Who Is Aria Bauer?
Aria Bauer is a Canadian writer wandering about with a guitar, some superhero costumes, and a sweet tooth. She writes primarily science fiction and fantasy short stories with a particular love for magical realism. Driven by a background in science and statistics, she spends far too much time analyzing number for someone who is supposed to be in love with words.
You can find her independent short story, Bones of Steel, published at Daily Science Fiction.
You can get on touch with her on twitter @ariabauer
Short Stories, Media Analysis, & Other Things
Story Analysis: Super Mega Huge Carmilla Theory Pt 2
Alright then creampuffs, cupcakes, and other baked goods. By popular demand, we’re back to talk about the theories created by Act 2 of season 3 of Carmilla series. With so many more subtle clues and a whole other myth to play with, I couldn’t resist. It’s like candy. You can read our theories based off of Act 1 here as we’re going to be starting by building off of them and then moving forward. Remember, this isn’t necessary the theory that’s most plausible. It’s about the theory that’s most interesting! Act 2. Not as straight forward as Act 1. All the headaches and copious note making.
Story Analysis: Super Mega Huge Carmilla Theory
With the launch of season 3 of Carmilla, we have a great opportunity to examine how a story can build its own mythology. Where clues come from and how they work within a broader show framework. After all, they gave us a great webseries with a mystery based on quest items and then tied it into Sumerian mythology. How could I resist over analyzing? This is literally too long for tumblr so I had to break my own rule and post it here. As nothing makes me happier than when someone over-analyzes my work, I’m going to make this as big and crazy as possible to show my appreciation for 3 seasons of this awesome show. My thanks to everyone involved. I’m making this conspiracy-theory level just for you.Go big or go home.
How To Mess With the Greeks: A Plan in 7 Parts
Step Zero : The Bet “So we’re all in agreement?” Loki asked as he dropped his wager into the large black pot in the middle of the three men. Set snorted. Of course it was Loki who needed clarification. More than any of them, the Norse trickster thrived on his golden tongue coming up with words and agreements that twisted things in his favour. Probably thought that would help him. Not here. Plus that cape. Set almost rolled his eyes. Trust Loki to find the most ostentatious shade of green available. Every so often a gust of desert wind would whip up and grab the tails of the cape, nearly hiding the Norse god under the folds. “We are,” Eshu stepped forward, and threw his own wager into the cauldron, “the terms of the bet seem acceptable to me.” They both turned to Set, waiting for his confirmation.
Investigations In Love
“Is it done?” Thoth’s words were soft as he stepped out of the shadows of the doorframe. Anubis didn’t look up, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The god of death just stood there silently with his head down, one hand resting on the chest of the corpse. The one corpse that wasn’t lying on the shiny clinical table at the center of the room. While the three bodies on the metal table had been fully cleaned and prepped for their respective funerals, this last body was untouched by the magic of Anubis. No coffin waiting to be filled. As fresh as could be expected without the embalming so carefully done to the other patrons of the T&A Funeral Home.
Ruby Red Roses
Pluto was trying extraordinary hard not to blush. She was a Lord of the Underworld for Terra’s sake. Lords of the Underworld were dark menacing creatures of death who definitely did not turn bright red when their best friend insinuated that their extremely annoying neighbour had been flirting with them. And yet her cheeks were not intent on cooperating. Or her ears. Or her neck. Ruby red.
The Goddess of Love and War
Inanna tells herself that people are kind. She mumbles it under every shaky breath to the beat of her footsteps echoing throughout the city. Every step one she’s taken before. The same path. Same circles. Over and over again. People are kind. People are kind. People are kind. Hoisting her backpack higher over her shoulders, she takes the steps that will lead her over the bridge. Today is a bright day and the sun will glisten off the icy water in a way it never would have a year ago. When she lived where everything was dry. Reminding her that she lives there no more. As if she needs a reminder. Everything is a reminder. The crinkled phone number in her pocket that she refuses to look at. Poking her with every step. The weight of the backpack reminds her in its lightness. It holds everything of value that she owns and still it is not heavy enough. The puckered skin on her hand reminds her by its presence. As a god she could leave the scarred, olive skin behind but that seems wrong. The emptiness in her head reminds her with every thought. Even as a god, she could not leave that behind.