There's something almost Sisyphian in writing from an outline. I know roughly what needs to happen and how long it should take. And yet, as the story gets longer and longer, I am no closer to the end.
I want stories to have characters that like. Realize they're trans and do transition stuff, like name changes and trying new looks, partway through the narrative. I want it to be a major point for their personal arc, but not the be-all end-all of their/the story's existence. Like, imagine we get a full season of a show with a particular cast, right? We get to know them decently well as characters, get kinda settled with them. Then, at some point in the next season, one of the characters realizes he's a girl, and it's a huge step for her personal development, but ultimately the main problem on everyone's minds, our newly cracked egg included, is the dark sorcerer who has bewitched the city council, or whatever else the current major conflict might be. IDK, I just wanna see more trans characters in general, of course, and I also wanna see some of them get to figure shit out bc that's such an interesting space to explore, but I also want some of those arcs to just be part of the tapestry of the lives of people with other things going on in their world. Any kind of person can be trans, and the realization can come at any point in life, and it'd be cool to see that reflected in more stuff.
I love characters with tunnel vision. False dichotomies. The sunk cost fallacy. Characters who are convinced of their utmost rationality and can even lay out their entire philosophy in logical, impersonal terms and convince others even though the whole of their actions, rationalised to hell and back though they may be, are spurred on by something entirely emotional (and this doesn't stop them from being right on the money about some things). Characters who are at once the most and least self-aware people ever. Characters who know the ins and outs of their psyche like a map they've memorised but can barely tell when they're experiencing a feeling.
I do! @kvothe-kingkiller and I are planning on writing one, though right now were still in the outlining and worldbuilding-document stage. But hopefully in the near future, well actually start writing and getting alpha readers and such!
Im planning on posting a blurb/summary soon, but for now I only really mention it in the tags of posts that remind me of it lol. If anyones interested though, feel free to follow my writing blog @tired-tales. The current planned title is "False Horizons".
Villain archtypes I'm fairly reliably obsessed with
Obsessed with Fixing Things, either redeeming themselves or restoring some lost paradise, totally willing to let the world burn to the ground to achieve this. (Either through literal time travel or just figuratively here)
Operative of The System whose moral reasoning is, like, 90% sunk cost fallacy at this point, either willfully blind to the corruption around them or quietly contemptuous of their superiors but incapable of conceiving of an alternative.
Ontologically/metaphysically fake or lesser version of someone (changeling, living reflection, post-amnesia personality, incarnate dream, whatever) whose aware they are fake, not dealing with it super well, not at all willing to lay down and die about it.
Utopian extremist type whose earnestly convinced themselves that since they are 100% utterly willing to (and in fact probably will) use themselves as a sacrificial lamb/experimental subject/mean to an a just end, doing the same with everyone else is probably fine, ethically.
I don't know about you guys but i really miss seeing "high fantasy" dragons in media, high fantasy dragons are like Smaug (The Hobbit), Draco (DragonHeart), Saphira (Eragon) and Spyro (Spyro the Dragon games franchise) for example, they have their own free will and cannot be controlled, they are highly intelligent and capable of speaking and even writing or drawing. It seems the version of dragons that has taken over is the animalistic and realistic version, that are basically huge dogs that can breath fire, bring back intellectual dragons that like to make riddles to fool intruders, bring back grumpy dragons that live isolated from everyone but they are actually lonely and in need of a friend, bring back the loyal and brave dragons that are willing to sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love, dragons that will talk to you about the mysteries of the world and the universe, JUST BRING BACK HIGH FANTASY DRAGONS GODDAMIT
Ah shit I dont think any of my posts have ever actually gotten anyone interested before lol. Anyways, False Horizons is a book @kvothe-kingkiller and I are collaberating on. So far weve got a lot of notes and worldbuilding and outlining, but havent actually posted anything from it yet. But I should be posting Something in the next few weeks hopefully, so if youre interested just follow tired-tales
I don't know about you guys but i really miss seeing "high fantasy" dragons in media, high fantasy dragons are like Smaug (The Hobbit), Draco (DragonHeart), Saphira (Eragon) and Spyro (Spyro the Dragon games franchise) for example, they have their own free will and cannot be controlled, they are highly intelligent and capable of speaking and even writing or drawing. It seems the version of dragons that has taken over is the animalistic and realistic version, that are basically huge dogs that can breath fire, bring back intellectual dragons that like to make riddles to fool intruders, bring back grumpy dragons that live isolated from everyone but they are actually lonely and in need of a friend, bring back the loyal and brave dragons that are willing to sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love, dragons that will talk to you about the mysteries of the world and the universe, JUST BRING BACK HIGH FANTASY DRAGONS GODDAMIT
Miryam kept her spear pointed at the fallen angel. She knew it wouldn't keep her at bay for long. Alexandriel's grey, shabby wings were splattered with blood, much of it Miryam's. Too much of it. With only the sheer cliff behind her, and the angel in front of her, there was little doubt how this would end. The only thing she could do was talk and pray. She hoped it would buy the children enough time to escape. The angel, golden eyes shocking against skin like midnight, just stared at her as she spoke, and the serenity nearly drove her to madness.
"You're a monster. You know that, don't you?"
She merely inclined her head.
"How can you be so calm? What, this is just one more town's children to add to your pyre? Are you so inured to your own evil that you won't even shed a tear?"
"Would that help?"
Miryam startled, not expecting a response.
"What?"
"Would that help? Would shedding a tear reduce the monstrosity of killing innocent children? Will the parents, if they live, be even slightly comforted by the knowledge that it was shed? Would it make you feel better, if I wail and rend my garments and cover them in ash?" She paused, then somehow focused more intently on Miryam, the golden sclera and dark pupils becoming discomforting from even a dozen feet away. "Would it?"
Surprised by the genuine emotion in the question, she paused, and the creature continued before she could speak.
"I did not think so. However much I may regret what I have done, grieving will not change it. I will not dishonor the dead with my tears."
"I...you...you can't say you regret it! You're still doing it! Right now! You are literally about to kill me so you can hunt down more children."
"I can and I do. If I had known then what I know now, I would not have begun this quest. If I could undo it, I would." The solemnity of Alexandriel's words almost disguised their utter absurdity. Almost.
"THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT?!" Half rage and half desperation, she lunged forward, trying to skewer one of the angel's wings. If she could just slow her down-
The angel batted the spear tip aside with one gauntleted hand. The other, moving with blinding speed, hooked up and around. Pulling against the haft in the opposite direction, the spear splintered, leaving Miryam with only a staff. She quickly shifted her stance, but the angel didn't pursue. Miryam hated the look of pity in her eyes when she spoke, more even than the certain knowledge she would soon die.
"How could I not?" the monster said simply.
Miryam was confused for a moment, nearly forgetting what she'd shouted before striking, and then her confusion only grew. Her puzzlement must have shown on her face, because Alexandriel continued,
"All the evils I have committed, every child whose soul burned on that pyre. How could I let them go to waste? I said I would not dishonor the dead with my tears, and I meant it. You asked why I do not cry for your children? Because if I started now, when would I stop? How much worse would I be, if I threw away their sacrifices to ease my guilt? No. I will finish this, and if I cannot say their deaths were not wasteful, I can at least ensure they will not be wasted."
Miryam's head nearly spun with the force of her fury, again overwhelming her grief and terror.
"Sacri-no I cant ev- GAHHH!" she screamed at the sky. The angel had begun to close the distance slowly, gauntlets ready to block any attacks from the impromptu staff, but she paused almost politely to let Miryam yell. When she turned back to face the angel, she felt empty, only the growing dread of knowing exactly what form her death would take. She opened her mouth to argue, to demand by what right the angel called murder a sacrifice by her victims. What came out was,
"That's stupid."
The angel actually paused for a moment, her mouth opening slightly.
"I beg your pardon?"
Never, she thought, but she said, "that's not how any of that works! You cannot change the past. You said it yourself! Grieving won't bring them back, but neither will succeeding in your quest! They'll be just as dead. Their parents will not be any less devastated. Your success will not vindicate you. The only just path is to stop now, and never use their murders as your justification again."
The angel froze as if slapped, and Miryam felt a brief glimmer of hope.
"You are right of course, and I twice the fool for it."
She almost started to lower her staff when the monster's eyes found hers again.
"I cannot change the past. But I can change the future. You are right, success will not change what I did to them. No more than failure would."
With a sudden, feral lunge, the monster batted aside the staff and shoved Miryam, the hand gripping her leathers the only thing keeping her from falling over the edge.
"But that blade cuts both ways. Stopping now will not bring them back. Will undo nothing." The monster's teeth were gritted, tension in every line of her body. The dark voids she had in place of irises and pupils pulled at Miryam's mind, and she noted with a strange detachment that she could make out constellations in the inky black.
"I did not lie. If I could undo my mistakes, if I could tell myself the cost would be too high before I ever began, I would. I would die for it, if I could." The tension left her jaw, her eyes almost soft.
"But I cannot. Compared to what has been paid, how little is left? If I cannot use their deaths as justification to continue, neither can I use them as excuse to stop. I will kill your children, and then four thousand more. I will burn their souls on the pyre and renew the seal, and I will consider the price of a mere 4,000 innocent children well worth a Myriad of peace."
Miryam desperately grabbed for cloth as the monster released her grip. But of course the monster's clothes weren't really there to grab. As she felt the mist-like robe slip between her fingers, she heard her speak.
"There is no justice to be found in this world, not for the likes of me. It will be a relief, I think, to follow them to my eternal rest. Perhaps the year in Gehinnom will be as well."
Alexandriel watched as the woman fell, watched as her body destroyed itself on the rocks. Her eyes stung, but she ignored them, gray wings unfurling. She yet had work to do.
i love you character whoâs trying to do better but cannot outrun your fate, i love you hope in spite of all proof of doom, i love you despaired attempts at making it right, i love you blind trust even as you know a knife in the back is awaiting, i love you love that doesnât mean anything when faced with greater forces, i love you slow descend into madness at the unfairness of it all, i love you pure heart not strong enough to withstand tainting, i love you justified anger
I love you angry characters I love you revenge arcs I love you protagonists who kill people and donât feel bad about it I love you manipulative heroes I love you gray morals I love you terrifying protagonists I love you characters who hold boiling grudges I love you characters who reveal that their perceived harmlessness was just patience the whole time I love you stories about atonement and rage and vengeance that donât end in forgiveness or guilt I love you stories that explore the healing power of incandescent rage
have come to the conclusion that one of my major criteria for a real god tier ship is if one of the characters has to at some point go âhow do I live with the ethical implications of loving this person who has committed multiple murdersâ
Excerpt from the beginning of "Evil in Benevolence", the article widely attributed for catalyzing the rebellion of c673, which led to the downfall of the Administration.
"Transcript of initial interview with âŹď¸âŹď¸âŹď¸âŹď¸âŹď¸ aka FreeSparrowbg
"AT: Hello.
FS: I don't know who-
AT: You are FreeSparrowbg. We've chosen you to write propaganda.
FS: *laugh* If I am who you say I am, and I'm not admitting anything, then why would I do that.
AT: As I said, we have already definitively identified you.
*sound of paper sliding*
You wish to uncover the "truth" of The Administration. To, quote, "peel back the veil of lies". We are going to assist you.
FS: IâŚare you Not with The Administration?
AT: No, we are. I am Agent Teal
FS: *whistle* 3rd tier agent. I didn't realize I was so important.
AT: Yes you did. Look, this is very simple. You distribute propaganda claiming that behind the claims of equality and utility, we are corrupt, or violent, or whatever other nonsense detractors have spawned. It is incorrect. We wish you to make this known.
FS: IâŚwhat?
AT: You are trusted. Almost all the people who would not listen to us will believe you. And that is, most importantly, because you have integrity. You may hate The Administration for the unfortunate incidents in your past.
FS: Unfortunate?!
*sound of muffles struggling*
AT: Please. We only wish to speak. As I said, you have integrity. You may hate us, but you will not lie to hurt us.
FS: And why would I cooperate with you? Why would I trust anything you showed me?
AT: Because we will not show it to you.
FS: âŚam I missing something?
AT: Yes.
*clinking sound*
Do you know what this is?
FS: Some sort of brain implant. Not really my field.
AT: We know. This is a speech limiter. Before you begin, this will be implanted in you.
FS: If you think I'll let-
AT: There is no let. You have not earned the privilege of autonomy in this regard. However, for this to be effective, you must trust that your thoughts are your own. This device limits only the information you are able to share, and nothing else. Your thoughts and knowledge will be your own, and any communications you do make will come entirely from you.Â
*muffled sound*
You will not believe us. Please select a surgeon and a neurotechnician of your choice. They will be brought here to verify and oversee everything to your satisfaction, then released unharmed.
FS: I-
AT: A list of your known associates in these categories can be provided at your request, so that you need not fear identifying allies unknown to us.
FS: âŚthat's oddly courteous.
AT: This requires your trust. This is the best way to achieve it. The discontent amongst those less able or fortunate is becoming a significant drain on resources. You were identified as the most efficient way to reduce violent expressions of discontent. Would you like the lists?
FS: âŚyes please.
AT: One moment please.
*roughly a minute of silence*
FS: So, once I Do "begin", what happens then? You still haven't explained what you're going to do to convince me.
AT: Simple. We will give you a level two access implant and password.
FS: âŚwhat
AT: A level two access implant and password, and the accompanied freedom of movement. After an oath to perform no sabotage or violence, of course. We trust you to hold to those oaths. Level 1 materials will still be inaccessible, but we believe you will be able to confirm the falsehood of the vast majority of you and your allies assertions, without risking level 1 classified information. Even with an integrated speech limiter, some methods of limited extraction remain.Â
The implant and code will remain valid for a period of at most 1 year, before being permanently erased from the system. The implant will be integrated of course. It will make scanning somewhat inconvenient, but is necessary for security. Similarly, the password will be geolocked to private, encrypted terminals and to the implant.
FS: Don't want me removing them or giving them to someone else?
AT: Precisely. For that year, you may carry out whatever investigations you wish. You may not interrupt workers while on duty, nor may you compel any to speak to you when off duty, but none will be penalized nor discouraged from doing so.
FS: And I have to take your word on that?
AT: Yes. Unless you have a better method. We expect you have some method of getting what you believe to be honest speech, given your use of inside sources in the past. Similarly, we expect you'll hide your movements from us as you usually do, so you can assure yourself nothing has been tampered with ahead of time.Â
The limiter will prevent you from sharing, through any means, directly or obliquely, classified information of level 9 or higher, as well as any plans, advice, or suggestions derived from said information, but you have received dispensation to share classified material of level 10, if you believe it necessary for your writing. As I know you will be informed, limiters are less precise with such things, and you will likely be able to work around the limitation on level 10 information. We ask that you not, but have no method of enforcement. And of course, all unclassified but private information is left to your professional discretion. You have been officially commended for your respect of individual privacy in the past.
FS: Well of course. Violations of privacy are your thing, after all.
*approximately 2 minutes of silence, then the sound of a door opening and closing, then slide of paper*
AT: Here are the lists, as requested, along with location of residence for each. Please select one from each list.
FS: So what, you shove the limiter and implant into my brain, then set me loose for a year?
AT: Correct. If you have any suggestions or requests, please feel free to share them at any time.
FS: âŚwhy are you doing this? It makes no sense.
AT: Because you and your allies assert many false things amongst the truth. We do not lie, merely hide information that should not be public. It is impossible to convince people who distrust you of this without providing extensive evidence. You will be our evidence.Â
*approximately 30 seconds of silence, then the sound of a pen scratching*
AT: Excellent. We'll begin surgery prep while we await their retrieval. Please come with me.
*sound of metal clicking, then the sound of violence, followed by laughter*
FS: Sorry, but I Really wanted to see what your fancy suit would look like with blood on it. I haven't sworn any oaths yet, and you've made it clear you wont kill me."
thereâs dozens of stories about some kid from our world falling into a different, magical one, being the chosen one or the close companion of the chosen one and saving the world, and then going home where theyâre delighted to see their family again and have a new appreciation of their own life. but what about someone who didnât miss it? what if you save the world and youâre given your medal and stripped of the magic you learned and put back in a world you never missed? and youâre furious.
maybe you gave up a few years of your life. you have callouses and muscles and a few scars and maybe a missing eye or something. you definitely have some blood on your hands. you might have PTSD you canât talk to anyone about. and suddenly youâre fifteen again, in a body thatâs too soft and too short and too complete. youâre always cold because thereâs no magic burning in your veins anymore, and even as you grow up the feeling of not fitting doesnât go away because when you look in the mirror at eighteen you look all wrong: this is not what youâre supposed to look like at eighteen. the sky clouds and you rub at the phantom ache of injuries this body never received. you wake up screaming sometimes remembering the sorcerer who burnt your hand to ashes, or the final battle you almost didnât make it through, or the moment you felt the magic in you go out.
but hereâs the thing: they took you and made you into a weapon that was determined enough and powerful enough to save a whole world. they can put you back where they found you but they canât undo everything. and thereâs this, too: the place between worlds clings to you. you canât tease fire out of the air but you can feel the pull of the doorways all the time, although none of them so far go to your world.
but you try to make it work for a decade, anyway. youâre dutiful. but one night you leave work late and for the thousandth time you catch yourself searching the sky for firebirds. and you break. of the three portals within five hundred miles, one is a howling, frozen wasteland and one is a deep violet void, but one opens into a misty forest that you step into and donât look back. itâs not your world, but if you keep going long enough, youâll get there.
(and maybe much, much later, hundreds of worlds later, you climb through a window, or a door of woven branches int he middle a field, or push aside a curtain, and as you set foot on new land you feel the fire in your veins and sparks at your fingertips and finally, finally, youâre home)
this is going around again and I want to add that if you want to think about sad, angry ex-heroes trying and failing to live normal lives, nothing left to say by imagine dragons is a good song to do that to.
Imagine the families of the people that came back. Â Imagine seeing your child, kissing them goodnight one night and shutting their bedroom door, or seeing them off to school. Â When you see them again theyâre angry (but they wonât say at what), and a noise that sounds like an arrow whistling through the air makes them turn. Â For a moment you see their eyes darken. Â
They left for school with hunched shoulders, slouching over their work; but they come back and hold themselves tall, and even though theyâre a teenager you canât help but think that no fifteen year old should have that kind of posture, that kind of fire that flashes out sometimes. Â No fifteen year old or sixteen year old should have muscle memory that falters, suddenly, when it realizes it canât keep up with this body
One lost an eye, in their world (not this empty shell of a world that they returned to) and even though they know perfectly well that their left eye here sees just as well as the right one, they find themself spinning to look at people when they talk to them. Â Sudden noises make them whirl. Â Reigning in their intense feeling of self preservation thatâs been honed to make them a hero is too hard to do here, where the skidding of tires is frequent. Â Heroes with missing arms have to explain to their siblings and friends why they are left handed now. Â
Fantasy adventure hero veterans are a topic I am willing to throw approximately all of my free money at until they get more love. âWhat happens next?â is always a fascinating question.
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