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zet-sway · 9 months ago

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Fanfic: Sonnenblume

Or, I finally wrote a desert vacation fic.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for SPICYEEEEEEEE

Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~4600

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“I think I found a place,” she says one morning. “An old friend of my mom's, they have a vacation home back on Earth, out in the American Southwest.”

Thane raises a brow at her. They're cleaning out the cargo hold, offloading collector tech at the citadel tower dock for distribution to the council races, each of them making their requests for research and study.

“I've never been to Earth,” he muses. There are any number of arid planets to visit, it seems almost foolish he is just now considering that Earth has many climates, deserts included.

“I haven't been in a long time. Grew up in space, last time I was topside was before my Spectre appointment. But my mom's friend says it's the perfect time to visit. A month from now it'll be hotter than a Krogan’s quad.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Earth sounds lovely, Siha.”

Her smile could light up the deepest reaches of dark space.

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Day 1

They're docking in Vancouver, slipping out the cargo hold and on to a taxi to whisk them away right under the noses of the Alliance's top brass.

The joy in her eyes is supernatural, he thinks. Unshackled from the military for seven scant days, Shepard practically glows with the energy of her newfound freedom. They leave an absolutely amateur trail of evidence as they flee south, along the west coast of the United States, through mountains and redwoods and oceans. The only stop they need to make is to pick up new clothes, snacks, and sunscreen.

They're on vacation.

He has to think to remember how to say it in his mother tongue. Ten years ago, he hadn't the funds to take time away from work after his marriage. Like many within the Compact, his life had always been driven by work, using the few pockets of silence in the spaces between each job to secure the next contract, research the next target, or hone his skills. Little time had ever been spared for himself. This… outing, this vacation, is something he's long thought belonged to the upper echelons of society and caste.

But he supposes he is wealthy, in some sense.

He's in love.

Wealth is watching Shepard parade almost girlishly in front of the shopping center’s changing rooms, all blushing cheeks and nervous laughter as she twirls the golden yellow sundress that she insists she's “unsure” about. Wealth is the way her face lights up when she spots a large, wavy brimmed hat across the aisle and races to try it on. Wealth is how she winks at him over her oversized sunglasses, and the levity in her voice when she says, with a devil's grin, “They'll never recognize me now.”

She might be right. The man at the checkout counter doesn't spare them a second glance as he checks out with their things.

Vacation suits her. And as they hail another transit to take them to the arid southwest, he thinks it's beginning to suit him too. He's rather looking forward to the breezy garments he’d chosen for himself.

Shepard's ruby red hair is swallowed by her massive sun hat, casting a broad shadow down her lean and muscled frame and the golden fabric of her dress. “Civvies,” she calls them. “You know, civilian clothes.”

He's quite certain there's nothing civilian about her. Her shoulders are too square, her calves and arms too hardened. She turns the eyes of the other passengers, oblivious to or simply ignoring their blatant stares. He feels like a shadow by comparison, clothed for now in the dark colors so typical of his profession. Still, her head falls against his shoulder and she slips her hand into his, laying claim to him all the same. Her silent affection makes his heart and body ache for her.

With practiced breaths, he slips beneath the waves of memory, willing himself through the minutes until the moment when they’re finally alone.

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Soon enough, they find themselves stepping off yet another transport not far from their rental.

Nearly one with the rocky desert, the low-roofed home is a dissertation in minimalist design, with flat, concrete lines gliding across deep-set windows, leading his eye to a modest entryway and through the glass beyond. Dimly, he wonders if he might have the funds to purchase the property; the volus bankers who minded his accounts probably thought him dead, having let his assets sit untouched for years. A minimalist by nature, this is precisely the place he had long dreamed of living.

Shepard tugs his hand, her skirt fluttering in the transport's downdraft, and his thoughts melt beneath her eyes, lit from within by a soft, cybernetic glow in the shadow of her sun hat.

She drops their things the moment both feet are over the threshold. Before he’s even figured out how to lock the door, her mouth is on his. She pulls him - grasps him by the shoulders and tugs him deeper into the house, kicking off her sandals as she goes, leading him towards whatever furniture lies beyond. True to her nature, his Siha is impatient. She is the fiery crown of Arashu, and he the rolling tide of Kalahira. He tempers her flames, grasping her wrists and flattening her hands against his chest as he kisses her, slow and deep.

The idyllic home they'll share for the week isn’t much more than background noise as she yields against him.

Her shoulders are already kissed by the sun, dusted with a delicate pink hue that warms beneath his touch. He slips a finger beneath one narrow strap of her dress, sliding it down her arm, trailing kisses in his wake. One luscious breast comes free, then the other, and her dress falls to the ground without ceremony.

Not long after, she's straddling him on the couch, grinding down on him with those soft little moans he's replayed over and over again in his mind.

Their first time was like this. He basks in the ethereal headspace between past and present, crisscrossing them in his mind as her hips roll against his, hot breath on his neck. And then she lets out the smallest whimper, a sound so vulnerable and soft that he cannot help but breathe her name in return, clutching her close. His dominant hand settles on her backside, aiding her motion; the other rests between her shoulder blades as he drives himself up into her heat, his mouth wandering in clumsy gasps along her chest. The way she lets her weight fall against him is an unspoken surrender, a precious gift she has chosen only him to receive.

He will never know why she chose him. But if it's him she wants, then she shall have him. Every night, again and again, until she screams his name in ecstasy and they lay in satiated exhaustion.

Tu-fira.

He belongs to her.

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It’s difficult to articulate how natural this feels.

Night falls, a chill settling over the rocky desert. He’s been alone with her many times, but never quite like this. In the short time they’ve known one another, she’s never been more than a commlink away from her crew, her mission, her ship and her duty. Here, nestled under a sea of stars, they’re more alone than either of them have been in decades. He watches the light of the backyard firepit cast flickering shadows on her bare skin, their hands intertwined.

Long after driving one another to sweat-kissed exhaustion, they remain entangled, engrossed in conversation. It’s like meeting her for the first time all over again. The armored force of nature who had carved a willful path into his life now lay naked in a nest of blankets with him, firelight dancing in her eyes, deep into a long and meandering train of thought. She weaves tales of her life before the Alliance, of joyrides and hijinks that would have made even his younger, rambunctious self hesitate. Her excitement touches his soul with a kind of contentment that he’s not touched in what feels like a lifetime.

Inevitably, the chill of night becomes too much to bear, and their talks meander back to the physical; stories of life before one another and the various trysts that preceded.

He can hear the desire in the deep, red edge of her voice; the way her tone dips from casual to sensual as she stands, clothed only in the dancing hues of firelight, and leads him to the crisp, untouched sheets of their shared bed. He pulls her close, scaled hands sliding across bare human skin, pointedly savoring her, willing his want and his love to find their way into every corner of her soul.

He wants. Oh, how deeply he wants.

He whispers prayers into her palms, one by one, as she rides him into the break of dawn.

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Day 2

Morning comes and goes in silence.

They lay heedless to the sun's motion, tangled soft sheets lit by the dreamy glow of day through the deep-set awnings and windows of their rental. Thane dozes in and out of sleep with her in his arms, heart swelling each time he wakes, awash in the scent of her hair and skin. They lie together for some time, and when she rises, he curls into the space where she had slept, unwilling to part with her residual heat.

Heat stirs in his limbs as he hears the shower kick on, his body calling for her as though he's woken up back in time, a younger, more virile man. Half in dreams, he can see her naked and robed in morning dew like a siren, and he cannot resist.

He finds her in the frameless shower, sunlight streaming through the window beside her. Water pours over her in rivulets of gleaming light, the sun illuminating the strong dunes of her back, gleaming off her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine.

Shepard, of all the people he had known, was made of sunshine. She was made of the fiery warmth and light of day, bathing him in her glory and simultaneously blinding him with effortless radiance.

And it's here, pressed up against the polished concrete wall beneath a lukewarm deluge of water, that he shows her all the ways he loves her. Shows her how, if he angles his hips just so, the last of her burdens melt away and he knows her as only he can; through the gentle, mewling gasps of an angel on the verge of tasting her own glory, manifesting the soft heat inside her as he drives himself against her deepest reaches.

He has to be mindful of his eyes. This has always been true, will always be true of all drell, but never more so than when she nears the peak of her pleasure. Shepard is possessive, perpetually communicating her need with unending motion, gripping him close as though the mere inches between them are a chasm too great to bear. He watches the way crystalline drops of water bead on her neck and shoulders, they way they catch the morning sun like diamonds, casting pinpricks of dappled light against his own scales and streak down the shape of her as she moves against him, contorted and desperate to take him deeper, to break herself upon the sanguine friction of their joining.

Her head knocks softly against the wall, her back arching, chest thrust toward him. And then she breaks. Sweet gods, how she breaks.

It's almost more than he can take. Words can never hope to say all the beautiful things she is when she comes.

He gathers each gasp, each heartbeat, every droplet of water on her parted lips and every clench of her heat around him. He drinks them all in, safely locked in the depths of his blessed memory for all his days. There is no greater gift in this life or the next.

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Day 3

Much as he would like to spend the entirety of their ‘vacation’ finding a reason to make love to her on every unoccupied surface in their rental, Shepard has made sure to include other activities in their itinerary.

He wakes to find her half dressed, smiling at him as she pulls a swimsuit top over her head. It’s a deep, forest green, with wide, high straps that criss-cross over her collarbones in an attractive triangular shape. He blinks, anchoring himself to reality as though he can't be sure she's real. And if his drowsy eyes find purchase in the alluring curve of her breasts peeking through the small cutout at the top’s center, he's certain the gods will forgive him.

The mattress dips as she sits beside him. “Come for a ride with me,” she whispers by his ear.

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Thane has often heard that human skin is easily burned by their planet’s star. He’s never quite believed it until Shepard.

He finds himself on a beach, massaging the soft cream she calls ‘sunblock’ into her back and shoulders, wondering how he could have ever gotten so lucky. His Siha, his warrior angel, so vulnerable without her armor that she wants - needs - his hands to protect her soft human skin, heals his soul with this one simple act; the intimate joy of being her protector and lover as he takes care to make sure she is thoroughly covered. The ocean breeze blows strands of her carmine hair across her forehead as she turns her head to him, smile lines deepening with delight as their eyes meet.

They pass the time in golden luxuriation, prostrating themselves beneath the radiant heat of Sol for hours, never more than an arm’s length apart, until the sun dips below the horizon and paints the sky in a myriad of hues somewhere between floral and fire.

And as the sun bows out for the evening, he bows her into the sand, lips locked and knees knocking against her own as they collapse together on soft, weatherworn sand that clings to the warmth of the sun as it bids them goodnight.

He never wants to leave this place.

Goddess above, Earth is the very image of serenity. Freer than free, his breath unburdened, his elation pours from him into her waiting mouth as they taste the salt air together. Her beach towel is a poor shield from the sand, but it hardly matters as he uncovers her skin, inch by precious inch, until she quivers beneath his touch, the sound of his name carried away by the rolling swell of the ocean.

He can taste the sea between her legs, the irresistible twang of life and salt and need that rises from her like water from a stone.

“Don't stop,” she breathes.

He couldn't - not if he wanted to. He wants this memory exponentially more than his own pleasure. A moment finer than all the collected treasures of the galaxy, etched into his mind for the rest of his days: his Siha writhing beneath his hot mouth, gripping his scalp, crying out as she tumbles again and again through ecstasy of his making.

He could die here, he thinks. Perhaps he's already dead. He nuzzles her thighs, warm and soft, as she floats down from on high. Yes, if the gods wish this to be his grave, he would gladly bow his head in thanks.

It's an hour’s trek back to their rental, but they will stay here until the ocean wind becomes too cold to endure, dunes yielding beneath them just as flesh yields to flesh and they become one.

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Day 4

It’s the honeymoon phase, he thinks to himself, running his fingers through her hair as she lies sleeping on his chest.

Thane has been here before, in another life, waxing and waning in the warmth of his wife’s bed. Deep in a distant rational corner of his mind tries to tell him: it won’t be this way forever. But does that matter? Does it really, actually matter? Months ago he would have said that he was but a tooth on a cogwheel, destined to spin around in repeating cycles of loss, memory, and despair. But this fierce woman pursues him with all the endurance that humans are known for. Bit by bit, she chips away at the rigid crust the last ten years have borne upon him, and he is alive. Alive in ways he hasn’t known in what feels like a lifetime.

They will spend this day treating themselves to all the beauty that earth’s arid lands have to offer. From the bleached, rolling dunes of sand, to the baked and rocky landscapes dotted with life in its most hardy forms, to the golden time-carved radiance of the painted desert - Goddess preserve him. His past has never felt further away. With her by his side, his world is filled with sunlight in much the same way as Earth’s gleaming sky, now so familiar and perfect to him that he would just as easily call it home.

And when the sun’s heat is too much for her human skin to bear, he trades the scenic vistas of the American southwest for a landscape of another kind.

Her skin glows, its color deepening with each passing day in dappled patterns that betray her state of undress throughout their travels. He finds it endearing, the way her cheeks and shoulders are dusted with more freckles than he'd seen when they arrived, the way her chest and thighs remain lighter in color than the rest of her, drawing his eyes, his hands, his mouth to worship at the temple at is her body. She kneels between his knees and blesses him with the sweet heat of her mouth, stealing his breath as she tastes him, crimson hair the perfect anchor for his hands as she takes him higher and higher.

He had underestimated her appetite for him. Perhaps he'd underestimated his own appetite in turn. They haven't even made it back to their rental and he can already smell the need on her, the cramped taxi insulating and perfuming the air so thickly he can almost taste her, slick and soaking with arousal, maddeningly just out of reach but with nothing but her panties between her need and the rest of him. Powerless to the heat of her mouth, he spirals through his lust as she pleasures him, soft hands and pink lips around his shaft. Her artificial eyes gleam up at him through her mussed hair, and goddess preserve him, he’ll hack the engine himself if it’ll make this taxi go any faster.

She's fumbling at the lock as he pushes her against the wall beside their front door, covering her mouth with his. Lips locked, they stumble inside. His hand drops down to her thigh, palming at the warm skin just beneath her skirt. Shepard, in turn, tugs him in the direction of the bedroom.

He considers this, allowing himself to be led as he considers all they’ve had the pleasure of seeing today - of her radiant smile beneath her oversized sunglasses, unable to conceal the joy of her eyes from his perfect recollection. Of her freckle-dusted shoulders beneath the shadow of her sun hat. And he decides in that moment that no - as much as he adores their soft bed and its sex-scented sheets, he loves her in the daylight more.

The back patio opens with a wave of his omni-tool, and he presses her into the opulent cushions around the fire pit. She chuckles against his mouth - perhaps he's become too predictable, but it no longer matters.

There’s a kind of transcendental brilliance to this place. Some kind of inebriating mix of oxytocin and fresh air and sunshine that ignites his synapses and levitates his heart until he feels he can touch the radiant sky. He ruches up her dress, fabric sheeting off her body until she's all warm, decadent skin against a backdrop of their shed clothing. He groans inwardly at the sight of her, the shadow of her clavicles arching nearly above her soft breasts, tipped with that same aphrodisiac shade of desire that awaits between her lush thighs.

She smiles so sweetly at him, but her eyes are shaded with mischief as she opens her legs for him, teasing her folds beneath his heated gaze. He falls to his knees before her, palming her silken thighs, kissing the wet, sanguine warmth between her legs as though it were her mouth.

Her hips rise to meet him, rolling against his tongue as she brings one ankle gently against his back to guide them together, and Thane breathes out a low, pleasured groan. He loves this - the way her body talks for her, knowing full well he needs no encouragement but asking all the same, driven by biological instinct to share the most intimate parts of her humanity with him - a man from another world. Her body calls for him, beckons him, and he is both her servant and sire.

“Please, please Thane,” she whispers, hands reaching blindly for whatever parts of him she can reach.

He lifts from his place of worship with a breathy inhale, curling his arms around her thighs and hauling her bodily until she rests on the very edge of the cushion and the tip of his cock falls against her wet heat. And then he pushes forward, savoring the way her soft flesh yields to him, how her silken walls conform to every inch of his thick, ridged length, swallowing him to the hilt.

She breathes his name as he bottoms out. Takes a moment to catch her breath and then pushes up on her elbows and then her palms until she’s close enough to wrap one arm around his neck and pull him close. Thane folds an arm around her in turn, pumping in and out of her blessed heat. Thank the gods for her brilliant human flexibility.

The sun beats down on his back, his body shielding her vulnerable human skin from the worst of its rays, as he makes love to her with long, deep thrusts. He could never hope to articulate this specific kind of ecstasy - the ruddy heat of Sol crowning him with the same deep heat he seeks deep inside her.

It’s not what he would call fucking, but it’s not what he would call tender, either. It’s somewhere in between. It’s the heavy, sweet push and pull of two lovers, their minds blank of all thoughts beyond the tension, friction, heat, and pleasure that flows between them; tongues sliding together, hands clutching at skin and scales, at once desperate for release but determined not to reach it, to stay in this moment forever, unwilling to part with the sybaritic heaven they share. She locks one thigh around his hips, bracing herself with one hand so she can touch his face with the other, fingertips trailing almost too roughly against his sensitive ruby cheek as she grinds her cunt onto his heavy girth.

He needs her closer, needs her harder, consumed by the need to become one with her in that sanguine way only two lovers can. Parting from her for just a moment, he slides both knees on the cushions with her, hauling her up onto his thighs, watching for a moment as she grinds her flushed, creamy slit against his length before sinking himself back into her depths. They rock together until he’s sure beyond doubt that she’s out of her mind, blissed out and debauched before the combined heat of her sun and his desire. Until the satin sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of her throat is too laden to cling to her skin, and she moans his name into the wide open sky. Only then does he drop his hand between them, drawing wide, steady circles around that incandescent neural bullet between her thighs.

Her voice is lost as she comes, words and sounds dying in her throat as, at last, the pleasure is too much for her body to bear. He watches beneath heavy-lidded eyes as she tenses, cries out, and breaks, as her body sings like a plucked harpstring; knowing that for those precious few seconds, she is well and truly his, and his alone.

When her mind is wiped of all thoughts but him, his embrace, his kiss, and the pleasure at his hands, he can finally let go.

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Day 5

He wakes to the sound of music playing softly from another corner of the house. Decades old, by the sound of it, plucked notes singing on a guitar string beneath the melodic voice of a human weaving a tale of a dark desert highway. He’s heard this one before, playing over a crackling stationary radio in the cargo bay where she’d often done routine maintenance on Normandy’s ground vehicle.

Rising with a contented breath, he pads over to the common area to greet the day.

She’s wearing one of his robes, and nothing else. A breezy, cream-colored cotton garment that’s too wide in the shoulders for her more feminine frame. She lets it drop down one arm, the fabric collecting in the crook of her elbow just beneath where her hand rests on the door frame. The rest of it hangs open, gauzy fabric illuminated by the glowing sun streaming in from behind her, framing her in ethereal light. Though her face is in shadow, her artificial eyes are just bright enough to search his soul as she peers back at him.

In that moment, his Siha is more angel than warrior. She's posing for him, framing herself in a mental postcard to commemorate the effortless beauty of this place, this life, this love.

She pauses in the doorway for a good long while, as though she knows precisely what she's doing. Cocking her hip, idly running her long, calloused fingers through her hair, waiting for him to sear this image into his blessed eidetic mind for the rest of his days.

It’s so easy, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her again and again, bitter coffee on his tongue and warm sun on his face.

“I got a message from Hackett this morning,” she says softly.

The tone of her voice makes his stomach clench with unease, and he takes a moment to suppress the tremor in his throat.

“How long do we have?”

“Until tomorrow morning.”

He pulls her tight against his chest, as though by some miracle he could keep her from ever leaving the safety of his arms again. Shepard tucks her head into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Thane.”

“Do not apologize, Siha.” Her hair is soft on his cheek, and he breathes deep as his eyes settle without focus on the rocky landscape outside her lovely picture-frame window. “This sojourn has already brought me more joy than you could ever know.”

When she kisses him, there’s a desperation in her that he’s not felt before, as though she shares his worry. That she’s been called away is unsurprising, in and of itself. But the tension in her shoulders makes his heart quake with an obdurate fear that will linger throughout what remains of their holiday.

He resolves to suppress it. If Shepard has taught him anything, it’s how work and purpose can stave off one’s demons, if only for a little while.

“What would you like for breakfast, Siha?”

She lifts her head then, and her smile is worth whatever heartache lies beyond the indefectible threshold of their abode.

He will take what he can from this moment. Reality can wait just a little longer.

#thane krios #shrios #zet writes things #my brain is broken #sorry about the typos i had to uninstall grammarly because ai is the devil #literally my head is full of lint right now #please enjoy #is this fluff?#aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA #mass effect fanfiction

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lassieposting · 1 year ago

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Okay but it occurs to me that varren are a domesticated species - krogan, batarians and humans keep them as pets and working animals.

Like dogs on earth, you can still get packs of feral varren but, also like dogs on earth, even those are probably befriendable with time and effort, because domesticated animals are the result of thousands of years of selective breeding for friendliness, obedience and the ability to understand and communicate across species - you know your dog wants to go for a walk even though he can't speak, because he's whining or pawing at the door or bringing you his leash. They tend to have high levels of emotional intelligence.

And. Animals with high levels of emotional intelligence will sometimes initiate contact with humans on their own, without prompting. Look at feral dogs who will approach a human because their head is stuck in a bucket and they need it removed, or deer who escape a fire and come to humans for water. Look at that video of the mama cow whose baby had slipped outside the fence, and she mooed to draw human attention to the baby and then calmly cooperated while a man lifted it back into the field. Look at the elephants, even, who will go to human settlements for help because their baby is trapped in a hole, and who don't charge the rescuers while they work to free it because they know the humans are helping.

Anyway the point I'm getting at: did humanity, exploring fringe worlds before they ever meet a turian, ever end up absolutely baffled because some fish...dog...thing...has wandered into their compound with its head stuck in what looks like an old space helmet and is clearly looking for help from something with opposable thumbs

Like where did it learn to do that

#mass effect #mass effect headcanons #varren

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civilotterneer · 1 month ago

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I'm curious about your Starfinder campaign! Would you be willing to tell me more about it? :D

So it depends, we've gotten a few in now. I'll give you the universe we've made and the most recent campaign we just finished.

The Rishi Sector

In the Rishi Sector, there exist a limited selection of races and nations:

Orcs - The Orcish Triumviratelive - in a 3 habitable world system, with each one drawing from a For Honor faction, using UNSC style ships

Elves - The Elvin Technocracy - from a destroyed homeworld and of a capped population but of technilogical prowess, using Star Wars Naboo style vessels

Draconians - The Scaled Empire - the most populous and powerful race of large, krogan-like draconid people, use Star Wars CIS ships

Dwarves - Deep Rock Galactic - a capitalistic empire of industrious and wealthy people, use Star Wars Republic style ships

Pixies - Deep Rock Galactic - living on the moon of the dwarven homeworld and as a subsidiary of DRG, one of the rarest races, no ships

Amurrans - The United Fiefdom - a cat like unisex race of strange genetic capabilities, using Star Trek Federation style ships

Gnomes - Deep Rock Galactic - Gnomes are actually fired dwarves, being as you can't leave DRG in good terms as a dwarf, dwarves are administered a genetic untreatable disease turning them into a gnome

Solari and Lunari - The Stellar Conjugate - the newest member of the Rishi Sector, this twin race comes from a tidally locked world where it's still kind of the Wild West, custom designed ships that look like trains and steam vessels

Automatons - Unkown Government - Prolific wanderers of the Sector, their only known homewolrds are large ships housing a super intelligence. Begin life as an android and slowly remove biological parts to become a full automaton. Use Star Wars Mon Cala style ships.

A common threat in the sector are Saurians, dinosaur-like raiders from a fallen empire using old, dying technology. They refuse to work with any of the Rishi Sector races. They use Halo Covenant style vessels and weapons, and even have a subrace of Elites in them.

Lastly, a new threat appears! The Empire of Man has been making scouting runs into the Rishi Sector, hellbent on spreading the word of their unholy, unknowable god. They are based on The Empire from Star Wars and use their ships.

Totally-Not-A-Suicide-Squad

Our most recent campaign involved our characters being prisoners, with long sentences based on your races average lifespan. We were being sent by the Elvin Intelligence Agency (EIA) as a multi-racial scouting mission to a newly discovered anomaly.

This anomaly turned out to be human in origin, which until now, were completely undiscovered. While our goal was to just find useful items to lessen our sentences, we discovered that this base will be used by an invasion fleet to travel to the sector, since a large, untraversable nebula separates the Rishi Sector from where the Humans are coming from.

Our party explored what remains of the abandoned base (all the previous humans were slowly picked off by the local dinosaurs until only 1 vampire human remained in the most secure base). Many characters died, a grand total of 5 character deaths occurred over the course of this 5-shot campaign.

My character was actually one of the only people to start the campaign and end alive still. Morandro'goth, an orc from the Asiatic planet, was a shaman who may have accidentally offed several financial advisors on commands of 'The Spirits'. He was a Psycic class, and had a whole thing about communing with local spirits to find information. In combat, he used very-strong telekinetic magic to throw items with incredible velocity at enemies. He would also summon some spirits to fight with him.

Some other characters included:

A swashbuckler bat-like sprite (Deceased to literal demonic beetles)

An ammuran kineticist (Deceased from a fall, irony)

An automaton monk (Deceased twice, first to an orc known as "The Throngler", second to kamikaze-ing a Tie fighter with the last human vampire in it)

An elvin oracle who was actually a thrall to the vampire and backstabbed us (Deceased as he failed his master's mission to collect an orc)

Morandro'goth and a Lunari ranger were successfully able to escape with plenty of items to undo their sentences and live as free men afterwards.

This campaign, run by a friend, is actually supposed to be a prologue to a future campaign I will run, which will include the Empire of Man invading the sector and the party having to stop them.

What the Future Holds

We're about to start a long-term campaign, where we're all adventurers on a newly-colonized and wild planet. There'll be a lot less direct sci-fi from cities and whatnot, but plenty of interactions from characters who might use plasma weaponry against nature.

I'll be playing a Solari Divine witch, with the background of being a nun and working to further her religions teachings, but also to study how old gods may 'die' and how the living things they make are derived from said gods. Her familiar, a form of otter-dog creature (A Damibwa) from the Lunari part of her homeworld, is also how her paton speaks to her, giving her divine orders.

#furry #fursona #otter furry #3d render #blender #civ #ask #lye #Livic #Starfinder #Pathfinder 2e #Civil Otterneer

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reallyprofoundkryptonite · 1 year ago

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Might do something with him, just knew he needed a new ref sheet

#httyd #krogan #httyd rtte #krogan rtte #krogan httyd #rtte #httyd fanart #httyd fandom #httyd au #fanart #httyd krogan #rtte fanart #rtte krogan #old man!krogan #Maea’s aus

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gabriellerudessa · 9 months ago

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Thoughts about Mass Effect

So, I've just finished my run of the Legendary Edition. For context, I was 18 when ME3 launched, and I'll be 30 this year; the last time I had played the whole trilogy was WAY BEFORE the LE was launched lol.

So. All this time between gameplays and a lot of things in my life made me reflect a lot on the games and conflicts presented, the end and so on. Bear with me, this will be long.

Catalyst says that the root of the problem it has to solve is "organic versus synthetic"; this causes whiplash, because it is NOT something heavily shown in the games as "the root".

On the contrary, what is SHOWN is "control and order versus free will and self-determination": it's shown in the genophage - created because the Salarians COULDN'T control the Krogan -, in the Quarians versus Geth, the Collectors - so heavily indoctrinated they can't chose by themselves again -, Saren, The Illusive Man since ME2, the Reapers, and in ALL companions to some extent. Miranda, EDI and Jacob are the most glaring ones, but all of them bring this. Most of them in the oldest conflict regarding Created versus Creator to ever exist: Children versus Parents. Children test boundaries and once old enough, when they gain awareness and notice that Parents aren't as perfect as they thought, conflict arises. It can either end very badly, coldly, or they find new common ground.

And all this involves HEAVILY Control versus Free Will, some parents see children as extensions and something to control, others understand it's not like this. Most companions have this to some extent, usually from the children POV; Thane, I think, is the only one we see from the other side, a parent trying to reconect and fix his mistakes - Heck, even when we take away the Child vs Parent, we still have the concept Control vs Free Will, in that he was only a Weapon for the Hanar to control. (Edit: for some fucking reason I forgot Samara is a Mother and also her whole point is also about control vs free will. Go Brain 🤦🏻‍♀️)

But the Catalyst does not see any of this. It appears to disregard ALL other forms of conflict that can and have lead to annihilation of others - Javik himself says about how the Protheans would annihilate the species that don't conform and how there was this people that "found the secret for eternal peace" and then another came and decimated them. Conflict is a result of existence, usually because one wants to control others, but the Catalyst only sees "Organics versus Synthetics".

Why? I say the root for this is because The Catalyst was created by Leviathans, and as such, in their likeness of thought. And what we see about the Leviathans? The origin for indoctrination, focused on organics as far as we can see, in a more aggressive way - the miners had lost all awareness for ten years, the assistant lost all sense. The examples we see from Reaper Indoctrination are more insidious, if they aren't outright converting you on being a soldier for them; they make you think it's your choice, that they are right and so on. It's not outright stripping someone from all agency, not from the get go if it's not something that serves them. And, from what is implied, the Leviathans can't exercise the same control on synthetics, while the Reapers can.

The fact that the Leviathans can control others in such a way makes me think that, for whatever reason, they don't have conflicts between themselves. Maybe they are a hive mind or they have a queen-like controlling all of them, we don't have enough to say with certainty either, but the concept of conflict in itself is alien to them. It's very possible that they controlled all species that were under their thrall to not fight amongst themselves because, as they said, dead people don't pay tribute - I risk saying that when control was more spread amongst numerous individuals, there was more conscious thought going on in the controlled, or in the past it wasn't as heavy a hand as it's seen in the present. We don't have enough information for either. Again lol

Then the organics they controlled created AIs. And they couldn't control the AIs to not attack their organics. And, I would even risk, the root of their problem was probably because these organics also didn't have the tools to solve conflicts without controlling and stripping someone away of free will. They were controlled by the Leviathans, it was all they knew. But the AIs and synthetics created questioned, tested boundaries and so on.

As a consequence, the Leviathans assumed that the root of the problem was Synthetics versus Organics, and created an AI to solve this. And probably, considering that the Reapers can indoctrinate both organics and synthetics, they only wished or thought for the AI to control synthetics so they wouldn't attack organics. But the AI, at being in the likeness of the Leviathans, concluded that control was indeed necessary, that the conflict was inevitable; as a consequence, the solution it came with was to preserve the organics in Reaper form, being able to control both organics and synthetics, and guide civilizations in such way.

But since the Leviathans didn't have conflict amongst themselves, the AI Catalyst was biased. It didn't have examples of conflicts being solved by anything beyond control. That's why it was the only solution it could envision, because it assumed that Organics would always try to control Synthetics, and that Synthetics would always try to control Organics, and thus ending in annihilation. It couldn't envision cooperation of their own free will because the Leviathans couldn't envision so.

Which is fine. Being biased is understandable. It was created in the likeness of the Leviathans, the same the Geth were created in the likeness of the Quarians - eco-symbiothic, resulting in an AI that gains processing the more they are - and EDI in the likeness of humans. Heck, when we consider that in one of EDI conversations in ME3 she says that self-preservation is not her biggest directive anymore, but the people inside the Normandy, that she is not like the Reapers, we can compare to the Leviathan, that only created the AI because they needed tribute: it was about self-preservation, their OWN preservation was paramount, as it is shown in the fact that they have been hiding for who knows how long.

And the root of the problem of the talk with the Catalyst is that we can't say anything of the type to it. We can't say that conflict is natural and expected and that organics go through it ALL THE TIME between themselves but that it does not equal to annihilation. That compromise and common ground is possible and that children go through this all the time with their parents. That Control and stripping someone of Free-Will and Self-Determination is not the answer, because it usually only creates even more conflict, doesn't matter if between Organics and Synthetics, between Organics, between Synthetics, because at some point someone will fight against it. But cooperation is possible, and it is usually better (heck Javik says that this cycle is working because all species cooperate amongst themselves)

The whiplash and so many disliking the end, I risk, is more because we can't point any of this to the Catalyst. It's understandable its bias, even expected. It's frustrating that Shepard, a soldier that very much understands about how conflict is inevitable and how you solve it is what matters, can't say so, at least so the Catalyst would recognize "I'm not perfect. I was wrong."

Because even when we go along the lines of "this is Catalyst experiment to try and find the solution", I say that not all the data in the galaxy will help against deep-ingrained bias to interpret the data in this or that way. And that is what the Catalyst is: biased in a way of thinking where conflict in itself is unacceptable and a flaw, but is only being seen in one way because their creators couldn't see and experiment in other ways. But conflict is common and a part of existence, and it can be solved in ways where it reaches compromise, where it acknowledges free will, something constantly shown in the games. Just the Catalyst doesn't see it.

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect the catalyst

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evilwriter37 · 7 months ago

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From the Immortal Hiccup AU that still does not have a name. 707 words, so I'm putting it under a read more.

The fleet of ships became visible on the horizon as the two flew north, the sun rising to their right. Maybe they would take the excuse that it was still sunrise, that daylight hadn’t truly come yet.

Or maybe they wouldn’t, and he was in for another punishment.

He thought of saying these things out loud, but Brenna wasn’t a very talkative dragon. He was more quiet and reserved, but fierce in battle… just like he needed him to be.

The ships were those of a cobbled-together fleet of Dragon Hunters, different tribes mingling. Viggo was still rebuilding his empire, and had signed treaties (some in blood) to get this navy that he wanted.

All three of them were standing on the deck of the flagship, painted with Viggo’s crest. That could only mean trouble for himself.

Though, he did his best to hide any trepidation when he landed and dismounted.

“Are they all dead?” Viggo asked calmly, arms crossed over his chest, peering at him with his one good eye. The other half of his face was badly burned, his left eye glazed over with blindness.

“I wouldn’t be back if there were survivors,” he said, maybe a little too snidely.

“Yes, well, you’re back late, Hiccup,” Johann criticized, reaching for his helmet and tearing it off. Hiccup didn’t bother trying to reach for it or take it back from him. These were his superiors, his commanders. He couldn’t disobey them.

“Did anyone spot you?” Krogan, standing on Johann’s other side, asked. “Daylight is nigh upon us and you come flying in without a care in the world.”

“I wasn’t spotted,” Hiccup said, trying to keep up an air of confidence despite the tongue lashing he was getting.

Johann gave him a smoldering look. “Put that chin down and quit acting so proud.” He held out his hand. “Proof?”

“Ah, I think I should take it,” Viggo said as Hiccup lowered his head in acquiescence. “Havaskjar was my old enemy after all.”

Johann gave Viggo a sideways glare, but put his hand down. Hiccup untied the pendant from his belt and dropped it into Viggo’s hand.

Viggo examined it, then let his fingers fold around it. “Good, good. The job is done.”

“You sound as if you want to reward him!” Krogan cried. “He’s late.”

“However, I do believe that it’s my turn to deal with him,” Viggo said. “Yes?”

“Do not reward him where it is inappropriate,” Johann said. “If you cannot discipline him, I will.”

Hiccup just stood there as these three men argued over him. Someone had come to take Brenna away and feed him, so he was alone. Not that Brenna could protect him from any of them anyway. He was just as much under their thrall as he was.

“You know nothing of my disciplinary measures,” Viggo said, turning to Johann. “Unless, of course, you would like to witness them.”

Hiccup clenched his jaw. The last thing he wanted was Johann watching the things that Viggo did to him, disciplinary or not.

If he was being honest, Johann was the worst to deal with.

Viggo came with a softer side to him that he would never show the other two, and that Hiccup was surprised he was privy to.

Krogan had his own sadism and cruelties, but he didn’t have much to feel personally about Hiccup. His sessions were usually torture until he grew bored, and Krogan could grow bored easily when not being given the responses he wanted.

Johann, on the other hand, had neither a soft side, nor a lack of personal interest. He despised Hiccup, had for a long while now, and it showed in the ways he hurt him.

A session of punishment with each man was vastly different from the other. Hiccup preferred Viggo, if he was being quite honest. He preferred him for many reasons.

“I advise not witnessing it,” Krogan said to Johann, putting a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “It’s a bit too saccharine for my taste.”

Johann sniffed, brushed Krogan’s hand off his shoulder.

“Don’t coddle him, Viggo,” Johann said, handing Viggo Hiccup’s helmet. And then he walked off, Krogan following a moment later.

“I don’t intend to!” Viggo called back.

#wip wednesday #httyd #immortal hiccup au #httyd au #fanfiction #writing

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duoatomica · 9 months ago

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Tw: harsh words, mentions of Nsfw

This is my first "fic" so ignore if It's poorly written ><

•

Johann walked down the dark halls of the cavern the hunters have established themselves after failing to dominate the dragon's edge, arms behind his back, thinking of the next steps to find the king of dragons.

Upon walking past a closed wooden door, something perked up his ears and made him instantly turns his head towards the door.

The sound of Krogan's voice, yelling something.

In the beggining, Johann simply scoffed and walked away, as he didn't want to lose focus of his plans to Krogan's stupid problems,

yet, with the continuous screams and yells, curiosity took over and made him slowly approach, putting his ear on the door.

From inside, he heard wood creaking, which could've been strange enough, until he recognized another voice, making his eyes wide slightly,

Viggo's.

"Krogan, stop moving so much!!" Viggo shouted and groaned as Krogan then responded,

"I'm almost there, just a little bit more!" Also grrunting rapidly, the man answered with a breathy voice.

At that point, Johann was paralyzed with widen eyes. Well, he never expected them two to be probably doing such things together, as he saw them as somewhat rivals, Krogan had attempted to terminate Viggo a lot of times before, and Viggo has always contradicted Krogan's ideas and points of view.

Well,

Viggo never seemed to have that much hatred for Krogan, probably contempt, yet Krogan wanted that two faced- literally -man dead.

But as if theses lines weren't strange enough, Johann's jaw just dropped at what they said next.

"I can't- You're too big! We'll have to switch!" Viggo whinned from inside, grunting louder than before.

"Hold on... Hold on! Oh f*ckin' Thor- AAH!!" Krogan yelled at the top of his lungs and just after Viggo joined him in the screaming.

The shouts were followed by loud sounds of something heavy falling on the ground and wood breaking, then moans of pain from the ones inside.

Johann was... In disbelief. Not only they were having, well, relations, but they also broke something. Good, more trouble, is there ever enough tho? No, there's always space for more problems.

Upon this torture to his eardrums, Johann decides it was now his turn to continue the noise.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS DOING IN THERE??!" Johann called out from outside, and not too long after, the door opened.

Viggo was absolutely destroyed, hair ruffled, with wooden splinters embedded in his skin and bruises and scratches, specially on his back,

Krogan was also all covered in bruises and splinters, holding broken ladder under his left arm and a big bone on his right hand.

Johann looked confused, but still tried to give them a little scolding.

"Now, what in Odin's name were you two doing?!" Johann asked with a harsh tone and an annoyed expression, with his arms crossed.

Krogan sighed with irritation. "I was trying to reach for one of Basil's toys on the top of a shelf and asked Viggo for help with the stairs... I lost my balance and fell, but pulled the shelf with me and it fell on us."

Viggo replied, his voice laced with pain. "He fell on me and the stairs broke on my back."

Oh. Now it quite made sense.

Johann lifted an eyebrow, but only narrowed his eyes and walked away.

As Johann left, Viggo looked at Krogan. "You owe me a new tunic."

Krogan scoffed. "Alright... So, now that we finally have Basil's toy, and that old ass is not here anymore, you on for a little ‘‘healing session’’ in my room?" Krogan said with a little smirk on his face.

Viggo chuckled, understanding the double meaning in Krogan's sentence. "Why not?" He replied as Krogan dropped the broken ladder and they both walked to Krogan's room.

•

This is so dumb why did I write this😭

Also @reallyprofoundkryptonite and @ziggityzigg tag cuz I forgot

#httyd #httyd rtte #rtte #krogan rtte #viggo grimborn #krogan #krogan httyd #viggo grimborn rtte #rtte viggo #httyd viggo #httyd viggo grimborn #httyd fic #I despise writting but I have so many ideas💀

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revive-the-fandom · 1 year ago

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Johann's villain arc was piss poor writing

tbh I don't come to RTTE for good writing, I go here for mediocre writing with flecks of greatness in it. But Johann's villain arc is a stinking pile of shit muddying the waters of the rest of the show and I'm tired of seeing people praising it.

If you're writing a twist villain the truth needs to make more sense than the lie. and Johann just has so many inconsistencies and plotholes and godawful dialogue. He feels more fake as the villain than he ever did as the Comic Relief Plot Mover.

What is his end game?

So he gets the King of Dragons, now what? Do what with it? Is he selling it to Drago through Krogan? If he does this then he loses the King of Dragons, his Allies, and the Dragon Flyers?? Then why does Krogan need Johann of all people?

What does he bring to the table that Krogan and the Grimborns haven't already provided?

Krogan brings the Flyers, an air force, and he's an accomplished fighter with an exotic style that the Archipelago is unfamiliar with. He's also bringing the Buyer and the Funds.

The Grimborns bring the Hunters, a naval force highly skilled at capturing Dragons alive (something Berk, the Outcasts, and the Berserkers couldn't manage after 300 years of experience) and selling their parts. They also bring the Dragon Eye - it's a decades (maybe even centuries) old artifact created by the Hunters for use by the Hunters.

Then why do Viggo and Krogan work for him?

No fucking clue! It doesn't make sense! He's been undercover for at least 15 - 20 years (the man recognises by sight the gift Valka made for Hiccup, which he threw into the ocean when he was a toddler). Any reputation he had in his homeland or even the archipelago is void.

Johann is also rarely ever shown fighting, and when he does fight he loses, so he's pretty shit. He loses to Hiccup twice, and he loses to Viggo. He's not inspiring confidence or fear so what the fuck is even his deal? How is he gaining loyalty?

He doesn't bring knowledge, or hell even an insider perspective of the Riders. Viggo has the information on the Dragon Eye and how to use it, Krogan has the information on what the King of Dragons looks like and acts like from Drago.

Johann throws out his one and only advantage, his alliance (and spy status) with Berk, the Outcasts, and the Berserkers, as soon as he starts to really need it (the Hunters are defeated and absorbed into the Flyers. Ryker, a highly competent general, is dead. Viggo is horrifically injured. The Shellfire is defeated. Krogan, his main general is combative, impulsive and desperate. The Flyers are loyal out of fear not camaraderie. Hiccup has a second Dragon Eye. etc).

He doesn't even have any good reason to hate dragons for christs sake!

Stoick lost his wife.

Gobber lost his limbs.

Drago also lost his limb.

So did Hiccup.

Astrid lost her uncle.

Fishlegs' ancestry is built on dragon hunting.

Mildew is a bitter old man clinging to his culture and influence (power).

Alvin wanted power through the Dragons, but didnt really hate them in the first place, just assigned them: enemy.

Johann just hates people allied with Dragons for the sake of it. It's never expanded on. It's his whole motivation for betraying Berk and it's not. explained. He's evil for the sake of evil. Johann the Trader at least could use the tribes of the archipelago for protection and profit, but Johann the Criminal Mastermind sacrifices this relationship for Viggo's Dragon Eye Lenses at the drop of pin. Why? Plot convenience and piss poor writing.

Johann's foreshadowing is another pile of shit to pick through.

His first appearance he sells poisonous flowers to Mildew.

This should be his first attempt to kill off Berk's Dragons, but he lists Breakneck Bog as his first attempt. His role in this plot is almost nonexistant - he delivers a custom order to Mildew and just, fucks off.

You could even argue that Johann, should he know what the flowers do to Dragons (which it's implied he doesn't) put the answer right into the Berkian's hands. The botany book he sells Fishlegs identifies the Blue Oleander, and because of it they're able to make a cure. Arguably this could be Johann's attempt to covertly save the Dragons.

And if he wasn't trying to covertly help, or he was in on it with Mildew from the beginning, then why on gods green earth did he even allow that book to be sold?? He sabotaged himself! If anything this is points against him as a "mastermind" bc it's a really fucking stupid move.

Johann kicks that one dragon

This is for all those people citing Johann kicking a Dragon away from his food/merchandise as proof that "there was evidence all along".

RoB spends half its screen time showing Dragons as pests, stealing food, burning shit down etc. That's the entire reason Mildew is able to succeed as much as he does.

Half of Berk is still violent to Dragons at this point. Johann is acting accordingly as Vikings are violent and angry culturally, and they get pissy at the Dragons for steal their already limited food and housing.

Breakneck Bog is apparently his first attempt to off the Riders.

So you're telling me that the grand, overarching, final villain, mastermind's plan to kill off a bunch of kids, at least two of whom are pretty crap fighters, and all of which trust him entirely, and all of which are fucking children! was to sail directly into Breakneck Bog, watch the Smokebreaths haul his big ass ship into a tree (all of which seemingly abandoned all of its metal wares ?), then swim into the ocean and HOPE that Berk would send specifically the Riders who again, are CHILDREN, to search for him so he can send them into a hoard of metal eating (not flesh, metal) dragons????

Does no one on the writing team remember that it was STOICK and GOBBER along with Hiccup who initially went searching for Johann? Hiccup went against Stoick's wishes to take the Riders out searching for Johann, it was PURE DUMB LUCK that Johann encountered the Riders at all!

Johann then proceeds to help berk and Stoick and Hiccup by smuggling them into Outcast Island on his own ship

If he wants Hiccup dead why even do this? If he wants the Dragons gone why even do this?

The only reason I can come up with is that he wants to remove the competition: Alvin. Which again, backfires horribly when he allies with Stoick. Great track record this mastermind has for felling his enemies. Really fearsome, round of applause.

Johann is saved by Hiccup during a freeze

He does very little in this ep aside from being fucking hilarious, but he is yet again rescued by Hiccup. Great motivator for hating him.

Johann then (accidentally) delivers Smokebreath metal to Berk

If he's doing this on purpose to help Dagur, rather than just getting tricked because he's the gullible Comic Relief Plot Mover, then why does he stick around to confirm Hiccup's theory? Just leave or lie, he's supposed to be an expert in deceit right?

All of Johann's RoB/DoB appearances consist of him doing something vaguely dodgy or stupid and then getting bailed out, or should he be a villain, hindered by Hiccup. If he's just a Trader, that's fine, he's here to be stupid. but if he's secretly The Villain of the series, then he's a really, really stupid one with no motivation and a habit of self-sabotage. Which I guess could be an interesting route if they played into his stupidity, but no, he's the ultra mega smartypants villain.

Dagur stealing his ship

Johann is a Trader of course he visits Outcast island. He's also Mr Comic Relief Plot Mover. He is the ideal choice for this type of Shenanigans.

But if Johann is the mastermind, then I guess he supposedly paid off that one Outcast guard? The same Outcast guard who then didn't direct Dagur to the ship or anything? So that he could sit and again HOPE that Dagur picked his ship instead of any of the armed and armoured Outcast ships docked nearby, which like, Dagur just defeated an entire prisons worth of guards singlehandedly after stewing in a tiny cell for what 3 years? and then he let Dagur throw him overboard so that said mastermind could once again mysteriously survive being lost at sea? What kind of supernatural powers does Johann have that allows him to swim in an arctic sea for days on end??

and on top of that Johann just decides, hey, lets warn the Berkians instead of maybe like, playing ill for a bit? so that Dagur doesn't get more than a few days headstart to raise an entire Armarda, bc ... fuck him I guess?

So, release the guy who you want to have kill Hiccup and the Riders, then set said Riders on this guy at your earliest convenience so they can swoop in and reduce his chances of doing the thing you want him to do??

Giving false information to Heather

Johann straight up tells Heather he can't confirm Dagur's whereabouts after his last tip, and that Dagur is on his way to get arms. It's not a big stretch to think Heather had good info, but bad timing.

otherwise this is one of the only solid points the Johann twist has going for it: send a single rider so that Dagur can get some practice killing them.

Johann distracting the Riders while the Hunters invade

Like the above point, not really a red flag, but also does hold up okay after the twist. As Johann did manage to fend off the Dragons proving he has some competence. but i say again, Comic Relief Plot Mover is much more likely given his track record.

Smuggling the Riders into the Auction

Why on God does Johann not warn Viggo or Ryker, who he is apparently in charge of, that the Auction is about to be sabotaged? Krogan is in the Auction too. If Johann is vying to sell the King of Dragons then impressing that guy should be priority numero uno or else his whole plan withers away. Instead he just licks Viggo's boots and stays quiet?

the whole Submarriper debacle

Johann, by your own admission you are currently in charge of Viggo and Ryker. Why are you sailing straight into Viggo's Submarriper Trap?

Also, why is he being nice to people he knows are about to die? He knows the Submarriper, so even if he's just like, idk scoping out the trap to check all's good then no need to a) be that close, or b) be fake friendly to your sacrifices?

The end of Season 4 is probably also the original end point, as they only had 4 seasons planned and they got given an extra 2. My theory is that Johann wasn't planned to be a villain until season 5 because they'd wrapped up 90% of the plot in Shell Shocked and needed a new threat.

Sandbuster

Ok, again, this is ok. He's just leading them into danger again. which I will still say could be Comic Relief Plot Mover shenanigans, but doesn't get in the way of his twist villain plot either.

Krogan invades the Edge

Again, this is ok. Lead Hiccup and Astrid away from the Edge so Krogan can now invade. But if Johann knows about Hiccup's secret project (Dragon Eye) why didn't he go to further measures to destroy it? Without it the race for the Lenses can never happen.

Getting the Lens from Heather

this one is ok. I guess. Makes the most sense out of all of them but it's also the ep where Johann is revealed to the audience (not the riders. I think this is called dramatic irony but don't quote me on that) so its gotta fit within the laws of the episode at the very least.

The Reveal

Just, why Johann? Hiccup has The Most Loyal Dragon who also happens to be The Most Intelligent Dragon. Hiccup is also the Dragon Master who can train/deal with any dragon and you choose to confront him in a Dragons lair that he already knows about and has escaped from before?

And I haven't even touched on the bullshit "evil smile in the background but only AFTER the audience has been handed the twist so it's impossible to deduce the truth before this moment"

Season 5:

Season 6:

This is the most dumbed down, babyish shit I've ever seen. I expect this from Cbeebies not Netflix. How many kids' shows these days are doing better than this!? (Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Over the Garden Wall, to name a few).

Like yes we get it! Johann is your twist villain. Except he wasn't even a good twist because it wasn't a twist, it was a flat out surprise attack with no clues and no warnings. It's not fun if you can't go back and connect the dots! which I've just spent maybe 1000 words proving you can't!

I just hate it! He has no clear motive, he has multiple actions that contradict his eventual reveal, most of his plots fail miserably, most his plots rely on complete and total luck, he brings nothing of value to the villain roster and yet he's our Leading Villain??

If Mildew is more convincing than your main villain, then something's gone horribly wrong with your writing, and maybe you should rethink this choice?

#httyd #rtte #rob/dob #trader johann

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