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Monday, 29 February 2016

Responding to the bigotry of far right commenters

New Media is Far More Important Than I Realised

New Media is Far More Important Than I Realised

Alexander Gordon Jahans

So I've been feeling insignificant lately...

A lot of reasons. I'm unemployed. I suck at communicating with people. A decent section of the internet wants me dead. I have tits and the world is fucked. The usual.

At the moment the American right wing has been terrifying the almighty fuck out of me. I actually woke up at 4am desperate for some catharsis regarding the situation. And I failed. Just failed. Again and again and again.

America isn't ready. 

The south may have abolished slavery but it's still full of slaves and I ain't talkiing about the poor blacks. 

I used to think the Confederacy was right about secession just because Democracy works better with smaller voting pools and America's a fucking continent not a country. Now I think the Confederacy should have been allowed to secede precisely because the fucks were dumb enough to think slavery was okay, to think money at the expense of human suffering was okay. And this is me being charitable, this is me saying that part of America isn't as dense.

Racism is not okay. Sexism is not okay. Corporate corruption and exploitation is not okay. Guns are not a right. A national health service is. the environment matters. Human rights matter. A stupid bunch of words written long ago doesn't. 

The American right isn't racist and sexist like I am. This is no mere "But I don't want to misrepresent different cultures and I can't be arsed to do research so I'll just write what I know." America is full on Black people are dangerous and cause all crime.

Suddenly Saudi Arabia being on the Human Rights Council of the United Nations because America is also there. 

I mean look at the comparisons. Both America and Saudi Arabia are rich, religiously dogmatic, have fanatical devotion to an artificial document designed by man, intolerant of views they oppose, carry out the death sentence and torture as par for the course and are immensely racist and sexist.

Indeed I dare say that America has a habit of being allied with and at war with dark reflections of its own possible future. Stalin's Communist Russia. A continent of shit and misery with the propaganda of freedom and belief in a particular concept as its figure head exploits the suffering the wage war and reach for the stars. 

America came damn close to becoming the dark reflection Stalin's Russia presented and now it seems it could so easily because a kind of Christian theocracy with added megacorp power.

If my words are sounding bitter or rude that's because right now I feel an immense contempt for the American people. Once I'm done with this blog I need to throw myself into the things I love about America lest I genuinely become bigoted towards them. Isn't that ironic? Becoming bigoted towards a people because they are so bigoted.

But I believe in democracy not dictatorship. I believe in tolerance and education to encourage enlightenment. Not oppression and bans.

I cannot make America be the country I want it to be. Both very literally and because I could never allow myself to override the will of the people, no matter how very fucking tempting an idea that might be.

What I can do, what I am doing, is influencing the people. Being one voice among man calling for sanity on these topics. And the right wing? Those bigots who would wish to destroy me, who make me hate your country so very much right now? They give me a greater chance of changing minds for the better,

Change will come.

It will be hard, it will be tough and so many are going to suffer and die until the American people realise the sane courses of action but I will not give up. I will not give in. I will never lose faith in the capacity of the human race to learn and develop and be better.

I sound like an arrogant pretentious patronising arse right now, I know that. I'm bitter. but things will get better. The hearts and minds of the American people can be won slowly over time. Peace and sanity will reign.

Lets Turn America into a Grand Socialist Utopia

Sunday, 28 February 2016

Dear Nintendo

Britain has a Problem with Paedophilia

Britain has a Problem with Paedophilia

Alexander Gordon Jahans

It's time we admit it. Time we talked about it. Time we really and truly addressed it.

The problem is not that we accept it or like it. It's that, like homosexuality in the 50s and 60s, even if a guy is practising the act and using associated slang on our media we will refuse to see it because it's just so horrible. You don't go throwing around those kinds of accusations. They could ruin a career or get a guy lynched. Mis-aimed vigilante justice in the past has only further encouraged this masquerade that there is no such thing as Paedophilia anywhere in Britain. Except maybe amongst those shifty Muslims...

Paedophiles in Parliament. Paedophiles in the BBC. Paedophiles in the Church of England. Paedophiles meeting Prime Ministers and Royalty and painting the Queen's Portrait. And nobody noticed anything. Nobody said anything.

Well you wouldn't would you? Paedophile doesn't happen in Britain. The child is probably just lying or causing trouble and as for those bruises, well you know how children are always getting themselves into mischief.

We are so wilfully blind because the idea is so horrible. It wouldn't be polite. You just don't talk about those sorts of things.

We'll teach our kids about stranger danger, about not taking candy from strangers but will we teach our teachers and parents about the fact that most children are abused by someone they know well, like a teacher or a parent? Of course not because you can trust the state right? You can trust teachers, you can trust parents? And blood is thicker than water after all....

Paedophilia happens elsewhere, in less enlightened cultures. It happens in brown places or places with a scary church but not ours right? Of course ours! Paedophilia is as British as Tea and Crumpets, the Chimes of Big Ben, the Queen's Corgis and Doctor Who. There have been Paedophiles closely affiliated with every major public institution in Britain. 

Almost makes you think the Americans have the right idea and we should be arming kids with guns. That's one way to level the playing field and better protect kids when the threat could come from any direction. Let them be judge, jury and executioner of anybody who tries to assault them. Except of course that Paedophiles rarely just fuck children, they mindfuck them first, get the poor souls to think they deserve and want the abuse.

We have to protect the young from the monsters amongst us who would do them harm. The government is already having parents be on the look out for Muslims who might radicalise our children so maybe they could draw up guidelines to help identify Paedophiles. Though that would have to get through Parliament, our parliament, a parliament filled with an unknown number of totally respected Paedophiles, yeah....

One reason they might quite reasonably throw it out is under claims that violates fundamental human rights regarding privacy and not living in fear of the thought police. Which would be a perfectly valid claim to make were they not already violating those rights in defence against terrorism. Which again makes a kind of sense. Terrorism could cause more casualties and so it is more correct under utilitarian morality to violate people's fundamental human rights in defence against terrorism than Paedophilia. And of course that Muslims are an easily identifiable otherised community who aren't part of the establishment and so the paedophiles in Parliament, the BBC, the Church of England and the Police Force can continue terrorizing children with impunity.

I do however have a suggestion to make which may seem counter intuitive. Don't persecute Paedophiles who acknowledge they have a problem and will willingly come forward to the authorities to be helped and made safe from causing harm,

If we have a system that focuses on rehabilitation and making paedophiles safe then we can listen to one hundred percent of accusations. I mean if you're not a paedophile and you get swept up it won't be that bad, well unless you're a teacher but - Actually I don't have answer for that except that the current system does not work and with proper regulation this might. Obviously they'll be some kind of appeals process for the falsely accused where they'll be put on a list just in case their name ever crops up again and if a Paedophile has actually committed acts against children they will serve their time accordingly with maybe some small but noticeable benefit for having come forward willingly to be made safe.

We need to acknowledge and make safe the Paedophiles infesting Britain. This state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue but before we go I would like to address one more thing.

The "Poster Girl" of the Brexit campaign, that's the campaign for Britain to leave the European Union, is 16. I don't like that. I really don't like that. At 16 she can't even vote in the Brexit campaign but she can have sex legally so Wahey! Look at her body! Makes me sick. This was published in the Telegraph by the way. The Telegraph is a Tory newspaper and the Tories are a political party with a habit for being particularly brazen regarding their despicable views and yes there have been a few Paedophile politicians amongst their number but I'm not making any politically motivated accusations, just giving context.

In my opinion children/teenagers are going to explore their sexuality and have sex with each other and that's fine and healthy so long as they know how to access supplies of and properly use contraception and so I have absolutely no problem with the age of consent being 16 or even lower but that does not mean that everyone from 21 to a hundred and one can jerk off to them because the law says they can fuck other teenagers. As far as I am concerned 20 is the barrier. Maybe that's just me being a prude but let the teenagers fuck other teenagers and the adults fuck other adults and don't cross that barrier. 

Saturday, 27 February 2016

Emma Watson discussed the idea of feminist porn and I think that's glorious

What Democracy 3 taught me about how I handle the possibility of a budge...

Dear Nintendo...

Dear Nintendo...

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Dear Nintendo,

You don't know me and why would you.

I'm not important.

I'm just a PC User.

I am PC for the same reason I was Nintendo in the Nineties and Noughties, I'm broke as fuck and I want the best games.

Now we have differences. Like your policy on letsplays... But I love you. I know I maybe shouldn't since I'm a letsplayer and a PC guy but you have my heart in a way that Valve and Windows really don't, because you care. You really fucking care about your games and your customers.

Gabe Newell and Bill Gates and all the unsung underlings at Microsoft and Valve, they don't care enough as far as I'm concerned. Valve cares only for money and will let unfiltered shit spew onto the marketplace as the fans of Half Life mourn their beloved series and the wretched state they left it in. Windows is anti-competition yet can't compete. The guy who wins monopoly because he landed on Mayfare first. Literally every update of Windows since XP has been a frustrating experience of having them needlessly fuck with a perfect formula to innovate for the sake of selling fresh copies and since the Xbox first came out PC gaming has experienced ludicrous anti competitive competition as not content to leach off Valve's success with PC Microsoft tries to compete with itself. Yes, turn the desktop into a shitty mobile phone and the Xbox One into a shitty TV. That is totally want gamers want Microsoft.

I know the term gamer means dirt at the moment. Especially when applied to an unemployed white man who still lives at home with his mother. But you care. You care about gamers and you don't care in the juvenile "Phwoar! Look at those numbers!" sense. You care about gamers by developing genuinely innovative and interesting control schemes with consoles that are reasonably priced and games that run well and are fun.

I don't care about the Xbox and I don't care about the Playstation because they are capitalist machines for capitalist people. Sorry. Anarcho-capitalist machines for anarcho-capitalist people. Little to no regulation, no identity, no soul, just a vague hope that competition will drive innovation and competence when, like so many other things, all anarcho-capitalism drives is blandness, exploitation and a fixation on ever larger numbers.

My first console was a Nintendo 64 and that's a proper games console. Not a bland numbers machine with the same basic setup. This was innovation into an extra dimension with a controller like a dragon's claw, room for accessories to allow for further innovation and games that while they may look shit today are amazing to play.

So Nintendo, let me play your games again. Let me have all the Pokemon games on the computer legitimately. I will find a way to pay for it. Let me have the Star Fox back catalogue. Let me have the original Goldeneye with Pierce Brosnan that was on the N64 on PC. Let me have the Marios and the Zeldas and Animal Crossings.

I know you're worried about piracy and protecting your IP and I know your first loyalty has to be to your console audience, to those kids you cater to so very well. I'm not asking for freebies. I'm not asking for special attention and if Jim Sterling or Total Biscuit or anyone else starts crowing about shitty optimization for the superior machine they can get to fuck. I have a proposition.

Make it so that if you buy the latest Nintendo console you can get a special, expensive as you like, accessory that when installed allows the use of the Nintendo digital marketplace and the running of Nintendo digital downloads. I don't mind if you choose to require the purchase of each successive generation of console to access the latest generations assortment of digital downloads. I don't mind if you want to make the accessory only work with the detection of a physical copy of the game in the Nintendo console. I will pay the money, I will jump through the hoops. Just let me play your games on my PC.

Sell me accessories and controllers, sell me dlc, sell me Amiibo and make me buy Pokemon cards again, I don't care. This is your wide open invitation to exploit the PC market and so pay for better IP for your consoles to drive their sales and encourage third party IP to transfer more readily to your systems.

There are people reading this now who will be screaming that I'm a fool because if I wanted, if I could be fucked and if I could find a way to stomach it I could easily emulate a vast majority of the Pokemon games  and the Mario games. They are right. Totally right. You refuse to sell Pokemon on PC and so we pirate it instead of buy it. The trouble is though that it just doesn't sit right with me.

Lord Gaben and the Esteemed Gates have each profited from me during a period when things have been so very dark for me so please Honourable Miyamoto let me buy from you as well. Find a way to let PC gamers legitimately legally and officially purchase and play Nintendo IP on their computers. You'll be opening up a new revenue stream and recognising fans who have always been there.

Yours, very sincerely,

A life long loyal fan, despite our differences on some points.

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Friday, 26 February 2016

The Democracy 3 letsplay will go ahead Thank You

The Appeal of the Monster

The Appeal of the Monster

Alexander Gordon Jahans

There is a theory or an idea that says one way the human mind might cope with truly overwhelming fear is fetishistic attraction. It's a probably bullshit idea that Laura Mulvey briefly mentions in her essay on the male gaze Visual Pleasure and Narrative Storytelling to explain man's obsession with women but I like it because I find it hilarious imagining all the cuckservative right wing. commenters furiously masturbating to Samuel L Jackson's character Valentine in Kingsman. And I suppose it could explain the preponderance of rape as a threat "You terrify me so I must destroy you yet you also deeply turn me on so I must sexually pleasure myself as I do so."

This essay is not about that.

I am not really a believer in gender dimorphism so I prefer to say that I am just shallower when it comes to men but never the less what I look for in terms of sexual attraction regardless of gender is a certain softness and adorableness. And I prefer adorableness to sexyness as an idea because Sexy is relatively shallow and abstract. It's hardcore objective beauty and performance. Hence how technology can be sexy. All about larger numbers in certain areas and smaller numbers in other areas. Adorableness includes a certain vulnerability, bravery, morality, humor and intellect. Adorable is cute and dorky. Sexy is powerful and intimidating, at least to me. I favor adorable over sexy every time. Gabrielle over Xena, Barry Allen over Oliver Queen.

This essay is not about sexual attraction, this is about respect, awe and a desire to be friends with the monster.

What is a monster? Does Hitler count? Not really. I'll explain....

Lets say you have a bottle of wine. Or any beverage of your choice. On its own as it is the bottle serves a function and is relatively appealing but nobody really cares about it except those who directly interact with it. But then something happens and the bottle breaks. It is now ragged and sharp. It has lost its original function, its original form. Instead it has a new one, the potential for harm, the potential to be exploited and used as a weapon.

I am fascinated by weapons be they mere objects or beings with some amount of agency. Obviously this can be traced back to my own Freudian excuse, watching Jaws at such a young age and being so terrified of sharks I had to understand them. Yet it stays with me because the monster has this great potential energy about them and the fact that they have agency means that they are relatively unpredictable.

A gun is a boring weapon. Oh I know guns are heavy and loud and have recoil to make firing them difficult but in comparison to everything else a gun is way too simple and affective a weapon to be interest. Point, pull trigger, target dies. So what? Where's the narrative? The risk? The tension?

The sword is a more interesting weapon since it has to be used at close quarters and is quite brutally primitive. In a way it is primordial cybernetics, an extension of the wielder's own arm where the gun might best be seen as an extension of the penis.

A monster is by far the most interesting weapon to me. The shark, the Doctor, Godzilla, James Bond, Xena. (please note that I am not including the Arrow in this list because Batman bores the crap ot of me and TV Arrow is knockoff Batman)

All these monsters have their own personalities and tropes, all are capable of dreadful things in pursuit of their goals and all can be aimed with relative precision. Interestingly the Doctor is the only one on that list who also crosses over into adorability enough for me to have a crush on them and that's with Matt Smith's incarnation, an incarnation that very definitely lives up to the definition of monster.

A monster is dangerous, broken, flawed, they can harm their friends and allies and can't always be counted on to fight the right people. yet you kind of want to know the monster all the same.

As a child I envied the monster's power. I was so weak, so pathetic and so alone. The idea of reeking bloody revenge, of making those who insulted me scared just by my presence was so appealing. I sought to capture that. I wasn't tall, I wasn't fit and my reputation worked against me but I was weird and different so I exploited that. They thought I was mentally deranged so I played on that. I would stalk towards my prey at a low walk, never breaking eye contact. I actually practised staring to get Ford Prefect's unnatural alien gaze down. And as I approached I would talk animatedly using long words that I knew they hated me for using. I exploited fear to get them off my back.

I am not proud of what I did to survive school. I should have disobeyed the authorities and just stayed home sooner. Never the less that appeal to and exploitation of fear is still an attractive idea. In a way it's what I do with the far right. I'd love it if they left me alone but they won't so I'll fuck with them and the more they seek to destroy me the more my channel will grow and the more my blatantly left wing propaganda will be able to needle away at the far right. They have given me the privilege of preaching to the unconverted and I am glad of that. I actually feel a little sadistic thrill to see how much I disgust, sadden and terrify the far right. I have become the boogie man to the far right, They've even stated as such I am what they perceive as the face of the left and the English. Sorry about that.

It is more than that though The appeal of the monster extends to Trump and the Far Right. They care not for morality or manners or not being a dick. As much as my left wing moral brain may be disgusted by their neanderthalic bigotry I am also amused and almost envious of it. I was the lowest of the low remember, I was the scum hated by all and now these fuckers have taken my crown. For me there is no question. People are people regardless of gender or race or sexuality and they deserve to be treated as such but that someone .can be so brazenly racist, sexist, islamophobic, homophobic, transphobic or ableist is almost to be lauded because I wish I had the gall to scream "Please punch me to a bloody pulp!" so loudly.

Make no mistake that is why Donald Trump, George W Bush and Nigel Farage are so charming to me. They are monsters screaming loudly that they should be destroyed as amoral abominations and that takes a peculiar lack of self awareness and self preservation at is almost a wonder to behold. Like at least Hilary Clinton, Tony Blair and David Cameron try to speak and act like they aren't soulless abominations who have killed a lot of children and would like to see more children dead in bloody pointless wars.

This is actually why I think James Bond should never stop being a raving misogynist, even when she's played by a woman. It is the job of the monster to say "Yes I will walk willingly into danger with no plan or back up just because something needs to die" if the monster then gave a shit abhout not telegraphing how horrible they are they wouldn't be a monster anymore and would just be a hero and Zarquon we've got enough of those. At l;east white male ones anyway.

I actually think that until feminism succeeds in fully reforming Hollywood exploiting the the appeal of the monster might be a grand way to get older women tasty parts in films. I mean what might a raving misogynist of a writer appreciate more than depicting older women as evil and wicked and worthy of destruction. At the same time the Shark, Godzilla and Xena started out as monsters to be overcome and now they are the protagonists because an interesting monster reaches a level of awesome and popularity where they become who we identify with.

So show us women at their worst, show them angry, bitter, cynical, sarcastic and cruel. Shoo out the pretty young things and usher in the aged titans with a crackle of lightning and a gallon of wine. Let them dominate and destroy. Let them improvise lines and take ownership over their characters. Let them direct and let them produce. Let the witches in and watch as something wicked this way comes because it's time for the monsters of Venus to reign supreme.

Alex Reacts to the second part of MATN's coop LP of The Division Beta

Tuesday, 23 February 2016

Judging Rape

Judging Rape

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Right, caveats out of the way first. I am not a lawyer. I have not been raped or sexually assaulted. And yeah, I'm a man. This should not in anyway be seen as any kind of a reference document. This is just my sometimes rather unique perspective turned on some serious subject matter.

A. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

B. Many Victims Of Rape and Sexual Assault Don't Get To See Justice Done

C. Lawyers and Judges Know Far More Than Most Of Us About the Law

D. The Justice System Is Flawed

Those are four things I regard as basically true and important. There is a whole bunch of evidence and stuff online that you can find to back up this stuff but as far as I am concerned these are true. Yet there is a contradiction inherent to the statements. We're holding up the justice system as knowing their stuff and fair in at least one important respect yet we're also admitting that it needs work and in one area in particular, the area that we'll be discussing. By the way hence forward when I refer to rape I am including sexual assault within that definition. 

So people who are very vocal about point B, that victims of rape don't get to see justice done, tend to point out that the nature of cross examination will prevent people coming forward because it's intimidating, embarrassing and shameful Or at least that that's how it feels and that's fair. You can't objectively counter emotions and anyway rape is a traumatic experience and sex generally a private one so having that called into question and dissected in a court of law is going to be challenging to say the least. 

So how can we reduce the squick factor and increase the accuracy? Well lets focus on accuracy first because that's easier to quantify. Everyone's got a smartphone now so fuck it. Lets imagine a near future world. This is a world where either encryption is amazing or there's just so much porn out there that nobody gives a shit about sextapes leaking and so you've got the evidence on camera or at least on mic. And smartphones have got accelerometers and shit in them so lets say they have the ability to start recording if something violent happens to the person with the smartphone.

I mean it's going to be difficult for the victim still but at least this is guaranteed evidence of guilt, right? Well no... Some like it rough and they have systems in place to allow for that. Systems that can very easily be lied about or even incorporated into the lie. After all safe words may be what's used to end the scene but you've got two contradicting opinions, one of which is apparently backed up by a recording of apparent distress who is the court going to believe?

I mean unless everybody records everything on the off chance that someone gets accused of rape it is going to be possible to get a distorted view of what actually happened.

Why would someone lie about rape though? Where's the motive? Why not just stand up for the victim all the time or even just in edge cases? Because rape is sort of like the muggle equivalent of one of the unforgivable curses. Just mentioning the topic itself can make people distressed or what to be violent. This is why the idea of rape culture pisses so many men off because it can make someone very defensive and uncomfortable hearing mention of something that might seem to suggest they have some level of culpability when it comes to such a vile and monstrous act. Rape is something many people would want to see given the death penalty and even just an accusation can destroy someone's reputation. And people have exploited the emotive power of rape accusation in the past. This is something that absolutely does happen/

So what about the victims? The genuine victims? The ones who just want to see justice done? Can we see a way to create a kind of justice for them without affecting the accuracy of actually judging guilt? Maybe... If we can determine a guiltless rape? 

Now I will reiterate that I am not an expert in British law or indeed any law. I am looking at this purely as a thought exercise to explain my opinion on this. 

So how might it be possible to get a guiltless rape? How would we even define it? Well people get killed all the time and it's generally only murder if there is intent. So that sets our precedent. Guiltless rape is where someone suffers the affects of rape i.e. sex against their will, but there is no intent behind the raping.

The most guiltless example of the guiltless rape is probably the idea of sex had while both or more parties are intoxicated beyond the point of being able to consent. Now some people might wish to call it one way or another but if it's a decision you would not have made in your right frame of mind then that was sex against your will, rape, regardless of whether the other person was just as drunk at the time.

Then we get into the manslaughter or negligence of rape. This is where there is clearly some level of guilt but not malicious intent. So for example what if someone had a brain fart and found themselves thinking that the safe word that had been agreed upon was something else. It's not outside the bounds of possibility and if so probably doesn't deserve the full sentence and stigma of rape because the intent isn't there but to their partner there is no difference.

Now obviously these are not well thought out examples but there are cases of people who apparrently get away with rape for this or that reason. Including one case of a guy who was found not guilty of rape because he apparently slipped and fell into a teenager. If you remove the proving guilt from the finding justice for the victim then you can see that victims have justice all the time without having to worry about creating a system that could be exploited.

So what is justice for victims of guiltless rape? Having their suffering recognised. Never having to interact with the person they had a bad experience with again. maybe some compensation for medical bills and time off work due to the trauma.

Now if this were to be enacted this separation of treatment of the victim and judgment of guilt would not have to be an either or situation. If anything the idea should be both. The victim always gets treated with the care and respect they deserve for having goner through what they did with no one challenging what they believe happened to them because it doesn't matter. If someone's in distress that distress is real regardless of the actual origin of it and if they're making it up so what? 

There are no negative consequences since with the separation of guilt and justice you can afford to be more rigorous regarding the possibility of guilt and thus the innocent are less likely to be convicted. And if people know they can just come forward as a victim of rape without having to go to court and go through that ordeal to see the guilty serve a sentence more victims are likely to come forward and so you can quickly have an escalating effect to help you catch particularly prolific rapists who keep getting off not guilty. I mean it is a fact that a large amount of people are raped by a small amount of people. A rapist may be able to defend against one or two allegations but 5, 10, or 50? Yeah it doesn't matter how good your lawyer is if that happens you're going down.

This is just what I think though and for the record I think all forms of rape are horrifying. I apologise if this has been a difficult read. I hope I haven't been insensitive.


Learning through stories and why I suck at maths

Why I make long videos with no editing or scripting

Thursday, 18 February 2016

Failing Upwards

Failing Upwards

Alexander Gordon Jahans

I am a fan. A nerd. A futurist. I love complexity and I love concepts and ideas and for me they are a way of better interacting with the world. 

People are scary. They are individual and unique and powerful and important and capable of amazing things and I don't get them. 

I think differently. I can't even count on getting on with other people with Asperger's syndrome because it's such a wide spectrum that the label means bullshit, especially Autism because that's an even larger spectrum.

So I use the knowledge and concepts and ideas and fandoms that I join as cultural touchstones. I peacock my nerdery and complement others on their partly out of an appreciation for the source material  but also because I know a little of how to communicate with them.

Youtube is important to me as a medium to enjoy the things I am a fan of.  I love letsplays, fanvids and reviews. A few channels that I am in love with at the moment: Many A True Nerd, Etho, Zisteau, Vechs, Chuggaaconroy. SF Debris, Leon Thomas - Renegade Cut, Total Biscuit, Laura K Buzz...

There was a time when I tried to succeed at youtube, there have been several different attempts at several different times actually. 

I really tried with the letsplay thing for example. I hade minecraft, half life 2, skyrim and I think another game that were going up but that was right before my first and only day working at Asda and that was basically when I plumetted into depression. Nothing quite like letting go of a possible salvation to really send things spiralling and knock things by the wayside.

I tried to get a Virgin New Adventures review series in the style of Atop The Fourth Wall off the ground but it would have required sourcing images for every book that I reviewed and that just wasn't possible.

At University I tried to go for a Spooney-esque review series with storylines and props and yeah... That didn't work.

Then this last year I stopped trying. 

Oh I put up the videos, add a call to action on the end and have links to twitter and my patreon and add tags but the videos themselves? Heck no. No effort. No trying.

When I make my videos I close the curtains, turn on my frontlight and backlight and press record. I don't have a plan or a script and I do not edit. I have a topic and I just... go! 

Because you see the problems I have had,.on their own, or maybe with just two or three of them, would have been manageable but altogether? Diagnosis of low testosterone and the resultant existential crisis and medical tests. Leaving university and friends and going back home. The house falling apart as mum separates dad, my sister emmigrates and dad takes it out on me. It being just really fucking hard to find a job and the negative feelings that generates, especially when I quite my first job on my first day because of pain, which is always so fuckibng easy to criticise when you weren't the one feeling the pain. The depression and suicidal thoughts from all of that.

I just needed to survive. And I'm kind of still just surviving, albeit with things getting better and at enough of an improvement to start trying again. Back then though I couldn't, I just couldn't.

You feel so worthless and so helpless and you need to justify yourself. you need a reason to live. you need responsibility whern you are too fucked up to handle responsibility. So... I talked. i talked to youtube. Because it was something. because it was views and interaction and something to do and a sign that my heart was still beating. that I wasn't quite dead yet and there was still something I could do.

I know what I produce is shit. Like objectively. I don't script. I don't edit and I don't give a fuck. I will censor your comments and I will rage and scream and bitch and I ain't important. I am a pathetic whiney white boy living a life of comparative priviledge making hour long videos screaming about how my life sucks and the world is going to fuck. I know it's shit. I do. I watch far far better stuff and I expected, still expect, that someday people will get bored and the views will dwindle to nothing.

Yet here's the thing. I can't fuck this up. I'm not putting any effort into this. Christ, some videos have truly appalling lighting and sound and indeed as has been noted many times it is not professional to film before my unmade bed and pile of used wank roll. Though I can't exactly solve that one, I mean it's not like I can afford a studio to film in.

I tried trying and it failed spectacularly because I was reaching for something better than I had the talent or resources to achieve. By reaching rock bottom and ceasing to try the videos became about the one unique selling point I really have, me. Whenever I tried I would be reaching for a standard that I couldn't achieve and watering down the ineffable strangeness, wisdom and charm that I bring by just being myself ranting for an hour. 

I created a niche about myself entirely by accident and the nature of the niche is that I can keep churning it out while I work on my writing and a letsplay series and all my other issues.

Scripts will come, sketches will come, storylines will come, letsplays will come and yes more strange writing will come onto this blog but I think the essential format that is causing me to fail upwards will never go away because what I really love is that I being carried ever higher by a rabid pack of rightwing trolls  desperate to destroy me and so I am in a xanatos gambit situation. Either they give up and I am left in peace to deliver my shitty content to an audience of those who really like my stuff or they don't leave me alone and I rise ever higher on their desire for my blood.

You see I'm not milking the hatred of course I want the insults and the harrassment to stop but on the other hand I will gladly exploit the hatred of those who would seek to destroy me for personal gain.  The more of a fuss they kick up to send more hate my way the more there are people who watch my videos and see I have a point. And the bitterness of the genuine sadists at their inability to have their negativity published on my videos is just so very sweet. Nothing like the sadistic thrill of annoying someone you consider a bastard. So I suppose it's quite appropriate that I write this here then. success through a relationship of mutual sadism really is the kind of story that belongs on my blog. 

Google's automated software failsv where's the fair use

Wednesday, 17 February 2016

Lets Chill Out Episode 9 Diamonds and corrupted chunks

Reporter: Black People Shouldn’t Vote For Bernie Sanders

censorship and using toxic energy for good

Musing on the Attraction of Submissiveness and Masochism NSFW

Musing on the Attraction of Submissiveness and Masochism

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Sex as a concept is boring. Don't get me wrong orgasms are nice and I'm sure that with the right person at the right time it is quite the thing but I'm a concept kind of guy. 

I'm not a futurist because I love technology. Contrary to what some on the loonier left might believe, we've had technology for a long time, it's sort of one of the things that makes us special. I'm a futurist because I love concepts that challenge my mind and seem mad yet glorious.

Sex is just two sentient flesh sacks grinding against each other until they leak liquid. Oh my days, how terribly exciting.

So as a white guy with less testosterone than the average woman, when I was going through puberty I came up with this idea that absolutely fits the stereotype you're imagining: The sylph.

A sylph is a beautifully, physically icredibly fit individual who is practically immortal can heal and is submissive and obedient.

And when I created the Sylph it absolutely made sense for the concept to be a disappointingly average fantasy for someone of that demographic because this was me trying to convince myself I was straight and normal. Like see I like fit birds, totally hetero.

And then I started to grow up and make friends and felt more secure in my masculinity so I started trying to distance myself from this juvenile fantasy but it was still a solid original scifi concept and could be explored and told better stories with. 

Of course then I found out I actually shouldn't have felt so secure in my masculinity. That was like a fucking horror movie about emasculation. Not fun. Better now though, normal testosterone levels, starting to grow a beard and I'm still writing sylphs...

I mean for me it makes sense, this was a kink so powerful it made me feel aroused when my body was lacking the ability to really physically get aroused. It's power. And power for someone who has always felt powerless. The idea that someone might entrust themselves wholly to you is an intoxicating idea. Not least because conceptually it is so full of risk for the person entrusting themselves to another.

And now it seems I am a shark among seals, a vampire among groupies. Where the submissiveness and obedience was and still is conceptually an unfortunate side effect of immortality as far as my stories are concerned. The great catch to the waters of eternal youth that make them so tragic, to a certain portion of my audience that's the appeal and the fantasy, being submissive and obedient, being overwhelmed and dominated.

This where the speculation begins. You see I write as I make videos, for my own entertainment with maybe an appreciation that if you like what I do you'll like what I make but these people aren't coming to my stories to fantasize about the submissive women, they're coming to fantasize about being submissive. And I... I find that interesting so I want to muse a little about why that might be. Just for my own curiousity..

So I walked into town today for fun and it was easiest when I listened to music and thought about my writing and almost forgot about my body. Indeed towards the end of the walk back when I started to overheat and my feet were aching and my thighs chafing I longed to get out, to stop feeling, to just not be. not in a bad way, not in dark way but just a desire to mentally step back.

The act of writing my stories is in a way similarly an act of mental submission, the world fades away, the body fades away, I fade away and become transcriber to a scene I imagine in my head. And that act of writing, of not really being in the moment, it's when I feel happiest.

I actually feel that act of mentally stepping back with minecraft and podcasts or music. The fancy term is Flow State but it's any moment of rythym that you just get into and it becomes almost muscle memory. What I love to do for this is just dig. Just destroy virtual blocks row after row, methodically with barely the most meagre spike in congnitive reasoning needed. Some days waking from the minecraft coma can almost be better than sleep. no chance of nightmares in the minecraft coma.

So perhaps I can understand the desire to mentally submit. It's an idea I put into the canon of the toys the Bam-Kursh creates and exists to a certain extent in Sylphs with blissing out, indeed it seems a real life version of it may actually exist referred to as Sub Space but I'm going to talk about what I know from my writing. The surrender of a toy's mind to a higher power. 

It's something I threw into a story because it made sense that sentience would to a certain extent get in the way of a toy being a toy and so the Bam-Kursh added it in so that when a toy was being used heavily and expected to be opedient the conscious mind would fade into the background. Characterwise this allows the nature of a toy's submission to another to be shown in their thought process and emotions and not just the performative actions of others as well that isn't my strong suit as a writer.It is perhaps one of the most extreme aspects of the submissives in my fiction, the idea that their very mind might fade away gladly when sufficiently loved and cared for. Yet it is arguanly the positive aspect I most regularly experience through one medium or another.

There is of course another aspect to being a submissive that is more immediately understandable, the idea of a master of mistress. Freedom brings responsibility and consequences. Where do you eat? Where do you live? What do you do with your life? How do you protect yourself? How do you survive? Surrendering those things, especially if its to be pampered and playful in care of an older wealthier partner is a nice idea. At least in theory. To be freed with the challenges that stop us enjoying life, to be safe and protected, to never be lost as to what you should because someone will tell you what to do. To have that sense of trust that this person will look after you and come find you should your life be put in jeapardy.

I mean, not for me, if my youtube channel proves anything it's that I care too much for my own opinions no matter how genuinely illinformed I might be. I could never just obey anyone, alwayys critical. But I can absolutely see why it might be appealing/

Then we come to masochism. And this is something I do have. I have always had nightmares about sharks coming to get me and had the fear of being eaten. Zombies are for me the terror of a shark made horiffically human. though there is something particularly gruesome about the inhuman monster capable of swallowing you whole. Hence why the Contravoxai are just that, they are meant to be what I find terrifying and disgusting/

And here for me is where I understand masochism coming from. It is about confronting fear and relishing in its lack of power over you. It's like holding a standup gig and inviting all your old bullies. It is finding something that makes your skin crawl and refusing to be cowed. Feeling overwhelming dangerous sensation and smiling. It's defiant. It's flipping the signals in your brain. Like furiously masturbating over Margaret Thatcher It's your brain refusing to accept that this much awful can exist so it goes full circle to become erotic

Anyway I apologise to any images or feelings I have stirred in people and I am dreadfully sorry for speculating when I as the proverbial vampire know so little about how my favoured people go about doing what they do.

Sunday, 14 February 2016

Lets Chill Out Episode 8 Controlled Immigratiion and digging

Ambiguity in Storytelling

Ambiguity in Storytelling

Alexander Gordon Jahans

So there's this meme going round where this Literature teacher is giving this vast speech about what can be interpreted by the colour of the curtains and then it's stated that what the author actually meant was the curtains were fucking blue.

I get that. It's a good joke. And fair warning I actually failed my representation module in film studies precisely because my brain does not click with this bullshit. Well no, that's not quite true...

You see I get the rule of conservation of detail, I get that you're only going to mention the colour of the fucking curtains if it is actually important, or that if you're going to have to repeatedly mention boring details because some people need that kind of thing then you might want to do something clever, cute or funny with it. For example I have decided that seven is an important number in my multiverse so just watch how often it comes up,

What I don't get, what I almost failed university because of,  is when you take interpretation and use it to brand a film sexist or racist or whatever. Because for me, context matters. 

Like I absolutely get the value of the Bechdel test precisely because it's a joke on the general state of the media. The Bechdel Test is not intended to be some kind of objective measurement of quality and certainly not an instrument to determine the guilt of an author.

Media is subjective. Like there are certain things we can be generally sure are better but everything has its caveats. Because we have capitalism and because we have consensus of the majority there is perhaps a believeable myth of objective media judgement. And I fly in the face of it. 

People wonder why I won't debate them when they disagree with me about any of the topics I do. The answer is that I will always disagree with someone.  I will gladly highlight that my web footprint does not tolerate criticism because that's not the point of what I do. I don't do objectivity. I do my own subjective interpretation and then I let death of the author take effect. You disagree with me? Fine. Write your own essay on your own blog and leave me to do my thing butting heads to decide who is "right" about subjective opinions is not my idea of fun.

So I have absolutely no problem with Anita Sarkeesian talking about how she finds this or that trope to do with this or that game problematic. I don't even have a problem if you say think someone is sexist because of this or that piece of media that they created. After all that you expressing a subjective opinion based on evidence and reasons. It's when regurgitating subjective opinions that condemn people as though they are objective that I have a problem.

So... Steven Moffat. 

A lot of people hate him. 

Feminists hate him for umm... I'm not really sure why but they do and they believe very strongly that his writing is incredibly sexist. 

On the other side I kind of don't like talking about Doctor Who at the moment because in the last couple of years I found out I now have to have testosterone injections for the rest of my life so I'm kind of protective of the trans community and it makes me sick to see friends and people I admire reacting with such venom to the Master changing gender, to the Doctor one day changing gender, to the companions daring to do more in the show than scream, ask questions and look pretty. 

I just hate Moffat because his writing has gotten pretty shit.

He's a divisive figure.

And there is kind of two different ways to look at him. There is cynical skepticism that he's a hack who thows shit at thev wall, sees what sticks,crudely joins everything up and calls it good. And there's the side that says that everything is intentional and has meaning.

This is where Death of the Author really comes into play as an idea. You can interpret Moffat's Who as genius or lazy and unimaginative and both are true and both are false. Oh consensus will try to try you what the objective definition is but fuck that.

So... What if you want to be ambiguous?

See I have a friend who will gleefully tell me his tales of roleplaying as a mad genocidal necromancer and then he'll squirm and give me some measure of criticism for daring to be ambiguous in my portrayals of the Farsh-nuke and the Bam-Kursh. 

This being my head I generally interpret his criticism as a damning indichtment of me as a person and that I should be flayed in hell. 

I mention this, infact I wrote this entire blog, because I'm writing something. It's called Fuzzy Logic and it is about the Farsh-nuke being summoned to help summon the demon of sentient AI and of course because Author Appeal is a factor. there are a couple of submissive masochistic young blonde women in it. Yes, I know I'm going to hell. 

There is a scene or an event that will happen, whether it will be included on he page, whether I will write it remains to be seen but it will happen. It is going to be canon and I'm wondering about the reception I would get if I wrote it. Because I have a different friend who loves the stuff I write and I was writing down all the various reasons this has to happen for her, even if it never gets shown and I started to realise that maybe I need to show it but this is a thing that treads on sensitive subject matter.

There are lines I won't cross in my fiction. Sex won't get shown unless there is a point to it beyond titilation, much to the dismay of my friend. Violence that is just horrifying won't be shown, Rape is something that I just will never allow myself to write. I'm not saying it won't ever happen but if it does I better have a fucking good reason.

This scene, this event, is on the one hand brutally simple and on the other hand very complex because of the relationship and nature of the characters involved and it is a scene that could be interpreted as sex or violence or even a strange kind of rape because of the very fact that those elements are present at the same time.

And I'm wondering whether I should write this because it's meant to be ambiguous. yet at the same time if I leave it ambiguous and just don't show it maybe that will make it less ambiguous since the mind imagines horrors far more effectively than anyone can show them. And well there isv framing to the event that naturally puts it into a negative light.

So why don't I just strike the scene from canon? Because I write like I make videos, one shot, no edits, especially when it's supposed to be short and fun and fluffy and not worry about whether feminists will want to crucify me. I mean if Moffat's a sexist hack what the fuck must I be? Don't answer that. Characters change and evolve as you write them and you learn more about them until certain things seem inevitable. 

My very speed was my downfall here. No build up, no quiet getting the crew together and steady exposition of plot. This is Charlie, she's a woman on a mission, She wants to summon the Farsh-nuke to create friendly AI so she's got a woman primed to draw him out.. That's literally where the story began and this scene leads inexorably back to that. I can't unpick this. this scene has to happen for the characters so it does, whether it's on page or not.

So don't publish it then maybe? Fuck I don't know. Like people want to read this and not just saddact virgins like me.Also like I'm a nobody writer publishing for free. Maybe saying "If we don't like it, don't publish." isn't the best thing for social justice to be saying?

So I might need to write an ambiguous scene and here's the thing, subtlety escapes some people. Like some people are going to be on their phones the entire time through your movie, some people are going to get distracted by typos and some people are just going to find evidence to back up their own opinions. I mean people are still ragging on Moffat about how the tardis exploded in series 5 and why does everyone miss that Han is clearly bullshitting when he talks about the Kessell Run? 

And I know that there are going to be people who would use this scene as an indichtment of myself, heck I used it as an excuse to beat myself up the moment I realised just how very dark this scene would go. I mean this is well beyond the anvilicious "Isn't eating meat fucking gross guys?" of the Contravoxai Survivor and Green Eyed Nothing. I don't want to write this. It won't be fun for me, I'm not sure I have the skill to write this and yet I have a horrible feeling I maybe need to write it and this is a scene that is ambiguous.

This isn't a simple "This is bad. This person is bad." there is an emphasis on "This is stupid and not safe." because I do actually have two different submissive friends who have yet to enter the BDSM scene so I feel I have a duty to highlight to noobs that doing what this character does is a very very very bad idea.  Yet at the same time I've done some very stupid things that I've quite enjoyed and have worked out better than I'd hoped. Like just because no sane person should ever try something doesn't mean a particularly stupid person won't or that they might have their own reasons.

I guess ultimately if the characters are going to do it anyway and it does develop them as people then there is nothing wrong with trying to depict it but yes it got dark, darker than I ever meant it to go and it might offend people who interpret the ambiguity as them rightfully condemning something they think I'm trying to sexualise when the reality is two characters with a lot of complex reasons for doing something very profoundly stupid for both of them.

I tell you what though we need more women writers and if any woman wants to try their hand at writing with my cast of characters, technology and tropes, so long as they don't try to sell it, I would love to see a what a woman could do with my stuff. 

Thursday, 11 February 2016

Why negative comments get deleted

The Valkyrie Audiobook nsfw

Getting Better

Getting Better

Alexander Gordon Jahans

I knew beating depression, beating this medical bullshit and all the other crap wouldn't be easy. I knew it would get better eventually if I just held out though I didn't know how but I knew there would be no fanfare of success, no neat "And on this date it was dictated that from then onwards Alex was fine."

I am a long way off fine, a really fucking long way off fine. So many bad patches so many days when just living feels like success, when the self loathing takes hold. I'm not good. I';m not fine and I'm certainly not great but I am getting better.

I've gotten better at lying saying "I'm alright" has become shorthand for "I'm feeling as shit as ever but there's nothing you can do so kindly leave the topic alone." 

I am learning how to manage my mother. She is a lying manipulative selfish arrogant paranoid nosey person. Turns out that when I actually abandon honesty and treat her like the kind of person who could turn around and betray me at any minute we get along fine.

Dad and I are, well never going to be good, but we can have short civil conversations and I don't think either of us are going to let things get as bad as they did last year.

Things are better with me and my sister too.

Me and my friends are remaining close despite the distance.

I'm volunteering in a minor capacity and that's a vital step towards one day getting a job.

I still get nosebleeds, I still get migraines and I wonder if I need to get an eye test to see if these glasses are the wrong prescription and causing headaches but my body is at normal levels of testosterone, I've shaved off my first moustache (because moustaches without beards just look wrong)  and my shin and cheeks are certainly attempting beard growth.

But it's the small things that really show me I'm better. 

I'm not screaming that I'm an imbecile everytime something goes wrong. I'm starting to forgive myself.

After having so many dreams where it seemed like my subconsious was outright kneeing me in the balls I woke up from a familiar nightmare about a moster shark. Albeint a nightmare of watching a sharkploitation film with my sister and having her commentary over the top of it lol 

I've started singing to myself and listening to music and things without headphones.

And I'm even starting to seriously consider the possibility of looking for love again at some point. Like I'm not terrified by the possibility that I might actually get a date anymore.

Which is rather ironic given just how much the bigoted hatebase keeps screaming at me that I should kill myself and commenting on my autism and lack of masculinity as though they are negative things. then again it feels good to be hated by the right people. Makes it a damn sight easier to write distraction fics about submissive women when the bigoted right are ragging about how I dare support feminist doctrine and calling me a libtard. It's like a dalek calling you an abomination who should be exterminated, just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside as you're reminded that you're one of the good guys  

And my writing? Yeah, that's better. I think, I think I'm starting to discover for myself that I shouldn't actually try to rush through a novel. Like I can rush through a distraction fic with a few characters and not much depth but I think an important transistion to writing original novels I'd be willing to let people pay for is the understanding that it physically cannot be something that gets rushed out on diet coke and mints.

Also, I don't yearn for friendship, I don't feel lonely. Like wish I could hug my friends and get pints with them and if some awesome person walks into my life I'm not necessarily going to turn them away but the sad desperation for human contact is gone. I'm satisfied. Kind of content.

And... after having society and bigots try so very hard to break me and break my spirits I really don't care anymore. What the fuck can anybody say to me that I haven't said to myself a thousand times and in much worse ways? 

Like I don't feel the vice tightening around me anymore. I don't feel like the walls are closing in on me or that I am standing in a fragile oasis anymore. After trying to run away from home for so long I feel like actually if I've survived this I can weather anything. I mean I am one bad day away from being homeless theoretically but that doesn't terrify me like it used to. I feel like I could weather that shitstorm. And if I couldn't that I could cope and go to places. I'm not in some mad quantum suicide scenario anymore, like maybe I can roll with the punches.

I'm also feeling the urge to be more productive, hence the minecraft letsplay series, hence the volunteering, I'm starting to take things more seriously but in a fun laid back, not being myself up every time something goes wrong sort of way. 

It's not over and it's not going to be over until I get some kind of steady income probably but it is i think out of the darkness and now into the eerie twilight before day break. someday there will be light, there will be peace, there will be stability and independence. The age of survival is over, this is the age of thriving.

Here's to getting better.

Monday, 8 February 2016

Lets Chill Out Episode 7 Going Deeper Underground



Alexander Gordon Jahans

My opinion on this subject does not matter. Please do not decide policy or what you are going to do with your body or what anybody else should do with theirs because of this. If a hashtag or a movement starts up using this as an excuse to harrass people or advance some kind of cause then I am disowning it faster than you can say "Shit!" 

I am literally writing this because a twitter discussion led to the topic of abortion and there is no way in hell that I am going to try and explain my thoughts on this big and emotive subject in 140 characters or less. I am not trying to preach or convert anyone to my way of thinking. My opinion on this absolutely does not matter and purely exists to explain more properly my thoughts on this subject in case anyone is interested. I have made a lot of shitty blogs and youtube videos in my decade or more of being online and this blog that I am writing is write at the top for most pointless and irrelevant. If you just want to say "Fuck off, Alex Jahans, you kno nothing!" then please go right ahead.

Conscience appeased lets explain at length what I think women should do with their bodies... Oh Zarquon, I'm going to hell.

So first off I'd like to say the thing that could well get me the most hate mail, because it's the most easily tweeted. It seems most people fit into one of two camps: Pro-Life or Pro-Choice. 

Well, not me. If pushed I'm Pro-Choice but that feels like calling Reagan a filthy communist because he didn't absolutely abolish taxation and state support for public service, Spectrums people, spectrums fucking everywhere. In an increasingly digital world it is important to note that human culture is increasingly analogue and non-binary.

Before I begin in earnest I will note that the last time I wrote about abortion in any meaningful length it was in an essay for religious studies at secondary school where I said "God is a load of billooks" and got kicked from it. By all means rip the piss into me for being an anti-theistic jerk. I deserve that.

My reference to Reagan and filthy commies perhaps most accurately sums up my complex feelings with regards to abortion because if you asked Reagan he would absolutely talk like he supported an extremely anti-communist position but when it comes to actually debating policies he would com,e up with all sorts of reasons why yeah this support and that taxation is necessary to the smooth running of the country. Ideologically on the extreme right, Politically more to the left because of complex reasons.

See... I really have a knee jerk reaction against any assumption that the mother's rights supercede the child's. Partly because my own mother has over ruled me quite a few times throughout my life on the basis of trying to help and do what's best for me and it has always backfired just so badly. I also just feel like everyone deserves a chance at life and there are so many parents who want to have kids of their own but can't. I absolutely understand why anyone might hold a Pro-Life stance.

Of course then you realise the most violently Pro-Life are in countries like America with a shitty social security system, a lack of free health care for its citizens and the right to murder people really easily with a gun and then the position ceases to hold so much weight. Like you're so Pro-Life you'll send abortion clinics death threats and blow them up, utterly terrorising the women who go to there for help in a desperate time, yet you'll still call Hilary 'Corporate Puppet' Clinton a dirty communist? Yeah, fuck you, you aren't Pro-Life you're just a horrible ignorant human being.

So Pro-Choice...? Why would anyone be in favour of putting the mother before the child when adoption is a thing the mother could do if she doesn't want the child?  Umm, well, maybe,b and this is just my opinion so it really doesn't matter, BECAUSE PREGNANCY AND CHILD BIRTH IS DISGUSTING PAINFUL AND DANGEROUS. 

If you owed your existence to your mother being in distress and agony for nine fucking months until finally your head came out of her chuff in an experience that is  very possibly the most painful thing anyone can ever experience just how the fuck would you feel about yourself. Like that has to fuck you up because you either have to acknowledge that what your mother went through was an unfair hell and thus have to live feeling like you should never have been born, and dude I know how that weighs on a soul, or you have to try and justify your mother's suffering as necessary to your own existence so congratulations you are now a cold misogynistic egotist. And that's assuming we lived in a utopia where the child would always live a full and happy life.

This may surprise you but abortions aren't all taken because gloriously successful and powerful,  career minded women decide years of nappies, no sleep and having a tiny rude disobedient human draining your bank account  is not their idea of fun.

Since we probably won't be solving this any time soon lets discuss the issue of rape. Fun fact Men's Rights Activists recently tried to book a talk from someone who want to legalise rape an I am not talking anything that might have certain people refering to blurred lines (as much as those people make me want to vomit) I mean literally that the supposed champions of men's rights supported a guy who wants to legalize the violent taking of a woman. 

Now imagine you've been raped in the worst way possible. Lets get the nightmare fuel really burning on this because I know my blog is read by a lot of men and I write a lot of fucking weird shit so lets dispel any nascent bigotry from the audience. You were violently forcefully penetrated while screaming for help and hurling insults and pummelling the bastard. You are going down like Quint in Jaws. It is a horrendous experience that gives you nightmares and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Oh and by the way your rapist walked because you were wearing a skirt and didn't immediately stab him in the face when he said hello. 

Then you find out abortion is illegal in your state or country and in fact they're going to arrest you on a bullshit charge just to make sure you don't travel abroad for an abortion while its still possible (which by the way actually happens). So you balloon up to twice the size, you start oozing in odd places, growing odd hairs and developing strange cravings as you can feel the spawn of your attacker moving inside you. You having bad sleep and everything about you aches and it takes such a long time. A near year of your life in agony because of that monster and then the truly fantastic part of anti-abortion laws, you get to suffer in worse agony as the seed of your rapist destroys your cunt once again but this time from the opposite direction. This is like Alien except at least John Hurt didn't have to suffer for as long as victims of rape in anti-abortion states and countries.

Oh and just to let you have a little extra nightmare fuel, it is entirely possible that a trans-man whose assigned gender at birth was female might be pre-op and passing as a woman because they're visiting relatives in a right wing state or country when they get raped and impregnated and have to experience rape 2.0 demon seed because of draconian anti-abortion laws. So yeah, this can happen to men too. Sweet dreams...

Okay so you ring fence rape and find a way to make it that victims of rape can get abortions and maybe you even add in a special clause to protect the victims whose rapists walk on a technicality or victim blaming. Surely then you can be Pro-life without being a horrible human being? Umm, no.

Lets look at the economic reasons for getting an abortion. Terry Pratchett actually discussed this a bit in Snuff and coined the useful term Dreadful Algebra to describe the unfortunate mathematics of survival.

Humans are fallible, we make mistakes. In the heat of the moment we can forget important things. How many times have you bought something you didn't intend to in a supermarket? Things you';d think would be sheer muscle memory after so much repetition can sometimes just slip your mind. Hell of a sentence to hand someone for forgetting a contraceptive in the heat of the moment and anyway condoms break.

So you're poor. You are working two jobs just to pay the rent and have barely enough to live on what with medical bills and emergency bills that need paying every now and again, Indeed you regularly have to take stuff to the pawn shop just to make things work in the nether zone between one bill and the next pay check. You are fighting depression and suicidal thoughts and you live for the one day a week or a month when you can finally let your hair down, get drunk and have fun with your friend. Yes, it's dangerous and it's reckless but fuck it you only live once right and damn it it's the one time you really feel alive and the thought of it keeps you going through all the shit and then one day you make a mistake. 

You are now faced with trying to not just support yourself while you balloon and metamorphose into a baby factory but also supporting someone else on your money for at least ten years if not twenty and that's just the financial burden. What about how the lack of sleep will fuck you up? How the kid will need to meet appointments so you have to take time off work to take them there? And oh yeah kids do have a propensity to break shit.... I say that as a man who when a boy learned about computers by basically bricking my dad's old Amstrad computer every other week.

Okay so the poor can get abortions but that's okay you were worried about them out breeding your glorious elite anyway... Maybe with the raped and the poor being ring fenced as allowed to have abortions hen you can be Pro-Life? Well no because here we need to discuss medical reasons for having abortions.

Welcome ladies and jellied eels to the one area I might just have a little bit of a right have an opinion on something. Aborting a child for having a medical condition. Fucking joy, this is going to be so much fun. You thought the breakdown of why rape and anti-abortion laws is a terrifying combination was dressing well this makes that look light and fluffy, at least from my position as autistic man with a genetic abnormality who has never been raped. Fun. Fun. Fun.

I am a genetic cul-de-sac and I have spent the past year dealing with depression and feelings that being dead would be so very fucking wonderful because dysphoria and emasculation is so super fun. As a side note have you ever noticed that the same people who think feminists and sjws are making people feel ashamed to be men are often the same people people wishing me dead for not being manly enough? 

So I have mild Asperger's Syndrome (diagnosed by doctors and verified on multiple occasions despite my disbelief in the scientific rigor of the diagnosis and loathing of the label, especially when it became part of the autistic spectrum and thus subject to very thick people who can't understand spectrums thinking I'm severely autistic and treating me so). I also have an unknown genetic mutation that means I naturally have less testosteron than the average woman and this has fucked me up considerably. 

I have talked before about how I actually consider my mild Asperger's Syndrome to be a benefit to me, though I absolutely understand that severe autism can be a crippling disability and that there is a very definite case for aborting embryos that show signs of developing autism because it can be so damning to someone's existence.  For me it's this ideopathic genetic mutation that I actually loathe so much that I wish I had been aborted. If this was Skyrim and I could just reroll my character I absolutely would and it doesn't help that because of this mutation causing my testicles to have poorly developed and my sperm to be sub par, if I ever want to have kids I either need to adopt (meaning I need women to carry babies to term that they don't want) or I have to partake in some form of fertility treatment to try and produce half decent sperm and thus I will probably have the responsibility of selecting which eggs get a chance at life so I may very well end up selecting against embryos that could have my own conditions. That is a hell of a responsibility to even possibly have one day and it is not a decision not to be taken lightly and I won't have anyone harassed because they made the hardest most pragmatic call anyone might have to face.

Okay so at this point you are Pro-Life and absolutely believe the right of the mother should not supercede the right of the unborn child, unless they've been raped, or the embryo shows signs of having a life threatening or debilitating condition, and the woman is powerful enough and rich enough to afford nine months off work with the best round the clock care, to be as comfortable and happy as possible, then drugged up to the gills and super safe when she finally gives birth to a child she doesn't want so it can be adopted by loving parents who want kids but can't have them.

Well okay but you're going to reform orphanages and fostercare so nothing bad ever happens at them and the children have the best and most educational childhoods possible? 

Oh you will? Well then I'm sorry President Reagan but you are officially a filthy communist.

And that's why I'm Pro-Choice because unless we enter Iain M Banks's glorious post scarcity utopia and have a universal basic income, fantastic orphanages, brilliant schools and artificial wombs, being Pro-Life is just fucking over mother and child.

But hey this is just my opinion and as I said at the top it really doesn't matter and shouldn't influence anyone. I'm just trying to explain my complicated irrelevant opinion in case anybody is interested because twitter sucks at nuance.

Thursday, 4 February 2016

The Valkyrie A Distraction Fic NSFW

The Valkyrie

A Distraction Fic

Alexander Gordon Jahans

The myth of the Valkyrie is of the norse woman who flies down and carries fallen warriors to Valhalla. I don’t know which came first the myth or the institution and I’m not sure anybody knows, in fact even sure that the multiverse works like that. Maybe the chicken and the egg both came first but in different universes, I’m not a physisicist and I’m not even sure a physicist would understand this. One thing I do know though is Valkyries are real and they saved my life. they gave me hope again.

There is a war going on. a great big one that any moment, if lost, could spell the end of everything. All of reality gone in a moment. The multiverse carries on blissfully ignorant and we all hiss and spit at Apple for their crummy updates or send angry tweets to the creators of our favourite things when we dislike something about what they do. As if any of this stupid petty bullshit matters. Trillions of brave people die every single millisecond to keep us safe.

They aren’t all saints, don’t misunderstand me.

The Logicios are jerks and that is one hell of a massive understatement. They were founded by a Farsh-nuke, think James Bond crossed with Doctor Who and a great old one from the works of HP Lovecraft. The Logicios are upper class british gentlemen or ladies who steal technology from opther universes and upgrade it with what they know. They are scavengers, thieves and scoundrels who recieve hundreds of years worth of training, have technology that can rewrite reality and they run their empire on the slavery of women for ideological reasons that I cannot be faggted to even try and understand, let alone explain. They’ve been fighting the war the longest and still by far outnumber the other parties so they’re tolerated, though that leads to conpiracy theories that maybe they’re prolonging the war to avoid making the changes that world prevent all other parties from trying to neutralize the threat they pose. There is actually a terrorist sect called the Sylph Liberation Front that is trying to undermine the Logicios and secure freedom and better conditions for the women who are enslaved by them but it’s sort of like Isis taking on America, a lot of talk and not a lot of progress just scare tactics to try and make the Logicios stop being such jerks.

The United Civilisations of the Multiverse probably best represent morality and decency but they’re only doing so well because their champion, Lucy Danse, the so-called ‘Paragon Of Virtue’ ruthlessly mass produces copies of herself to lead armies and gifts them to ambassadorst to secure trade deals. Oh and they are expanding their forces fast enough to fight the war because they’re letting a monster called the Bam-Kursh, thinkthe Master/Missy meets the Joker and Lord Vetinari, make a bid for future empress by securing new universes into the United Civilisations, something that is only possible because said monster legally sells copies of people as toys.

Then there are the Architects of Chaos, a loose large collective of empowered individuals who largely patrol the multiverse as journeying heroes but also do theirb bit to fight in the war when they can. Think the Avengers or the Justice League. they don’t really have a collective personaliy, powerset or motive, they just want to help and are in a position to do so.

Finally there are the Elder Gods like the Farsh-nukes and the Bam-Kurshes entities who were once insane and unknowably powerful but over years of dabbling in the universes of mortals becamer mortal enough to be tried and killed so they now habitually reincarnate in host bodies and, after a certain stint of evil post-identity emergence, find themselves drawn to protecting the multiverse and thus doing their bit to help in the war effort.

Things are bleak. Things are fucked up. Our heroes are not the chiseled chivalric messiahs of popular fiction. In many ways a lot of them are more monstrous than the very things they are defending us against. The Septagonoids, as they are known, are beings of pure sentient logic inside mental war machines and they are just extremely pedantic. According to them the multiverse shouldn’t exist because the nothingness it sits within is founded in faulty logic and it seems they’re technically right. It’s just that it doesn’t matter if all reality is built on a flawed premise when so many lives are at stake but they’re beings of logicthey can’t not want to fix faulty logic.Sort of tragic really, the great enemy are right but too mentally ill to see the arguments against it.

Never the less these people are fighting and dying on a scale I can’t even imagine for the good of all of us, whether we know it or not. And the Valkyries save the fallen when they can and restore them to health. Apparently this act of charity is a pragmatic one. you can’t let experienced soldiers go to waste they say. So the Valkyries save them and they heal them, give them a home, give them a ship, give them a job and give them a companion. However the survivors need to get by and recover from the psychological trauma, the Valkyries will see that they have everything they need to begin healing.

It is at this point that I should make clear that I am not a soldier. I’ve never been up against the Septagonoids thank god, not yet at least. I am not a Logicio or an Arcitect of Chaos or a soldier in the United Civilisations of the Multiverse Space Service, nor am I an Elder gor or the host to an Elder God. I’m not anyone important. My story isn’t unique it’s not especially exciting.

Things were bad in my life, real bad. I’m not going to go into it because it honestly doesn’t matter now but suffice to say I hd nothing and noone. I was a broken man, my health was shitty and my country was shitty and the world was shitty and I felt so very shitty. That twinge of irritation you feel at the boringness of repeating the world shitty, I felt that all the time.

Men commit suicide all the time and feminists blame us for it. I mean yes, suicide is literally taking your own life, unless you’re in America and very right wing, then I hear suicide by cop is popular but still... I get that suicide is literally our fault but they turn it into another fucking reason to hate the patriarchy. You can practically hear them saying “If only you didn’t oppress women so much you wouldn’t be killing yourselves.” I am in touch with my emotions, I am willing and able to express myself if I feel like crap but it just gets so fucking boring. Like yes my life is shitty and I want to die I get it can we please move on? Except I don’t move on because when your life is crap no amount of positive thinking will change the fact that you feel shitty a lot.

I fought against my shittyness for so long, I fought against my self loathing and depression and focused on fun. the trouble is that time takes its toll sooner or later you get tired and you get bored and nothing is fun anymore and you just want out. Apparently there are pills for that and help for that but oh yay the conservative party is cutting funding to the NHS and mental health services and as a man there are two entire cultures built on making you feel like shit just for existing. On the Left we have Feminism and the SJW movement that just expects men to excude themselves from any attacks targetted at all men if they don’t fit into these categories. And on the Right we have the Men’s Rights’s Activists and the general bigoted male crowd specifically attacing you personally if you don’t behave enough like them. Welcome to the age of “cuck” as a swear word to describe any male who doesn’t fit the scum’s exact definition of manliness and masculinty.

So one day I gave up. I just gave up. I had had enough. No more. It was time to die. So I walked into town and I found a building I’d scoped out earlier. If you’ve been depressed or suicidal for a while you’ll find yourself doing this almost subconsciously. A lot of people get these kinds of thoughts. They’re the crazy moments your brain is warning you to be careful of danger but it feels like a sudden urge to do something ridiculously stupid and dangerous. Difference is that where a sane person might see a low wall on a tall car park and think “I could just vault over that to my death” then scold themselves and move on, a depressed person will stroke their chin and go “Yeah, I’ll have to remember that.”

So I was standing on on the top floor of this car park and I was about to do it. Ofcourse there’sv a moment of hesitation and trepidation the animal intincts wanting to recoil from danger. I decided to count to ten. I knew I should. I knew all the reasons I should live so I counted and paced then I got to ten and I stared at the wall and suddenly that animal revulsion to danger had become excitement. Freedom. Freedom from this wretched broken body, freedom from this life. Yes, yes, yes, dear god yes. I walked calmly to the edge and placed one hand on the wall, I was just about tov swing my lefoot onto thedge when I froze.

I literally could not move a muscle. My brain was working, my nerves were responding, my heart was pumping and I was still breathing but I could n’t even turn my head. 10 seconds passed and then I heard her voice.”You’re dead. You died. You threw yourself off that ledge and your life ended. Splat! I am here to offer you a second chance.”

‘How?’ I wondered.

“I am a Valkyrie.” she said “You can call me Emma. I can take you aay from here. I can give you a new life, a new purpose, a new hope. I can fix up your body and make you loved.”

‘Is this heaven?’ I wondered.

“No.” she said. “This is a new beginning. This is mercy. This is the way of the Valkyrie. We can see into your soul and ensure that everything is to your liking. You are not alone anymore, you do not have to carry the burden of survival by yourself. Speak now and if you consent I will take you to your new destiny.”

My body went limp and I had to stop myself from falling. “Yes!” I cried “Yes, I consent to whatever it is you wish of me.”

I had been given another chance, I didn’t care if I had actually finally snapped, if the voice was just a delusion, it was better than my life and better than death, it was a reason stay alive. Then I saw her.

The media is very shitty at giving women good roles so this was a surprise. She looking older than me by quite some way and was probably even older but she was utterly beautiful there was an otherworldly glow about her, as if her very soul was a beacon of hope. As I approached her the light began to suffuse me, she placed her left hand on my right shoulder and looked into my eyes. She said “You are saved.” And I felt it.

All the negativity, the self loathing, despair, annoyance, irriation and bitterness was purged from me and I was suffuced with warmth, love, happiness and peace. The technical explanation I learned later was that Valkyrie are trained in the arts of soul magic (actually a kind of complex science to do with hacking into how the logic of the multiverse catalogues different thinking entities) , as such hat Emma was doing was temporarily overwriting the parts of my soul that made me feel suicidal with the positivity that made her Valkyrie material.

She stroked the back of my head with her right hand and smiled “You will obey me, won’t you? There will be no issues if you choose not to but things will be simpler if you choose to obey.”

I nodded. I would have followed this woman into hell for the peace she had brought me.

“Good.” she said warmly then she kissed me ion the forehead and commanded “Sleep.”

My eyes closed immediately and fell into a warm darkness.


When I woke I was naked under white sheets in a warm room that made me feel safe and comfortable. It was as though they had pulled all my happy memories from my head and built a room from pockets of nostalgia and serenity to make me feel at ease.

I sat up and looked down at myself. Abs and a six pack that was new. In fact everthuing seemed to be. I scanned the room and found a place where my brain said a mirror should be if this were built to make me feet at ease and there it was. I examined myself in the mirror and was blown away. I was still me, I still looked and felt and sounded like me but I was fit, and cut like a steak. There were some other improvements that I was ver pleased about, if slightly disconcerted about what the changes implied.

I found where my clothes were kept and there waere two options. My old clothes resized to fit my new body or a suit that had been tailored to perfection. I put it on and felt fantastic, it was like a second skin. I approached the door and opened it.

Outside was like a hospital waiting room, bile green and depressing. Emma was there waiting for me, reading World War Z by Max Brooks. I coughed. She grinned when she saw me and put a book mark in the page she was on then stowed the book in her bag. “Yes, they really have worked a trea on you. Come on, I’ll show you to your new owner.”

I stared at her. “Owner?”

Emma giggled and put an arm round my shoulders as she started leading my down a corridor. “Oh you’ll love her,. She’s a veteran of darkness like you and she will know just how to save you from yourself, just trust her okay.”

I glared at her now and said more harshly. “What do you mean she’ll be my owner?”

Emma sighed and squeezed me then explained “I said I would give you a new life and you have one but I didn’t do this for you. I did this for her. her name is Jessica and she’s a Gfaxxy Quluwmcy. She fought for the United Civilisations of the Multiverse against the Septagonoids. She was the lone survivor of an attack run. She needs a companion, she needs something to protect and carefor, reason not to give up like you did.”

I was walking with Emma but this all sounded like gibberish “You realize I understand none of that, right?”

Emma laughed warm and said “I know, I’m sorry, this is all moving a bit fast for you isn’t it but things will be better once you’re with her. I know you won’t understand a word of this but she will. You are going to become a sylph, you will cease to be human and become a pet animal. She’ll look after you and you’ll love it, I promise.”

I know my actions won’t seem logical unless you’ve been there and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone but I had reached my lowest point and this Valkyrie had brought me back from the brink. Of course I trusted her, l of course I had faith in her, if she had wanted to grind me up and make homeopathic remedies out of me I probably would have consented.

Then I saw Jessica. I wanted to look behind me and see he kitten she was looking at with such ecitement at and glee. then I realized and swallowed. She was older than me but apparently not by much. She had strawberry blonde hair tied back in a pony tail and wore a leatherjacket, jeans and doc martins.

“Hi.” she said “I’m Jessica, pleased to meet you. Are you good to go?”

I shrugged “Actually I haven’t really had much explained to me.”

Jessica grinned and pulled me close “Well I’m sorry to hear that but don’t worry I am not turning you until I know you understand everything, okay?”

I nodded and as I looked at her face I found myself thinking that there were worse places to be than at thi woman’s side. “Thanks.”

“Listem, I’ve had sylphs before, I think I’ve learned somer tricks that might help you feel better, would you be willing to let me try?” asked Jessica.

I shrugged “Sure.”

Then Jessica started massaging me and I found myself moaning. “Oh... Yes...”

Jessica laughed.

I let waves of euphoria and bliss roll over me.

I overheard Emma ask Jessica “How do you feel?”

“Good...” said Jessica earnestly “Real good. Thank you.”

Emma beamed “Always a pleasure to help a Gfaxxy, you know it was one of you that founded us?”

“No kidding.” said Jessica “Thought I liked the decor.”

Emma smirked then said “300 years is a long time spend on the frontlines. You’re a hero.”

Jessica shook her head “I was one snowflake in a blizzard and I watched a lot of good people die.”

“I know...” said Emma and after a moment she said “I am thankful though. you survived and you take that knowledge with you.”

Jessica nodded “I know. That’s why you saved me right? Preserve the intel? Preserve the experience? Well, what if I want to forget? What if I want to move on and settle down?”

“Then you can.” said Emma compassionately. “You don’t ever have to fight again. Just live Jessica. Live a good life. Live it for all those who can’t.”

Jessica swallowed.

I could see her tearing up, I hugged her.

She smiled and squeezed me tight then said “How about we find a nice restaurant where we can eat some good food, drink some expensive intoxicants and get to know each other?”

I grinned and said “I hope you have money.”

She laughed. “Of course. Don’t worry, you never need to worry about money ever again.”

She said it so casually but so earnestly that i actually believed her.

Then Jessica stood back and said “Time to say goodbye to the angel.”

As I looked at Emma I saw that Jessica was right. I approched her and said “Thank you. I can never repay you properly. You gave me exactly what you promised and it is more than I have ever deserved.”

Emma hugged me and said “Be happy, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I said “Yeah, I think I will be now. Keep being awesome.”

Emma nodded then waved as Jessica took my hand and led me away.


The Restaurant At The End Of The Multiverse had a hopefully ironic name as it overlooked the edge of the vast distance the actual multiverse covered in the infinite eternity of the great green nothingness that so offended the Septagonoids with its impossibility in logical reality. It also displayed drone footage of various battles going on in the frontlines of the great war.

It was a strange restaurant, great sharks swam in pools or sat at tables with other humanoids thanks to cybernetic limbs. Spiders the size of cars, talking anthropomorphic cats, great prehistoric lizards, squid people and birds were among the diners. Robots jacked into hacking terminals and chattered in bursts of data as illicit code cracked through the digital right’s management software, disabled safeguards, installed porn and pirated menmories. Great columns of tentacles with more eyes than I could count at a glance would squeal exuberantly as live naked young looking people were presented before them in various dishes.

Jessica explained all that I have explained to you about the multiverse as I ate a roast chacken and a rack of ribs with salad and chips and drank a pint of Mountain Dew. She had a pasta with a name I couldn’t pronounce that was apparently made from the meat of a virgin slaughtered on a full moon. Apparently this was okay because the virgins were actually submissive masochists who could heal. I decided not to criticise her choice of meal since I had long ago decided that meat farming was murder but liked bacon too much to quit.

As we got to desert Jessica reached the point where she would explain just where the heck I fitted into all this madness. If you’re curious I had a lemon meringue sundae made with sorbet instead of icecream and Jessica had a desert with a name in an alien language I couldn’t identify, let alone understand. It seemed to consists of about 30 different foot tall naked people playing in a sweet sauce that Jessica would casually eat alive with a spoon. It did rather colour the conversation in a strange light.

“So there was this great dying race...” Began Jessica as she delved her spoon into the sauce, appled some pressue and came up with a pair of feet that she then spooned into her mouth. “They were running from something. They were scared. They needed to survive and so they genetically engineered a biological machine called an Albino Sylph Squirrel whose combined exctretions would allow them to travel along the third way.”

“What’s the third way?” I asked. spooning a small bit of meringue into my mouth/

“Well the first way is domination, rape, enslaving and ruthless rule by terror and the second way is us: Diplomatic, communicative, resourceful, creative and capable dominating and being dominated. Then there’s third way...” Jessica had set down her spoon to gesticulate as she explained but as she looked back she found a female had taken up a sitting position on the spoon. Jessica laughed and took a photo on a fancy kind of smart phone then held the spoon up to me, pointing “Like this little girl. Specially engineered by six different Farsh-nukes and Bam-Kurshes, these breed rapidly, like pain, cheerily go to their deaths and come in different flavors.” Jessica swallowed the girl whole and chewed carefull before licking her lips and announcing with satisfaction “Strawberries and cream.”

I stared at her, my own spoon dropping into the remains of my sundae.

Jessica laughed “It’s okay, this is the wthird way, survival through exploitability. It’s like the biological equivalent of those people who make money off the internet by being hated. Yes, nasty stuff is happenning to the individuals but the upshot is positive.”

I grimaced as a boy climbed onto her spoom.

“That’s the spirit.” said Jessica with a smile.

“What happened to this race?” I asked.

Jessica chewed on the boy throughtfully then declared “Chocolate. love a bit of chocolate.”

I glared at her.

Jessica shrugged “They died out. When their great ark ship docked the traders discarded the apparently transformed race and took the Sylph Squirrely and started experimenting on different races. Humanity turns out to be the most popular variation of the Sylph super species.”

“Oh...” I said beginning to understand.

Jessica grinned “Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you.”

I smirked.

“Though we can talk about getting you infected by a wereshark if that’s ever something you’d want to try.” said Jessica. “I mean the point of this is that you are as happy as possible in your submission to me so I can feel all the better for knowing you. If you ever want to explore masochism I’m more than willing to help you.”

I smiled awkwardly but said “Thanks for the offer, however I think I’m done feeling bad.”

Jessica looked me in the eyes, seemingly looking into my very soul then she nodded “You and me both, kid.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder and said seriously “You’re not alone anymore. This isn’t one way street, by taking you on as my pet I am agreeing to the responsibility of seeing that you are okay. That’s not a contract, not for you anyway. If you ever want to leave, whether it’s for a week or a lifetime I’ll unerstand but I am not going to stop caring about you and I’m an Elder God, I can get shit done.”

And that’s when I cried. And I am so fucking ugly when I cry because oh god the snot just goes everywhere.

Jessica understood though. She waited years until I was comfortable enough to tell her the full story, of all the reasons I cried at that restaurant but I think Jessica knew, I’d think she’d been told some of it by Ema and could read the rest on my face and soul.

I was safe with her, truly safe. Which is really fucked up conssidering what we were talking about that she was literally eating people alive as we talked but that’s how bad things had been. Jessica made all the shouting and the screaming, the perpetual gale of self hatred, disappear. She absolved me of it.


She didn’t turn me that night. Something about honour and consent and it not being right but it felt pretty darn right. From that moment I was hers, one way or another. She took me on a whirlwind tour of the sights of the multiverse. I lived more in that one month than than I had done in the twenty five years previously

Then she asked me what my dream job was and helped me start to make it happen, not because I’d need the money but because according to herb it was important that I reached the full possibilities of what I was capable of to feel well again.

She waited five years, by that point I had gone through university again and spent two years doing my dream job. She stood by my side the entire time, offering friendship, support, and guidance and only when I was ready to begin life again did she pop the question.


It was Valentine’s day. We were at The Restaurant At The End Of The Multiverse again. Apparently the dish of the day was a newly wedded masochistic submissive couple who could heal that you could order any way you liked, even specifying the genders and sexualities. I just ordered a pepperoni pizza. Jessica was clearly interested in the dish of the day but resolved instead to have a chicken salad with chips.

“So what’s this about?” I asked as I dug into my pizza.

Jessica smirked “You know you’ve come a long way in such a short time. I guess I wanted to reward you.”

I stared at her, pizza held before my mouth. “You paid for everything, you supported me the entire way, I wouldn’t be here if not for you and I’m not just talking about your ship.”

Jessica smiled and said “Still I’m proud of you. You’ve shown that you could climb out of that hole and considering how we met that’s quite the feat.”

I blushed and ate my pizza. “That’s very nice of you to say.

The subject changed and we finished the main course.

The waitress arrived to ask for desert. I ordered a tiramisu. Jessica ordered something alien.

The waitress came back with a great pot on a trolley and my tiramisu.

The pot was lifted off the trolley and and the waitress left. Jessica lifted the pot lid off and Emma’s head poked out of it. “Sorry, I think I’m a little underdone, you might want to send me back.”

I stared at her.

Emma laughed and lept out of the pot dressed iin her Valkyrie uniform. She handed Jessica a profiterole mountain then she turned to me and said “I see you’ve done good for yourself, my lad?”

I nodded then asked “What are you doing here?”

“Seeing my job through to its conclusion.” said Emma and she presented a small plush velevet box to me and a selection of papers to Jessica.

I looked apprehensively at the box then opened it. Inside I found a small white pill. I looked up at Jessica.

Jessica beamed and took my hand in hers. “You have been a terrific friend, you have shown me light and love where I saw dark and now I know you don’t need me to be happy I feel I can justify asking the most selfish thing I ever could. Will you be my pet sylph?”

I stared at her and smiled. “Jessica, I’ve been yours for the last five years and I don’t plan on stopping.”

I plopped the pill into my mouth and swallowed.

“Keep your eyes fixed on me.” said Jessica. “As the pill starts rewriting the logic that governs your body you will imprint on me.”

I grinned toothily and stared at Jessica as it worked. Bits of me were stetching out and thinning, parts of my mind were being fluffed up and cleaned, my focus and look at the world shifted. I felt myself imprint on Jessic, felt her become the only thing tha truly mattered to me.

Jessica smiled took my head in her hands “Yes... Yes, it’s done. You are now a sylph and mine to command. Go on, eat your desert.”

I nodded. My body was still being changed, was a delightfully strange experience.

As I ate I was dimly aware of contracts being signed.

Emma smiled and shook my hand by way of goodbye but promised to check up in a few years.

The waitress arrived with two expensive looking bottles, “Congratulations from the manager, Maam, on your new sylph. She wants you to have these on the house, a bottle of the most expensive champagne in the multiverse that is actually champagne and a bottle of her finestv sylphs blood to drink at your leisure.”

Jessica smiled “Thank you and can we have the bill, please?”

The waitress checked her tablet computet. “According to this someone called Emma has paid it for you with a note saying to make full use of your new acquisition.”

“Oh...” said Jessica grinning. “That will be all then thank you.”

I finished the tiramisu and found myself staring at Jessica..

She smiled and idly stroked me as she ate her profiterole mountain then she removed a jewelery case from her jacket pocket. “There is just one last thing remains to be done.” She opened the jewellery case, inside was a collar with my name on it.

I smirked “So this is legit then?”

“This is indeed legit/” said Jessica and she smirked secured the collar round my neck. “You know if you ever meet someone you’re going to have to think of a way to explain to them why you wear this collar?”

I shrugged and laughed. Because that would never happen right?

The End