"Ladybugs" inspired story idea

Patreon recently added a collections feature, and one of the two collections I've made so far is "Just Transbian Stories" so --since I have that collection available to me, for restarting posting here I'm grabbing a few from that collection.

On that note, this was originally posted on Patreon on April 28, 2024 but behind a paywall, so it's easier to just read it here.

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[If you don't want a summary of what Ladybugs was/is, and just want the story idea, skip to the first or second break. (Either should work, the difference is two short paragraphs.)]

For some reason the memory of the 1992 Rodney Dangerfield movie Ladybugs popped into my head about a week ago, it's been there ever since, and . . . the movie is bad.

Morally bad.

Like, if you wanted TERF propaganda in a family-friendly package, and were thus prohibited from making your own version of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs (whom TERFs cite all the fucking time to the point you'd think the movie had been a documentary) Ladybugs is basically what you'd make.

A cis boy pretends to be a girl to join a girls' soccer team for two reasons.

First, his mother's fiancée (Dangerfield's character) is the coach, and he wants the underperforming team to win, and what better way to do that than to get an athletic but unremarkable boy to secretly play on the team?  So it plays straight into TERF shit about trans girls just being cheaters using their alleged male advantage to beat their real, true, "biologically female" competitors.

Second, the cis boy in question has a crush on one of the players, and joining the team as a girl lets him get closer to her, so it plays straight into shit TERFs imagine and say about teenage boys pretending to be girls so they can invade female only groups and/or spaces to get closer to the teenage girls that turn them on.

While the cis boy crossdressing his way onto the team is presented as a sympathetic character, it's notable that a) they cast Jonathan Brandis (Lucas Wolenczak from SeaQuest) instead of Leonardo DiCaprio (he's been in too much to have a signature roll) because teenage-DiCaprio passed as a girl too well, and they felt that would kill the humor, and b) the film ends with . . . I'll just quote Wikipedia:

[Dangerfield's character] is now managing the company's girls softball team, where the entire team are boys dressed as girls.  After his boss congratulates him on his success, [Dangerfield's character] says to the audience, "I finally got some respect!"

So it's not just Brandis' character; having one boy (and remember that conservative propaganda says all trans girls are boys) on one team has paved the way to have all the girls on an entire other girls-only team replaced by boys, and while the film ends there, in TERF fever dreams, that's just the beginning.

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The part that originally popped into my head wasn't actually terrible, and indeed Dangerfield's character was being nice, albeit in a way that upheld sexist standards of beauty, but the idea that set things off wasn't related to that specific bit, but instead general concept of the movie.

The idea was basically, "What if you did this and it weren't a comedy? What if you did this and it were a serious drama instead?"

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So we start with a sexist coach of a girls' soccer team, and he's convinced if he could just sneak a boy onto the team they'd instantly be the best girls' team in whatever league they're in.

Then we introduce a "boy" he has power over, leverage against, or both.  So say an uncle that's blackmailing "him".

Being an uncle puts the coach as an adult in the family, which gives him a degree of power, even more so if the closeted trans girl who will be our main character is a latchkey kid because of parents who are never around, and uncle-coach has become the adult relative who's around the kid most often, possibly with the parents trusting him to check in on the kid and do the adulting when they're not around.

As for the blackmail, originally I was thinking an uncle-coach caught the trans girl dressed as a girl, which he took for crossdressing instead of a sign of transness (he probably doesn't believe there is such a thing as an actual trans girl) which has the benefit of explaining where the uncle-coach got the whole, "I could get a boy pretending to be a girl to join the team," idea from, but - by the lights of toxic masculinity - crossdressing would discount "his" value as a "male", and thus make trans girl a poor candidate.  So maybe something else.

It could still be something trans-related.  In fact, it could still be something clothing related.  Maybe uncle came across one of trans girl's bras one time he was checking in on trans girl and assumed that "he" was secretly sneaking girls over for sex.  The blackmail becomes a carrot and a stick, "If you do this for me, I'll let you keep doing that and pretend I never noticed anything; if you don't, I'll tell your parents exactly what you've been doing behind their backs," or something to the same effect.

Uncle thinks he's sneaking a virile young man onto the girls' soccer team he coaches; trans girl main character doesn't know which would be worse, her parents believing she's secretly sexually active, or her parents discovering the truth after uncle tells them she's sexually active.

Thus we get a closeted trans girl being forced onto the soccer team.

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And her emotions are all over the place.

On the one hand, she likes how she looks, she likes the new friends she's making, she likes that they just accept her as female.  On the other hand, this isn't something she's doing of her own free will, coercion can turn wonderful things into terrible things, and she feels that.  Any time thoughts of why this is happening in general or thoughts about her uncle in particular come to mind, it makes her feel like shit.

On Zaphod Beeblebrox's third hand, she's terrified.

Terrified of how the new friends she's made will react when they learn the truth, terrified of what might happen to her if the truth becomes public, terrified that if she does well on the field she'll become conservative propaganda that adds fuel to the fire of banning girls like her from girls' sports, terrified that if she doesn't perform well her uncle will think she's intentionally doing badly to weasel out of upholding her end of the deal, terrified of damn near everything.

And with all that in her head she's not performing at her best, and even if she didn't have that going on she wouldn't magically become the best player on the team, and certainly not the best player in the league, via her "maleness".

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Her basic strategy for dealing with some of that is to find ways to prevent her from participating in actual games.  Practice, she's there, friendly matches where it doesn't have an effect on the team's standing in the league, she's probably there.  A game that actually counts?  She tries to use the fact that her participation is secret to get double booked.

After all, she can't very well tell people, "I'm not available at such and such a time because I'm secretly leading a double life in which other-me is a soccer player who has a game then," so it's not her fault if someone schedules her to do something else at game time.

A watershed moment is probably when she privately begs a teacher she trusts to give her detention at a certain time, and while she doesn't tell the teacher exactly what's going on, the encounter does lead to her beginning to go to therapy.

At some point she comes out first to her closest friends on the team, and eventually the whole team.

Of course, at the same time she's edging toward better mental health and an increasing circle of supportive people who know she's trans, her "It's not my fault I can't play, [so and so] is making me [whatever] at game time," is getting rather less convincing.

She did have steps to obfuscate that she was intentionally missing games (like making sure she was forced to be unavailable for the same reasons at non-game times, and having multiple things that seemed unrelated prevent her from playing) but that can only go so far.

And since she's being blackmailed, "I don't care what else is going on, play in the next game or I'll ruin your life," is a thing her uncle-coach can and does say (though exact wording might differ because this is so much of a first draft that I only put it into words right this moment.)

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Also there is a teen romance plot, but very much not the trans girl joining the team to get closer to the girl she has a crush on.  It develops starting from nothing, through friendship to romance over the course of the story.

Trans girl is pretty oblivious, in part because she's got so much going on in her head, and in part just because.  At one point a third party has to take her aside and explain that she'd just been flirting with best friend/love interest because she totally failed to notice that that's what she and best friend/love interest were doing.

And here's something I've kind of been going back and forth on because on the one hand there's a gender critical talking point about trans girls and women being . . . sex crazed perverts who want to boink all the females, and even though the concept for this story is entirely sex-free (none of them feel like they're ready) having the main character end up with more than one girlfriend kind of plays into that talking point, but on the other hand why shouldn't a story feature a teenage poly relationship?

Also on the second of those two hands, pretty much the only dialogue I thought up is about that.

Though I never wrote it down, and it might be trying to flee my head right now.

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At the first official game trans girl is successfully forced to play in she manages to pull the other coach aside beforehand and have an incredibly awkward coming out because she is, again, terrified that she'll be used as "boys in girls' sports" propaganda, and she figures having the other coach demand she sit the game out is better for everyone (including the world at large) than having the truth come out after she plays in the game.

The other coach is actually fine with having a pre-hormones (pre-everything) trans girl playing on the other team, and keeps the fact trans girl is trans to her(?)self, because she's not just gonna out a random teenager.

Trans girl, meanwhile, spends the entire game really self-conscious because she just came out to a complete stranger and doesn't know who that stranger might have told. In spite of that worry, she ultimately doesn't think the other coach outed her, but her self-consciousness based hyper-alertness means she does notice that one player on the other team has been looking at her in particular, and she thinks that girl can tell she's trans/"a boy" (depending on how bad the trans girl's imposter syndrome is at that particular moment.)

Since she's scared, she confides in her best friend after the game who then (to her horror) walks over and asks the girl on the other team about it.

After Best Friend gets the other girl to agree to talk to her at enough of a distance from other people that they won't be overheard, this happens:

Best Friend: So, my friend over there is really shy.  Kinda insecure, even.  *pause*  She thinks you were staring at her.

Other Girl: I wasn't--  I don't--  *looks away, blushes*  Was it that obvious?

Best Friend: Apparently.

Other Girl: (back to looking at Best Friend)  I was trying not to.

Best Friend: That's nice.  *beat*  Why were you staring at her?

*silence*

Best Friend: If I can't give her an answer, she's gonna go nuts thinking--

Other Girl: (blurted out)  Because I think she's cute.

Best Friend: Right there with you.

*Other Girl gives confused look*

Best Friend: *Looks at ground, looks at sky, looks back at other girl*  (possibly says something to herself under her breath to get courage up)  Hey, how would you feel about a date with three people?

Other Girl: (shades of, "I must have heard you wrong")  What?

Best Friend: You, me, her, going on a date together.

Other Girl: (shades of, "Ok, I heard you right, but now I'm even more confused")  What?

Best Friend: Like I said, I think she's cute too.

Other Girl: (knitted brow, fresh out of emotion to put into her voice) So *beat* like *another beat* you and I compete to see who she likes more?

Best Friend: No.  *pause*  You think she's cute, I think she's cute,  *briefly looks off to the side*  I think you're cute,  *Other Girl blushes slightly*  I'd like to think I'm not ugly so . . .  *pause during which she glances up, down, and off to the side*  So  *beat*  So you go on a date with her at the same time she goes on a date with me while I go on a date with you.

*pause*

Best Friend: Yes, this is me asking you out.

Other Girl: Uh . . .

Best Friend: (losing confidence with every word she speaks)  Of course this is contig-- contingent on her agreeing to this, and - like I said - she's shy, and this is probably a stupid idea and--

Other Girl: Yes.  *pause*  (flustered)  Wait, you didn't ask a yes or no question.  I mean--  What I mean to say--  That is--  *closes her eyes, takes a deep breath*  (after opening her eyes)  I'd love to go on a three person date.  *pause*  I think.  *beat*  And if I wouldn't I won't know until I try, so just  *makes a circular gesture with one of her hands as she tries to find the words*  (having not found the words) Yes.

Best Friend: (playfully, having regained some confidence and even more snark)  I didn't ask a yes or no question.

Contact info is exchanged, Best Friend returns to trans girl.  While walking back she probably says something like, "Jesus Christ, did I really just do that?" to herself.

Anyway:

Trans Girl: Does . . . does she know?

Best Friend: No idea; I didn't ask.

*Trans Girl looks at Best Friend in utter confusion*

Best Friend: She was staring at you, but only because she thinks you're cute.

Trans Girl: She...  but . . . What?  *beat*  How?

Best Friend: She probably thinks that because you are cute.

*Trans girl is frozen, transfixed like a deer in headlights*

Best Friend: She also agreed to go on a date with us.

Trans Girl: (shocked into being able to move and speak again) Uh, what?

Best Friend: The three of us go on a date together--I suggested it, she's up for it, so now the only question is if you're interested.

*Trans Girl goes right back to being akin to a deer in headlights*

*silence*

Best Friend: You don't actually have to use words, you know?  You could just nod for "yes", shake your head for "no", and, like, shrug your shoulders if you need more--

*Trans Girl nods*

*Best Friend texts Other Girl to let her know Trans Girl's response and start the process of figuring out a time that works for all three of them*

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Something else I considered but am not sure on is an older sister who's at college, and as Trans Girl sees that things are going to fall apart and uncle-coach may soon be outing her,* she takes a bus to the college to confess, because she'd stolen clothes from older sister when she was too afraid to go out and buy her own, and she wanted to admit to that and apologize in person before Uncle could out her.

This then opens the door to older sister potentially taking trans girl in if the parents kick her out when they find out she's a trans girl instead of the son they think they should have.

The parents accepting the trans girl as she is might be a more heartwarming ending, but I think it works better if the trans girl is right that her parents finding out she's trans would basically be the end of the world for her, and then it's the relationships forged or (in the sister's case) renewed/strengthened in the story that make it not be the end of the world.

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Not completely sure how uncle-coach should be brought down, but it should definitely happen, and the seeds of it are probably the opposing coach trans girl came out to mentioning Uncle's niece, him being all, "I don't have a niece," and then opposing coach realizing that there's more going on than she was originally told.

[Added]

I originally meant this as, "I don't have a niece (on the team)," but depending on the relationship between the uncle and the older sister (if she exists) it could work as literally "I don't have a niece" since she's far enough out of sight and mind that he sees no reason to acknowledge her existence.

The next sentence picks up from other coach "then opposing coach realizing that there's more going on than she was originally told."

[/added]

(Which wasn't much; just that uncle-coach had an attitude of, "What they don't know can't hurt them," but trans girl was more worried about if people found out and objected after the fact, and would rather be benched in advance than have that happen.)

Or crime.  I am totally up for characters doing crime for great justice, so if some combination of likable characters con uncle-coach out of everything he owns, that works too.

Or it could work from both ends, with the opposing coach getting him barred from coaching because blackmailing a kid into participating probably breaks some league rule or other, while the kids (and possibly big sister) bankrupt him to pay for . . . any number of things.

No longer being able to count on parental support paying for college for big sister and trans girl, never having it in the first place for a poorer member of the team, getting an entirely new wardrobe because your old one screams, "I'm a boy!" isn't cheap, big sister might want to get a place closer to home so moving in with her doesn't mean trans girl is moving away from her friends (though it would saddle her with a daily commute to get to classes), any money they can't come up with a pressing use for they can donate to a teen homeless shelter or soup kitchen or some such.

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Best friend might be non-binary, and they come out to trans girl as non-binary at the same time trans girl admits she's trans to them. Sort of:

Trans Girl: I . . . I'm not a real . . . I'm trans.

*Trans Girl braces herself for rejection*

*Best friend blinks their eyes and takes a moment to think*

Best Friend: I'm non-binary.  *pause*  I wasn't actually planning on telling anyone, but *beat* you trusted me, so . . .

That would make the above off because of pronouns and because "Other Girl" would in fact be the only girl in the conversion between her and Best Friend I shared.

Regardless, keeping terminology consistent for the moment, if Best Friend is non-binary (and maybe even they aren't) Other Girl goes off on a rant at some point about how people saying they're grammatically incapable of using singular "they" are liars and hypocrites, because "you" is every bit as plural as "they" and those selfsame people use singular "you" without batting an eyelash.

I'm also totally up for a side story where trans girl coming out as trans to the soccer team is the catalyst that leads one of the members to realize they're actually a dude, and by the end this trans boy has started on his transition.

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And that's as much as I've thought up.

. . .

Well, it was at the time of posting on Patreon, something popped into my head last night, but as is often the case, the details become fleeting when I try to actually write it out, regardless:

[Older sister is not in good standing with the parents & uncle because she's never been in a relationship with a boy. This is because she's aro ace, but none of the bigots involved would understand what that means anyway.]

*Older sister stops by, forgot to call ahead*
*she walks in on Trans Girl and Best Friend kissing on the living room couch*

Older Sister: And our parents thought I was the lesbian.

*Trans Girl and Best Friend react with a sort of, "It looks like they almost had heart attacks" shock*

Older Sister: Sorry, I just felt like it'd be way more creepy if I didn't say something to let you know you weren't alone.

*Other Girl, walks into living room carrying a bowl of popcorn*

Other Girl: (while looking at Older Sister in confusion) . . . who?

Trans Girl: Uh, my sister.

Older Sister: (to Trans Girl) I think we need more/better introductions than that.  (To Other Girl)  I'm [name], her older sister, and I'm usually not around because I'm a student at [university].

Other Girl: I'm [Trans Girl]'s girlfriend, [name].  ... um ... I actually go to [other high school], not [trans girl's high school]; we met at a soccer match.

Best Friend: In which [Other Girl]'s team kicked our asses.

Other Girl: (softly, while smiling a bit) Yeah, we did.

Best Friend: I'm [name], [Trans Girl]'s enbyfriend, we met because I'm on the soccer team [Uncle] blackmailed her into playing on.

=Older Sister: Cool.  (too herself, getting used to the sound of the name) [Trans Girl].  (to Trans Girl) You know, you forgot to tell me your name--your real name--when you came to visit.

Trans Girl: I did?

Older Sister: Yup.  *beat*  Don't worry about it, I forgot to ask.

Or something like that.

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* It doesn't actually matter if he's figured out she's a trans girl, not a cis boy. All of the time spent presenting as a girl would have given him ample opportunity to replace his original blackmail, which was based on his word alone and lacked any proof, with photos and/or videos of trans girl "pretending" to be a girl.

A Genie, True Love, and Transness (story idea and some bare dialogue)

(Released on Patreon 22 months and 5 days earlier, because: depression.)
(As mentioned, I have a some already written stuff I can start sharing.  Not much prose, though, mostly story ideas like this instead of actual stories.)

The premise is simple enough: Dude frees Genie from a bottle or lamp or whatever.

It's an old school genie: grants wishes as thanks for being released from confinement, so there's no worries about getting screwed over by the wording of the wish being off, and there's no limit on the number of wishes, but there's also no magical obligation, genie can just say, "Fuck you," and walk off.  The problem is that it's deep-seated ingrained cultural belief for the genie that the scales need to be balanced and payment to the one who set them free must be made.

Things start off pretty simple, wealth, power, every gaming system on earth, improvements to housing, that sort of thing.  Then dude gets his eyes set on a potential romantic interest, and genie's all, "Look, there's shit we don't do, and making someone fall in love is one of them.  I'm not gonna magic roofie someone for you."

Dude is persistent with, "Well, can't you do something?"  And genie's like, "Fine, I owe you, I'll do something.  I can make you more desirable to her, but first I have to know what she's into, and I can't read minds either, so I'm gonna have to get to know her, and that's gonna take some fucking time."

Dude's impatient and makes no secret of that, and he's constantly asking for updates and pushing for results, but getting to know someone takes time, and he's forced to wait around all the while getting more snippy and less kind toward the genie.

And I keep flip flopping on the genie's sex, because what first put this into my head was coming across a description of some old movie where the dude was lusting after one woman while a hot female genie who was enamored with him was right fucking there, and that female genie setup could work just fine, and I'm sure you can see where it would go, but at the same time, I'm me, and I put trans stuff everywhere, and the genie realizing she's trans would work fine too.

Genie's been locked in a bottle/lamp/mystery box/jar/whatever for a long time, depending on the culture they were in beforehand, the entire concept of being trans might be unknown to the genie.

So you could have:

Object of affection: Hey, thanks for standing up for [name] back there, she gets a lot of flack for being trans, and she deserves better.

Genie: Trans?

Object of affection: Oh, you didn't know?   Well, thanks anyway.

Genie: What's trans?

Object of affection: Wow, you don't . . . sorry, that sounds condescending, I just . . . it's like . . . ok, so, when you're born the doctor looks at you and says, "It's a boy," or, "It's a girl," but some people, when they grow up, they realize the doctor was wrong.

Genie: So, what, they just decide, "I'm a girl now," and...

Object of affection: Something like that.

Genie: That's an option?

Object of affection: I wouldn't call it "an option" per se, you either are trans or you're not, but it is something some people realize.

*genie stares blankly into space*

Object of affection: Are you . . . ok?

Genie: How . . . how do you know if you're trans?

Object of affection: Um, well, I'm not really the best person to describe this because I'm--

Genie: It's ok, I'm not . . . I'm not gonna get mad at you for not being the most knowledgeable, and I'm not gonna hate you if you say something wrong, but . . . but . . .  please . . . how do you know if you're trans?

Object of affection: Well, I think you . . . just . . . try out other genders, like, try out a new name, or a new haircut, get some gender coded clothes and see how you feel when you wear them, take . . . take like a test drive of being another gender, and if it feels right, if it feels like you're more your true self while you're trying that than you are normally, then you're probably trans.  *pause* Or at least gender non-conforming.  I . . . like, stuff is complicated, and I'm not an expert, but just . . . try.  Preferably with friends you can trust, but even just at home on your own, you can just . . . experiment, I guess.  I'm . . . I'm really not the best person to ask.

Genie: (mostly to self) I don't really have any friends.

Object of affection: I'm your friend.

*genie blinks*

Genie: We barely know each other.

Object of affection: I mean, true, but I like talking to you, and I think you like talking to me, and we've had fun hanging out right?

Genie: (somewhat weak/disbelieving) I guess.  (normal)  I honestly thought I was bothering you.

Object of affection: (cheerfully) Well you thought wrong; I've had a great time.

Genie: (doubtful) Really?

Object of affection: Really.  *pause*  "And if you're really thinking . . . wondering . . . uh . . . if you're really that, why don't we go clothes shopping together?

Genie: I . . . um . . . but . . .

Object of affection: You can say no.  It's fine to say no.  This is . . . a lot to spring on you all at once, and it's not like I . . . I mean, I thought you already knew, so it was an incredibly rough introduction, but . . . I don't know; you've been really nice to me, and if I can help you figure yourself out, I'd like to, and it's . . . (expression changes, shoulders drop) it's probably a stupid idea, but (rambling) I just got it into my head that there was this thing that I could do for you that might help you a lot, and then I'd be like . . . I don't know, a hero or something, but really what I'm trying to do is convince you to do something you're clearly not comfortable with, and that's not nice, and I should probably be ashamed of--

Genie: Where would we shop?

Object of affection: (completely lost) What?

Genie: If we went clothes shopping, where would we go?

Object of affection: I . . . um . . . so the thing is *beat* I have no plan.  I'm just saying whatever comes to mind because I don't know what I'm doing, but . . . I think that would probably depend on how much money you have to spend.

Genie: (half serious, half playful) Money is no object for me, it's a complex and convoluted story full of lies intrigue and and things man is not meant to know--

Object of affection: Not a man.

Genie: (smiling) Things beyond one's mortal ken.

Object of affection: I love seeing you smile.

*genie blushes*

*pause*

Genie: Uh . . . you pick the place.

And then genie transitions, and the story eventually ends with the two of them becoming lovers while dude is left on his own.

He doesn't manage his wealth the best, his power crumbles with it, and he probably somehow ends up losing his gaming systems too, because by the end of the story you realize he's a misogynistic, homophobic, transphobe, so no happy ending for him.

That's where this originally ended but I'm gonna spitball some more stuff.

Definite happy endings for the genie and love interest.  In a world with magic beings like genies there's probably some force that's a limiting factor on how much one can do to change the world with one's magic, but whatever the uncrossable line is, genie would routinely go right up to it, with her probably-anarchist definitely social justice conscious girlfriend (and eventual wife) helping her figure out the most good she could do with her power.

Also, they probably have every gaming system on earth, running on magic with a negative carbon footprint, because why should the jerk be the only one to have that going for them?

Food, water, shelter, medical care, education, and videogames for the underclasses of whatever place they happen to live in.  Videogames mostly just because I said that that the dude used a wish to get every gaming system, but also because entertainment is important in itself.

The local library may end up bigger on the inside with an impossibly comprehensive collection.  People who don't want poor people in the library will find their fortunes suddenly take a turn for the crap end of the spectrum, and all will know, especially children, that if you need a safe, warm, and dry place to be during the day, you can go to the library and read all day.

[You can stop reading here, things are about to go off the rails hard.]

[Hard enough for me to go back after I finished writing and add this note before posting.]

The genie and love interest may end up with an impossible pet, just because.  An adorable little velociraptor, a dodo--

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Ok, I just did a search for "coolest extinct animals" to find something to put after "dodo" as an option, and the top of the list google decided to pick as its definitive list was "Neanderthals", and yes, fucking yes, they deserve so much credit for being awesome.

The oldest surviving art on earth (that we've discovered) is a Neanderthal hand stencil.  You know, hand stencils being the thing that children do to this day.  These people were so much like us, and one of the few things we know about them is that they cared for the sick and injured.  People who required more work done to keep them alive and healthy than they could ever do in return, but Neanderthals did that work because fuck capitalism and fuck the idea that someone needs to earn their right to be alive.

"Neanderthal" needs to stop being an insult and start being something we recognize as sadly departed family.

If we'd understood the dangers of habitat fragmentation and the resulting inbreeding a hundred thousand years ago, they might still be with us, but back then no one knew that staying in an isolated village for untold generations would spell your doom.  If they'd known they had travel to other villages and interbreed to survive, they were more than capable.  It sucks that we lost an entire branch of our family tree just because, when they didn't have a compelling reason to migrate, they preferred to stay home instead of chase the horizon.

That search result is obviously useless for picking an impossibly cool genie-summoned pet, because I should have been searching for "coolest extinct non-human animals", but I am none the less glad I saw it, because fuck do we need to be less racist and give more credit.

Pretty much every new result about Neanderthals says that we've been unfairly maligning them.  (Also, the fact that we're only willing to consider the possibility that a tool was their doing if we know for a fact that anatomically modern humans weren't in the region when it was made is just fucky.  We know there are tools they made, their teeth show evidence of them creating cords, so on, so forth.  We just want all the credit for ourselves.)

-

Anyway, that's a long tangent completely unrelated to the rest of the post, but this is actually important to me because they're not just our family, they're also, for all of us who have heritage outside of sub-Saharan Africa, our ancestors.  They're part of us (for the value of "us" in the previous sentence.)  They deserve our respect, and also we should be proud of that heritage, because they figured out shit that had never been figured out before.

(Unless new research has changed our understanding...) The only reason they're not a larger part of us is that the Neanderthal Y chromosome doesn't seem to mix well with something in modern human genetics.  The modern human X chromosome would be my first guess, but given that any half-breed also would have one each of all the modern human non-sex chromosomes, it could have been anywhere in our genetic code.

. . .

I don't know, it just pisses me off when people disrespect Neanderthals, because what precious little we know about the kind of people they were says they were altruistic, and for people like me, they're part of us.  Not distant cousins; distant ancestors.

Also, while there are other things we may de-extinct, I think they're gone for good.  Even if we did bring them back, their culture would be lost, but I don't think we can ethically bring them back regardless, because we can't even treat other modern humans with dignity and respect, so if there were another species of human, we'd label them subhuman and curtail all their rights.

-

Back on point, Tasmanian tigers are smaller than I realized, and with magic involved to keep it from eating your face, it could be a viable impossible pet, and for a larger option . . .

Wait, Quagga aren't extinct anymore?

. . .

Oh, they still are, but there's a project to breed something Quagga-like from their closest surviving relatives.  Anyway, I was thinking something smaller, hence velociraptor being at the front of the list, but I do love equines.

And rather than go on further unrelated tangents, I'm gonna end there.

-

It was suggested in a comment that microraptor could be an impossible pet.  I approve of this.

If you've never heard of a microraptor, look them up.  We know a surprisingly large amount about them given how long they've been gone; like the fact their feathers were iridescent which is not something I would have expected to be determinable based on fossils.

Hypothetical trailer for a hypothetical game about running around (figuratively) in zero gravity

[Originally posted right here right now.]
[Just something quick and rough]
[Italics are voice over.]

So, you know how it is when you think you're living in a small town on earth that is, perhaps, too isolated for its own good but otherwise fairly unremarkable, and then your entire understanding of reality is shattered when the gravity fails?

[short scene of when the gravity failed, and the immediate aftermath (based on computer physics simulations rather than assumptions about what it would look like.)]

Yeah . . . that.

[adults looking completely freaked out, confused, and/or in utter shock]
[kids having fun 'flying' by launching themselves from building to building]

As near as we can tell, we're in some form of bio-dome or other on some kind of space station, with absentee landlords.

[A town meeting, in the high school auditorium.  Why?  Because the seats are nailed down, which gives people something to latch onto.]

"We're somewhat close to sure," a speaker says, "that the sea migrating into the sky will not cause the local fish population die off, provided that we implement some simple and straightforward safeguards."

Life goes on, because it kind of has to . . .

[People attempting to shop at a supermarket, which has been modified for zero-g by people who clearly had no idea what they were doing.]

. . . and some of us even attempt to understand things . . .

[Two floating people, anchoring themselves by holding onto a workbench.  Said workbench has clearly alien/future/{otherwise unlike what we know} technology strapped to it.]

One Person: "I'm telling you, if we hook the doohicky into the thingamajig--"

The Other: "Then the whole thing will explode!"

One Person: "Don't be so dramatic.  The worst that would happen is we'd void our warranty."

The Other: "We don't have a warranty,"

One Person: "Then everything's fine."

. . . but answers are kind of hard to come by . . .

"It was hard enough figuring out how high up the sky is, now you want to know what it's made of‽"

. . . and no one really knows what to do . . .

Public figure: "Provided we all stay calm--"

Random Heckler: "No one will notice you don't have a plan!"

. . . so any ideas at all, no matter how ill conceived . . .

Leader of a ragtag group: "We'll just steal some construction equipment and drill a hole in the . . . the . . ."

Member of group: "Sky/bedrock/wall/thing."

Leader: "Yeah, that."

. . . are kind of welcome . . .

[Narrator is on screen for the first time, and is talking to members of the rag tag group]

Narrator: "I just want you to know that I'm only doing this--"

Member of group: "--because you're bored and have nothing better to do, we know."

Narrator: "Look, I just want it to be on-record that I think this is a stupid idea that has no chance of working."

Member of group: "When we appoint a scribe, making that record will be the first thing we have them do; let's get on with it."

. . . given the lack of clear alternatives.

[Explosion rips a hole in what looks like reality itself, but clearly has to be the wall around the enclosure.]

Which is more or less where we find ourselves.

[Quick shots of gameplay involving human-powered movement through zero gravity in various environments.]

[Lots of the zero-g equivalent of running (toward, from, between), possible non-euclidean geometry (not sure on that one), and a distinct lack of combat.]

⁂
⁂   ⁂

So, where this comes from is long, roundabout, and only tangentially related to what this actually ended up being.  I'll have a separate post on the game Adr1ft (along with what I wanted, and didn't get, from it) in the near future.

The short version: I was thinking thoughts about a person (not vehicle) moving in zero gravity as a game mechanic, and how, properly implemented, that could be awesome.  Then, somehow, the idea of a terrestrial setting came into my head.  Given that terrestrial settings aren't particularly known for their lack of gravity, that's when the "not really on earth" part of the idea came in.

The idea proper started with what became the first two italic bits.

The first bit was never completely formed.  "You know how it is when . . ." something about the sudden realization that one isn't in figurative-Kansas anymore being brought about by the gravity turning off.  (Figurative-Kansas not mentioned, but hopefully that gets the idea across.

The second bit of, "Yeah, that," was always pretty clear.

Those two things were the start of the idea, the next thing I came up with was having people who had scavenged some of the habitat technology trying to understand it with the exchange of:

"I'm telling you, if we hook the doohicky into the thingamajig--"

The Other: "Then everything will explode!"

or thereabouts.  The rest of that particular bit grew pretty naturally.

Everything else I sort of hastily filled in in the process of writing.

The "hastily" is important here because none of it is particularly well thought out.  Nor is there any clear concept of how it fits together.  For example: Did the people at the work bench get the doohicky and the thingamajig on their own, or did they salvage it after the ragtag group blew a hole in the wall? No idea.

I very much don't know what would happen to a body of water if gravity turned off.  That means that I also very much do not know if there's any hope for fish.  (This is well before we get to the fact that fish, apparently, do very badly in zero gravity.)  I just needed something for someone to say in a town meeting.

An origin myth from a world of talking ungulates

So, the good news is that I wrote a thing.  The bad news is that it's going to require some explanation.  (And isn't terribly interesting even if you do understand everything.)  It's incredibly rough, but --on the plus side-- it actually exists.

The setting is a deer kingdom that borders pony lands in a world where both of those things have human-level intelligence and can talk.  Also other things (hooved animals, basically), but those are the key players in this bit.  Also mentioned is a ponycorn princess who's a unicorn (pony) supremacist.

The one relating the story is a starving ponycorn.  The one she's telling it to is the king of the deer kingdom.  Since I haven't figured out his name yet, he's "[king]' right now.  The deer aren't starving because they can eat things that horses cannot.

All of that is only related to this bit in that it explains why the ponycorn has so very little energy that it's a struggle for her to even hold a conversation.

Lastly, important bit of horse terminology: "feathering" and "feathers" refer to the long hair on the lower legs of some types of horses.  The Clydesdale breed probably offers the most recognizable examples of feathered horses.

Ok, story time.

⁂

“Have you ever heard the legend of the deer with one horn?” Ametrine asked.

“I can’t say that I have,” [king] said.

“I’m not surprised,” Ametrine said.  “The story was known to ponies, but it’s not the sort of story . . . it’s not actively suppressed, per se, but it’s the sort of thing everyone knows they’re not meant to talk about or believe.

“My mother told it to my sister and I in secret.  She made sure we knew that we should only share it with people we trusted.”  Ametrine paused and closed her eyes for a moment. She was so tired, all the time.  “She wanted us to share it, though. She didn’t want the legend to die.”

[king] nodded solemnly, then said, “I would be honored to hear this tale, and see that it is not forgotten.”

“It happened long ago,” Ametrine said.  “So long that many details are lost, and any proof of its veracity is quite impossible.

“There was only one kind of pony in those days --the gift of the sky gods had not yet been bestowed upon Pegasuses-- and they were not far removed from the horses of the north.  Thick manes, shaggy fur, and lots of feathering at the hooves. The plains had yet to see repopulation.”

“That is long ago indeed,” [king] said.

“There was a cataclysm,” Ametrine, “fertile lands turned to dust and ash, it wasn’t a famine, but only because there were places to run.”

“This is a tale of the Death of Magic,” [king] said.

“It is,” Ametrine said.  “As the dead lands grew . . .” She had to pause again.  So tired. “As the dead lands grew, people came to realize that the disaster threatened to end all life.  When the reason why was determined, it somehow managed to seem worse.”

Ametrine’s head dropped and she almost fell asleep.  “Sorry,” she said when she recovered.

“You have nothing to apologize for, little one,” [king] said.  “You have done more than could ever be expected of you, with far less than you should have.”

“Thanks,” Ametrine said.  “I . . . I want to tell you this, though.”  She slowly inhaled, then continued. “Many were able to determine what was necessary to fix things, but none were able to do it.

“The only way to stop the Death of Magic was to repair and revive the failed magic at its core, that would halt the collapse and . . .” Ametrine’s head bobbed.  “And . . .”

“And with the collapse stopped,” [king] said, “the rest of the magic in the land would heal naturally.”

Amertine nodded.  “Yeah, that.” She gestured, but no words came.

“None could perform this feat, because it required an immense amount of magic to be channeled through a single being, as only a truly unified will could complete the necessary, seemingly impossible, task of repairing such damage.”

Amertine nodded.  “Uh huh.”

“Attempts to blend the minds of multiple beings --so that a group might have unified thought, mind, and will-- all failed," [king] continued.  "While such failures produced heartbreak, they were not so tragic as what happened when noble creatures attempted to channel such magic through themselves alone.”

Ametrine nodded again.

“That is where my knowledge of the story ends,” [king] said.  “The stories of my people do not record how the problem was ultimately solved.  It is a mystery to us.”

“Well . . .” Ametrine said.  “Well,” she paused a beat, then pushed on, “there were doubtless many groups who attempted to create a new form of being capable of . . . of channeling-- safely channeling that much magic.  At least one such group succeeded.

“They uh . . . they weren’t sure if it was . . . moral, to create a living thing for a set purpose, or . . .” Ametrine’s head collapsed onto the bed.  “Whoa,” she said.

“You don’t have to tell me this now,” [king] said.  “I will make time to listen whenever you ask me to.”

“No,” Ametrine said.  “Want to.” Apparently she and grammar had parted ways.  Still, she summoned all the effort she could muster, and returned to the story, “They knew that . . . expecting this of a child was wrong, so they created an adult, but though it was less bad than the alternative didn’t make them . . .”

Ametrine silently cursed herself for needing to stop.  It had been a pretty decent run. She’d almost made it to the end of the sentence.

“It didn’t make them feel better about . . . about creating a someone who would never have . . . a childhood,” she said.  “Still, it was the only thing they could think to do.

“So they crafted spells and found ways to make sure this new creature would have language, common knowledge, and the ability to . . .” She closed her eyes and lay her head back on her bed.  “I’m gonna take a second.”

She knew that there was probably some prohibition about making a king wait while one was his guest, but she was so tired and so weak right now.  So she took a break. While she didn’t know how long she took, she did know it was definitely longer than the second she had announced.

This time Ametrine didn’t bother opening her eyes, and left her head laying on the bed.  She said, “It . . . she was willed into being as an adult with all the knowledge and skill necessary to perform the magical feat.

“It’s said that she was beautiful,” Ametrine said.  “A creature of white and gray.” Ametrine took a long pause.  “She had a little bit of each species that had been involved. The beard of a goat, the feathers of a horse around her cloven hooves, the tail of a bison.”  Another pause. “But, mostly, she was a deer. Her overall shape, her posture, her bone structure, all of it was . . . deer. Even her spots . . . spots on an adult is a pony thing, but their pattern was pure deer.”

Ametrine considered opening her eyes, but decided against it.

“On her head was a single horn, which looked as though it had been created by twisting two horns or antlers together.  It was permanent, like a goat or bison horn, but colored like an antler.”

“A unicorn horn,” [king] said.  Ametrine nodded, and [king] continued, “I did wonder.”

Ametrine opened her eyes, looked at [king] again, and said, “The first unicorn horn, on the first unicorn.

“Her creators hadn’t told the magic how she should be shaped; she had just come out that way.  They also,” Ametrine took a moment to gather her energy, “hadn’t given any thought to reproduction.  My mother liked to think that she was surprised one most surprised of all --in a truly joyous way, mind you-- when she became pregnant, but that’s . . . speculation, not part of the story.

“When the Death of Magic was averted, and the land slowly began to heal, she took a pony as her mate.  Or maybe took ponies as her mates.”  Ametrine closed her eyes, took a breath, composed herself, opened her eyes, and continued, “Either way, her choice to make a life with ponies is probably why her story isn’t known among your people.

“Most of her features faded away over so very many generations, but my mother believed it was important to remember where we came from,” Ametrine said.  “It’s why she made sure my sister and I knew the story.”

“I understand why Princess Filigree wouldn’t approve of that story,” [king] said.

Ametrine snorted.  “That’s putting it lightly.  I’m not sure which part she would hate more, that unicorns aren’t completely pony, or that . . . that everything ‘pony’ about us originally came from ponies of the earth and stone.”

“My guess would be that she wouldn’t bother to choose,” [king] said.

“Sounds about right,” Ametrine said.  “Gonna sleep now; thank you for listening.”  She lay down her head and closed her eyes.

“I shall have ‘The Deer with One Horn as told by Ametrine daughter of Almandine Garnet of the line of Queens’ added to our historical corpus,” [king] said.

Ametrine smiled.  “I appreciate that.”

“I am honored you saw fit to share it with me, Storyteller,” [king] said.  “Now you should rest.”

Ametrine nodded.  She knew that she should express gratitude at being dubbed ‘Storyteller’ --it was a high honor for, and from, deer-- but right now she had no energy.  It was a miracle she’d managed to tell the story at all.

As she let the darkness of sleep take her, Ametrine decided that, if she lived long enough and could find one, she would have to cut a gem for [king] in thanks.

⁂
⁂   ⁂

This setting, which happens to be quite dark, was first described about a week shy of two months ago in an open thread at Ana's:

Since Sunday I've been constructing a story in my head about a unicorn and a Pegasus navigating a hellscape of ethnic cleansing and prolonged famine after all of the adults in their lives have been murdered.

It is in no way a good story. I have not been trying to create it. It's just happening. It's happening because I read a truly terrible My Little Pony fanfic and my mind rebelled.

Accidentally reading pro-Confederate BS in fanfic form can, apparently, be inspiring.  Anyway, at that point it hewed very closely to the source material (the terrible fanfic, not actual My Little Pony.)  It doesn't anymore.

The setting includes ponies with horns, ponies with wings, and ponies with neither, and all of them have a civilization or two, but that's pretty much where the similarities end.  In fact, the only reason they are ponies instead of larger horses is that I wanted them to be smaller than white tailed deer, which puts them firmly in "pony" territory.

I'm not entirely sure where this particular bit came from.  The features of the original unicorn in the above story, apart from the spots and horn being antler colored, are taken straight from those of traditional unicorns.  Granted, traditional unicorns have the tail of a lion, but bison are hoof-havers with the same general tail structure.

I think that a part of what went into this might be the fact that I'm never completely comfortable calling a ponycorn a unicorn.

Unicorns have cloven hooves.

The question "Can an animal with cloven hooves have a single, centrally placed, horn?" was a huge part of the debate on whether unicorns were even possible in reality.  The answer, by the way, is, "Yes.  Yes, they can."  (See: that deer that made the news that one time.)  Whether or not they can have it as a species-universal trait remains to be seen.

And I might be out of things to say.

Soulless

[Probably in my universe with super people.]

Alex Amelia Miller made a sound.  It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time that hearing one of the sounds Alex Amelia Miller made caused Umheylik Kĭnd to think new and different thoughts.  The novel chain of thoughts set off by the noise eventually terminated at a solution to the problem Umheylik Kĭnd had failed to solve for the previous six hours.

Umheylik Kĭnd walked to the broken door separating nir from Alex Amelia Miller, forced it open, ignored the sound it made as it fell from its hinges and clattered on the ground, evaluated the status of Alex Amelia Miller, determined that the collapsed remains of what had once been a ceiling, which were covering her, did not in fact represent an impediment to movement, took hold of Alex Amelia Miller's arm, and pulled her to her feet.

While previous sounds from Alex Amelia Miller had been incoherent expressions of generalized pain and suffering, the sound now produced was quite coherent:

"Ow, ow, ow!  My shoulder!"

"I have need of you," Umheylik Kĭnd told Alex Amelia Miller.

"Ok, that's nice," Alex Amelia Miller said, "but couldn't you have been more gentle?"

"I don't see how that is necessary."

"Um, ok," Alex Amelia Miller said. "Umhey, you're being weird."

"That is not my name, Alex Amelia Miller," Umheylik Kĭnd said in response.

"You're being very weird."

"We have dallied long enough," Umheylik Kĭnd announced.  "We should go now."  Ne took hold of Alex Amelia Miller's arm again, and pulled her into motion.  Once they were both walking in the direction of the most likely possible exit, Ne released Alex Amelia Miller's arm.

"Kĭndy," Alex Amelia Miller said, "what's going on?"

"That is also not my name."

"Which is part of the weirdness," Alex Ameila Miller said.

"That has never been my name."

"That has never been a problem."

"We are in no great hurry, and even if we were, using correct nomenclature does not impede us," Umheylik Kĭnd explained.  "I fail to see the point in using abbreviated forms."

"Did you take any particularly bad blows to the head?"

"None that were particularly bad, no."

"Then what's going on?"

"I have need of you, Alex Amelia Miller.  As I said."

Alex Amelia Miller rolled her eyes.

Umheylik Kĭnd simply kept walking.  No response seemed necessary.

"Fine!" Alex Amelia Miller said loudly.  "What do you need me to do?"

"I require you to tell me what to do."

Alex Amelia Miller stopped walking.  That seemed unnecessary and sub-optimal, but perhaps there was a reason that Umheylik Kĭnd simply failed to grasp.  This was why Alex Amelia Miller was here, after all.

Umheylik Kĭnd stopped walking as well, turned to face Alex Amelia Miller, and asked, "Why have you stopped?"

"Why aren't you making sense?" Alex Amelia Miller asked in response.  That did not make sense.  Umheylik Kĭnd had said nothing but sensible things.

"What do you mean, Alex Amelia Miller?"

"I could bring up how you're talking in monotone--"

Was that true?  Umheylik Kĭnd did not know.

"--or focus on the fact that the way you structure your speech has also changed--"

That was true.

"--or your sudden fixation with using only full proper names--"

It was not a fixation, it merely happened to be simpler if each thing had only one designation, and the most obvious designation was it's full and proper name.

"--but I think I'll go with why the fuck you think that I should be telling you what to do in this situation."

Umheylik Kĭnd blinked.

"Did our adversary tell you what was to become of me?" Umheylik Kĭnd asked Alex Amelia Miller.

"Something about your soul being ripped out."

"That is an accurate description of what transpired."

"What‽" Alex Amelia Miller shouted for no obvious reason.

"In the absence of a soul," Umheylik Kĭnd explained, "I find myself unable to determine a course of action."

Alex Amelia Miller stared at Umheylik Kĭnd.

"My brain still contains my memories and knowledge," Umheylik Kĭnd continued, "but it would appear that, in the absence of a soul to guide me, they are of little use."

"I . . ." Alex Ameila Miller said.  "Um . . . come again?"

Umheylik Kĭnd had thought nir words were quite clear.  Apparently they had not been.  That suggested that a different approach was necessary.  Fortunately, memories of Alex Ameila Miller suggested that one approach was to be favored over others.  As a default was readily available, no true determination would need to be made.

"For example," Umheylik Kĭnd said, "after we were left to our own devices six hours ago, I attempted to continue to act independently, but I could not decide how to go about that."

"It's been six hours?" Alex Amelia Miller asked.

"Yes, Alex Amelia Miller," Umheylik Kĭnd said. "In that time, I could not decide what to do.  I had no preferences or direction.  I was able to winnow the field of possibility somewhat by narrowing the question to what my previous, soul-having, self would want, but it led to a dead end.

"I know that I would have wanted my current, souless, self to do the right thing, morally and ethically speaking, but I was unable to determine what that would be."

"You've lost none of your knowledge and none of your memories, and you can't tell right from wrong?" Alex Amelia Miller asked.

"It is surprisingly difficult to derive an ethical framework from first principles, Alex Amelia Miller."

"You didn't consider, maybe, going into the next room over, checking on your friend," Alex Amelia Miller pointed to herself, "and . . . I don't know, waking her up?"

"It was one of many things I considered," Umheylik Kĭnd said.  "I was unable to find an obvious way to choose between those possibilities."

"So you just left me unconscious on the floor for six hours?"

"That is exactly what I did, Alex Amelia Miller."

"I just . . . I don't . . ." Alex Amelia Miller turned to face away from Umheylik Kĭnd, " I don't even."

"It was trival to determine that inaction was not the best course of action, but with no means of determining which action I should take, I could not choose one."

Alex Amelia Miller turned back to face Umheylik Kĭnd and asked, "You spent six hours navel gazing?  Couldn't you flip a coin or something?"

"I have twenty seven coins on my person.  I could not determine which coin, or combination of coins, it would be appropriate to flip.  Even if I had, it seems highly unlikely that I would have been able to determine which possibilities to assign to which outcomes."

Alex Amelia Miller held her head in her hand.

"So why aren't you navel gazing still?" she asked.

"It was not difficult to conclude that my current indecision stems from my lack of soul," Umheylik Kĭnd said.  "It was, however, quite some time before I realized that there was a readily available soul in close proximity.  The possibilities for just action that include the two of us relatively uninjured and working together all involve us leaving this place, so I collected you and headed for the exit."

"Uh huh," Alex Amelia Miller said.  "Your 'collection' of me involved nearly pulling my arm out of it's socket."

"That is clear exaggeration, Alex Amelia Miller."

"If you want me making decisions for you--" Alex Amelia Miller said.

"I do."

"The absolute first thing is that that we go back to calling each other what we have before."

Umheylik Kĭnd thought this over.  Ne would be 'Umhey' and 'Kĭndy', Alex Amelia Miller would be 'A.A.' and, possibly, 'Mills' on occasion.

"I can do that, A.A." Umhey said.

"Much better," A.A. said.  "Do you know how to get your soul back?"

"I do not, A.A."

"Is it possible to get your soul back?"

"I know of no reason why it would not be."

"Do you know how to go about learning how to get your soul back?"

"I know of several possible avenues for research into that topic."

A.A. started walking in their original direction.  Umhey fell into step beside her.

"Will the apocalypse become irreversible if we put it on the back burner while we focus on your soul?" A.A. asked.

Umhey attempted to find an answer to the question.  It was very complicated.  Ne was well into the process of assigning variables to likely probability distributions when A.A. sighed.

"Never mind," she said.  "Do you know of any obvious reason why the apocalypse would probably --probabilities guesstimated to be greater than four in five count as probable-- become irreversible if it were not our first priority."

Umhey attempted to find an answer to the question.  It was still quite complicated.

"Only addressing situations where it's not irreversible right now," A.A. added.

The question became less complicated.

"And 'guesstimated' here translates to 'the best, no matter how bad, you can come up with if you're only allowed approximately 20 minutes to answer the question'."

The margin of error shot through the roof, but the problem became less complicated.

Umhey thought about it, and they both continued toward the exit.

*

* *

* * *

* *

*

When I go looking for a demonic name, I generally hit the ancient Hebrew (because that's where Christianity grabbed its principal mythology from.)  It occurred to me that I fall back on that too much.  That's especially true given that Yiddish is hanging out in the same alphabet and positively begs to be spoken.

So I looked some stuff up.  If I bashed things together right, "umheylik kĭnd" (אומהייליק קינד) means "unholy child".  Transliteration from Yiddish doesn't actually use "ĭ", but when I look at "kind" I can't see it as anything but the English word of the same spelling, and that's not how "קינד" is pronounced.

This was written quickly today after reading a fanfic where a character lost her soul but didn't stop fighting.  I've played with that sort of thing for a long time, and reading that fic made me again think about what it might mean to lose one's essential them-ness while still retaining, you know, their brain.

I think this could be better, but right now I'm just grabbing onto whatever ideas I'm actually able to have and write.

Can't hear myself play

The came across a machine built around a violin, complete with bow.  The machine featured a lot of actuators and a complete lack of any aesthetic sense.  At the moment it wasn't doing anything, but the monitor attached to it featured a continuous scroll of code.

"What's it saying?" the human asked.

"I wouldn't call it language," the android said, "but if I'm correctly interpreting the intent behind sharing these specific outputs, its microphones have all failed, rendering it unable to determine if it is playing in key.

"It seems to be quite distressed by this development, and --if I'm interpreting correctly-- is requesting repairs.  Repeatedly."

The human nodded at this and then took off its backpack.  "Tell it that the new ears I'm giving it, though better than nothing, are pretty crap."

"We have other priorities," the android said.

"Won't take but a minute," the human said while rummaging through the backpack.

"It will take significantly longer than a minute."

"Figure of speech."

"You shall have to educate me, at some point, on the difference between a figure of speech and a baldfaced lie."

"Just make sure it knows to expect low quality replacements," the human said.  "I don't want to get its hopes up and then--"

"I do not think that it has hopes."

"I'd rather act like it does when it doesn't than risk acting like it doesn't when it does," the human said, finally seeming to be satisfied the components and tools it had taken from the backpack.

The android ignored the machine's keyboard and connected itself to a port while the human started to work on the machine.

"I have relayed your message," the android said.  "It is repeatedly indicating that processes are requesting audio input and receiving none.  I note that these processes are discretionary in nature, and there is no reason to run them in the absence of input."

"It wants to hear," the human said.

A few minutes passed in silence.

Finally the human finished working and said, "That should do it, two new ears--"

"Back up communicator microphones are not ears," the android said.

"--and you should be hearing."

The machine responded by playing the violin ensconced within it.  What it played conformed to no existing style of music.  The note lengths followed no pattern, it exhibited no structure, most of the pitches weren't on any scale, and it certainly didn't have any identifiable time signature.

In the human it evoked and abstract and jumbled sense of joy.

"I think it's happy," the human said.

"That conclusion seems reasonable," the android said.

- ~ ∗ ~ -

- ~ ∗ ~ -         - ~ ∗ ~ -

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I have no idea why the human and android are going through the kind of place where one might find a violin bot in need of maintenance.  Nor do I know why the android is being snarky.

- ~ ∗ ~ -

I was looking at something, and something led to something else, and the somethings kept on piling up until I came across a robot that plays the violin.  This, in itself, is nothing new.

The 1910 World's Fair had "self playing violins".  In fact it was three violins, each with only one string, that were all played by the machine in which they were mounted.  This obviously leaves one with serious questions.  Questions like "If this method could only play one string per violin, why didn't you install four fucking violins?"

Questions about playing a four stringed instrument with three strings aside, though, its worth noting that it didn't take long to go from "Let's make a piano into a computer, and have it play songs when fed the right program" to "Let's do that with violins too."

The resulting Hupfeld Phonoliszt-Violina naturally looks cool, in that "start of the 20th century" way some things do, but at the same time it looks like someone shoved some violins inside a player piano . . . because someone shoved some violins inside a player piano.

Given that the stock market crash completely killed off the player piano industry (higher quality phonographs as well as radios had already wounded the industry), and that the self playing violin existed only as a luxury feature on certain player pianos, the dream of robots that played violin sort of disappeared.

In 2007 Toyota showed the world a robot that plays violin and . . . it doesn't look like a robot that plays violin.  It looks like the kind of thing you'd see in a cheap sci-fi movie if the unimaginative prop and/or costume depart were told "this scene calls for a robot that plays violin."

In, apparently, 2015 someone (who was not a backed by a billion dollar company) built a robot that plays violin that looks like a robot that plays violin.

That's what I found myself looking at:

Here's a video.  (That links to a portion where it's playing for a bit, if you want an explanation of how it works and such, go back to the beginning.)

And that left me thinking thoughts, some of which led to the above.

Something not featured above was imagining the evolution of player and instrument.

If you want a robot that plays violin, and making it a good violinist is your only concern, there's a lot of ways you can go about that and none of them look particularly humanish.

Imagine that you took that as far as it could go.  Multiple generations of refinements, improvements, and innovation until diminishing returns meant there really wasn't much more room to improve.

Then take away the violin (bow too.)

Then, without a violin in mind, have someone design an instrument that takes full advantage of the form and functioning of the robot.

Already we're probably talking about an instrument unlike anything anyone would ever design for a human being.  But there's no need to stop there.

No matter how well the new instrument is suited to the robot, if you'd started from scratch with the intention of building a robot to play the new instrument, it probably wouldn't end up like the violin bot.  So do that.

Iterate.

What sorts of things do you end up with when the process has been going on for a while?  (Both in terms of robot musicians and in terms of the instruments they play.)

I have no idea whatsoever.  Seems interesting though.

Wait, are you spies?

[This idea sprang forth because of a single line in an MLP fanfiction called Sharing the Night.  Interestingly, it didn't come up when I first read it, or when I recently reread the line in question.  It came from the line randomly popping into my head weeks later.]
[I have no idea of the setting, or any of the characters names, that will likely lead to some awkward phrasing.]
[[Ok, I'm going with a "Universe 1" "Universe A" naming style.]]

Something suddenly occurred to her, and so she said to her closest underlings, the ones who basically did all of the work of governing for her, "Wait, are you guys . . . spies?"

For a moment all of them stopped.  Even stopped breathing.  In light of that detail, it was probably a very good thing that it only lasted for a moment.

"Um . . ." lead underling said.  The other underlings --first underling, underling primus, and underling secundus-- didn't say anything, but they did, at least, resume breathing.

While the response wasn't what she, the ling who was over, would have hoped for, and indeed was somewhat disturbing given the context, she breathed a sigh of relief.  There were no objections to the semantics of her calling the underlings, four women, "guys", and that was a good thing.  They didn't need a repeat of The Battle of the Oxford Comma.

True, all four of the lings who were closest under her had supported her position in that conflict --if not for outside agitators there wouldn't have been a battle-- but things came dangerously close to violence against people, and (more disturbingly) one of the oldest surviving treatise on punctuation now sported coffee stains that would stay with it for the thousands of years remaining in its useful life.

Marginalia was to be encouraged, provided those providing it literate, legible, and respectful of future generation's need to be able to read the original text; coffee stains were without appreciable value.

And so, they definitely didn't need a repeat of The Battle of the Oxford Comma.

This was to say nothing about the possibility of another Subjunctive Cold War or "Than" Part-of-Speech schism.

Still, the response wasn't an answer.

Thankfully lead underling wasn't trying to avoid giving an answer; evidence of this came in the form of her turning to first underling and asking, "Are we spies?"

First underling naturally had had time to think about this, as all four underlings were asked the question.  Unfortunately, she didn't to have a definitive answer either:

"I'm not sure," she said.  "I've never really thought about it before today.  I can see things pointing each way."

"Well," underling secundus said, "spies are clandestine operatives, so the fact that we're openly questioning whether or not we're spies would seem to disqualify us."

Underling primus countered with, "There's nothing in the definition that says spies can't admit to being spies.  In fact--"

"Openly allowing for the possibility that one might be a spy, while risky, is exactly the sort of thing a spy might do to throw suspicion off themselves," first underling said.

"Exactly," underling primus said with a nod.

"Ok," underling secundus said, "so . . ."

There was silence.

The silence ended with lead underling turning back to she, the ling who was over, and saying, "We'll have to get back to you on that boss."

Then the four of them hurried out of the room.

She, the ling who was over, addressed the empty air:

"I note that none of that quibbling would have been necessary in the least had the answer been a simple: 'No.'"

~ * ⁂ * ~

*

* *

*

It's hard to write when you don't have names for characters.

As mentioned, the naming style is "Universe 1" Universe A", everyone gets to be first.  Except for underling secundus, but there's a reason for that.

It has to do with the fact that the Romans were a sailing culture.  When you're talking about things that are moving, the thing that comes second is following.  A following wind is a favorable wind.  (The wind is blowing precisely where you need to go, meaning you get it's full power and are spared the work involved in sailing not-with-the-wind.)

Thus "secundus" also means "favorable" and/or "lucky".

So you get lead, first, primary, and the lucky one.

"Lead" is the informal leader of the group (hierarchically they're all equals), "first" is the first one lead tends to turn to (think "first mate" or "first officer"), primus and secundus I'm not really sure about.  I haven't even come up with names for them, their interpersonal relationships aren't really figured out in detail.

I already used bare "underling" and "overling" in a thing, so I didn't just want to have the one in charge be "overling" in this, thus: "she, the ling who was/is over".

*

* *

*

Regarding the thing that inspired this, it was:

“Rainbow Dash must never know that I said this, but doesn’t that make you… spies?”

as half remembered weeks after reading it for the second time.

Regarding the story that that line comes from,  Sharing the Night, I'm not really sure what to say about it.

I absolutely love the narrative voice, and the world-building is pretty cool (the mythology it created is like nothing you'll see elsewhere), and the Librararchy subplot is very fun.

The main story itself, though, is rather lacking.  (In my opinion, of course.)  Some things feel forced, the pacing leaves something to be desired, characters other than the main two seem to be forgotten for lengths of time, and characterization . . . has problems that are kind of complicated.

So parts of me are telling me that I should totally recommend it, and other parts are saying not to.  The result is a muddle.

Read it here, if you want to read it.  Be aware that it's over two hundred thousand words and still in progress.

What does "known world" really mean?

[This idea came out of conversation with Lonespark.]

Underling: Sire, I have returned from the scholars.

Overling: And . ? .

Underling: They are divided.

*Overling makes sound of frustration*

Overling: Preparations have been made, food has been stockpiled, and the army is ready to march.

Underling: I am aware, sire.

Overling: The entire kingdom waits on them . . . and they're divided.

Underling: They are all in agreement that the prophecy's use of the phrase "known world" means that you will not conquer the entirety of the world, and therefore it would be unwise to--

Overling: Make war on regions unknown to us.  I figured this much out on my own.

Underling: The disagreement arises from an ambiguous dative noun.

Overling: One word?

Underling: The word means to or for yourself, sire.  One camp of scholars believes that the word modifies the conquest.  In that case the noun is simply reiterating your connection to the conquest, and we would actually translate it as a possessive, namely: "your conquest".

Underling: In this interpretation, the noun doesn't change the meaning of the sentence at all, and the known world would be understood to mean the world known by the prophet.  Attempting the conquest of any areas unknown at the time of the prophecy would be folly.

Overling: And the other camp?

Underling: The other camp believes that word modifies the participle we translate as "known".  In that case the sentence in question states that your --understood from context instead of explicitly stated-- conquest will be of the world that is known to you.

Underling: The scholars in this camp caution that this would only encompass the world as you know it now, parts of the world only discovered by us during or, especially, because of the conquest would be counted as part of the unknown world.

Underling: There is consensus that this would be understood in the time and culture of the prophecy, and some work has been done, but not yet achieved as broad support, claiming that the exact word choice makes that explicit anyway.

Overling: So the scholars, after all of their study, have determined that the prophecy either does or does not cover territories we already knew it might or might not cover.

Underling: Yes, sire.

Overling: Do the scholars say anything else?

Underling: They unanimously request increased funding to the university.

Overling: Would increased funding bring them closer to an actual conclusion?

Underling: Some believe that it could be allocated in ways that might possibly result in the resolution of their disagreement over the correct interpretation of the prophecy.

*Overling raises an eyebrow*

Overling: What ways?

Underling: As an example, it was suggested that increased funding could allow them to train additional scholars who could then be tasked, as part of their undergraduate work, with scouring the archives for similar phrasing within contemporaneous writings.  If a definite pattern were to emerge from such work, that would vindicate one interpretation or the other.

Overling: And if such a pattern did not emerge?

Underling: Then, as you might imagine--

Overling: It wouldn't help in the least.

Underling: Yes, sire.

*pause*

Underling: There was consensus that additional funding to the university would not harm their ability to interpret the prophecy.

Overling: I should hope not, given that they're already incapable of interpreting it.

Underling: Indeed, sire.

*pause*

Underling: Should I . . .

Overling: Tell the generals that we will be using the "Old World" plan for now, and have them brief the army accordingly.

Underling: Yes, sire.

*Overling starts to turn to go somewhere else*

*Overling changes mind*

Overling: Oh . . .

Underling: Yes, sire?

Overling: Increase funding to the university by ten percent, with the provision that it must start training scholars able to make actual decisions.

Underling: Sire, they had all reached conclusions that they were sure enough of to passionately defend.  There were simply--

Overling: Two such conclusions.

*pause*

Overling: The provision remains.

Underling: Yes, sire.

Overling: That will be all.

Underling: Yes, sire.

*underling leaves*

*Overling goes to the somewhere else mentioned earlier*

* * *

The original idea was basically one line of dialogue, something like:

Some of the scholars interpret the prophecy as saying you'll conquer the world as known today, some interpret it as the world known to the scholar, and all of them say you should increase funding to the university.

I propose a new genre of ultra-violent books, movies, video games, comic books, and so forth. (From Twitter)

[Originally posted on twitter.  Ish.  The introduction is new and everything will have, at least, an editing pass.]

So, before I get to what this is, I wanted to note where it comes from.  Feel free to skip this introduction, main text after the break.

At some point, I was looking at something (been a while, don't remember) and every time I loaded the page to check for new stuff it landed on one of two tweets about the synopsis of a completely real upcoming book.  I say that because, based on the synopsis, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was instead a fake thing that existed only as a farcical over the top parody.

The synopsis makes it difficult to tell if the book will be something too painful to read, or something that one could have fun tearing apart.

Whatever the case, it's a power/vengeance fantasy in which the perpetually offended hegemons who cast themselves as the persecuted victims of the unwashed masses can live out their fantasy of seeing their supposed oppressors laid low and forced to come to them for protection (recognizing their superiority, of course) OR DIE!

When you're not actually oppressed but your identity is built around believing you're oppressed, you end up looking for signs of your oppression in strange places.  Thus the book, which is called Trigger Warning, is lashing out at the injustice of . . . even at a remove, I can't take this concept seriously.

It's the kind of book where the synopsis puts the terms "triggered", "microaggressions", "male privilege" "cisgendered bathrooms" and "safe space" in scare quotes.

The synopsis went thus:

POLITICAL CORRECTNESS WON’T SAVE YOU

Former Army Ranger Jake Rivers is not your typical Kelton College student. He is not spoiled, coddled, or ultra-lib like his classmates who sneer at the “soldier boy.”

Rivers is not “triggered” by “microaggressions.” He is not outraged by “male privilege” and “cisgender bathrooms.” He does not need a “safe space.” Or coloring books. Jake needs an education. And when terror strikes, the school needs Jake . . .

Without warning, the sounds of gunfire plunge the campus into a battle zone. A violent gang of marauders invade the main hall, taking students as hostages for big ransom money. As a veteran and patriot, Jake won’t give in to their demands. But to fight back, he needs to enlist his fellow classmates to school these special snowflakes in the not-so-liberal art of war. This time, the aggression isn’t “micro.” It’s life or death. And only the strong survive . . .

Before I get to my original response, I want to call out a few things in that cutesy synopsis.

As the only person like him in, apparently, the whole fucking school (the school needs him specifically, not the 1% of the student population like him) Jake Rivers is very clearly the specialist special snowflake of them all.  I would also argue that, since he doesn't have to deal with anyone like him, he's pretty damned spoiled and coddled as well.

The "ultra-lib" classmates he has, remember, have to face something he doesn't: Jake Rivers.  A lot of people would love to attend a school where they would never face a Jake Rivers.  His classmates don't get that.  Jake does.

The scare quotes paragraph pretty clearly demonstrates that while Jake Rivers doesn't need coloring books, he seems to want his own twisted version of a safe space.  (Twisted but traditional: the comfortable are comforted at the cost of afflicting the afflicted.)  Also that he is one of the sneerers.

Basically, Jake here is almost everything he detests.  The only broad strokes thing he's not is liberal.  Sure, the specific details might differ, but Jake is exactly what he thinks other people are.  He might not need a safe space or even understand what one is, but it seems like he wants a space in which he personally is safe from everything that might possibly offend his delicate sensibilities.

Also, grammar fail:

[...] he needs to enlist his fellow classmates to school these special snowflakes in the not-so-liberal art of war.

After Jake gets himself an education, perhaps he can teach the author about semi-colons, because that is what they're made for.  Put a semicolon after classmates, and it's fine.

As it is, however, it says that Jake needs to enlist his classmates in order to school some other group of special snowflakes (the the violent gang of marauders, perhaps) in the not-so-liberal art of war.

The use of the phrase "the art of war" makes me imagine that this schooling is taking place under the auspices of Kelton's prestigious Chinese Military Literature program.

(Stuff from Twitter, edited and possibly refined, follows.)

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Ok, so whenever a certain page reloaded it came to one of two tweets about this garbage [link to synopsis], I have thoughts.

No.  I have THOUGHTS.

I shall now make these thoughts known to the world.

- ~ ∗ ~ -

For all the talk about Hollywood liberals, and mainstream liberals, and this liberals, and that liberals, and those feminists, and these aggrieved masses of entitled . . . whatever, I've never really bought it.

Consider:  We've had Red Dawn twice.

Everything from Home Alone to [[every Steven Seagal movie in the history of actors named Steven and surnames that are almost, but not quite, "Seagull"]] is picking up on the right-wing fantasy of "They violated my home so Imma kill and/or torture EVERYONE!"

One goes to Home Alone for the torture and not-quite-Seagull for the killin'.  (If you're going to watch one of the gull movies, I recommend Under Siege, though be warned that never will a movie make you more in favor of a major American city being nuked than when Steven is trying to stop it.)

Now one could reasonably come to the conclusion that, maybe, we should have less of this.  Perhaps having this one story told in infinite variations is causing us to miss out on other stories and having an effect upon our ways of thinking, and our culture, and . . . stuff.

Or, one could completely ignore the reasonable and think the way that I think.

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All of this has been a roundabout way to say, I propose a new genre of ultra violent books, movies, video games, comic books, and so forth.  Well, I'm sure that the genre already exists, so I'm more proposing that it become mainstream and be brought to mediums in which it has not yet found traction.

Rather than describe the genre, I'm going to give a specific example and let you extrapolate the genre from there.

Instead of former army ranger Jake Rivers saving the Keyton students from a random violent gang of marauders in a battle where only the strong will survive, we'll have this:

Riley "I got disowned and don't have a last name, but no worries; I'm in a better place now" will join forces with others.

Ne will do this not as a leader shaping lesser classmates into what nir ideology requires but instead as an equal partner in a communal cooperative of, "We're getting through this together, and we'll do whatever we can to make sure everyone survives regardless of whether they're strong."

Riley is no more or less special than any of the other snowflakes and doesn't think the fact ne is a genderfluid + genderqueer [∗] ace person of color from a minority religion entitles nir to special rights.  Just equal rights.

(Riley is not a latte fan, but nothing against those who are.)

[∗] Riley's gender shifts between multiple non-binary genders.

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It's no easy task securing safety for everyone when the fascists in your government have decided to make an example of your university (and also use it as a feasibility trial for cracking down on everything not cis-straight-male-rightwing-christian-'Merica-fuck-yeah)

The fact that "We're saving everyone.  Yes, even those assholes" means needing to manage an asshole population doesn't help.  In the lawlessness of the law trying to kill you, bigotry is hard to contain, safe spaces hard to come by, and micro aggressions deplete san points.

Even so, the entire point of the action genre (whatever the medium happens to be) is to let characters solve problems by punching them in the face.  (Something that doesn't work in the real world, but is a wonderful escapist fantasy of simplicity) and so Riley and co dig in.

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If it's a video game instead of a book then there will be a crafting system and bonus points to those who realize that "marble + shoelace" = sling.  Especially since David versus Goliath is the symbolism you like when the government has decided to end you.

The government decided to end them in the name of traditional values, keeping daughters safe, making sure America remains a Christian nation, *something*something* states rights, defending white heritage, and so forth, of course.

Said-government also makes a point of mocking trigger warnings, misgendering people, and such.

I'm leaning toward video game here because you can have stealth, shooter, parkour, settlement management, social, and so much more.

You can have the character need to take time in the safe room to recover from the bullshit ne needs to face elsewhere (implement a crayon+mandala system if you like.)  Basically: the importance of self-care implemented as a game mechanic.

You know the fantasy that if society collapsed and [fantasizer] rebuilt it everything would be better?  Indulge in it.  In addition to things listed above and more (how did I leave out tower defense?) you get to shape the society of the resistance to make bigotry not fucking cool.

Instead of being wiped out, as is realistic, the university becomes the center of a new multicultural egalitarian society in which people, while still people, have at least taken steps to make sure they don't fuck up in the exact same way they have been for 700 years.

DLC includes:

• Daring raids on medical facilities, and factories, and such to make sure no one is forced to go off their meds
• Treaty building with with other marginalized or outright targeted groups.
• Setting up a school system that's neuro-divergent friendly.
• Blowing shit up in epic ways.

There's a rhetoric skill you can invest in if you want to convince the non-evil portions of the army and police to come over to your side.

There's a side mission where you have to deal with not-Jake-Rivers and his social-Darwinist macho murder cult.

But mostly there's blowing off steam in a way that doesn't hurt anyone but feels good, especially when you've been forced to listen to bigots and other assholes rant about how certain people, possibly including you, don't count as people (or that some people's lives don't matter.)

And there's queer, non-white, non-Christian representation.

And safe spaces are respectfully shown.  And trigger warnings are shown as things that improve people's quality of life.  And it's possible to actually put an end to microaggressions.  (Remember: the action genre is a fantasy in which the problems faced are actually able to be solved, often in simple, sometimes explosive, straightforward ways.)

And for once it's the people who are actually treating the lives of others as disposable in the face of their ideology in real life who are shown disposing of others in the name of their ideology in fiction.  And non-kyriarchal utopia is shown as a thing worth aspiring to instead of a joke.

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And I forgot to mention, traditionally action protagonist = [really qualified + special], so Riley is the best in the chess club, founded the top Splatoon team on campus, is active in the community (was in the movement that stopped Women's Studies from being cut), and a is glass blower by trade.

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That basically covers it.  I could have named the post "I begin a bunch of paragraphs with the word 'And'."  Cutting and pasting the line in question was close to accurate (though it's not as descriptive as it could be.)

Thought I'd try to get something out there, this was already mostly written.  It still has taken me positively ages, but today is a day of rest.  (My sister is checking out the property she hopes to move into today.  On other days I'll be helping her race to move out of what we're losing, as I have been for a while.)