Adventures in Imaginary Worlds

I'm a Catholic writer and reader. I like books, TV shows, and movies and I talk about them here, and I'll reblog anything that catches my fancy.

[thickness-protection-program]

I'm probably someone's "not this guy again" on Tumblr

[theriverbeyond]

i must not get takeout. takeout is the wallet-killer. takeout is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face the kitchen, fridge, and pantry. i will make choices about what to cook and then execute them. when hunger is gone there will be nothing. only i will remain.

[winterinhimring]

The Aftermath

@inklings-challenge I forgot that the deadline was today and not the 31st, so I sat down and banged this out in an hour. It may someday be part of my original novel, or a tag story to it. For now, it hopefully includes enough information to stand on its own.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

The verse was heavily underlined, as if the previous owner had either found it comforting, or wanted to draw the next owner’s attention to it. Hugh couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t known the man well enough…he had barely known him at all. He suspected that, if he’d been able to ask, the answer would have been something rather poetic that more or less added up to, "who says it can’t be both?". He closed the old Bible with a snap. The smell of old leather and old paper and old dust floated up to his nose. 

It had been two weeks since Hugh had been left behind as a witness, forbidden to interfere with something that he reluctantly had to admit was a miracle, pure and simple. The word tasted wrong in his mouth, even now, but he didn’t have another one. Technically it had been a victory. The last clues by which a mortal might learn to sing the world’s song were now forever out of the reach of evil men, and the world was safe. But it had been a cruel miracle, he couldn’t help thinking. It had not restored his lost friend to him. It had robbed him of many men who might have been new ones. It had robbed him of a guide who might have stood in place of his long-absent father. Even the never-ending song of the earth, never far from his mind now that his soul’s ear had learned to hear it, was not a comfort. The earth did not understand grief — it didn’t understand anything, truly, but what it had was more like a consciousness than it was anything else, even though it wasn’t really a mind — but it especially did not understand grief. Leaves fell and rotted and became earth, nourishing trees, which dropped more leaves. Trees fell and rotted and became earth and the earth grew new trees. The earth did not know loss. Nothing was lost, only changed.

*And is that not true of us also?* asked Abbot Joseph’s voice, in the back of Hugh’s mind. Hugh would have scoffed at the idea even a month ago. Now he could not deny it. *But you are still lost to me,* he thought to the illusion of the abbot. *And you have left me with power I haven’t even started to understand and a world that doesn’t work anything like I was sure it did.*

Which was probably why Joseph had left him his own Bible, really. It was heavily annotated and cross-referenced with commentaries and lexicons. There were notes on Greek and Hebrew and even Latin in the margins, which the professional part of Hugh longed to dive into headfirst with a good dictionary and a week or three of free time. But this page didn’t have complex linguistic notes. Just a heavily underlined verse.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Hugh was sitting on the front porch of his dead best friend’s house, within a morning’s walk from the cave where they’d found the dam—accursed rune inscription that had started the whole thing. *If this is comfort, it’s awfully cold.*

Then his phone rang, and he picked it up on instinct. "Hugh Leynham."

"I just thought you ought to know," said a voice it took him a moment to place, "I sent young Samuel to follow you after you missed breakfast."

Only one person called Sam "young Samuel," and that was the older Samuel who ran the library, one of a handful of other survivors of the Brothers of the Cross. (Hugh wasn’t really one of them, but he’d fallen into their circle by default, as the sole witness to the fate of most of the Order, ascended into the heavens in a burst of light and song that had left a valley floor a molten mass of stone and knocked him clean off his feet.) 

"I believe," Brother Samuel continued, "that he intended to take that bizarre machine offroading after you if he couldn’t find you at the cabin, so if you’ve gone off into the woods, you might want to make your way back."

The monks were definitely denizens of the 20s, but the 1220s, and they shared a collective mild confusion about Sam’s admittedly odd-looking Jeep, affectionately known to its owner as the zombiemobile and more affectionately known to Hugh as the car that had driven through a firestorm and over waves of earth that were behaving more like the sea during the only car chase of his life. In fact, now that he thought about it, he could hear an engine grumbling its way up the long gravel road. "I think he’s almost here," Hugh said. 

"Good."

Before Brother Samuel could say more, Hugh asked the question that had been bothering him for weeks. "Why did he give it to me?"

Samuel apparently didn’t need the context of the question. "Because you would read it, even if you did not understand it yet."

"I think it comforted him." Hugh looked down at the worn pages, and did not say, *It has not comforted me.*

"What is the greater pain, to believe that everything which has happened happened without reason, or that it is truly part of God’s plan?"

"It shouldn’t have taken that. They shouldn’t have had to die. I should have known Rob was going to—"

"My son, you are one man. In that battle, you were chosen as a witness. There may be other battles in which you are chosen to fight. Do not bind burdens on yourself that are not yours to bear. Do they deserve to be remembered?"

"Yes." The answer was instinctive. "Of course they do."

"Then remember them, Hugh, and trust them. They knew what they were doing, even if we don’t, and God knows better than any of us ever have."

The zombiemobile pulled up to the cabin with a crunch of gravel, and Talia jumped out of the passenger seat. "You didn’t say Sam was bringing Talia."

"She was worried about you. You’re not the only last heir of a scattered order, you know. Grieve, my son, but don’t wallow in it."

"Hey, Hugh, you missed breakfast!" called Sam-the-student-who-was-not-a-monk.

"They're here." Hugh got to his feet and hung up the phone. "Only because I knew you would save a burrito for me."

It was the kind of banter he had once had with Rob. It still stung, and it probably always would. He wasn’t sure why their friendship had deteriorated. They hadn’t had time for more than a brief forgiveness and farewell when Rob had saved his life, and so many questions had gone unanswered. But…just a little…the sting was beginning to feel cleansing, as well as painful. "I’m not that nice," Sam said, shaking his head. "Lucky for you, Talia is."

Hugh thanked her, eyes on the burrito so he wouldn’t meet her eyes and forget how words worked. Then he climbed into the back seat and ate his burrito, and Sam avoided all the potholes until he was finished with it.

[aslansjedi]

Well, I just realized that, as I'm at the end of the time for the Inklings Challenge, I better post what I have rather than keep thinking that I will be able come up with something new. So, @inklings-challenge and Tumblr friends, here is Part 1 of Again and Again!

---------

“Tell it again, MaeMae”

“I’m tired, Peter.”

Mira no longer cared about the sharp edge that crept into the words. Exhaustion leaked through her until every movement hurt, and every word was an effort. She would not tell the Story today. Not again.

“MaeMae. Pleeease.”

Mira looked pointedly into the flames, and zipped her coat all the way up, hunching down until she was burrowed up to her eyes like a turtle, hiding from the world, and from the eyes that looked up at her pleadingly from a too-thin face.

From within the warm coat-cocoon, she wearily laid out her stores of energy in her mind, and calculated how much it might take for her to tell Peter the Story. How much it might take if she was to go find something to eat. How much it might take for her to Move them (again). How much energy she even had left. Every thought floated in the air, just barely evading her; as if they waited in the moment behind or the moment ahead, taunting her in her weakness.

“MaeMae.”

“I’ll tell you the short version. If you’ll be quiet.”

She felt, rather than saw, the little arms wrap around her waist; the scruffy head burrowing against her side; the sore feet stretching toward the warmth of the fire.

“Okay. Ready.”

“There was a people once.”

“The Brave and the True,” the muffled correction floated towards her through the coat barrier.

“Something like that. And—” they died. They failed. They lost their way and the Bravery and Truth gave way to lies that fled into the night. Nothing but Lies and Fear time and time and time again.

“And they were waiting for a Leader, because they could not stay Brave and True and Good on their own.”

They waited for their King. And their King did not come.

“The world was dark, as they waited.”

The world is dark now. And cold, and cruel, and—

“But these People were given one thing to push away the darkness.” A vain hope. A foolish chance. A vision that kept them frozen in time, looking for that which would never come.

“A Story of what would come.” A story that was a lie.

The fire snapped, and sparks flew up, burning little black freckles into the faded pink of Mira’s coat.

“So,” Peter said, as relentless as ever. “Tell me the Story.”

She sighed, and spoke the ancient words:

“The King will come; a life after death, a branch from a tree they cut down.

The Spirit of God will rest upon him; the spirit of wisdom, of counsel and might, of knowledge and fear of the Lord.

He will never judge by the things his eyes see, or decide by the lies that he hears.

But in what is good will be his delight, With righteousness he will decide what is right, and judge with all fairness the poor.

The wolf then shall dwell right beside the young lambs, the leopard lie down with the goat. The deserts shall run full of springs overflowed, the lion shall eat only straw and be filled, and a child, still small, then shall lead them.”

“Little like me?”

“Hush. The earth shall be full of the Goodness of Him, like the waters that cover the sea. His people shall never be hurt or destroyed, the tree that was cut will stand tall and rejoice, and the peace they will have will be glorious.”

Mira closed her eyes against the hopeful silence.

“The End. Go to sleep.”

Peter wriggled closer.

“I can’t wait until He comes,” he whispered at last, looking into the flames with a hunger deeper than an empty stomach. “Maybe if we Move enough, someday we’ll find Him. Maybe, if we find Him, we can bring Him home.”

Maybe pigs will fly. Maybe people could actually be Brave and True and Good.

“Go to sleep,” Mira said again, and waited until his breaths had evened out to carefully extract him from her side, and tiptoe out of the cave and into the night.

[sailforvalinor]

QUICK everyone say something vague and ominous about your WIP that will only make sense later

[romanceyourdemons]

whenever i look into a historical monarch who doesn’t get talked about much and is just kind of a blank spot in my understanding of the historical narrative, 95% of the time what i find is pure white hot blistering capability. a pencil pusher for the ages. a 39 year reign with no more than three hours of sleep a night. there aren’t any good stories from his reign because he systematically caught and stopped all catastrophic good stories before they could start. you shrimply must respect it

[random-brushstrokes]

Willy Pogany (American, 1882–1955) - Hand to the Stars

[coldswarkids]

you are a woman in a fantasy book written by a man. choose your personality trait

PETITE but super strong (defeats men easily 3x your size)

crosses arms across breasts / yanks braid in irritation

has giant sexy bazongers (that are sooooo inconvenient for archery)

"ugh, MEN" (acts in completely irrational manner)

only female character among cast of 3,000 men

see male protagonist > i must bone him immediately

written to "defeat sexist tropes" but is just written as a man instead

not like the OTHER girls (tucks hair behind ears)

damsel in distress (faints dramatically) ooohhhhh

Remaining time: 5 days 21 hours

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

I see your pomodoro method and I raise you procrastinating until you have a healthy level of fear and anxiety and then locking in for 5-7 hours straight

[templevirgin]

Jesus, Gustave Dore, c. 1877

[itspileofgoodthings]

you know what gets me about lord of the rings? evil is defeated by people who choose to fight against it without possessing absolute, or even very much, conviction that they can actually win. all the converging story threads that lead to the happy ending are carried out by people who are far, far more convinced that they will fail than that they will succeed, who had only the frailest, most foolish hope, who had blind faith and frequently wavering hearts not peace or ease or certainty.

middle earth isn’t saved because no one faltered or came close to despairing or who sank to their knees in weary defeat. it’s not saved by pride or conviction or even strength. it’s saved because enough people do what they have to do even if they have to do it in the darkness. in the dust. with the ashes of hopelessness and bitterness in their mouths. because enough people took another step. Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, Aragorn, Theoden, Boromir, Faramir, Merry, Pippin. And many don’t. For every hero there is someone who gives into the “reasonableness” of despair—Saruman, Denethor, Grima, even Gollum—but enough. Enough people said “it doesn’t matter if we lose, I will keep fighting” and then they do.

And that GETS me. It is the most hopeful thing about the lord of the rings to me. There is so much that sums up its spirit, so many beautiful quotes and moments, but to me it’s never been the most famous of the quotes about hope and love that hit me hardest but a line from the films. Before the battle for Minas Tirith, one of the soldiers says “we cannot defeat the armies of Mordor” and Theoden answers “no. but we will meet them in battle nonetheless.”

And I—That is the spirit that leads to the conquering of evil when it comes down to it, when we’re talking about the part played by humanity alone in the fight against evil. Not the conviction you’re going to win, not farsightedness into a perfect future, not perfect inner peace or certainty. But acceptance of the real possibility of defeat, of that defeat being more the reality, the future, of your life than the victory, and then doing the damn thing anyway because goodness is worth fighting for even if you lose.

[melusinemuse]

@freenarnian your tags are everything

[wifegideonnav]

gonna be honest i don’t know how many more ‘enter the 6 digit code we sent to your phone’s i got left in me

[fictionadventurer]

Cyberpunk Beauty & the Beast?

Once upon a time, far in the future, the son of the CEO of a Major Technology Corporation comes of age and takes over the family company. He learns that the company has been doing some Very Bad Things and wants to put a stop to it. Another top executive tries to convince him that these Highly Unethical and Dangerous Technologies (such as the city’s incredibly intrusive surveillance system) are vital to the company’s continued existence. When he refuses to listen, she takes advantage of the technology that plugs his mind in to all the company’s computer systems, leaving his mind trapped in cyberspace while his body’s stuck in a comatose state. She can’t kill him--there are certain things that only the CEO has access to--but she can keep him trapped in this mental torment, and revive him every once in a while to see if he’s finally willing to hand full control of the company over to her.

Some time later, Rival Corporation falls on hard times, leaving technology genius Beauty out of work. Her father hears of a job possibility for her, and goes to a house in one of the city’s elite neighborhoods to see if he can arrange an interview--to no avail. The employer never shows, and the house is strangely empty. But her father does see roses growing in a highly secured greenhouse. Real plants are a near-impossibility in their ultra-technological world, but Beauty loves the flowers, and her father can’t resist bringing her a little something to cheer her up after his failure.

He make it all the way to the bush itself before the alarms go off and the house’s security system traps him inside. The House’s AI doesn’t alert the authorities, like these systems are supposed to do. Instead, it puts him through an interrogation--how did he get inside when the greenhouse was guarded by top-of-the-line surveillance technology? He explains that his daughter the computer genius taught him a few tricks, and begs for mercy since he only intended to take one flower. The AI demands the father bring the girl here to the house; if he doesn’t, the AI will alert the authorities about the theft and their lives will basically be over.

Beauty answers the summons, expecting the worse--and gets a job offer from the AI. It turns out the AI is running a vast corporate espionage network; it has made its agents invisible to the surveillance systems and digital networks in the city. But to take down the Major Technology Corporation, their network needs a physical someone who isn’t invisible, someone who can be seen who can speak to the right people, open the right doors, operate the right technology with the skill of an expert--and Beauty’s the only one qualified for the job. When Beauty learns exactly how Major Technology Corporation is using its vast surveillance network to do Very Evil Things to the people of the city, she signs right up.

With the help of the AI’s invisible servants, Beauty undertakes missions to undermine the Major Technology Corporation. The AI isn’t like any artificial intelligence that Beauty’s ever seen. For one thing, its access to city-wide systems is unparalleled in her experience. For another thing, it has opinions and a moral compass that aren’t like anything she’s seen in technology (what AI has a love of roses?). It seems almost...human, and she’s astonished to find herself developing a friendship with it.

Eventually, they manage to gain access to the highest levels of the company’s technology, where Beauty destroys the Evil Mainframes, liberating the city and taking down the Major Corporation. She also finds a man plugged into the system itself, and rushes to disconnect him before the crashing system erases his mind with it. She learns the man is the lost CEO of the company--and her mysterious AI employer. The Evil Executive had no idea that leaving the CEO helplessly connected to the company’s computer systems gave him complete access to all their surveillance and security technology, and he took advantage of that to bring down the company. 

With the evil technology destroyed, they save the city, reform the company, and eventually, get married. Happily ever afters all around (or as much as one can get in a cyberpunk world).

[fictionadventurer]

I guess I'm watching the Cocteau Beauty and the Beast tonight.

Somehow, in all these years of knowjng about this film as one of the classics of fairy tale films, I somehow missed the fact that it was in French?? Did I know this at one time and just forgot?? Utterly baffled at how I missed this.

Writing the opening credits on the chalkboard, that's pretty cool. (Maybe this is something a lot of old movies do, idk).

Seven minutes in and I'm bored. Who cares about Beauty's sisters?

Ah, the original Gaston!

Beauty genuinely thinks her sisters are more beautiful. It's a common-enough trope in retellings, but she manages to sell it. She's not lamenting over it or pitying herself, she's just matter-of-fact about it.

It turns out that what every Beauty and the Beast adaptation needs is for Beauty to have a brother who defends her from scoundrels. Even in just this one moment, it's a nice dynamic that I wish I'd see used more often.

Beauty plans to stay single for her father's sake? Interesting way to show their bond. (Though idk if she wants to or just thinks her father expects it)

Gosh, her sisters are annoying.

Oh, her brothers are idiots, too!

The forest is nice and moody. I kind of wonder if the animated film borrowed some shots here.

In motion, I like how the "invisible servants" thing just makes it look like the castle is haunted.

Arm candelabras! Creepy!

I'm loving the creepy atmosphere of the castle in general. This movie is working best when people stop talking and they let the visuals immerse you in the fairy tale atmosphere.

Aw, the Beast is all fuzzy!

I like how the theft of the rose is portrayed as one of your typical fairy conditions. You could have taken anything else, but stealing a rose leads to death, because that's the rule, no further explanation needed.

Nice that her father intended to go back.

Loving the dreamy imagery of Beauty exploring the castle.

So you were totally fine with the furniture talking to you and the statues and blankets moving on their own, but the appearance of a big fuzzy guy is what you faint over? Okay.

I know the Beast usually wears human clothes, but it's striking me as funny right now. Just imagining him putting on his little boots and his big old lace ruff is amusing.

What's with the Beast flailing around like he's drunk?

Okay, she's got an Evil Queen dress now.

"Will you let me watch you dine?" Was there no other less-creepy way you could have phrased that?

Idk man, I just can't get over this Beast's voice. And he's acting way too creepy for me to buy the whole "he's good-hearted, just ugly" thing.

Like, dude, I don't think your ugliness should be her main concern here. I'm much more concerned about the fact that you live in a creepy haunted castle with human hands and eyes sticking out of the walls and furniture.

I can see why this is so influential, though, because this imagery is amazing, and I want to steal half of it.

Why are his hands smoking? Did I miss something?

Right on for yelling at him for being in your room, girl.

Oh, he drinks like a puppy! Cute!

His little ears move!

And he's actively fighting a beastly nature?

Idk, man, I find it kind of repulsive that she lets you drink from her hands. There was zero reason you couldn't take two steps and drink from that fountain yourself. Or drink from your own hands.

Oh, we're going full crazy bloody wolf-man now. I love how Beauty refuses to put up with his shit. Like, "So you're cursed with a supernatural bloodlust. Get a hold of yourself, loser."

The comedy of the moneylenders taking away the brothers' chess table midgame was a welcome relief.

Oh, this version does a forbidden room thing, too? But Beast is also forbidden from it?

This is the first retelling I've seen where it really feels like the Beast is her unattractive arranged-marriage husband. Sending her home is like the wife wanting to return to her father's house. Her deciding to leave him would kill him.

He literally tells her that if she doesn't come back, he'll die and she'll get all his riches. And he gives her the key to his magic! He's handing her the means to kill him and become a wealthy widow, solving all her problems, but he trusts her to come back. I'm obsessed.

Her speech to her father about how she's noticed all these layers in the Beast and feels sorry for him is a good one. It would make me believe in this romance if any of it was shown rather than just told.

How long is she supposed to have been gone? Like, she's surprised that the laundry's been done.

Tears turning into magic diamonds that cure her father? Okay, sure, why not?

And now they're planning to murder the Beast for his riches. Beauty needs a better family.

He trusted you with the key, and you just left it sitting out on an open table?

Why does the Gaston guy seem to be living with her family?

As despicable as her family is, at least they're doing something. Being active in the story.

The magic mirror breaking as a sign of danger is a nice touch.

For all the fairy tale melodrama, there's just enough comedy and worldbuilding and plot expansion to keep it a bit grounded.

The guy breaking into the treasure house gets killed and turned into a beast at the same moment the Beast turned back into the prince, which implies that it wasn't love that saved him at all, it's just that some other hapless victim took his place.

This prince guy is just as melodramatic as the Beast.

"I don't mind being afraid, as long as it's with you." Cute. And a necessary line to make me believe in a happy ending after she seems so disappointed by losing the Beast.

When he said they could fly to his kingdom, I didn't think he was literally gonna fly in the air like Superman! I lost it. Dissolved in giggles as the movie fades out.

Overall, a compelling adaptation (in a classic foreign movie way) with great imagery, an unconvincing central relationship, and some good (and some confusing) plot choices. Glad to have finally watched it. It feels like a major hole in my fairy tale experience has been filled in.

[str-ngeloop]

your strengths are harder to see than your weaknesses because the problems you're good at solving don't appear as problems, because you're so good at handling them before they become problems... unlike the relatively rare problem that becomes a crisis, which demands undue attention. it's sort of like a reverse survivorship bias. the problems that become noticed as problems, the moments where you notice your capacity has a gap, are only the ones that aren't cut off at the pass by your strength and capability, before they become problems. so if all you focus on is problems then all you'll see is your weaknesses. which isn't accurate

[arte-artem-artibus]

Neil Welliver - Greer's Bog, 1973, screenprint in colors, 91 × 90 cm

[fictionadventurer]

Thanks for the prompts, everyone! This was a ton of fun, but I'm going to have to declare the library scavenger hunt complete! Thanks for playing along!