:

 Pseudoarchaeology and the Racism Behind Ancient Aliens

A History of Indian Henna (this studies mehendi origins mostly with reference to Mughal history)

Solah Shringar

2) Not Yes, But If Ignoring the Above:

I will be the dissenting voice of “Not No, But Here Are The Big Caveats.” Given that there is no way to make the story you want to tell palatable to certain interpretations of Islam and Christianity, here is my advice if the above arguments did not sufficiently deter you.

1. Admiration ≠ Research: It is not enough to just admire cultures for their richness and beauty. You need to actually do the research and learn about them to determine if the story you want to tell is a good fit for the values and principles these cultures prioritize. You need to understand the significance of historical figures and events to understand the issues with attributing the genesis of certain cultural accomplishments to an otherworldly influence. 1.

2. Give Less Offense When Possible and Think Empathetically: You should try to imagine the mindsets of those you will offend and think about to what degree you can soften or ameliorate certain aspects of your plot, the creature’s characteristics, and the creature’s interactions with historical figures to make your narrative more compatible. There is no point pretending that much of areligious science fiction is incompatible with monotheist, particularly non-henotheistic, religious interpretations as well as the cultural items and rituals derived from those religious interpretations. One can’t take “There is no god, just a lonely alien” and make that compatible with “There is god, and only in this particular circumstance.” Thus:

As stated above by Asmaa and Mimi, there is no escaping the reality the story you propose is offensive to some. Expect their outcry to be directed towards you. Can you tolerate that?

Think about how you would feel if someone made a story where key components of your interpretation of reality are singled out as false. How does this make you feel? Are you comfortable doing that to others?

3. Is Pseudoarchaeology Appropriate Here?: Mimi makes a good point about the racial biases of pseudoarchaeology. Pseudoarchaeology is a particular weakness of Western-centric atheist sci-fi. Your proposed story is the equivalent of a vaguely non-descript Maya/Aztec/Egyptian pyramid or Hindu/ Buddhist-esque statue being the source for a Resident Evil bio weapon/ Predator nest/ Assassin’s Creed Isu relic.

Is this how you wish to draw attention to these cultures you admire? While there is no denying their ubiquity in pop-culture, such plots trivialize broad swathes of non-white history and diminish the accomplishments of associated ethnic groups. The series listed above all lean heavily into these tropes either because the authors couldn’t bother to figure out something more creative or because they are intentionally telling a story the audience isn’t supposed to take seriously.*

More importantly, I detect a lot of sincerity in your ask, so I imagine such trivialization runs counter to your expressed desire to depict Eastern cultures in a positive and accurate manner.

4. Freedom to Write ≠ Freedom from Consequence: Once again, as a reminder, it’s not our job to reassure you as to whether or not what you are proposing is ok. Asmaa and Mimi have put a lot of effort into explaining who you will offend and why.  We are here to provide context, but the person who bears the ultimate responsibility for how you choose to shape this narrative, particularly if you share this story with a wide audience, is you. Speaking as one writer to another, I personally do not have a strong opinion one way or the other, but I think it is important to be face reality head-on.

- Marika.

* This is likely why the AC series always includes that disclaimer stating the games are a product of a multicultural, inter-religious team and why they undermine Western cultures and Western religious interpretations as often (if not moreso) than those for their non-Western counterparts.

Note: Most WWC asks see ~ 5 hours of work from moderators before they go live. Even then, this ask took an unusually long amount of time in terms of research, emotional labor and discussion. If you found this ask (and others) useful, please consider tipping the moderators (link here), Asmaa (coming eventually) and Mimi (here). I also like money - Marika.

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[templeofgloom]

Role Reversal AU fic

Word Count: 1100

Characters: Belloq, Indiana, Marion

Summary: A few scenes on a role reversal Raiders of the Lost Ark AU I've been playing with. Probably won't end up being a proper fic so I figured I should post it here instead.

René Belloq took off his hat and gave a little bow. ”Miss Ravenwood-”

He never saw the punch coming.

René stepped back, holding his cheek in horror. ”Marion!”

She glared at him. ”You have some nerve, waltzing in here, after all these years.”

René observed her. It had been ten years, he reminded himself. She no longer was the easily manipulated child.

But he was certain he would find an opening.

”Not the welcome I expected.”

”But the one you deserved.”

”Perhaps. Maybe we could talk at least.”

He had misjudged both Marion and Abner ten years ago. It had seemed like a safe bet; sweet-talk Marion and impress her father. René had even seriously considered marrying her. He had been fond of her, in his way, and she had been desperate to get away from home. It wouldn't have been likely she would have been an issue and René had already had great plans. A beautiful young wife, a daughter of a famous archaeologist, would have opened at least some doors, not to mention silenced certain persistent rumors about his personal life...

But Abner had reacted badly at the perceived betrayal, had suspected more had been going on, and René had weighed his options and decided Abner believing René had slept with his daughter was an acceptable loss.

He had attempted to contact Abner later, it had been a shame losing his support, but the older archaeologist had been cold and René had written the relationship off as a loss.

He had focused on other avenues for his career instead.

”We have nothing to talk about.” Marion sneered. ”Do you even realize what you did to me?”

”I never hurt you, you know that.”

”You maybe never slept with me but my father thought you did!”

”I am sorry.” René did his best to appear as genuine as possible.  ”I never wanted things to turn out like this.” That at least was completely true.

But he was here for a reason. ”Can I talk to Abner?”

Marion's expression that had softened hardened again. ”He's dead.”

”He is? I'm sorry.”

”You keep saying that. Why are you here, really?”

Maybe truth, (or partial truth anyway) was the best policy with her. René cocked his head. When he had known her ten years ago she had been a girl, a child. But even then she had amused him. Now she was an adult, a woman toughened by the world.

I need to be careful with her or I will get bitten.

”I have been approached by a joint American/German archaeological expedition. Germans have quite a lot of interest in antiques and it was decided by some parts of the American government to assist the Germans in their research in British-controlled Egypt. As a good-will gesture.”

”Egypt... It's been a while since I was there with my father... Does this have something to do with... Tanis. That was what he was looking for. The lost city.”

”Yes. I was approached by the government due to my connections to Abner. They thought I would be able to convince my old mentor to join the expedition.”

”Well. Too late for that.”

”I have reason to believe he was in possession of certain objects that would be of great use to me,” René insisted. ”I will pay handsomely.”

Marion examined him. René wondered how much she knew of Tanis.

Eventually she spoke. ”Maybe I have what you want. But on one condition.”

”Name it.”

”I am coming with you.”

”Marion-”

”I want to see this thing my father killed himself over myself. I will accompany you. As your partner.”

René met her gaze. ”Do you know what you are getting yourself into?”

”Oh don't worry, Mister Belloq, I'm not a child anymore. I will be a great help.”

She gave him an all-too knowing look. ”And you get to drag a pretty girl across the globe. People will certainly draw their conclusions and I promise not to set them straight.”

...

Belloq realized his mistake as soon as he had stepped into the bar.

”Jones!”

The rogue looked up and smiled. ”Professor Belloq.”

René looked around. ”Where's Miss Ravenwood?”

Indiana shrugged, gesturing at the chair in front of him. ”Do you care?”

”She is necessary for my plans.” René sat down. He wondered what Indiana knew or assumed about his relationship to Marion.

Not that it mattered.

”Necessary... Is that it?”

René frowned at the unkempt appearance of the other man. The same old hat, dusty leather jacket. Hadn't shaven in a few days. He had always been like that even when they had known each other back in the university. Before Indiana had been kicked out.

Afterwards René had heard things about the exploits of the mercenary archaeologist. And they had crossed paths more than once.

René had underestimated him at first. But Jones was intelligent, despite his lack of official credentials. Had he applied himself to proper archaeology he would have been brilliant.

But he was reckless, and had his own goals René wasn't quite certain of...

As if reading his mind, Jones said: ”We are not that different, you and I.”

”Hmph.”

”I mean it. One might say I am a shadowy reflection of you. We both have our goals and will do what is needed to fulfill them. But our methods have not differed that much. The difference merely is I deal in the shadowy underbelly of society.”

”You steal and sell relics to the highest bidder.”

”I have heard some interesting things about your personal failings.”

René raised an eyebrow before he could help it.

Jones took a sip from his beer. ”I mean the accusations of plagiarism.”

”Ridiculous.” They were nothing anyone could prove. René had always made certain of that.

”For both of us, archaeology is our religion. The quest, Professor, is at the heart of it. The higher goal...”

He looked away and René wondered. He had realized years ago Jones was no ordinary grave robber. He treated the relics with care, and used the money he got for his own personal research.

He was chasing after the Grail. A fantasy...

”I am a scientist,” René told him. ”A realist. I am nothing like you, grave robber.”

”Maybe. But maybe it would merely take a nudge to make you like me. A realization... How is your expedition? Your co-operation with the Germans?”

”Quite legal.”

”Not what I was asking.”

He took René's hand. René stiffened.

Indiana leaned closer. ”You might feel content, thinking all of the things your have done can be backed up by law but perhaps, one day- When you see the Nazis take the Ark away- maybe you will realize something then. Maybe then you will step into the darkness-”

He stared into René's eyes.

”-And do the right thing.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

the larger courier six verse, media influences

tagged by @sybil-writes ty

the bibliography for this thing is extensive. my taste is wide and omnivorous. i try to drop what i was thinking about when i wrote a particular bit into the author’s notes, and i think i’ve credited all the direct references, but I consume a lot of dystopia and post-apoc media and harder scifi/fantasy with rules, and i don’t keep an accurate running list of shit I like, so i’m certainly not going to get everything in one post. this is mostly me looking at the very limited number of books i have with me and frantically looking at wiki lists like “yes read that liked that stole that”. if i link everything i will die. if you have trouble finding a specific thing lmk tho. this feels real goddamn pretentious like Ah Yes Look At The Media I Have Consumed but here goes 

music: one of these days I will drop links to the network of playlists I have for these kids, but they’re all of Spotify and not super accessible. Danger Days, a post-apoc desert graffiti/neon/cars album by My Chemical Romance. the soft, nonsense love songs off Pretty. Odd by P!ATD. the poppy but sad neon bullshit of Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die also a P!ATD production. Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier, specifically Talk and Dinner & Diatribes. Halsey’s cover of I Walk The Line, Rihanna’s Desperado. Everything by Orville Peck but mostly Roses Are Falling and Take You Back (The Iron Hoof Cattle Call). Instrumental stuff: the opening to Silverado, the Billy the Kid musical, bits of Lawrence of Arabia. It’s Been A Long, Long Time. Fitz & The Tantrums’ Get Away. Mother Mother’s album O My Heart. Gorillaz’ Plastic Beach. 

filme: 

the Dollars trilogy ofc

the sheer bullshit nonsense of Wild Wild West and Blazing Saddles and Turbokid. 

a lot of the interaction between many characters in a tight space from Stagecoach. my dad really loves John Wayne, so I am constantly thinking about Monument Valley even though that’s nowhere near the Mojave. honestly whenever i’m thinking about how to describe landscapes I’m thinking about The Searchers, even though I have a lot of problems with that film. 

the colorful nonsense future of The Fifth Element. 

the gritty self-surgery and prospecting of Prospect (2018). 

SO much Trigun and Cowboy Bebop, for space western flavor and the same sort of analog-cassette-future. u kno how everything in Star Wars looks like it’s been there forever? the absolute opposite of a slick Apple future? that. 

god I wish Firefly was...good

Akira, bc every time I think about motorcycles the Akira motorcycle slide gif plays in my head. 

speaking of which probably a decent chunk of Adventure Time, esp the Super Porp episode. 

a smidge of how a platonic trio works from Samurai Champloo. 

anything with a big sprawling market and a chase scene, even though the only things I can think of are Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets and the first Indiana Jones. oh Skyfall also

the set dressing from Tank Girl

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. look I just really like airships and retrofuturisum but art deco

honestly a lot of Ghibli- the aviation fantasy of Porco Rosso, the gardens from Castle In The Sky, a lot of Sophie Hatter energy from Howl’s Moving Castle, the underground bits in Nausicca, the otherworldly sea from Ponyo (except the Fallout sea is probably much emptier). the lovely homey-ness and gadgetry of Sherlock Hound. 

almost certainly some Metropolis for how I think about cities

thinking a lot about The Incredibles and earlier James Bond movies recently for that sort of sleek but still small physical gadget spycraft 60s bullshit

the team and found family dynamics in Leverage

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. the more recent film which I have stolen ENTIRELY too much of the Angel + Blondie + Six dynamic from 

mad max: all of them, to some extent, but a lot of Fury Road. I have a theory about how the Dollars films take place in reverse order, bc of how they feel next to the Mad Max films. The first Mad Max film is about a specific person in a specific place and time doing really specific things. it feels like a movie made off the info of someone who was there. GBU also feels like that- it’s really place-specific in a way? The second Mad Max film is a little hazier, and focuses on mostly people trying to accomplish a goal. For A Few Dollars More also feels a little hazier, like it’s a little more metaphorical/a morality tale and it’s being told by someone heavily embellishing secondhand events. the third Mad Max movie is just over the top nonsense. feral children living in the wreckage of an old plane escaping in a working plane? sure. why the fuck not. For A Fistful Of Dollars also feels like this. of COURSE this big bad gunslinger drifts into town and escapes in a coffin and invents the bulletproof vest. why the fuck not. 

books: i like shit that goes beyond the wander/scrounge/defend trio of verbs. 

the trying to wrap your life around a huge unknowable event from Roadside Picnic, 

too much Le Guin and Butler to really fit here, 

god if anything i write ever has a tenth of the flavor of Kill Six Billion Demons i’ll be happy, 

the postwar feel of Vonnegut and Heller,

Margaret Atwood’s biopunk Oryx and Crake trilogy 

the incredibly sad decaying biopunk/mutation/last days novelette The Drowned World by JG Ballard. 

the space-opera political machinations from the Ancillary trilogy by Ann Leckie. 

World War Z’s accounts of survivors has always felt like reading terminal entries from Fallout games. 

Philip Reeve’s Fever Crumb trilogy, for its interpretation of high-tech artifacts and archaeological reinterpretation of those artifacts. 

Tales of the Bounty Hunters. Tales from Jabba’s Palace. 

A Canticle for Leibowitz of COURSE. 

the original three books in the METRO (2033, 2034, 2035) trilogy, for their tight dense locations and resource management and life-threatening travel/exploration. 

the Family Trade comic by Jordan & Ryan, for setting and intrigue and a very unorthodox power source  

Elizabeth Bear’s short story And The Deep Blue Sea, about a different kind of courier. 

how Gibson’s The Sprawl trilogy (a trilogy i have MANY opinions about, not all of them positive) does worldbuilding when it implies a vast sprawling richly imagined world with casual in-universe references that you can extrapolate a lot from.  

The Gernsback Continuum, for making me think about stranded architectural bits that survived

a little bit of the Empress’ energy from Cavendish’s The Blazing World. 

the short story The Rational Ship by Caro Clarke, about a ship that runs on orgasms, from the EXTREMELY out of print Memories and Visions: Women’s Fantasy and Science Fiction edited by Susanna J. Sturgis. i’ve scanned it in as a pdf and will send it to anyone who asks. the stories in this volume are WILDLY varying in quality and terf-yness. i would not buy this book on purpose. 

i think each separate Vault storyline is a tiny separate Lost World story, so just pick your favorite and insert it here. 

Westerfeld’s Leviathan trilogy was FORMATIVE for baby me. biopunk! big trans energy! SKY WHALES 

fucking hate  Paolo Bacigalupi for what he does to his female characters but Ship Breaker was good from what I remember of it

there are three very oblique Sherlock Holmes references in “blow a kiss, fire a gun” for my own amusement. 

Fallout scifi seems to be very Verne and Wells and Burroughs derived? a lot of very pulpy  “pseudojournalistic realism to tell an adventure story with little basis in reality.” or “hey look at this COMPLETE NOVEL i found in a bottle by the sea OR locked in my weird great-uncle’s things, i shall retell it to you here” 

idk i think The Road and the Hunger Games have so profoundly shaped the state of the genre, there’s probably at least a little bit of both these things in here even if I didn’t particularly like either of them. There’s also a lot of super bleak post-war stuff I read but am not necessarily incorporating, like Nevill Shute’s On The Beach. probably some Dune in here too if i’m being totally honest. why have a desert if there’s not going to be a giant worm, Fallout: New Vegas???

jesus i gotta read more lady authors. there are probably way more that i’m not remembering bc almost all the books i own are in a storage unit seven hours away that i haven’t touched in three years. there are probably way more comics also. 

OH not a book but the decaying-rich-people-paradise of Bioshock. pity how they never made a third game 

[ser-yolomere-of-swagalore]

Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race myself, bitch.

James Joyce -- Ulysses (with some much needed editing)

I haven’t written here in a long time. In fact, after this post, I don’t really see myself writing here every again-- and no, before any of you (if there is, in fact, any one who will see this) jump to conclusions, this isn’t some kind of weird suicide note, or plea for help. What this is, is a sort of manifesto, or a summation, of everything that I’ve felt, and am feeling at the moment, and in a way, hopefully, purging myself of these feelings forever. It’s a goodbye, but also a new opportunity. A creation, as well as a destruction. A final litany of things that I have to say, or wanted to say, and a final exorcism of numerous antagonistic little ghosts that have been rattling around in my head for God knows how long. 

I’ve always been struck by the concept of a sort of Joycean paralysis. Maybe because it’s true-- that Irish people are, in a weird way, struck with a sort of deep, abiding, spiritual malaise, a psychological and emotional paralysis, as a sort of weird, post-colonial hangover-- or maybe because it simply hits too close to home. The narrative of a sort of genealogical, archaeological torpor is one that is all too easy to believe, because it is something that I have experienced quiet viscerally throughout my entire life, but also in a way that is difficult to articulate. The sense that you’re fundamentally at odds with the world around you because of some fundamental, spiritual displacement resulting from years (centuries?) of imperialistic and religious abuse isn’t something that goes well over dinner, after all-- especially when dinner is a hurriedly bought Burger King and the sound of mopeds careening up and down the Cardiffsbridge Road muffles the sound of Coronation Street on the television. 

But it’s a feeling that has stuck with me so long. Longer than I can really remember. This sense of being held back. By myself, by the world around me, by the people around me. Dreams of leaving, of emigrating, have been a consistent fantasy of mine. Occasional spurts of creative writing have always been characterized by the theme of a departure, whether through the realm of some childish Tolkien-esque fantasy or through a plane ticket that randomly fell into the protagonist’s (read: my) lap. That feeling of momentary, ontological vertigo, when the plane leaves the ground and you can feel yourself lifted in that miniature pocket of zero-gravity, is a sensation that I’ve craved and chased (either literally, or figuratively) whenever possible, with varying degrees of success. I even had, at one point, a bit of a miniature breakdown (you know those ones, where they creep up on you, where you have this vague sense that at any minute things are just going to collapse all around you, and nothing will ever be the same) and I started doing some pretty illegal things to get money (fill in the blanks there however you wish) in order to essentially run away, get a plane ticket to somewhere, and just start afresh. But that did crash down, either way-- I started having some viscerally severe panic attacks; I felt like I was going to be trapped here, forever, that I was going to die here, that all the dreams and aspirations I had of doing something worth while were just gonna be swallowed up the dull, plot-less relentlessness with which life here seemed to drive itself--arguably into the ground. I attended counselling, got a professional, objective perspective, and was able to get to grips with things. The anxiety stopped. The borderline insane drive to escape was lulled, and while the gnawing sense of there being a sort of hole, at the center of everything, dissipated, it didn’t quite disappear. I was, once again, able to manage, and plod right along. 

Over time, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my sense of malaise is not, in fact, the result of some kind of literarily prescribed sense of paralysis-- or, at least, not entirely. It is the result of years, perhaps arguably even decades, of mistreatment. By a family and a home that is so deeply dysfunctional that it is, legitimately, tragic. By an early upbringing so neglected and isolated that, to look back and take an earnest look, is genuinely pathetic. By a mindset and by people who see who I am and see something to laugh at. I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that my family have never quite seen me seriously, as someone incompetent, flowery, soft, and not worth paying attention to. Years, again, potentially decades of subtle gaslighting, invalidation, negation, criticism, patronizing, condescension-- all compounded by shitty, so-called friends, who were all too happy to take advantage of my desire to please and turn it around on me-- had resulted in a person who had so much self-doubt, such a negative self-image, such a horrible sense of failure that, to further disappoint, would result in self-harm. Decades of having my life dictated to me, taking up responsibility and accepting the burden of my family’s terrible choices, of having my potential and my opportunities circumscribes by what seems to be the endlessly unfolding soap opera of my extended family’s self-inflicted pain.  And the worst part is that I simply thought all of this was normal. The concept of Joycean paralysis was able to help me understand, in a vague sense, what was really wrong, but only hindered me in truly understanding its origin.

I worry that if I go on like this I’ll only end up sounding like some kind of serially self-pitying asshole, one of those people that advertises their personal trauma and tragedy as a means to win the Sadsack Olympics, or obtain sympathy, or blame their lack of success and fulfillment on their past. But in the end, that isn’t what this is about. That isn’t the reason why I’m writing this post. In fact, the reason why I am writing this is far more joyous, written with a deep smile spreading across my face. I’ve spent my entire life orientating around myself around other people, of pleasing other people, and I’ve gotten very, very good at figuring out what is that people want, and giving it to them. What I’ve learned, an what I’ve finally gotten the balls to do, is do what I want. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned to pursue what I want, to accrue self-confidence, self-love, self-esteem. I’ve learned to deny people, to put myself first, and tell people who need to be told what for. I’ve learned that to be “good” is to give in, to do as I’ve told and take it all on the chin, and I’ve learned that to be “bad” is to pursue what I want, and to rebel. And, fundamentally, I’ve learned that when I am good, I am very, very good, but when I am bad I am FUCKING FIERCE. 

So I am leaving. In fact, I’ve been planning on leaving for quite some time now. Since March, roughly. I am moving to the U.K, getting away from this place, to spend time with people who I have chosen to spend my time with, that I have build up relationships purely of my own choosing and initiative, and whom I trust. To build a life that I choose to build, for myself, and shirking off as much of the trauma, pain, insecurities and self-doubt as I can. Psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan believed that the core motivating force in all human behavior was anxiety, and not just anxiety, but the creative and ornate ways we go about avoiding or managing it. According to him, a personality was simply a collection of habits and strategies people gathered over time to “avoid or minimize anxiety, ward off disapproval, and maintain self-esteem.” What I’ve learned, personally, is the sheer liberating power of identifying and deconstructing the aspects of my own psychology that are life-limiting, and taking great joy in completely and utterly destroying the ones that are build up anxious defense mechanisms. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t scary, because when these mechanisms fall I’ll be thrust, head first, into facing the things I am most deeply afraid of—social rejection and abandonment, unworthiness and failure, unlovability and isolation, to name a few. But it is liberating because I’ve come to realize that, yes, our defenses serve a function, but no, we don’t actually need all of them to survive-- and then, suddenly, an entirely new life is possible. I’ve come to realize that I actually CAN tolerate anxiety; I CAN live with not being liked, I CAN be misunderstood, I CAN make mistakes, I CAN feel bad. And let me tell you, it is a relief. God is sometimes understood as a creator, but he can also be understood as a destroy-- And I am choosing to be the God of my own goddamn life, and taking great pleasure in destroying that which I don’t like.

I’ve ended up prescribing some great, symbolic significance to the act of me leaving. It is me righteously striking back at all the things that had made me hate myself in the past, because they couldn’t simply tolerate hating themselves and needed to destroy me in order to feel better. And so, to them, I say: 

Fuck my family, who have done nothing to actually foster and cultivate who I am as a human being

Fuck the people who have turned my own kindness against me and made me doubt myself

Fuck the people who have made me feel as though my command of words is a weakness-- I am a fucking fantastic writer, and I dare any of those people to challenge me, because I’ll write them into the fucking ground. 

Fuck the people who made me doubt my intelligence; I am more than smart enough to figure things out for myself and smart enough, at least now, to see them for the self-hating, jealous troglodytes they are.

Fuck this place that has made me feel that who I am is wrong, and lesser, and subordinate-- I am worthy, and powerful, and capable.

Fuck this country, and its backwards, stagnant, repressive culture

FUCK

YOU

And that’s it. There’s my gigantic, theatrical display of radical self-acceptance. In a way, what I want to do is leave, and never come back. To delete all my social media, and start afresh. But I know that’s not realistic. I know I have to tether myself to “home”, as much as I disagree with the idea this place is truly home. I will say this, however-- there are parts of my experience here, and my life thus far, that have been wonderful. I’ve got a handful of genuinely fantastic friends, and I’ve forged some very important memories with them. To burn those bridges would be unforgivable, and I would never be able to do that to them. 

It’s 2:16am. I was already exhausted but I had to write this and get it all off my chest. But this is it-- me signing off, forever. Let this be a testament to everything I want to be, an will be, from here on out. 

-Ian.

[taeyongtime]

null memoriam

genre: t.r.c* / reincarnation!au ⎮ fantasy ⎮ dimensional travel 

group & member: NCT’s Taeyong

word count: 10,805 words

a/n: second half of this fic can be found on my masterlist

“Taeyongie!”

The eleven-year-old boy turns at the high-pitched squeal of his name, smiling softly as he closes the dusted leather volume in his hands.

“Princess.”

A frown makes its way to her face immediately, the formal title not one she wished to be referred with—especially when it was with him. Her tiny arms fold to a displeased X, nose turned up.

“We’re the same age, Taeyongie. You don’t need to call me a princess.”

“But you’re the daughter of the King and Queen of Maica Country, Princess. It’s only right to call you by your appropriate title.”

“Mean.” She blows a raspberry with her tongue and the most playful of smiles creeps in as her small hands grab at the book he had in his arms. “I’m taking your book.”

“Take it. It’s about the old ruins by the western deserts.”

Grimacing at the content of the book, she hands it back and takes his free hand.

“Come with me to the garden! The cherry blossoms are in bloom and I want you to be the first one I see them with!”

“Oh… will it make you happy if I go with you to see them?”

“Of course!” she laughs, a bubble of laughter echoing through the halls as she already starts pulling him after her. “That’s why I asked!”

—

Every year, Taeyong is the first person she asks when it comes time for the cherry tree in the royal garden to blossom, the pink petals holding special meaning for the princess. A little picnic is staple of the meeting, Taeyong usually with a book on archaeology while she listens closely to his reports of new discoveries on the site of focus for the month. Not that she possessed much interest on the subject matter in the first place, but it was Taeyong’s area of interest and she liked watching him talk about the things he was passionate about. The glow in his eyes and excitement in his voice was contagious, but no matter how many times she’s expressed wanting to visit the ruins for herself, he would always refuse, insisting the desert was no place for a princess of her caliber to be in. Windy, dirty, those were only a few of the adjectives he commonly used to describe the sand dunes that he spent almost entire weeks at along with his father and other archaeologists from the royal excavation team. Ironic, no?

But today goes differently, the sight of the Crown Prince and the Priest at the site a surprise that only increases in shock factor when the Princess herself is helped down from the camels that come to a stop before the main tents set up by the archaeologists.

“Taeyong!”

At hearing his name, Taeyong turns and hurriedly dusts off his hands before bowing to the Crown Prince, a nod to the Priest and—face growing warm—soft mumbles of a hello for a smiling princess.

“Have you found anything new?” she asks, reaching for his hands and swinging them ever so.

“I… Princess, your hands.”

She pauses, glancing at her brother the Crown Prince before turning back to Taeyong. “Chanyeol doesn’t mind.”

“Kid, you’re lucky my sister likes you,” Prince Chanyeol mutters under his breath before addressing one of the archaeologists sitting by the worktable set up with artifacts from the dunes.

“You didn’t answer my question, Taeyongie.”

Taeyong fumbles with finding his words again and looks away, unusually focused on his hands and the fingers laced around his own.

“We found some things, yes.”

“Show me! I’d like to see them.”

Under her eager request, he takes her out from the tent and towards the excavation site. One lap around the camels and his colleagues greet the princess before returning to studying the ruins, large eroded structures protruding above the sand of what must have been a formidable empire before the wind and whatever minimal rain they received over the years cut it down over time. This was the largest site yet from the entire trip around the western regions, hopefully to yield bountiful results in offering a glimpse of history once at its finest.

“Amazing,” she whispers as her eyes flit around the site, “To think the remains of what used to be can still stand fairly intact.”

“Follow me, Princess. I have something to show you.”

Taking great care to correctly estimate the distance between the higher ground and below where the ruins are, Taeyong takes the first jump and lands solidly before opening his arms to her.

“I usually would never do this, but—”

His sentence goes unfinished when she follows suit immediately, the scent of her shampoo wafting into his nostrils at the jump straight into his arms. He takes a few steps back in his attempt to evenly distribute the weight, grunting as he gently sets her down onto the sands.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

“Never better,” she smiles, lifting her dress slightly and shaking out grains of sand that have stuck to the fabric. “Now, onward!”

Her energetic outburst brings a smile to his lips and he offers a hand, which she enthusiastically takes. He guides her through the nooks and crannies of broken down walls, stopping just before a slab of stone bearing symbols that resembled Egyptian hieroglyphs.

“This was discovered today,” he says in hushed whispers. “We’re not sure what it means because it’s nothing like our letters, but pictures… isn’t it astounding that our ancestors used pictographs as their earliest form of record-keeping? There’s a mystical aura to this entire slab in particular and I just wanted to share it with you.”

“A sun, star, moon…” Her finger hovers over each shape and taps onto what looked to be an hourglass, tracing over the rectangular frame of the symbol and triangular interior noting the separation of what would be the glass bulbs, one darkened to indicate sand that has yet to trickle down.

“An hourglass… time and space?”

No sooner do the words leave her mouth does a faint shimmer surround the princess, her eyes glossing over and staring blankly before her as she falls to the ground.

“Princess!”

She makes no apparent movement to show that she heard him, and Taeyong watches in horror when a faint dot begins to glow by her temple, brightening and growing larger until a stream of white starts to trickle downwards to the floor of the ruins. Unsure of what to do, he shifts her body so her head is leaning against his shoulder before using his right hand to catch what looked to be—upon closer examination—grains of white sand leaving the princess’ head. None of the grains remain in his palm, however; simply slipping out of reach, they come to a stop and the dot by her temple loses its glow, her eyes still out of focus.

“Who…” She turns her head towards him, brows crinkled in confusion.

“Who are you?”

Gritting his teeth, he helps her stand and lifts her up without warning, breaking into a run as he maneuvers out of the ruins and back to the main tent, wheezing by the time he reaches the presence of the Crown Prince and most importantly, the Priest.

“Kid, why are you holding my sister in your arms?”

“The princess, she…”

Chanyeol beckons at the priest, who studies her blank eyes and shakes his head gravely after hearing Taeyong’s story of the hourglass in the wall of symbols and white sand trickling down from her temple.

“Suho, what’s wrong with my sister?”

“Her timeline is ending,” Suho answers. “Whatever happened down at the ruins offset her time here. Memories, her experiences since birth… everything related to her will soon cease to exist.”

“The… The sand…”

“Parts of her timeline,” the priest continues, “Scattered across the wind from the desert.”

Taeyong looks down and his eyes widen even more at the state of translucence in her face, her features almost intangible as the weight in his arms begins to lighten.

“I am going to send you two to see someone who may be able to help,” Suho interrupts. “There is no way for us to fix it when our country does not specialize in time-and-space conundrums.”

The Crown Prince narrows his eyes at Taeyong, eventually breaking to a sigh as he claps a hand on the young archaeologist’s shoulder. There was no time to assign fault or responsibility when the princess’ life was at stake.

“Travel safe, kid. I know you can bring my sister back.”

A firm nod, and Taeyong follows Suho towards the camels, carefully cradling the princess as her eyes continue to stare blankly ahead.

“You’ll be fine, Princess,” he whispers into her ears, holding her even tighter while the animals become untethered for the return trip to the castle. “I’ll do everything I can to get you back in time for the cherry blossoms to bloom.”

—

Sharp knocks on the door disrupt the silence of the small fortune-telling shop, a most unpleasant of sounds when the clock barely passed 7am. Shuffling out of her room and towards the table by the bookshelf, the fortune teller lazily waves a hand and the door swings open on its own accord. The guests waiting outside enter and her sleepy eyes open a bit wider at seeing the two cloaked figures, a wardrobe style clearly not one that belonged to the residents around her neighborhood.

“What are you here for?” she asks with a yawn.

“I’m looking for an Irene,” the one in the olive cloak answers, pulling down the hood to reveal a handsome angled face. “I was sent here by the High Priest of my country to meet with her.”

“An interdimensional traveler,” she muses, lips playing around an intrigued grin. “Haven’t received one of those in a long while.

“Wait here. I’ll get Irene and make you two a pot of tea.”

◇

The offered pot of tea is given by a woman different than the one who had answered the door, a slight smile before sitting down across from Taeyong.

“Irene,” she says, extending a hand. “Welcome to the Red.”

He accepts the hand and shakes firmly. “Taeyong. And this is—”

Irene glances at the slowly fading princess, her form barely more than a few wisps.

“Your lover is losing time.”

“She is not my lover,” Taeyong refutes, face growing warm. “The princess… She is someone very important to me and I will do anything to bring her back to our country before our cherry tree blooms this year.”

“How sweet of you!”

He turns around and two more women of uncanny resemblance to Irene join her on her side of the couch, one being the greeter at the door and another swooning as she places down a plate of biscuits to go with the tea.

“Irene, don’t you think he’s the sweetest?”

“Wendy, as one of the Reds, don’t you think you should be a bit more… objective in your first impressions of a guest seeking our services?”

“You have to help them, Irene. Seulgi, tell Irene these two are worth helping.”

“She’s right, Irene,” the so-called Red chimes in. “Suho sent them here all the way from his dimension, you have to help them.”

In his confused state at watching their bickering, Taeyong remains perpetually lost when the softest touch grazes against his hand, a transparent finger resting lightly on his knobbed knuckles.

“Princess?”

Her mouth moves but what she says is barely audible, and she rests her head against Taeyong’s shoulder with a heavy sigh when she goes unheard.

“Your princess is scared,” Seulgi says quietly. “Her time is coming to an end and she is scared that she won’t ever see you again.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He lifts his head and meets Irene square in the eyes, the intensity of his gaze smothering. “I mean it when I say I’ll do anything to get her… her time back. Whatever it is she needs I will get it.”

“You have a drive that I don’t seen in many guests,” Irene murmurs. An empty hourglass materializes from thin air and she hands it to Taeyong.

“When this hourglass is full, turn it over and time will rewind back to before your princess lost her timeline.”

“There’s no sand,” he points out.

“You must collect the scattered sands of her memory and experiences from different worlds to fill it up and bring her back to existence. The more she remembers, the more sand will collect in the hourglass.”

“But I don’t know how to travel between dimensions.”

Irene glances at Wendy and the latter makes her leave, returning momentarily with a mahogany box in her arms.

“Turn the dial on the side three times towards you and a portal to another dimension will open,” Irene explains as Wendy hands the box over to Taeyong. “I saved it just for this occasion when Suho first contacted me about you.”

Taeyong thanks the Reds for their help, about to leave when three firm hands stop him.

“You haven’t given us payment yet.”

“I…” Taeyong bites his lips nervously. “I wasn’t told there would be payment involved.”

“We require something of meaningful value in exchange for our services,” Irene explains. “Something as trivial as money has no value to you. Not like…”

Her gaze flits towards the fading princess and he follows the beeline to the wispy form at his side. Barely there, the princess’ eyes look up at Taeyong. The faintest spark of anguished hope lingers before fading out, a shake of her head before her eyes gloss over again.

“You wish to have the princess,” he begins slowly.

“Not her physical being,” Seulgi corrects him, “What you value is your relationship with her, and that is what your payment shall be in exchange for the ability to travel interdimensionally.”

“I… I suppose that will be acceptable in exchange.”

“You do realize this means she will never remember her previous relationship with you even after you’ve collected all her sands of time? Memories, shared experiences, she will forget all that pertains to you.”

“Even so, I am willing to accept your terms.” He swallows nervously, glancing at the wispy princess. “Nothing is more important than the princess.”

A snap of her fingers and Irene nods, sealing the deal as the wisps of the princess begins to fade before Taeyong’s eyes, his hands furiously grabbing at empty air.

“What—What did you do to her?”

“Whatever remains of her has joined the rest of her timeline across an infinite number of parallel dimensions. Now marks the true start of your journey, time traveler.”

“Would you at least like a card reading before you go?” Wendy speaks up, much to Irene’s disapproval. A deck of tarot cards appears before her, cutting itself and splitting into three separate piles.

“Pick a pile. Fortune-telling is one of our specialties.”

Taeyong’s finger hovers over the middle and chooses three individual cards from the subset, after which Wendy extends a hand towards Irene.

“Nope,” the latter says, shaking her head. “You offered to read him free of charge, you do it without using the eye.”

“What is—oh.” Taeyong closes his mouth shut at the gaping hole on Wendy’s right-side, the eye socket daunting as she closes her one good eye while tapping on each of the three cards.

“I cannot see in your future,” she says after a minute of silence. “It’s all murky, as if even the Gods are unsure how this will all play out.”

“Then I must start as soon as I can to ensure that I still have a future,” Taeyong quips, shaking off the image of the empty eye socket. “My sincere thanks for the extra reading, Miss Red. The tea and biscuits were delicious.”

“Come again,” the three chime simultaneously. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

—

[dimension I: Zhang Dynasty]

The chirp of the early bird twiddles a sweet tune through the small window carved into the walls of the inner chambers of the Imperial Palace, bringing her back from a night of sound slumber and into a sunny new morning. Yawning softly, she sits up and finds the soft slippers that warm her feet as she steps into them and stretches her arms high above her head. Not that she was tired from fatigue, but she had quite the active dream the night before. Fleeting recollections of a man calling her name, his voice carrying hints of anguished hope while holding her close with a promise to bring her to a place where they can see the cherry blossoms one more time. Half of her wanted to dismiss it as simply her imagination at work, but the other half lingered of the remnants of the dream, certain that it had happened before. It did not make sense; the only males she spoke to daily were the Emperor, his advisor, and other servants of the palace. Who was the mysterious man occupying her dreams, then?

Stomach growling to be fed, the thought of breakfast replaces the dream and she steps out of her bedchamber, startled at the presence standing by the entrance.

“How long have you been standing there, Doyoung?”

Her tutor bows, lips pursed. “You missed your calligraphy lesson already and will soon fall behind in geography if this keeps up, Your Highness.”

“I do not understand why geography is something I need to learn when the Emperor still has plenty of years before him.” She begins her walk to the kitchens and Doyoung follows. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

“Your Highness, it is almost time for the servants to eat their midday meals. Of course, I have.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, she continues walking, poking her head into the doorway of the kitchens once she reaches the bustling quarters where chefs and their kitchen assistants were working hard to prepare food to feed all the inhabitants of the Imperial Palace.

“Is there something I can eat?”

Her question goes unheard, the stoked fires and hissing oil in the large woks taking precedence in attention as delicious scents of herbs, vegetables, and cooking meat fill the enclosed space. One of the kitchen boys notices her presence and quickly stammers a greeting, back bent stiffly while his hands hold onto a large bag of what must be kitchen scraps and other bits that needed to be taken out rather than kept inside.

“Your Highness,” Doyoung breaks in, “It is stuffy and the smell is getting into your clothes. I suggest—”

Beckoning at the kitchen boy, she whispers into his ear the request for breakfast foods in the middle of the day, one that when entering the head chef’s ears brings a raised hand in reprimanding for such a ridiculous question when there was a schedule to uphold in the kitchens.

“B-But Sir…”

The boy nervously gestures to the doorway and the chef’s eyes widen in surprise. The ladle in his hand falls onto the floor, a clattering noise that brings everyone’s attention away from their present task and to the beeline of focus for the royal standing inquisitively by the entrance.  

Doyoung steps inside and pulls the princess behind him. “Her Highness would like to have whatever there is remaining from breakfast.”

“We…” Hustling and rummaging of the kitchen emerges in a hesitant response to the tutor. “We only have the steamed meat buns that us kitchen staff had for breakfast, Sir.”

“Oh, I like those! It’s perfect!”

At the snap of Doyoung’s fingers, the kitchen boy presents a platter of four steamed buns, reheated and held by the tutor as the princess gives her most sincere thanks before leaving the premises to let them return to their work before her untimely interruption. Her arms reach at the buns waiting above her head, but the tall stature of her tutor provides to be a formidable obstacle in obtaining them. He easily takes the lead in walking her straight to his quarters, using his free hand to pull out a chair before the wide mahogany desk staple to the daily tutoring sessions.

“You may eat once I finish covering the geography lesson you missed this morning,” he says with a knowing nod, pushing the tray far out of reach. “As the wise saying goes, ‘the early bird catches the worm’.”

“I am not a bird,” she retorts. “I am a human being who is hungry and wants her breakfast!”

“Then I suppose these meat buns will be a snack to go along with my afternoon tea.”

Knocking on the desk, he pushes over a leather-bound volume and instructs her to flip to the green tabbed page. Geographic maps of the Zhang Empire greet her in structured lines and shades of brown and green, painting exact locations of the borders that spelled the expansive land that belonged to her family’s name.

“Today we were supposed to cover the Eastern Front and go over our history of overseas trade and oceanic warfare.”

“May I please eat first?” she mumbles under her breath, grumpily flipping through the pages in a restless manner. “I’m hungry.”

A disapproving click of tongue and half of a meat bun is offered, the delightful scent wafting into her nose as she immediately takes the offering and makes her first bite.

“You may have the other half once you get through the first chapter,” Doyoung says firmly, standing his ground. “Then one more bun for another chapter of reading, and so forth.”

“Okay…”

“I shall make a pot of tea while you read,” he concludes with a smile. “I recall jasmine is your favorite, Your Highness?”

“Yes…”

Two chapters later are redeemed for two of the meat buns obtained from the kitchens, an exchange that leaves the princess more disgruntled than satisfied. She was the Princess of Zhang Empire, for goodness sake. To be subject to the whims of a mere tutor when she was the next heir to an entire empire… unheard of.

“I am done for today,” she says without even looking at the third chapter. “And I will take the rest of the buns, Doyoung.”

“Princess, you cannot miss another—”

“Warfare should be discussed with the Head General, not me.” Holding a bun in each hand, she excuses herself from her tutor’s desk and quickly runs out, quick as the wind as she weaves around paths and slips into the first open door she sees when the footsteps behind her falter after seeing a blank before him.

“Where did she go now?” comes the disgruntled voice while the princess quietly closes the ajar gap, holding still until the shadow looming over the paper screen leaves to continue his hunt elsewhere. Once determining that her tutor’s long gone, she starts to get up from the floor but pauses, the subtle tingling in her calves rendering her unable to stand.

“Oh no.”

A looming shadow returns to the door and she looks up at the entering visitor, momentarily mesmerized by the large dark eyes that seems to hold abysmal depth.

He’s beautiful.

“What are you doing in my room?”

Coherent speech fails to leave her mouth and he grunts, not buying her story of running away from the ’tyrant of knowledge’ that had unleashed the power of geography on her unprepared mind.

“You should know better than to barge into other people’s private quarters.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “But can you help me up?”

The abrupt question catches him by surprise and whether it was out of pity or genuine concern is left for the gods to answer as he extends a hand, barely batting an eyelid when she hauls herself back on her feet.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, keeping her head down in shame at having to be helped up. “I… I probably should leave now.”

“Goodbye, Your Highness.”

Not lingering on how he knew she was the princess, she nods and quickly takes her leave, pausing briefly at the dog sitting by the entrance to the man’s private quarters before making her way back into the inner chambers of the palace.

—

You and her meet at last.

Taeyong glances at the Saluki sitting by the side of his desk. “How do you know she’s the one I’m looking for?”

Your eyes got softer. They’ve never softened like that before.

“You’re not wrong.” A raw chuckle and an empty hourglass is placed on the surface of the table, void of sand that he should be collecting for her sake. “I need to go about this carefully.”

You’ve started, for starters. She knows how you look like now.

“But she won’t remember me. And it’s going to take a miracle for a newly accepted soldier to become familiar acquaintances with this empire’s one-and-only princess.”

—

Abandoning her efforts in keeping up with her studies certainly had its consequences, for her tutor had reported the issue to none other than Emperor himself, the highest power of the land and likely the only authoritative force that had the capability of reining in the princess in her impulsive streak. After hearing Doyoung’s report on her tendency to skip lessons, Emperor Zhang made a point to assign a personal bodyguard to keep watch over her, escorting her to her lessons while simultaneously monitoring her safety and wellbeing. The proclamation was strictly enforced, but he allowed her the liberty to choose her own guard, which is why in turn she stated it was imperative to choose from only the best of the best. The line snaking around the area by the military training grounds only grew in length as the day carried on, plenty wishing to receive the honor of serving under the Princess, heir presumptive to succeeding the throne should the Empress or some other concubine fail to produce a son that can—in due time—replace the Emperor. The opportunity was a good one compared to the notion of entering the battlefield and risk it being your last with each declaration of war with a new country. Also, way less work than the daily training routine under the Lead General when all one had to do was escort the Princess to her studies with her tutor.

“Your Highness, there must be somebody here who is capable in your eyes.”

She looks up from inspecting her nails, eyes boring into the General’s. “General Han, I cannot possibly choose when there has yet been anyone who can shoot an arrow directly into the bullseye on our navy flag.”

“You are speaking of a firing an arrow onto a tiny red dot drawn in the middle of a smaller-than-usual triangular blue flag flying on top of a pole that seven meters, Your Highness. Not to mention you specifically chose the windiest day of the week to host such a test… it is an impossible task.”

“Make the impossible possible, and that is how you win, General. Imagine if an enemy is lurking by a bush ahead of you and one of your archers manages to graze the upper arm instead of the heart. Next thing you know, the enemy scout has a dagger hovering millimeters above your heart on his uninjured arm because you failed to kill him when you had the advantage of terrain and optimal range for the kill.”

“Your Highness, you are—”

She claps her hands, effectively shutting him up. “The average flag pole that we use is approximately nine meters, General. Seven meters is a very flexible height that should pose as no trouble for a worthy solider turned personal guard.”  

The accompanying snort at her criteria brings a scowl to the General’s face and she sneaks a glance at her tutor, the latter subtly raising a thumb up before turning to the next hopeful applicant.

“Your name, please?”

“Lee Taeyong.”

Her mouth drops in surprise at seeing the dark-eyed man whose quarters she had stumbled into upon escaping her tutor a few days prior. He had been anything but pleased at seeing her; why would he apply to become her personal guard if the distaste was evident?

She fidgets in her chair, interest clear as day while Doyoung informs this Taeyong of the test to become her guard. The gargantuan pole does not faze the solider, nor does the Saluki at his feet show any form of anxiety for its master as it sits quietly before her eyes, wind blowing at its fur and ears.

“I’ve never seen a dog so beautiful,” she murmurs, gaze traveling to the cream-colored creature with its beautifully ruffled ears. “Especially when the typical soldier is only allowed either the red Akita Inu or black Kintamani through mandate of the Emperor.”

“Watch,” Doyoung chastises her as an assistant hands Taeyong a quiver and bow. “Depending on the state of things, you might want to keep a close eye so you can decide whether he’s the one or not.”

Taeyong straps the quiver of arrows onto his back and makes a gesture at his dog, who runs off and returns with a bundle in its mouth. Dropping the package by its owner’s feet, it shuffles back to his heel and he reaches down to open the tied bundle of cloth.

“What does he have there?”

“He… He’s lighting his arrow on fire!” The General stands up, hairs on his arms raised as the archer dips the arrow into what must be alcohol. The spark of the alit match next to the alcohol-dipped arrow brings the pointed weapon into an orange blaze that burns a hole into the flag once fired. Wisps of burnt cloth rain down from the proposed height and the soldier turns to the three judges of his performance, face expressionless as he awaits the final verdict. Shouts of foul play grow in volume but none of it even stirs the slightest of discomfort in Taeyong, a problem now for the General, the Princess, and her tutor to configure after he had finished his portion of the bargain with additional props.

“Settle down, you ruffians!” the General’s loud voice booms across the venue. “One more squeak and everyone is disqualified.”

“Your Highness,” Doyoung speaks up. “Thoughts on the soldier’s performance?”

The princess taps a finger against her cheek, recollecting her thoughts on the spectacle before her.

“So he set the entire flag on fire rather than pierce through the hole drawn in the center as I requested…”

“Not exactly what you had in mind, Your Highness,” the General adds. “How can a potential guard not follow orders?”

“It was very clever.” An amused smile dances along her lips and she clasps her hands together, satisfied with what she had seen. “Please bring my new guard forward so I may meet him.”

“Your Highness!”

Doyoung stands up from his seat and makes the announcement that the princess has already chosen her new guard, crushing the hearts of hopefuls who had yet to showcase their hidden potential to the princess. Her fingers drum across the table as her tutor steps down from the elevated judges’ table and approaches the soldier, watching their brief conversation with renewed interest until they return.

“You are my new guard?”

Taeyong bows, back bent with a hand over his heart. “I swear my utmost loyalty to protecting you, Your Highness.”

“You may rise, and please…” Her brows furrow. “Please drop the formalities. Somehow it seems very unnatural to be referred by an official title from you.”

—

Something about Taeyong was very familiar.

Granted the princess had never met him prior to his application to become her personal guard, but there was something to him that felt very close. Like the feeling of knowing the back of her hand, the sensation of all five fingers and the tiny scars from young mishaps as a little girl running amok around the Imperial Palace. Small things. Simple things. But her new guard felt like anything but; it felt as if she had known him forever even though he had only been on duty for barely a month since she appointed him to the position.

True to his word, he made sure she was safe, most importantly punctual to her daily lessons.  Arriving at least one hour beforehand was typical, knocking to make sure she was getting ready and not sulking like she did on his first week of duty. Sometimes he’d join her for breakfast but often he stood off to the side with his Saluki, guard and dog alert to keep watch for signs of danger while the princess ate and was escorted to her tutor’s office every morning and late afternoon. News of the princess’ attractive new guard spread across the palace as quickly as the shouts of foul play for his antics in front of her tutor and the Head General, hushed whispers and quiet giggles of admiration not uncommon as he followed behind the princess. He didn’t mind, and she relished in the looks of awe at her new guard, pleased at her sound judgment in choosing him over her impossible task during the recruitment period.

“What is your dog’s name?”

Taeyong looks up, arms still crossed as they always were when he was on guard duty.

“Ruby.”

“How did you have her approved when soldiers are only allowed to pick from the two designated breeds?”

A knowing glint glows in his dark eyes and he uncrosses his arms, fingertips brushing against the Saluki’s head.

“That’s my privacy you are probing into, Your Highness.”

She pouts and takes the puff pastry from the tray of teatime desserts, peeling off bits to throw into the koi pond to feed the fish.

“I just wanted to know more about you, Taeyong.”

“But you know everything already.”

“Hmm?” Not hearing the last part, her fingers loosen and the entire half of the pastry drops straight into the pond, the softest plunk into the water as koi of bright orange and splotched whites with black begin to swarm around the new object in their home. Their gaping mouths nibble at the dropped dessert, and she watches from the bench of the small pavilion with a soft grumble as it begins to disappear before her very eyes.

“Here.” A dark slab is placed in her hands. “Try this instead.”

“What is it?”

“Break it off and try for yourself.”

Curious, her fingers break off a bit of the slab and Taeyong encourages her to eat it, promising that it will taste good as she slowly does as he asks.

Her eyes widen at the bitter yet pleasing taste. “What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Chocolate.”

She repeats the word and breaks off another piece, enjoying the taste more and more.

“I really like it, Taeyong.”

“You always did.”

“Huh?”

The guard shakes his head and returns to his post, keeping distance from the princess.

“Enjoy the rest of your tea, Your Highness.”

The formality leaving a strange aftertaste on her tongue, she finishes her desserts and servants from who knows where appear to clear the dishes, bowing to the princess and her guard before leaving. She gets up and starts to walk, the set of footsteps behind her following her every step as she meanders around the palace. Not knowing if he was aware of her attempt to bring him for a mindless loop around the palace grounds or not, she turns at every other corner she sees and picks up her pace. Light as a dancer who is quick on her feet, nimble and agile while skipping gracefully through the walls she called home, the walls she’s known since she was born.

“And…. Stop.” She turns around, expecting to see the same stern frown glaring back at her but surprisingly meet with an absence of her guard, his brooding stature and accompanying Saluki nowhere to be seen.

“Where did they go?”

“Right here.”

The deep voice startles her and she feels herself leaning back, bracing for the impact against solid ground when a firm hand grabs her wrist, pulling her up and into a firm chest.

Taeyong sighs and studies her face. “Are you hurt?”

“N-No.” The princess shuffles closer, hands shaking as they tug at his black shirt. “I-I’m okay.”

He allows her to remain her hold on him for another minute before gently prying her hands off him, the softest hint of a smile dancing along his lips.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Princess.”

“Yes, I…” A slightest of pauses and her eyes narrow, confusion settling in the chocolate brown orbs. “Have we met before?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I…” Wincing, she stumbles back and clutches the sides of her head, not understanding the sudden jolts of pain searing through her scalp. “I feel… like we’ve met… before.”

“Princess, are you—” His hands find her shoulders and grab hold, eagerly tightening their grip on her. “Are you remembering something?”

“I…” The pain intensifies, bolt after bolt of intensity that only worsens her ability to remain standing, knees buckling underneath as tears trickle from her eyes.

“You… Us…”

“Do you remember me, Princess?”

“I… Aren’t you…”

—

She remembered.

Taeyong glances at the Saluki by his heels. After the Princess had fainted, he had picked her up and carried her all the way to the Royal Infirmary, where one of the higher-ranked physicians was currently tending to her.

“Chocolate has been her favorite sweet since I brought back a sample of it from an excavation trip to the eastern region of our neighboring Europa. Chocolate, butter pastries, dainty macarons so exquisite that she couldn’t stand to even open the box I had gotten her, opting to only eat one during special occasions such as our birthdays. I thought I could trigger a memory with the chocolate but it looks like it didn’t work.”

But the sand is filling up.

Taeyong tugs at the chain around his neck and studies the thin line of sand at the bottom of the glass. “I suppose you aren’t wrong there, Ruby. But just as the Reds said, any memories with me are non-existent. It seems I may have underestimated the true risk I was taking when I sacrificed our relationship for the ability to travel across dimensions.”

I shall report to the Priest, who will then inform the Crown Prince.

“Yes. But first…” Double-checking that there is no one around, he pulls out an ornate music box, hand resting on the dial at its side. “I don’t think I can stay here in this dimension much longer. Her curiosity will only spark similar conversations like today’s and…. It’s not good for her health.”

Even across dimensions you are still putting her first.

“You may just be a familiar sent over from Suho to assist me, but I’m sure you’ll eventually understand. You’re going to love the princess once you get to meet her in person.”

The Saluki tilts its head to the left. Is this rendition of her not like your princess at all?

“It is a part of her but not nearly enough to define her whole being.” Twisting the dial three times, the lid to the box pops open and a rather cheerful tune twinkles into the air. “Once I fill up this hourglass with the sands of her time, then she will come back and I will introduce you officially when the time is right.”

“Mister Lee.”

The sudden call startles him and Taeyong quickly closes the lid to the music box, tucking it far away into the depths of his olive cloak before turning to the physician who had called his name.

“Yes?”

“Her Highness is calling for you.”

Pushing past the physician, he enters the Infirmary and spots the bedridden princess, doing his best to maintain a stoic face as he approaches her bed.

“Your Highness.”

She inches herself to sit up, eyebrows furrowed when a cough escapes her mouth.

“T-Taeyong.”

“Are you alright?”

“My head…” She reaches a hand to her temple and rubs. “It hurts.”

“Still?”

“Well, not as much now. But at first…”

Taeyong waits for her to finish, but she never does, opting to turn to him with a weary smile instead.

“Are you alright?”

“Me?” he echoes.

“You seemed off today. I was wondering about asking but it appears my head only caused more trouble for you.”

“No, it wasn’t troublesome at all.” Taeyong shakes his head and bows. “I am only sorry I did not notice sooner you were unwell.”

“My head is not very cooperative right now but the pain should subside soon.” Easing herself off the bed, she takes the offered hand by the guard and together they walk to the door, the waiting Saluki by the steps wagging its tail at seeing its trainer.

“Should I inform the Emperor that you will not be attending the banquet tonight, Your Highness?”

“I think I can attend tonight,” she refutes, closing her eyes again. “If you can get Doyoung to drop the calligraphy lesson later that will be lovely.”

His face remains ever as passive as he nods and escorts her safely to her chambers before heading to the tutor, dutifully informing him of the princess feeling quite under the weather while simultaneously ignoring the latter’s scowls at the feeble attempt to skip out on her lesson once again.

—

[dimension II: Wonderland]

She opens her eyes to find herself in a strange place, the atmosphere dark and gray clouds covering the dim glimpses of whatever little sun made it through such a seemingly dreary morning. The tree stump she had been sleeping against is cold to the touch as she arches her head up, the branches bare when it was still in full foliage before her eyes closed.

“How did I end up in such a place?”

Standing up, she yawns and stretches out her limbs, black slippers tentatively stepping down a worn path that takes her away from the park. Deeper and deeper she goes, unfamiliar with the surroundings as her head swivels left and right to take in the sights before her. Confusion and concern at making it home before sunset only grows along the spectrum, her blue dress slightly raising as her pace quickens, feet breaking to a growing run. Where on Earth was the right path home?

“Are you lost?”

Her head whips around, eyes frantically searching for the speaker who had startled her out of her wits.

The question comes again and out from the trees steps a boy with strawberry pink hair, large eyes staring curiously at her while keeping his distance. He asks a third time, stepping closer until he’s within arm’s reach, no longer as wary as he waits for her to reply.

“I… I don’t seem to be going the right way,” she says at last, tearing her gaze away from the marbles that glinted with a cautious curiosity. “I’m trying to get back to my home but…”

“Home is where the heart is,” he murmurs, fiddling with the end of the pink tie around the collar of the crisp white shirt underneath a cropped burgundy jacket. “You must be far away from your home if you don’t know where it is.”

“Can you… Can you help me get back home?” she asks.

The strawberry boy eventually nods and gestures for her to follow him. “Quickly. Before the sun sets and the Red Queen’s cards start prowling about.”

—

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know,” she admits as she follows the boy. “I was sleeping and then found myself here when I woke up.”

He mumbles something she cannot hear and continues walking, the sky gradually darkening the further they traveled down the path. What remains of the sun sinks into the horizon and moonlight replaces the bright rays of morning, shedding a faint glow around her and her pink guide.

He stops abruptly, startling her as she quickly skids to a halt before bumping into him.

“The cards.”

Before she can open her mouth to speak, he pulls her into the bushes and places a finger over his lips. Dark shadows grow in length and footsteps trot down the same cobblestone path they had just been on, oddly rectangular in form.

“They know you’re here.” Poking his head out, he makes sure the coast is clear before helping her out of the bushes, brushing off loose leaves off her dress. “Quickly, we should at least get to the Hatter’s before the night is over.”

“The… Hatter?”

Without answering her question, he grabs her hand and begins to run, making it difficult for her to keep up at the insanely fast speed he was going at. The trees give way to a pier with little sailboats tied to the docks, animals of all shapes and sizes floating in the waters. Past the vast blue sea are more bushes, flowers of every color that—if she was not mistaken—stared curiously at her as she ran past (one of the daffodils even winked at her before returning to mind its own business). Legs growing weary, she would’ve collapsed onto the ground sooner had not for the sudden stop before a strange wooden door by the base of a massive oak tree, so out of place that it couldn’t possibly be the destination until he knocked twice, pressing an ear against the door before turning the knob.

“In, Alice. Quickly.”

“My name isn’t Ali—”

Soft hands rest on her shoulders and nudge her in, all light from the ajar door diminishing at once when the frame swings shut. Forward is the only option, the narrow tunnel opening to a much wider hollow where a long table is placed at the center.  Cups mark placements along with a respective chair—a total of at least twelve.

“Look what the fox dragged in,” comes a giggle from the left side. “An Alice from the outside!”

“Where is the Hatter, lion cub?”

The lion giggles again and reaches for a lemon tart off the stand next to the teapot.

“Playing with Cards!”

As the giggles subside, rustling from the other side of the hollow produces two more guests to the table, a pinstripe-suited gentleman along with a top-hatted fellow. The wide grin is inextinguishable as the latter approaches the strawberry guide and his Alice, delighted at two more filled seats for his table.

“Taeyong, you brought her in!” Taking a step forward, the Hatter takes off the top hat atop his head and bows, pulling open the chair next to the lion for her to sit.

“Please sit, Alice.”

“I told you, my name isn’t—”

“Here in Wonderland, all outsiders of your garb are collectively referred as Alice. Many Alices have passed by once, but this is my first time actually having one at my table!”

Taking a seat next to the lion, she mumbles soft thanks at the offered teacup and watches as her guide—the fox—chooses to sit at the Hatter’s right, said man himself at the head of the seats while the third undisclosed takes his pick by the other side of the fox. Tea makes its way around and the Hatter taps his spoon against the side of his cup, garnering the attention of all seated.

“The February Hare is running errands for the Red Queen, so he will be present at tomorrow’s tea. The only words I shall offer are dig in, fill up your cups, and entertain this new Alice to the best of your abilities.”

“I would like it to be possible for her to stay here for tonight, Yuta,” the fox speaks up, eyes fixed on the chocolate macarons. “Mark says you were dealing with the Cards and she… she just wants to go home. She doesn’t mean to stay for long.”

“Why, of course!” The Hatter sends a wink her way before sitting back down on his chair. “She will be protected from tonight’s Cards, rest assured.”

—

The Hatter and his crew make sure to provide ample provisions for her and the strawberry fox when they depart in the morning, stuffing tea packets and sweets for the road in the knapsacks given via the ever-giggly lion. She offers to carry the packs but the strawberry boy beats her to it, wordlessly shifting the weight onto his shoulders so she walked hands-free. Occasional stops are made to enjoy the tea and cakes, sweet energizing sugar and honey lemon that filled the stomach and soothed the throat as their journey continued.

“How… How much longer, Taeyong?” she wheezes, legs slightly sore from the long duration of walking. “And please don’t tell me we have to go up this hill.”

“The Looking Glass is not far from now.” Extending a hand, he doesn’t wait for her to take it before reaching for her himself, grasping tightly as he takes a step up the slope of the hill. “And how do you know my name?”

“The Hatter… he called you that at teatime.”

“I see. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

The words stir a sense of familiarity in her brain, but it quickly subsides at the gradual ascent upwards. Step after step replaces the temporary nostalgia with fatigue that threatens to turn her tired body into rubble if not for the hand that keeps its tight hold as she walks up. Once they reach the top of the hill, what greets them is a well, looking very much like an ordinary well until she feels the slackened grip on her hand.

Taeyong proceeds to reach for the loop of rope by the side, pulling and pulling until a bucket rises to the surface.

“Quickly, Alice.”

She approaches and under his encouragement, reaches for the shard of glass at the bottom of the bucket. Although sharp at the edges, her fingers feel safe as she twists the six-inch long item around her hands.

“Look,” he urges. “What do you see?”

“Only my own reflection…”

As her gaze prolongs its attention on the shard, the narrowest of squints produces a new image, a moving one at that.

“Wait.”

She brings the glass closer and the details come into focus, an olive-green cloak enveloping a lean figure with soft brown hair, his dark eyes locking in on her from the other side of the glass. His face blurs and the entire image flickers, afterimages of pink and slim fingers resembling none other than—

“This is you, Taeyong,” she concludes, turning to her guide with a frown. “But not really you. I see someone who looks like you looking back at me and…”

“And?” he echoes, the slightest hint of desperation laced around the question. “What else?”

“Um…” She looks again, this time her own reflection staring back. “Me.”

“Just you? Look again, look again.”

“Really,” she insists, “Just my… own…”

Her words fade as the image changes once more. This reflection staring back carries a slight resemblance to her, but faint differences can be picked out. Longer hair that reached past the shoulders, slightly narrower jaw, higher cheekbones, the entire face carrying an air of regality that only accentuated what looked to be a crown on top of her head. This reflection could have been her in another universe as a princess of some sort.

“My own…”

Warm hands clasp around her own, a feeling that brings surprisingly comfortable warmth. “You're seeing yourself, aren’t you?”

“Is… Is that really me?” she echoes. “I don’t…”

“The Looking Glass shows the truth and how to obtain the truth,” he whispers. “Look again, Princess Alice.”

Her eyes gloss over the reflection of the mirrored princess, studying the face that is both not hers but like hers. A face that, initially passive, morphs into wisps of fog that transition into an image of a white castle, one that she does not know of until she shows it to the awaiting fox.

“Oh,” he murmurs. “You need to go see the Red Queen.”

—

The Red Queen was apparently the ruler of Wonderland, one who ruled with an iron fist and was even harder to meet when they were turned away at the gates by one of her Cards upon arrival.

“How are we supposed to get in, then?” she asks him. “What if I can’t ever get home?”

“I think… I can pull a few strings. Wait here.”

He bows to the Card guarding the gates and loops around back, directing her to hide in one of the rosebushes while he sought out a “very important person”, the silence eerie as she sits alone amongst the red blossoms. Plucking one from the bush, she studies the flower and winces when the tip of her finger splits open. A bead of blood trickles down the stem and drips onto the white apron over her blue dress.

“That hurt.”

Rustling overhead startles her and she drops the rose, squeezing herself into an even tighter ball when soft reassurances coax her out and into the presence of the strawberry fox and a suited fellow holding a gold pocket watch in his hands.

The owner of the pocket watch snaps it shut with a disbelieving snort at noticing her. “You want me to help you sneak an Alice into the Queen’s castle?”

“She needs to get home, Doyoung,” Taeyong insists, tugging on this Doyoung’s sleeve. “The Looking Glass said she had to see the Queen.”

“The Looking Glass!” More snorts and heavy sighs follow before Doyoung grunts in agreement, Taeyong smiling in delight as he takes her hand.

“We’re going to see the Queen, Alice.”

She nods and Doyoung announces himself to the Card by the back gate, vouching for his two plus-ones as new kitchen staff, promises of upcoming decadence in dessert-making after they’ve studied under the Royal Pastry Chef herself. Entry granted almost immediately, Doyoung ushers them to the kitchens and locates the pastry chef, a rather pudgy woman whose smile radiated as much warmth as fresh butter rolls straight out the oven.

“Who are these sweet things, Sir Hare?”

“Prospective students for you, my dear baker. A fox and an Alice. I trust they’ll prove to earn their keep as you train them under your wing.”

“Certainly.”

A bow and Doyoung leaves, leaving the fox and her alone with the pastry chef.

“Well then, sugarplums, let’s get you two some uniforms and shown around the castle.”

Uniforms obtained and dismissed after a quick tour of the castle grounds, conversation resumes once the chef is out of sight, Taeyong sensing her unease immediately.

“You are worried.” He locks the door to the room they shared in the servants’ wing. “What are you worried about?”

“I don’t know how to bake,” she admits. “What if I can’t pick it up and get kicked out of the castle? I wasn’t expecting to actually play the part.”

“I believe you can do it.” Curiosity dances in the marbles that were his eyes. “So… what’s the home you’re trying to go back to like?”

“Freedom to do whatever I pleased. My parents were very busy, so I didn’t see them often, but when I did they were very nice.” A dull ringing starts in her head and she sits down on her bed.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“My head… It hurts.”

“I think you need some sleep.” Ushering her to lie down, he tucks her in and pulls up a chair to sit by her side, closing the curtains and dimming the oil lamp so only the faintest wisp of flame flickered amongst the four walls.

“Everything will be fine once you get a good sleep.”

Her eyes begin to close, and she shifts as slim fingers envelope her right hand.

“Will you still be here?” she asks in a drowsy murmur, already giving in to the impending wave of unconsciousness into dreamland.

“Yes,” he says quietly, gently squeezing her hand before extinguishing the flame. “Just like I always have.”

—

Cooking is an art, but baking is a science. The science of exact measurements to the nearest particle of ingredient, the basics mixed into a bowl to create a masterpiece from seemingly meaningless items alone. With precision as the utmost standard to uphold in the royal kitchens, it became a regular thing for Taeyong to help her with producing the requested pastries when the head pastry chef wasn’t looking. An extra pinch of sugar, switching spices when she gets the wrong bottle from the spice rack, even trading pieces for the weekly assessments so she would get a pass while he had to remake and simultaneously prepare the new dish for the upcoming week. She didn’t know why he was going to such an extent to help her, but was grateful nonetheless and he seemed happy enough with her thanks for letting him help.

“The Red Queen is hosting a banquet this Friday night,” he informs her early in the morning, pink hair glistening in the sunlight seeping in from the windows of their shared room. “This is a chance for you to approach her for a way home.”

“I’ve already stayed for so long,” she muses, tightening the apron over her blue dress and tying back her hair with a black ribbon. “What if… What if I just stayed here with you instead?”

He pauses, eyes widening as he looks away almost immediately.

“…That is not ideal.”

“I’m beginning to like it here. It’s not too difficult to bake, and I know you’re beginning to branch off into working with the cooks more than the pastry chefs, but…” Her voice lowers and she glances at him.

“I like being together with you.”

“We must get ready,” he blurts, face growing a shade of pink akin to his hair. “I’ll get ready first.”

◇

Taeyong gave her the same feeling as home, a most warm yet strange feeling as she makes her way from the kitchens to the Red Queen’s inner chambers. Her Majesty wanted a sample of the after-dinner desserts and this was the last item to finish the fifteen-course banquet held in honor of the fifteen years since she’s had the crown: chocolate macarons baked to perfect and individually dipped in a thick layer of ganache before stacked high into a tower fitting to be presented for the ruling monarch of Wonderland. It was hard enough to see with a tall chocolate tower obstructing her view, but the thoughts of Taeyong occupying her brain do little to aid the situation as the tray wobbles when she narrowly misses the corner of the turnabout into the main staircase.

“Oh, that was a close one.”

Angling her way around, safe travels only last a mere five minutes when something dashes by, knocking down the tray and leaving globs of brown on the floor, the dish completely unpresentable to the Queen unless she had a liking for crumbs (which was by no means a truth).

“Oh, no. Oh no, oh no oh no.”

Bending down, she does her best to pick up the fallen macarons but it is too late. Ganache leaves a sticky residue on her fingers and even the more intact pieces refuse to stick when she tries to stack them high again. Tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of the fallen pastries. The Queen was expecting a tower, not debris from a fall, and Taeyong wasn’t around to save her this time.

“I still want to keep my head, oh no…”

—

Maybe things could have gone differently if he had listened to her.

The Red Queen was furious at seeing only fourteen courses present for sampling, threatening to chop Alice’s head clean off her neck until he came rushing in with a new platter of chocolate macarons. It nearly passed the test until one bite from the Queen’s most trusted advisor sent him spitting in confused disapproval, the inferior taste nothing like those made from the royal kitchens. Stealing from the Hatter’s tea party was troublesome enough, but the severity of the fox’s actions only grew in magnitude when the Queen sent her Card guards to bring forth the Hatter, imprisoning the poor, unaware soul in the dungeons for accepting such abominations of a dessert at his table. Casting a curse on their party to serving inconsistent tea and freezing the guests to endure the same round of tea over and over without stopping, her wrath knew no end until Alice herself rushed into the throne room, interrupting the Queen to beg for forgiveness and revealing herself as the true culprit behind the missing macarons. In doing so, the Alice shielded the fox from harm, revealing her feelings for him in the process of convincing the Queen to let him go when fault was not his to begin with. She loved him, this Alice, and she hoped the Red Queen would show mercy when he was only trying to help.

Not even the fox was prepared for what happened next, the anguish in his face unlike any other as the monarch called forth her executioner, Alice’s head lopped off in one clean sweep while the pink-haired boy’s misery echoed across the entirety of Her Majesty’s throne room.

—

“I killed her.”

The translucent figure closes its eyes in grievance. There are other dimensions where you can find her.

“But I lost her in this one.” He buries his face in his hands, the head of pink hair glowing against walls of gray and bars of steel. “I should’ve listened to her and let her stay rather than push her to meet with the Red Queen. I’m the one who thought it would work to steal and try to fool the Queen with another batch of—”

Footsteps echo down the hallway towards his cell, and Taeyong stills as the bars are unlocked.

“Y-Your Majesty,” he stutters. “I... I…”

The Red Queen clicks her tongue in disapproval. “You failed, time traveler.”

“W-What are you…” His eyes widen at the wisps of his familiar floating towards her, disappearing as a music box appears in her hands.

“H-How…”

“Do you not recognize me?”

Upon studying her face, a name comes to mind and she smiles while shaking her head.

“It takes a lot of energy to open a portal to a dimension where there very much exists another me. While I am who you call Irene, the ‘Irene’ you know and made the deal with is not exactly ‘me’ either.”

Confused, he does not say much more and she continues.

“Your princess, or the part of her that was in this dimension, was not supposed to die at the hands of my counterpart.”

“Then…” He reaches for the silver chain hanging from his neck. “The sand...?”

“No more. But that is not the main reason why I ripped open a hole in time-space to seek an audience with you.”

She returns the music box to him, one finger resting thoughtfully on her cheek.

“Under normal circumstances, this is completely against protocol. The other Reds would have my head if they knew I was directly contacting you.

“But I suppose I was so moved by your intent that I couldn’t help but want you to succeed, so a fair word of advice: Do keep in mind that every move you make counts. For better or for worse, each action you make will either benefit or hinder your progress in retrieving your princess’ lost time, and truthfully… you’re running out of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You opened the music box once but didn’t enter the portal.”

Memories of his days as a guard for the princess of Zhang Dynasty return in a flash and Irene nods.

“You closed the lid when she called for you. That portal was left open, and while it made it easier for me to reach you, the unchecked portal started to warp and interfere with the timelines of the other dimensions. Soon they will become convoluted and by then… too late.”

“There must be something I can do,” he insists. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

“You will need more time. Enough time to rewind your princess’ timeline and outrun the merging of all the parallel selves that make you ‘you’. I can give you more time, but as you know, it comes with a price.”

“Anything. I will give you anything.”

Sensing the desperation in his voice, the Red nods and the music box opens of its own accord, twinkling a delightful tune before swallowing him into a new dimension.    

“Let’s hope his time doesn’t run out,” Irene frets, eyes glinting in the dimly lit cell of Wonderland’s dungeons. “All of this is a lot of weight on his shoulders and it will be a shame if he has to start exchanging his own time for more of her own.”

—

[to be continued...]

[comicreliefmorlock]

So here's a fun game. What are, let's say...10-15 pieces of media (books, tv, movies, whatever) that seem to have been made JUST for you? why?

*cracks knuckles*

Surprisingly, not all of these will be Tanith Lee.

…however…

{And this goes under a cut because this is going to be a very long, verbose post. A really long, verbose post.}

1. “Tales from the Flat Earth” by Tanith Lee

These books are essentially like sitting by a crackling fire on a cool summer night beneath the glimmering night sky while a smiling crone cards wool and tells you the stories that come from a time aeons before your birth. I have never in my life found a quartet of books–let alone one book–that have so completely and absolutely captivated me. From the first page of “Night’s Master,” I was gone.

Not only the language–breaking the fourth wall and referring to “words lost when the world reformed itself in the chaos”–but the characters… Azhrarn, the personification of Wickedness who saves humanity with love. Uhlume, the personification of Death who faces a form of mortality and is forever changed by it. Chuz, the walking embodiment of Madness, who is gentle to those under his domain and understands that he cannot understand why he does what he does.

Ferazhin and Narasen and Sivesh and Simmu and Jornadesh and Kassafeh and Zhirem and Azhriaz and Dunziel… Names I have never forgotten because they all but sang to me. A flat earth that holds the best and worst of humanity, often balled into a single person, with Underearth and Innerearth and Upperearth holding gods that have grown so distant they no longer recall humans were their creation at all. 

I have always loved mythology and these books? These are myth.

2. Pan’s Labyrinth -dir. by Guillermo del Toro

I’m not from Spain or know Spanish. I knew nothing about the Spanish Civil War when I first saw this movie. And this was the first film I saw that cemented del Toro for me as the only man I would ever trust to turn Tanith Lee’s books into cinema. 

I love fairy tales, mythology and folklore. And when you read enough of it, you see how bloody it actually is. How terrifying it is to realize that you’re not the only one in the world, humans aren’t the only ones, there are creatures on the midnight side of reality that share space with you. 

And I never really liked the Disney version of fairy tales with “happily ever after” and weddings. 

This movie was literally like watching something I’d imagined for myself. The acting was fucking phenomenal, the sets and costumes were off the hook and the comparison of “fairy tale horror” and “real horror” that overlapped just blew me the hell away.

And Doug Jones… Doug Fucking Jones. I never respected mimes until him and now I give all the respect. Being able to act, to breathe real life into a concept and a costume until it becomes a character you could picture walking through a forest or peering around a corner while not being able to use your own voice OR your own facial expressions is a kind of magic I think does not get enough appreciation.

DOUG FUCKING JONES, LADIES, GENTS AND GENDER REBELS.

3. Fatal Frame - Tecmo

I’m a writer/reader, not a gamer. When I have downtime or I want to relax, I almost always gravitate towards a book instead of a video game. The few games I’ve played purely for my own enjoyment have usually been MMOs and involve roleplaying.

Except for the Fatal Frame series.

Survival horror is my favorite game genre and I lamented when Resident Evil became more “survival action” than survival horror. (Fuckin’ lickers in the original Resident Evil game oh my god.) I wanted a survival horror game that had some meat to it, had something really compelling about it.

And I found Fatal Frame.

I love Japanese mythology. I especially love Japanese ghosts. For some reason–maybe out of sheer novelty because I, being an ignorant American raised near the US-Mexico border, have had little exposure to it–Japanese ghosts are my absolute favorites. Yurei (and the other subclassifications) just have something to them that I haven’t found in other mythologies. I’ve read and reread Oiwa and Okiku’s stories, been fascinated by the concept of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai and wanted more of what I found.

Which Fatal Frame provided.

Not only do the game mechanics work beautifully for someone as easily startled as I am, but the story behind each individual game is achingly intense. The intricacy of the interwoven histories, the rituals, the underlying question of “was all this really necessary or was this a priesthood trying to stay in power”… I love absolutely everything about these games. 

4. “The Blue Sword” by Robin McKinley

I’m not going to lie–this book took me forever to actually read. The first two pages were so achingly boring that I had no fucking clue why my mother had recommended it to me.

And then one day, bereft of anything else to read, I flipped through it. I still distinctly remember the line that made me stop and go “wait, what?” – “…your horse tells me where you’ve been…”

me: wait what horses can talk in this? wtf? *flips to the beginning and sits down to fuckin’ read it*

Slogging through those first few pages? Worth it. Because Harry/Hari/Harimad was the first heroine I’d ever encountered that I could imagine myself being. She was too gangly and not particularly pretty and kind of clumsy. She didn’t draw admiring eyes everywhere she went, spent a lot of time going ‘I can’t do this wtf’ and had aches and saddlesores.

Meeting Harry felt like seeing myself on a page for the first time in my life. And seeing someone with flaws like me going through adventure and fighting and succeeding and failing and getting a happily ever after felt like a warm blanket. Like someone had written a book just to tell me: “It’s okay that you’re not beautiful or graceful or soft-spoken and elegant. It’s okay that you’re clumsy and a goof and your hair is fuzzy as fuck because you can be a heroine, too.”

5. “Whoever Fights Monsters” by Robert K. Ressler

No, I’m not a serial killer. :D Nor am I an FBI profiler.

However, after reading “The Silence of the Lambs” by Thomas Harris for the first time in ninth grade, I was fascinated by serial killers. Like… how did they do it? How did they get away with it? WHY did they do it? What kind of person did things like this? I wanted to know so much more and I started grabbing every book on serial killers that I possibly could find.

And the reaction of classmates and teachers who saw my reading material was… less than stellar. Even my mother was vaguely worried about what I was getting out of reading all…that.

It felt like my fascination with serial killer psychology was a flaw in my character that no one else seemed to share. Until I read “Whoever Fights Monsters” and saw Robert K. Ressler talking about the exact same thing. He wasn’t a “sicko” or a “freak” or a “lunatic” or a “killer-in-training” for being fascinated by the psychology of humans who could treat other humans like a moment’s disposable entertainment. 

And suddenly, neither was I. 

6. American Horror Story: Hotel - FX

‘American Horror Story’ is entirely my thing. Interwoven narratives of fascinating (and often awful) people combining “American horror history” with interpersonal storylines? Yes, thank you, I’ll take a dozen.

This season in particular, however, is just more for me than any other. 

Maybe it’s the vampires that are self-obsessed and not particularly powerful but end up with petty grudges and complaints. Or the ghosts that bitch and whine at each other, find consolation together, use Twitter and spend their long, long days doing little more than drinking, smoking and obsessing over their lives and deaths. Maybe it’s the single location with so many years of history weaving together like a book of short stories. 

I love ‘Hotel’ because it feels like Brandenburg to me. I could so easily see the entire season taking place in my fictional city and mentally insert my own characters into the show without losing a single step.

Also Kathy Bates is absolutely glorious and I desperately wish to be a tenth as glamorous as Liz Taylor. 

7. “The Butterfly Garden” by Dot Hutchinson

Books about serial killers? Yes, please.

Books about serial killers told by a victim who barely survived and understands what trauma really means? Yes, please.

What especially got me about this book is my thing for dioramas. The first one I ever remember seeing was in the El Paso Museum of Archaeology (yes, I’m from El Paso, Texas) and it always both frightened and fascinated me. 

^ This one in particular would keep me motionless for ten or twenty minutes at a time, kind of terrified at a house within a building and then absolutely enthralled at a house inside a building.

And the dioramas mentioned in “The Butterfly Garden” were akin to those in “The Cell” –some terrible, awful glimpse into someone’s mind that was visualized and externalized in a permanent way. 

8. “War for the Oaks” by Emma Bull

I love the fae. 

And I also have read enough to know that those sprightly little fucks are terrifying and humans are rarely left unscathed by them.

This book was my introduction to “urban fantasy,” much as Charles de Lint was my introduction to what I consider “mythic fantasy” and a city that felt so much like my own. 

And what was so quintessentially, absolutely me about this book–other than the main love interest being the Phouka :D :D :D–was the underlying theme about creativity.

It’s a driving force, a magic that humans have. It’s uniquely human (as far as we know) and often the only talisman against the dark that we’ve got. With creativity, there’s magic. There’s a spark of something beyond the mundane realities of survival. Creativity is a sword and shield all in one, complete with a lure to bring others along with you.

Whether it’s through music, art, poetry or graphic design, creativity is the actual drive for immortality that pushes us to reach beyond ourselves and touch those we have no possibility of seeing or speaking to in our own short, real lives.

9. Good Omens - Neil Gaiman/BBC

I loved the book when it came out. I didn’t expect to love the mini-series. I especially didn’t expect to love the mini-series for the #IneffableHusbands.

I won’t belabor the point about why this is on my list. The #IneffableHusbands tag on my OOC blog is enough. :D

10. What We Do in the Shadows - Jemaine Clement, Taika Waititi

Vampires who are as absurd, incapable and oblivious as me? Yes. All of my yes. 

Having played the old World of Darkness tabletop games for years--and absolutely fallen in love with them--I found this movie and was in absolute heaven. These are vampires I can actually imagine hanging out with. These are vampires (and werewolves) I can envision walking around a city.

Noble creatures of the night don’t seem real to me (aside from the obvious reasons.) The supernaturals in this movie? They felt like people I knew. Like people I could meet or characters I’d written myself. 

I like the fantastical being put into the mundane--which is why my genre is ‘urban fantasy’ although I have such an eye-twitch about it being all supernatural detectives chasing various pieces of ass now--and I especially love it when the fantastical doesn’t outweigh the mundane.

Imagining vampires vacuuming and riding the bus fits in nicely with my desperate belief (and hope) that the fantastical isn’t JUST imaginary but actually exists. 

{And there, I’m restricting this to 10 or we’ll be here all NIGHT.}

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: Rounds 14 and 15! (I think. I’m bad at math.)

Back at it again, folks! Thank you @ofvisitorsthefairest and @fictionshewrote for the tags!

I think I’m gonna stop counting them after these. I can’t keep the numbers straight.

Rules: Answer the 11 questions from whoever tagged you, then made up 11 of your own questions and tag 11 people.

Bilbo Taggins: @starlitesymphony​, @hannahs-creations​, @toboldlywrite​, @quilloftheclouds​, @myreidola​, @minusfractions​, @inexorableblob​,  @ink-flavored​, @misfitgirlwrites​, @writinginslowmotion​, @aurumni-writes​

If you like these questions, by all means, answer them! And tag me so I can see!

My Questions:

Make a Mary Sue in your story’s world! What powers do they have, if any? How are they better than everyone else? What is their tortured past that is a blessing but also a curse? What kind of unusual eyes do they have? Which member of nobility/royalty/god/vampire/demon is their parent?

Which would your OCs choose: Legolas or Aragorn? Which would you choose?

What’s your favorite trick to pull on readers?

If you were to teach a creative writing class, what books would be on your syllabus?

What’s your opinion on semicolons?

What’s your favorite movie, based on its story?

What’s the dumbest thing your character(s) have ever done? What’s the dumbest thing they could do?

What one item could you introduce to your story to completely derail the plot? Where would it go from there?

What’s your favorite MacGuffin?

How do you name your characters and locations? 

How have your hobbies and passions influenced your writing/how you write?

My answers under the cut!

@ofvisitorsthefairest‘s Questions:

1. Does music inspire you to write?

Not unless I’m doing songfics as a warm-up or something. I usually use it as a tone/mood guard rail as I’m writing. That’s why I make story/character playlists! They keep me on track, especially if I’m revisiting a scene I haven’t thought about in a while.

2. Which WIP did you learn the most from writing?

My Romanian story, for sure. I had the help of my thesis director/mentor with that one, thank God. I learned how to establish a scene quickly, how to do flashbacks like other people do them, how to incorporate languages without messing up the pace or losing the reader, and how to write historical things. 

I learned a whole lot about what not to do from my Story That Shall Not Be Named Because It Bad, too. 

3. Is there something your OC should be afraid of that they aren’t?

I think Gemma should be more afraid of being found out than she is. I mean, she’s technically a witch (an unregistered magic practitioner, because of her potion-making which is classified as pseudo-magic) who has no social security number, lives in secret, and does illegal internet things. She could get into some serious trouble. There are even more nasty consequences that I can’t reveal because spoilers, but let’s just say she has no idea they could happen and they ain’t pretty.

4. Is there something they don’t need to fear, yet do? Irrational phobias?

Yep! It’s one of the cores of her character. She’s afraid of being left alone, abandoned, kept out of her found family. Being used for her skills and ignored as a person. I don’t think they’re irrational, but she has never listened when people tell her not to be afraid of those things.

5. Do you prefer reading physical books or e-books?

Physical books, by far. E-books for my college student wallet, though. They saved me when I didn’t have time to order books, too. I have a crazy good “where in the physical book did this event happen” memory. Like, I can name an event and flip to the page very quickly based on how far into the book it was. Very handy for citations. And I love the feel/smell of a book in my hands and all the contorting I do when I read one (seriously, I almost always end up upside down or completely sideways in a chair).

6. What’s some details of your world building that you like?

All the little things! Academic internet piracy network to help witches, how magic interacts with daily life, tweaking folklore to fit story lore, 

7. Have you ever created a magic system? What was it like?

Oh, boy! Yes, I have made several. My favorite might be the one from my TV show where the only magic is healing/life manipulation magic. The way it works is that when healers do their thing, they physically take on their patient’s injuries. If you have a broken arm, now the healer has a broken arm. Works with diseases, too. Here’s the snippet from the Show Deck about it:

In the darkest corners and dingiest alleys, magic pulses through the veins of the downtrodden. Seen as evil and taboo, magic operates by the law of an eye for an eye, a life for a life. Sacrifice fuels these dark arts, and those who manipulate them are covered in scars and never-healed wounds. Healers operate in the shadows and lead short lives, field medics are scarce, and the king has two sorcerers by his side at all times, bound by a blood contract to give their lives in his name.

Here’s a link to some posts about my magic system in my current WIP, Heart to Heart! I made magic types based on different sciences and artistic disciplines! 

We’ve got astronomy/astrology, carving/linguistics/physical art/symbology, politics/making powerful friends/handshakes/marketing/political science, geology/archaeology/product design. Also some secret types that involve psychology, sound design/sound engineering, and water treatment/environmental science/architecture.

There are also pseudo-magical professions that blend with tech and science, like potion making!

Here’s a decent explanation of how magic works in the world of H2H.

Here’s a joke I made about my magic system.

Here’s the Magical Aptitude quiz I made that tells you more about the magic types in H2H.

/end ramble

8. What was your first favorite book?

I’m 90% sure it was the American Revolution Magic Tree House book. Or one of those books. They were the best.

9. What time of day are you most motivated to write?

7pm-4am. Yep, I hate it. I’m trying to push it closer to 2pm-9pm but it’s tough.

10. If you could step into the shoes of one of your characters for a day, which one would you pick?

If we’re talkin’ H2H characters, I honestly would not have a preference. Everyone in that story is pretty dang chill. If I had to choose, I’d go with Jill or Treena. They’re both artists and artisans who have cool houses and great friends.

11. What are some little quirks you like to give characters? Ex: a lot of mine have freckles Just Because.

There are Many. A lot of my characters have curly hair because I have curly hair. Many of them are left handed (especially my sword-wielding ones). A bunch of them have scars. A lot of them know curse words in other languages. 

@fictionshewrote‘s Questions:

1. What do you want to see more of in the book world? (more rep, more of a specific genre, etc)

I have a rant about this, but to sum up: fewer straight white men dominating publishing, more open acceptance for new voices and ideas, less focus on easy-sell formulaic stories, less prejudice against certain genres... the list goes on. Also, in the publishing world, fewer submission fees and more journals that pay.

2. What time of day are you most productive writing-wise?

Answered above! Evenings and nights. It’s starting to shift to late afternon to late evening though, which is a nice change.

3. Do you have a designated space where you write?

Nope! I usually use my laptop wherever I can sit down or stand without my back screaming at me. I hate writing on my phone, though. Too small, too many typos.

4. What kind of platforms/programs/tools do you use to write? (Word, notebooks, Google Docs, Scrivener, etc)

Scrivener! It’s so helpful for my disorganized ass. I only use Word for academic papers now. When I’m having trouble getting ideas out of my brain, I write by hand in a hard back spiral notebook. I can’t stand writing in journals without spirals. 

5. Hardcover or paperback?

I like both. When I read, I sit weird and hardcovers prevent the pages from bending, but paperbacks are good for traveling with. And they’re cheaper. But hardcovers are so pretty... 

6. What’s your favorite story trope? Are you using it in your wip(s)?

There are a lot of tropes and I can never pick just one. I like friends to lovers, almost everything in LoTR and all those high fantasy things, complicated political/family dynamics, etc. I don’t typically like to write the same things I like to read, though. I have trouble naming them sometimes, but I know I use a bunch of them. 

7. If you had to send your favorite OC on a blind date with a character from someone else’s book, who would that character be and why?

Oh boy. I’m watching the Lord of the Rings extended editions right now, but I’ll try not to be biased.

If I were trying to be funny, I’d set Fred up with Aziraphale from Good Omens. I feel like they could have some good weird conversations.

Gemma and Nicholas Flamel from The Alchemist would be fun, too. Or Oz and Boromir. 

8. Do you write scenes in order or out of order?

I like writing them in order, but sometimes that doesn’t work out like I want it to. Now it really depends on the story. I wrote the first part of AOPC out of order and it messed with my head a little, so I’m trying not to do it for my longer projects. My short stories are always written one and done, in chronological order, usually. Especially the ones under 2k words. WYSiOaD was written in order, then switched around to fix the flow and plot.

9. If your favorite OC was a superhero, what would their superpower be? (assuming, of course, they aren’t a superhero to begin with!)

I do have superhero/villain characters! Here’s some others, though:

Gemma - Empathy / Transferable Rapid Healing and/or Regeneration

Oz - Truesight / Invulnerability

Mel - Animal Friendship or Shapeshifting / Conditional Foresight

Fred - Domino’s luck power but backwards and framed like happy accidents that always seem to work in his favor. So... Mr. Magoo.

Teva - Earth sculpting or something like earthbending

10. Describe your ideal writing session.

I sit and I write a whole short story in one hit. Then I wait and edit another day. 

I am a simple bean.

11. What do you think would turn your protagonist into a villain?

Seeing what was lost and having it torn away forever before she gets to claim it again.

[shit-she-wrote]

11 Questions Tag

Tagged by @expositionpreposition  – thanks!!

1.     What inspired your most recent WIP?

Time After Time was inspired by my excitement about archaeology and just wanting to write a cool time-travelling story (which, yes, was kind of because that one season of Doctor Who) ^.^ and ofc I had to make it gay lol

and Little Lion was inspired by freaking Star Wars, man. If that’s not the most random thing, idk what is

2.     Do you prefer writing at day or night?

I think I prefer late afternoons/evenings, but also nights (although it fucks with my sleep, so I’m trying to stay away from that)

3.     Would you ever want to see one of your wips adapted into a film or tv series?

DO I????

Time After Time would be a tv series and Little Lion would be a badass movie (in two parts, like the deadly hallows). I am ready for this.

4.     What is the first plot you ever remember writing?

Well, the very first is the story about a pink rabbit, but I’m not sure what it was about xP my 7-8 y/o self didn’t finish it, sadly. (I am thinking of making it into a children’s book later in life)

And the first one since I decided I wanted to be an actual writer was a story about four friends who realize they’re kings and queens of some fairy land – idek, my computer broke down and I lost all progress, so I don’t really remember or have the ability to look back on it.

5.     What is your editing process?

Reread and fix smaller mistakes, and then rewrite the whole thing word by word, maybe change some things up. And THEN, when I’m still not satisfied with it, I read it again and decide if I need to rewrite it completely again or not.

(this counts only for my novels and poems tho – with short stories I just wing it and hope for the best and publish after like proof reading it once xP)

6.     Who’s your favorite author?

Madeline Miller, Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde ^.^

7.     How do you take critique?

Quite well, actually. I only get a bit defensive if someone hates something I never wanted to cut from the story or if they don’t like the concept it was written in (because the latter is usually based on people’s personal opinions, and I will always roll my eyes at every “have you tried changing up the style?” – like, no. that’s my style for this story. this is how I imagined it written. you didn’t give me any solid advice on this, Karen), but I take ay type of constructive criticism very well and I’m even thankful for the honest opinion and the help.

8.     Do any of your OCs have pets? If not, what pet would they want?

Nooo they don’t 😭 tbh, I never even thought of getting them pets until now

9.     How realistic do you like your worlds to be?

Since I don’t usually write fantasy, very. And with the sci-fi book I have planned for the future, I’m probably gonna try to even make the made up worlds incredible, but realistic enough that they might actually exist.

10.  How many drafts do you intend on writing for your current piece?

Hm, Little Lion is definitely getting rewritten at least once more after I finish this second draft, and Time After Time is gonna get minimally 3 drafts as well.

11.  What writing advice do you have for other writeblrs?

Try writing in different genres!! It’s really the best because you can try out different styles of writing that fit different stories! Don’t just stick to fantasy or crime or romance!! There are truly so many possibilities and they’re all right there for you to try out as a challenge :D you’ll see which genres ultimately work for you and which don’t but don’t decide on one sole genre before trying at least some of them!

Tagging @sleepy-and-anxious , @jonahwrites , @waterfallwritings , @yuutfa , @quilloftheclouds , if you’d like to answer these :D

[dmcracy]

An Introduction?

My first steps in the world of D&D were through Icewind Dale. It was love at first sight, because true fantasy (at least for me) was hard to come by in our country and to that point in my life, I read only one great fantasy, which was Lord of the Rings. Yes I read something from Pratchett, the whole Witcher saga and stuff like that in those days, but those books were not so breathtaking, so pure and so realistic for me and I was desperate to find something similar to fill the void in my life. And then, when I created my first six characters and traveled the frozen wastes around Kuldahar I felt like I found an old friend listening to the eerie soundtrack of my beloved game. I played and played and played to savor every bit of flavour that great game could give me. Eventually, I opened the game manual to look for remaining bits I missed in the game and for first time in my life I stumbled upon words Dungeons & Dragons. I was astonished even more when I read about tabletop D&D on the internet shortly after reading the manual. So many options, so much fantasy - survival and so much fun was somewhere thousands of miles far from me. I was so hyped to play that I created a crude version of rules from the manual of the game I owned and I tried it with my ex. She saw how desperate I was so she promised to try it. Her character lasted for two games, dying from the exposure of the necromantic energy in a very, very cheap hotel owned by a zombie. I was so glad but she did not like it very much and we never returned for another session (still do not know why ...) So I tried to talk to my friends about the game with almost no response and after a while, I gave up. I was alone, heartbroken if I can call it that way and my hope was slowly dying. It was 2008 and I thought I would never play D&D again.

A few years passed. I graduated, got work and kinda forgot about D&D at all. I was playing RPGs on the pc and casually talking about roleplaying with my friend and colleague (Thalion). Nothing big, just casual 8-hour banter about how Thalmor are nazis and Nords suck in Skyrim. This daydreaming kept me sane at work and it was the spring of many great personal jokes we share to this day. But the archaeological season ended, December 2013 came and with it we parted our ways. We still kept in touch but it was not the same, as we did not have another opportunity to spend time together anymore. So I was home, studying and preparing for the next season, playing my RPGs with my other friend and colleague (Bors, Heian, Surek) and watching Youtube. I do not know how we got there but we started to talk about 40K and tabletop. And my painfully unfulfilled memories started to nag at me again. I mentioned D&D, how great it seemed to me from my knowledge and so on. We were going to work together the next year and he tried to cheer me up with promises of playing and so on. But I had my doubts. I remembered how it was before. And I quickly forgot about it again.

2014 started as always. Lone spring and waiting for the start of the, playing games, wasting time. Spring passed and summer started. Still no new contract and the same stereotype. Browsing the Youtube, I stumbled upon a video of few people circling barely visible person behind a piece of cardboard. Pure curiosity made me click on the video without reading the description and I started watching. The first five minutes, boring. Fifteen, first roll, and then the magic word hit me - someone mentioned D&D. I was listening to a podcast of D&D (to this day not many of my friends understand why I listen to D&D podcasts) !!! It was podcast from Acquisition Incorporated, 4th edition. I was hyped again and wanted to listen to everything I could find. Work started as well so I was happy even more and with no worries about the future I left home. I was thinking about those podcasts the whole time I was travelling. Yes, no worries in my head. What could possibly go wrong? And then I spent the next two months with my colleague (Bors/Heian/Surek) without internet connection, phone signal or even normal toilet (we had outhouse deluxe). This grand hotel was provided by our smart, kind and grand employer whom I shall call Goblin. So we survived those two months like good soldiers and when the time was right (stars as well and so on) my girlfriend found a better hostel and we fled in a great escape. And this place was great. Everything the first place lacked this one had. So I immediately returned to watching every Acquisition Incorporated video I could find. During this period of time, we talked more about D&D with my friend and colleague I worked with and I started to look for the books. The prices were high for me but I really wanted to buy them. And then the 5th edition came out and ruined my plans again. The question was which edition to buy now. The new one which was simpler and fresh or some older version (I love 2nd) which had all books printed already and was closed. And with this, the season ended and I was not sure what to decide, because I had other problems. So I left it for some time again.

2015 started in a weird fashion. Too quickly for my taste and all I had in my head in the spring was work, because Mr. Goblin was goblining and so I needed to look somewhere else for better job opportunity. So there was no time for D&D thoughts. In May I got a new job and,  with my girlfriend, we moved to the place and started working. We made a schedule and settled in the new place and adjusted to the new job. Finally, I had enough time to watch/listen to D&D podcast but shortly after my new start, I finished all episodes of Acquisition Incorporated. A short search brought a new result - Critical Role. I fell in love with the cast very fast. Playing Wizardry 6 on my pc and listening to the game was pure joy for me. And in that very moment I, made one of my best decisions in my life. I ordered the books for 5th edition. I was determined to play the game on my own should I find no players.. The books arrived 3 months after the order and in October I started to look for the players. I asked my friends and colleagues and family members. It was hard. No one except one (Bors/Surek) knew about the game and they had no time etc. The months passed and finally, in the February/March 2016 I played my first sessions with my first two players via Skype. It was pure joy really. I was so excited about everything. I finally got to play real D&D. And I delved deep into DMing. Maybe too deep. And then problems rose.