#the structure of this behemoth is so weird

[touchstarvedasclones]

Grand Army of the Republic Structure

So, looking at how the GAR is structured, there would be about 512 battalions total throughout all 10 system armies. (I can go into that later)

We know of (canon) 15.

Let me know if I missed any, here's the list:

21st Nova corp (wait, is that a battalion or a Corp in the structure? idk.) led by Ki-Adi-Mundi and CC Bacara

13th (the Iron Battalion) led by Jaro Tapal and Cal Kestis

41st Scout let by Luminara and/or Yoda, and CC Gree

104th (The Wolfpack) led by Plo Koon and CC Wolffe

187th led by Mace Windu and CC Ponds (I thought they were the 91st?)

612th led by Polla Royal and CC Granch (I'm assuming that's a CC)

Combat Engineer (I don't know either) let by Sergeant Gaffa

212th led by Kenobi and CC Cody

501st led by Skywalker, CT Rex, and Ahsoka Tano

332nd, which is an off shoot of the 501st, lead by CC Rex and Tano

(Carnivore is also a sub group of 501st, but I'm unsure if it is big enough to count as it's own battalion)

442nd, also led by Plo Koon at some point, and CC Verd

327th lead by Aayla Secura and CC Bly

184th led by Jor Aerith and CC Crane (again, guessing if a CC)

Rancor Battalion, lead by Shaak Ti and the Rancor ARC CCs

Coruscant Guard, which has no Jedi and is led mainly by CC Fox

Honorary member, but technically part of 212th, is Clone Force 99, lead by CT Hunter.

So that's roughly 15. Out of 512.

Good thing we fans like to make OC clones.

Also, I AM thinking about making a color chart for known battalions. And since there are so few, including those of OC made battalions too.

If anyone is interested.

Here's the link to the post that started this.

[son1c]

falling stars but it's the last part this time <3

falling stars fic masterpost

By the time Shadow reached the edge of the forest, the morning wasn’t too far off. The clouds were painted purple above them, and the chilly night air was starting to give way to a warmer breeze. The crickets, too, were now occasionally joined by a bird’s song.

But Shadow was no longer concerned with the goings-on of the forest; his attention was focused solely on the town sprawled out in front of him. He scanned the skyline for any building he thought might be a hospital, and had the good fortune of spotting one with a red cross set near the middle. He would head there first. Hopefully, it was an actual medical center, and not just some church breaking the Geneva Conventions.

Shadow started down the hill leading out of the forest with determination. His tattered shoes clacked when he took his first step onto the stone pavement, and Sonic was roused from his half-asleep state. He lifted his heavy head off of Shadow’s shoulder and looked around.

Nothing about the town looked familiar. The buildings were cozily built, country-style structures made out of dark wood. They reminded Sonic of cowboys, and he half expected to see a horse and wagon when Shadow turned the corner. Unfortunately, there was no horse in sight, and the street was completely empty except for a tumbleweed rolling idly in the wind.

The further they got into the town, the closer they got the hospital, and the more modern the architecture started to become. Now, as Shadow stood at the steps to the tall building, Sonic felt his stomach flip when he looked up at the countless windows staring down at them from the steel behemoth.

“Talk about a change of scenery,” Sonic whistled. “What’s a place like this doing way out here?”

Shadow peered at the front doors to the hospital. The lights were on, and he could see movement inside. It came as a surprise at this hour, especially after walking through the deserted streets, and Shadow couldn’t help but frown. “Let’s find another way inside,” he said.

Sonic pointed to an open second story window. “How’s that for a backdoor?”

The window was about twenty feet off the ground, but unlike the rest of the buildings in town, this one had several anomalies in its design, including steel protrusions that were just the right shape for a hedgehog-sized hand to grab hold of.

Yeah. Shadow could make it work.

The dark hedgehog crossed the hospital’s metal courtyard, paying no mind to the sculptures he passed along the way. Sonic, on the other hand, took note of them with a mixture of interest and discomfort. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of modern art, or maybe he just didn’t like the way the cold steel horses looked at him.

When he had hoped to see a horse, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

Regardless, he didn’t have to look at them for long, because Shadow made it to the space underneath the window in no time flat.

Shadow spared Sonic a glance. “Ready?”

“Yup,” Sonic replied. He got the feeling he’d never been more ready to see a doctor in his entire life. “Let’s roll!”

Shadow hopped up onto the first story’s windowsill. From there, he jumped up and to the right, and grabbed onto a square bit of steel that was jutting out from the wall. He was glad his glove could still find purchase on the slippery surface, even when it was stained with blood.

It took a bit of maneuvering, since he could spare only one hand for the task, but eventually he managed to swing himself up to the next handhold, and then the next, and the next, until he and Sonic were just one handhold away from the open window.

Of course, that was when something had to go wrong. Shadow honestly should’ve expected it. The building was already so weird–why wouldn’t it have changing architecture? The bit of steel that he was currently hanging onto suddenly retreated back into the wall, and Shadow lost his grip on the now smooth surface, and started to fall. That was, until something even stranger happened.

The bottoms of his battered shoes lit up, and halted his descent. More than that, he started rising, and, well, he didn’t think too hard about it, he just kind of willed himself toward the open window, and before he knew it, he was there. The light from his shoes spluttered out the second his feet were above the windowsill, and he kicked them off a second after that.

The shoes sparked and exploded when they were halfway to the ground below.

“Wow!” Sonic said, his eyes wide. “Nice save! Did you know that was gonna happen?”

Shadow was pensive. “No,” he said honestly. But he was certainly glad it did.

With no more distractions, Shadow ducked into the hospital through the open window. The room he found himself in was small and dark, with only the emergency light glowing a pale yellow near the door. There was also no one in the room, which was very lucky. Almost too lucky. But he decided not to question it. Instead, he headed over to the bed in the middle of the room before setting Sonic down on top of the folded sheets.

“Stay here,” Shadow told him.

But it was unnecessary. The only thing Sonic wanted to do right now was melt into the mattress. He flashed Shadow a thumbs up and said, “You do your thing. I’ll watch the door.”

It didn’t take long before Shadow found a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of bandages in a drawer on the other side of the room. He also found a stack of rags in the bathroom by the window where they had come in, and made sure to get one of them damp with the sink before returning to Sonic’s side. With the wet washcloth in hand, he set the disinfectant and bandages aside for now. 

“The dirt needs to come off before I can do anything else,” Shadow said.

“Darn. You sure? I kinda like how it looks,” Sonic joked. But he took the washcloth and scrubbed it out of his fur anyway. When it came to his broken leg, however, he hesitated.

“Wait,” Shadow said. Then, he took the washcloth from Sonic and gathered him into his arms again. “There’s no sense in hurting yourself further. We can use the sink.”

Sonic tried not to look too relieved, but his face betrayed him. “No objections here,” he said.

After they washed the dirt from Sonic’s broken leg down the drain, Shadow returned him to the bed. Then, he grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and said, “Brace yourself. This will sting.”

Sonic winced only a little bit when Shadow sprayed his wounds with the disinfectant. He hadn’t realized just how many cuts he had been carrying around with him on his arms or chest, but he was definitely, uncomfortably aware of them now.

When Shadow was done with the disinfectant, he dropped it in favor of the roll of bandages. Then, he held out his hand. “Let me see your arms first.”

Sonic obliged him, and was struck by the efficiency and ease with which Shadow wrapped the worst of his injuries. And when he was done, Sonic flexed his newly wrapped fingers, and said in awe, “Maybe I should start calling you Doctor Stripes, huh?”

“I’m no doctor,” Shadow snapped. Then, he frowned.

Shadow’s sour expression intrigued Sonic. “You remember not havin’ a doctorate?”

Shadow furrowed his brows. “No. It’s just a feeling, that’s all.”

Sonic offered Shadow a small smile. “Gotcha. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think I’m a doctor either.”

Shadow sighed. His expression lost its sour edge, but gained a tenser one when he turned to the one thing he’d been dreading since entering the hospital: Sonic’s broken leg. “It needs to be realigned,” he said. That much had been obvious to him from the start. He just wasn’t sure whether or not Sonic realized it too.

Sonic’s smile got bigger with nerves. “Yeah, I figured. I mean, legs aren’t supposed to look like…” He gestured to the misshapen leg in question. “…that.”

Shadow set the bandages down. Then, he picked up a clean rag and offered it to Sonic. “Here,” he said. “Take it.”

Sonic stared at it for a second before realizing what it was for. When he did, his stomach grew cold, but he still took it. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

With a wordless nod to Shadow, Sonic bit down on the rag.

Shadow didn’t hesitate. He snapped Sonic’s leg back into place with one precise motion, and then wrapped it up with the bandages. It took less than 10 seconds total, and Sonic was grateful for that, because he didn’t know if he would’ve been able to stand it if it had taken any longer. As it was, black spots were swimming in his vision from the pain, and Sonic had to squeeze his eyes shut in order to make them go away.

“The worst of it is over now,” Shadow said.

It was possible that Sonic was just imagining it, but he could have sworn that Shadow’s voice wasn’t gruff when he said that. For once, it almost sounded… gentle.

Sonic handed Shadow back the rag. “I just remembered,” he said, “I hate hospitals.”

Shadow returned the disinfectant, bandages, and rags to where he had originally found them. He paused when he noticed a wardrobe in the corner of the bathroom, and took a second to look inside of it. There were a few sets of clothes, both for Mobians and humans, on the inside. He took his pick of gloves and shoes, and discarded his old bloodstained gloves in favor of the new ones. He grabbed a pair for Sonic too, assuming that “Blue” wouldn’t mind a pair of light blue gloves.

When he walked back out into the room, though, he found that he was unable to ask him about it, because Sonic had fallen asleep. A bad move. They couldn’t stay here–what if someone walked in and saw them? That would be trouble.

But…

Shadow sat down on the foot of the bed. He watched Sonic’s chest rise and fall, not in shuddering breaths like earlier, but deeply and evenly. Peacefully.

With a sigh, Shadow resolved to let him sleep. Just for a little while.

[gaienenkidou]

uni2 spoilers

now that the uni2 honeymoon period is setting in some... ive been thinking about specifically merkava's good ending a whole lot for the past 2 days out of everyone... (excluding enkidu because. yknoww teehee. hehe. haha.) ive been thinking about how genuinely adorable his reaction to being a human is. seeing merkava suffer for well over a decade across games and getting to be genuinely vindicated for trying to keep that human part of him still there. i think no part shows that at its best but at the beginning of the end of his kuon fight (sorry thats a mouthful) where when hes eating him up, in the bad ending human merk's narration is taken over by the merk we know, completely frenzied, but in the good ending human merk's narration continues...until he realizes this isn't him internally monologuing anymore he's just a guy now! i also just think him having two endings makes his arcade route the most impactful out of everyone especially since merkava is already like one of the coolest and most interesting fg characters like...ever. it really highlights the stakes of his wellbeing and how an overwhelming night like that effects it. i feel like underwhelming endings like byakuya's or the re-birth'd endings of hilda and carmine could've benefitted from a bad/good ending path structure too... take mega advantage of how arcade modes in fgs function for your final game dammit!!!!

i like seeing him thrilled at all the small things he can feel now as a human. when he fully processes the fact that he is a Real guy now the first thing he just thinks is what he wants to do...and how just living a normal ass life, even the struggle parts, is all he wanted (even if brought up upon a gag scene) its good to see merkava...happy after so long as someone thats followed this game since like, uniel? while questions remain unanswered abt him (like his ties with orie) his salvation is the most rewarding out of everyone because of the nature of his character. its cute to imagine him just doing normal things while his speech is still oddly formal and probably still a behemoth height wise and also his hair just being like that. moe if you will. with that said wheres my fucking 12 episode slice of life human merkava anime i want to see that grown ass man live a satisfying life. please for the love of god i just want to see it. this is why we need that chronicle mode patch. i wanna see other characters react to him suddenly being a hot man. why did they have to lowkey rush uni2 out the door

the merk = hollow god theory going around is also pretty interesting because while i can see that conclusion for obvious reasons (HE LITERALLY SAYS THE TITLE BY NAME LOL,) i also feel like he would've had a power trip moment like hilda and carmine did when they converted if he really REALLY did inherit stuff from the hollow god? but merkava is just...normal. he's just overwhelmed with the joy of getting to indulge himself. so either thats a testament to how humble the hollow god was or like merk's deep humanity just overrid any of that nonsense. i prefer just human merkava being human merkava because that implies he truly is just a regular weird good guy and possibly was just that in his past too.

i wish i had been thinking abt merk's ending this deep when i made that initial answer to @/starocide's ask because the implications of both his endings for him as a character AND LIKE GENERAL UNI WORLDBUILDING are insanely fucking valuable when you think about it. its up there with chaos's arcade route with how much it forwards it. is there hope for all voids in general with what the good ending implies? im so curious now....

Also because i have to say it: verdict is in. human merkava is pretty hot actually. Meow meow meow

[meccentric]

Heyo 👋 everyone! I'm working on Hetalia fanfiction that is (very) loosely inspired by Harry Potter AU's. Here are some crumbs! Check it out if you like! ✨

Ivan and Gilbert look at each other for an uncomfortable moment. Then Gilbert reaches out his hand and puts on an encouraging smile for him: "Hey! It's nice to meet you!" This behemoth of a kid takes his hand and gives it an unenthusiastic shake, then smiles at him and responds courteously: "Nice to meet you too." His hand is surprisingly cold and boney and leaves a weirdly lingering feeling in his own that Gilbert has to resist wiping it off, instead casually slipping his hands in his pockets.

🌹

"Okay, thank you! I was just wondering because I'm from Lazarev.", he watches Gilberts reaction, "And we don't have the best rapport with the world. I wonder if people will like me though." Gilberts red eyes dart to the side, looking for the answer somewhere outside of himself. "I mean, it's been decades and it's not like you were responsible. I wouldn't worry about that already on your first day", he answers him slowly and curses how badly he hides the doubt in his voice. "Alright, I'll see you later, Ivan! It was nice to meet you." "Likewise.", Ivan replies softly. His eyes are locked to his face and it makes Gilbert uncomfortable. Panicked, he throws him a peace sign and hustles away, hearing the newcomer linger before he enters his room.

🌻

"Aha, speak of the devil. I was just thinking about you. You look really scary in candle light." Gilbert's face lets Ivan know he did not appreciate that comment. Instead of even acknowledging it, he repeats: "So what are you doing there with the walls?" Ivan lets his book sink slowly, pondering his response as he looks at him through the darkness for a moment, then turns to face him fully. He exaggerates his fake smile for just a moment as he bends towards him. "I am looking for weak points in the structure for planting bombs…", he almost hisses with glee, but then he can’t help but let out a giggle at this preposterous story. Gilbert meets this stone-faced and he hisses back: "That's not funny!" "Who is laughing?", Ivan retorts. "You need to go back to your room. Or I'm going to report you." "Not if I report you first!"

If you want to read some ongoing youth drama but it's your favorite Hetalias, this is for you!

We got Ivan and Gilbert annoying each other until they slip up and get into trouble, Bad Touch Trio vibes as Francis and Antonio struggle with the newcomer. Francis' dating shenanigans that lead to heartbreak. Antonios weird intuition guiding them. Ivan is definitely so innocent here. Repressed feelings and a lot of regret and guilt around. Also wizards that are okay with all humankind getting eradicated or enslaved for forcing them into hiding. And wizards that think that that's just not right, even after all that history.

All wrapped in a magical school adventure!

[essektheylyss]

5 & 33 for the ask meme!

I have hit another thousand words, so I return for the memes!

5. Meta you would write if you did not fear people would be SUPER weird about it. This is also an invitation to write that meta and block the haters.

Everyone and their mom has said the "Caleb moved on from his crush on Jester and so should everyone else," so I won't say that one. Honestly, where to begin, though...

I touched on a lot of things I would like to write longer pieces on if people wouldn't be weird in the recent behemoth of a Caleb meta that I posted, but I think the primary one that I'd love to write is a proper discussion of just like, how weird Essek is for an NPC, because it's genuinely VERY important that he's an NPC and also functions as one while simultaneously being a truly bizarre NPC.

He cannot be treated as a PC nor given the same narrative weight as one, and he is very much an NPC (rather than falling in the distinct category of DMPC), but he is in such a strange position due to his shift from potential enemy to ally, because enemies, in d&d terms, get a lot more agency than allies. But if an NPC starts as an enemy, particularly with one that has influence over the plot (as Essek does, having at least played a part in starting the war) they will maintain some of that agency even if they become an ally.

You can kind of see this in how accommodating Essek is in 124 in comparison to the kind of lukewarm aid he gives them prior to 91, because at this point, the Nein have virtually no allies in Eiselcross, and many enemies. And narratively, this can be chalked up to guilt, but structurally, it is necessary from a mechanics standpoint.

But since he is a character with agency, he can have moments of challenging Caleb, even when the rest of the PCs don't, and that's also what makes him more viable in this format to be a love interest, because as we know, NPC romances are in fact difficult to play.

At the same time, he is a mouthpiece of the narrative, so it's genuinely important that he is an NPC for moments like "It's not fair," in 140, where a PC is going to try to take an action, but an NPC only gets to be the Greek chorus lamenting the tragedy of chance.

Aaaand I didn't actually mean to write the meta, but here we are. I'm considering counting this toward my word count.

33. You may ask any member of the cast one, and only one lore clarification question. What do you ask?

The cast member for both is Matt, because I am typical. It's a toss up between "Did the scourger make that shiv herself, or did someone give it to her, and WHO?" and "What the FUCK was Essek's deal with Adeen?"

[ask me Weirdly Specific Critical Role Questions!]

[hmel78]

In conversation with Mariusz Duda ...

Polish ‘prog’ masters ‘RIVERSIDE’ have just released an entirely  instrumental album entitled “Eye Of The Soundscape” which compiles all the special tracks that have previously been used as bonus material for their albums “Shrine Of New Generation Slaves” and “Love, Fear and the Time Machine" [re-released recently], alongside rare cuts and 4 brand new songs (“Where The River Flows”, “Shine”, “Sleepwalkers” and “Eye Of The Soundscape”). As a huge fan of ‘Riverside’, I was really quite blown away by this new release - it’s a departure for them - it pushes their boundaries into new musical territory - but it’s an album that you really must seek out. If you aren’t already aware of ‘Riverside’, then please accept this introduction.  Formed in 2001, in Warsaw, by friends Mariusz Duda, Piotr Grudziński, Piotr Kozieradzki and Jacek Melnick, the band has gone from strength to strength, becoming a no1 selling act in Poland, with growing popularity around the globe. Melnick left the band in 2003, after the release of their debut album  - it didn’t halt their creativity, and with the addition of Michal Lapaj, the band have since released 6 more studio albums - the latest being “Eye Of The Soundscape”. 2016 has been a tough year for them, following the unexpected death of founder member Piotr Grudziński - the band remain close, but are now a three piece, although they are adamant that this is how they will progress ... I had waited for some time to catch up with lead singer / bassist Mariusz Duda, and here’s what happened when I eventually did  :

Helen Robinson : Looking at the ‘Rock’ music scene in Poland - there seems to be a huge underground following of “extreme metal” music - why do you think this genre is so popular? How involved were you / the band in that scene before ‘Riverside’?

Mariusz Duda : From time to time everyone needs to do something extreme. And people need extreme music. True, it seems that in Poland we have pretty interesting extreme metal bands that there are known worldwide, but this is not so wide range as Norwegian bands for sure. ‘Behemoth’, ‘Vader’, maybe ‘Decapitated’. But that’s it. For us the roots of the founder members were pretty metal. Our drummer used to play death metal in HATE, our guitar player used to play something weird, maybe not extreme, but for sure connected with metal music. The fact that they wanted to start something more prog than metal, and they found me was pretty extreme too [laughs].

HR : Lucky for them, yes - but what persuaded you to become involved with a ‘progressive’ rock band?

MD : Progressive for me doesn’t mean that you have to sound like the bands from 70’s. Progressive in my terminology means - break your habit, push the boundaries. For us pretty original was the fact that our drummer in his death metal style always disturbed us to play ballads. And that was pretty original and... progressive, so we became that kind of band [laughs] Ok, just to be serious - in spite of normal songs we always liked long forms, long structures and lots of keyboards - so after our debut release, full of that stuff, we became progressive rock band.

HR : How does it feel to have risen up to become a number 1 selling act in your home land?

MD : Pretty cool. It’s great to know that you live in the country where people like to listen to something ambitious from time to time too.

HR : You’re very popular in many other countries, of course - having been on the road pretty extensively since 2004 - throughout Europe, into the Middle East, Russia, South America, the USA and Canada - what do you most enjoy about touring and performing live?  What has been your weirdest moment?

MD : There’s always an amazing adventure to be somewhere for the first time. Before routine comes and you mostly searching Wi-Fi in the venues instead of searching the town where you are for the first time! [laughs] Speaking of venues - I remember our show in Turkey, Istanbul. very small club. There was no stage for our drums. I mean there was a stage, but only for the drums. We had to figure something  out, and we did. I remember that our guitar player had to play on the stairs, next to the stage. Truly weird experience.

HR : The band suffered a devastating loss early in 2016 with the sudden passing of Piotr Grudzinski  - he would want you to continue, I am sure, but how have you coped as a band with the prospect of moving forward?

MD : That was hard. I was considering the end of the band even, but then I realised that the legacy is too big. Well, I’m still the captain of this band. I’m still the main composer. I’m going to continue anyway. We lost one voice, but we still have the ship and we still want to sail. Differently for sure. This loss made us someone different, but maybe it will help our music to become more progressive in the terminology I always loved?

HR : How did you evolve as a “unit” in the 15 years together since you formed?  Do you hang out, or do you just come together to be a band?

MD : We are a family. That’s why after Piotr’s passing away we cancelled all our live shows till the end of the year and that’s why became a trio. We usually spend lots of time together, but we also know that each of us need to have his own room

HR : [laughs] Sure, I understand that, and you are 4 quite different personalities ... How difficult was it to create (and hold on to) your own ‘sound’ and identity as a band ?

MD : It was not hard. It was long. This is a long process - in time. I had the idea for the style of our band, but I had to be patient. I always wanted to play both short and long songs, hard and soft, very melodic, spacey, psychedelic, etc.

HR : What inspires you / How do you stay focussed on creating music? Who do you make the music for -  your fans or yourselves?

MD : I take inspirations from my own experiences. And the experiences of my friends. Mostly everything that is placed in my heart and soul finds its own reflection in my music. And I compose that kind of music that I always would like to listen to. So t’s not only reflection and spitting out everything I have to say without taking care how it sounds and what people might thing about that. I care. But the truth is in the right balance. As a Libra I always pay attention to that.

HR  : Ha! Libra - yeah I know a few Librans! Well then from a more personal perspective -  your own identity. You are pretty sure of yourself, but some musicians (especially front men) go through their careers constantly re-inventing themselves; is this something you have done? Is it possible to be 2 people at once and have a separate life on stage, and a real life away from it all - or is it all one place, where it’s easy to lose sight of who you are?  [I promise I am not a psychiatrist! Just curious ...]

MD : I do what I feel. I try to be honest with my music. I usually write about something personal. My lyrics are like a pages from the diary. I develop myself with every album, grow up. I know what performance on the stage means, I know that I need to exist in social media to be alive in my job industry, but I also take care of my privacy.  Libra. Balance ;)

HR : You have the libra balance musically too I guess. ‘Riverside’ have just released a new album “Eye Of The Soundscape” which is purely instrumental - a first for the band- what made you decide to do this now?

MD : This is a very selfish album. Myself and Piotr Grudziński always wanted to release that kind of album. I think this is really an interesting piece of music. Something organic and electronic in the same time. Thanks to that kind of album - lots of people now can take a look at our band from the wider perspective. That we are not prog metal band only. That our influences are wider.

HR : From what I read, the fans are loving it ... so ... Where do you plan to go from here?

MD : The show in February with guest guitar players. The tour maybe. But mostly the new album recordings in 2017. It’s time to break the silence. Again.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

The Audacity

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

It was dark again though dim light filtered in from the street, casting a square of bluish hue along the far wall. Sometime over the last few days’ Krill had determined that Adam was no longer in critical condition and moved him to one of the private rooms in the hospital. Adam had been stable over the past few days sinking in and out of consciousness every few hours or so. His recovery was taking longer than krill had anticipated and that worried everyone, though Krill had also said it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

There was always a chance his body would reject the nonhuman tissue.

She prayed to the architect that wouldn’t happen.

Voices passed far below the window, a group of young Drev headed home after a night of dueling. She glanced out the window from where she sat next to Adam. Weird to think that she was that young once. Weird to think she was capable of feeling old.

She wasn’t that old really.

She turned her head back from the window, where the dim blue light lit the small room, with its smooth white floors, softly beeping machinery and crisp white bed sheets, In the far corner, Kay lay asleep on the little couch wrapped in a hospital blanket and clutching his fish resting half his head on it like a pillow.

The two most important people in her life within arms reach.

The way she preferred it.

She glanced down at Adam and then back up at the door. It was around maybe one in the morning. No one usually came to check on them for another few hours, and at this age Kay slept like a rock, so Sunny felt safe as she turned her head back to Adam. The feeling began as a hum deep in her chest, building up softly.

Drev have music.

Almost every major sentient group has something similar to music.

Drev rely primarily on drums, the Tesraki use something between string instruments and an accordion. Celzex use wind instruments, but it had always seemed that only humans had the ability to bend their voices to any sort of use, at least naturally. Now that humans were a known actor around the galaxy, other species had attempted to learn the art of using their voices as instruments to varying degrees of success.

For Vrul it was basically impossible, tesraki could really only carry a tune in a hum.

Surprisingly Celzex could sing if they really tried, but it only worked with varying success considering the size of their lungs.

Technically speaking Drev had the greatest chance of mimicking the human ability, mocking it and perhaps outmatching it to some degree. For instance, humans have to rely on the use of their vocal cords, nose and mouth to make singing work. This includes the network of nasal passageways inside their head.

Drev have similar structures, and an entire network of nasal cavities going through their neck and chest. A drev can go much deeper than the average human, but, as sunny had learned, it was also possible to manipulate their voices to go higher. In the end, Drev voices were far more powerful than human voices, their lungs were bigger, and their extensive set of tubes and passageways made them much louder.

But she didn’t need to be loud.

She just wanted to try.

To see.

She had practiced in secret for years now, since Adam was lost to Behemoth. At first it had been frustrating, almost impossible, but there were other drev who had managed it, and after more than three years, Sunny had taught herself how to sing. It was,’t necessarily pretty, and she wasn’t gifted, but she liked to think she wasn’t in danger of making people’s ears bleed.

She couldn’t sing human songs but found that some of Kanan’s poetry lent itself rather handily to a tune.

The song she chose was lighthearted, about a small Anin animal, similar to a fox that chased, another creature, similar to a butterfly, into the sky, its long flowing tail creating the bands around their planet they knew to be the glowing ribbons of a magnetic field. 

It even rhymed.

Kay turned in his sleep, but did not wake up, clutching his fish tighter.

The poem kanan wrote had several verses, all of which she sang, softly, her voice nearly hidden under the sound of hospital generators and the distant sound of voices. While she sang, she held his hand, cold and limp in hers. In the glowing blue darkness of the hospital room, his hand was pale like a corpse worm. Behind her voice, the sound of the heart monitor paced out the beat for her, melding itself into her music as she went, until she was lost in the sound.

So lost she didn’t even notice as it changed, sped up, and grew in strength until eventually her voice faded away and she lapsed into silence.

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Sunny nearly jolted out of her spot, hand reached instinctually for her spear until she realized. 

Adam’s eyes were open.

And focused on her.

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she could see the light reflecting off his good eye, and felt as his hand tightened around hers.

She struggled to keep her voice down, “Adam!”

He blinked once in the near dark, reaching up an unsteady hand to his face. His arm trembled as he attempted to move it, a painful process that was slow and lethargic with exhaustion that still hadn’t abated. He managed to reach up and press a hand over his bad eye, which, at this point was missing tis prosthetic.

“You could at least have given me my eyepatch.” he mumbled, “So I don’t look all freaky.”

His voice was partially slurred, but to her delight, he was speaking, and making some sense! And he knew who she was.

She rested her two upper hands on the sides of his face, one hand overlapping part of his.

“You’re okay” She whispered.

He hummed by way of response before, “When did you learn how to sing?”

She waved away the question, “how are you feeling?”

“Annoyed that you keep ignoring my question.” He said back, and she gave a deep sigh of annoyance, “I’ve been practicing for a few years now, since you left to fight behemoth, and I didn’t want to show you until I knew I wouldn’t make your ears bleed.

He gave a tired smile, “For you, I’d let my ears bleed, but I am happy to report that you’re actually not that bad.”

“How flattering.” She said dryly though she couldn’t help but feel a warm sort of glow blossoming up in her chest.

He licked his lips, and she quickly moved to grab him a waiting glass of water, pressing a straw to his lips. He drank long and greedily interrupted only by sunny who insisted he at least breath at some point, a fact which seemed to annoy him to no end, but which he suffered with dignity.

The exhaustion was still evident, despite sleeping almost continually for weeks on end.

He yawned.

“Sleep, I’ll be here.” She said softly.

“Where are we?” despite his exhaustion, he wasn’t too tired to demand answers.

“The hospital back on arcadia.”

“Kazna”

“Escaped through a rip in space and time.” She grumbled.

He huffed, “Figures….. kay/”

Sunny reached out to place a hand behind his head and gently lit him to see across the room where kay was still asleep.

“He’s gotten big.” Adam mumbled his voice already beginning to fade as she rested his head back down on the pillow, “You can say hi when the both of you are better rested.” he didn’t respond to this but closed his eyes and fell asleep.

***

Kay had waited very patiently for his dad to wake up. Warm light from the sun orbs was spilling in through the window turning the atmosphere above them to a light blue. He had played quietly on the floor like his mom had told him, until eventually he heard a soft groan and lifted his head to find his dad was awake, and wasted no time in climbing onto the bed crawling up to the side with his mom

“Papá!” 

Adam cracked an eye, and smiled, “Hey there bud.” Then he frowned in confusion, “Papa?”

Sunny sighed, “Ramirez is teaching him spanish apparently,”

“Mmm figures.”

Kay hugged Adam with Sunny’s supervision and Adam patted him on the back. It was just then that Krill bustled in, “Now now, settle down everyone, I have an exam to-”

“Give me five minutes would you.”

Krill bristled, “Five minutes! Now listen here you big stupid….. I didn’t watch you get stabbed in the chest, stick your fingers in the holes and cauterize with Anima energy to be told to WAIT FIVE MINUTES!”

His rage sent kay into a fit of giggling.

“Can we come in now?”

Adam recognized Ramirez’s voice.

“Yeah, you can come in.” 

“They most certainly MAY NOT!” Everyone ignored Krill’s conniption as they filed into the room.

Soon the room was basically at capacity, with all his friends and several members of his family beaming and glad to see him awake. Krill was seething, working himself up into a nearly vibrating ball of rage, but the room mostly ignored him.

Adam smiled, “You know this is becoming a bit of a tradition.”

Martha frowned at him, “And I will kindly ask you to stop it.”

The room laughed.

Kay sat happily leaning against Adam’s good shoulder, talking incoherently in all three of the languages he knew to the point where no one in the room could probably understand him. Whatever it was, he seemed very excited to let Adam know.

“So, what’s the damage?” Adam wondered, “I…. suspect extraordinary measures?”

The room glanced around at each other.

Celex frowned, “Well, at this point I might say you are only about maybe….. 65% human or less.”

“We gave you an artificial biomechanical heart and lung….. We thought it might be more durable.” Sunny said, afraid that he might be mad.

She should have known better.

“Awesome!”

The room laughed again.

“Though there are a few things……” krill began

That is when Kay decided to interject, “NIPPLE!”

Adam sputtered, and the room laughed, “Where did he learn….’ Adam paused, suspicion dawning on his face as he reached one hand under the bedsheets  prodding around his chest with one hand. The room watched his eyes widen, “Sonnofabitch, who stole my-”

The laughter drowned out whatever he might have been ready to say next, and Adam pulled back the sheet to take a look at their handiwork. The drainage tubes had been left in, so the sight wasn’t exactly pretty, and there was a distinct dividing line between where human skiing began and artificial skin ended.

“No way.” He muttered. They waited in nervous silence as Adam contemplated his changed body and then looked up at them with an accusatory look on his face.

“Who in the hell has the audacity to pilfer a man’s nipple!”

[callmearcturus]

For the AU concepts (if you are still taking them!), it's like. Hm. I don't know how familiar you are with Jeff VanderMeer's work, but TSAD and TWYCC make me think that you may be interested in that sort of thing (regardless, his Twitter has a lot of raccoons, which is pretty neat). But it's VERY Weird fiction, biopunk, and I think in general I would probably kill to see your take on a biopunk AU with a dash of noir? Something like...Jake as heir to a crumbling empire that's being slowly strangled under the foot of the CrockerCorp behemoth (maybe I am weak for John in this role! Sue me!), who finds Someone in the wasteland outside a city. Karkat bearing the cross of a rebellion that was never his to begin with. Roxy, CrockerCorp worker, sympathetic to the cause but waiting to truly commit. Rose and Dave, clawing their way to the top of the writhing underbelly of a city that despises them, trying to forget the ghost of their brother haunting the narrative and every mirror. And Hal, the brost in the machine, ready to be used for- I don't know. Something. If he so desires. I may have gone nutso with this, sorry.

hahah like these exact ideas don't vibe with me but this like..... the structure sure sounds like me, honestly!

this is reminding me that i did have the ghost of an idea, i literally have a playlist called "hm thinking" that's just me thinking to myself in music about a story of this kind of scope.

what the fuck was my core concept......... it was an urban fantasy story inspired heavily by the Feel of the magic in Matthew Swift, and like.... there was a Midnight City--

no no wait that's not where it starts. it starts with Dave waking up hung the fuck over in a strange motel room with a taste of blood in his mouth, and all he remembers is that he might've slept with this guy, and also maybe drank his blood? what the fuck? but now dave has magic, he's never had it before but its sparking out of him.

and he's stuck in this Midnight City, this mirror reflection of his home that's filled with blood magic and subterfuge and he's just trying to find the guy who he maybe fucked and maaaaaaybe drank the blood of, to figure out what the fuck is going in

and the entire thing is set to Franz Ferdinand's "Ulysses"

WHICH IS NOT BIOPUNK but like scope-wise your idea reminded me of that idea i was kicking around. i forgot about it until now.

[thecreaturecodex]

Yongary

Image by Dope Pope, accessed at their ArtStation here

[I usually do my run of “monsters from movies” conversions in October, to coincide with Halloween. But I did Furtober last year instead. So I’m going to slot them into February, as a Valentines present to monster-loving folks. First up, a Korean kaiju! Yongary: Monster of the Deep is a weird movie in a number of ways. First, the original language version is lost, so you can only see it in its English dub--which is very strange in this day and age where every minor property gets super respectful treatment and 4K restorations (although there is a lovely Blu-Ray). As a ripoff primarily of Gamera, itself a ripoff of Godzilla and The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, it steals ideas and even shots in a somewhat haphazard way. It feels like cargo cult filmmaking. But it was a colossal hit in South Korea, and even got an official remake/reboot to cash in on the Matthew Broderick Godzilla, so clearly it struck a nerve in its home country.]

Yongary CR 20 N Magical Beast This creature looks roughly like an oversized dinosaur, bipedal with a reptilian snout, a few rows of short ridges along the back, and spikes on the tail. A single glowing horn grows from its nose.

A yongary is an immense burrowing creature, a relic from the ancient past. Some scholars believe they are related to behemoths, or perhaps kaiju, but they are decidedly more fragile than either. Although a yongary is difficult, if not impossible, to kill with conventional weapons, they are especially sensitive to poisonous substances, particularly organic toxins and venoms. As such, they eschew consuming organic matter for minerals and pure energy. They can eat fire, lightning and even magical force, and may come to the surface to bask in forest fires or lightning strikes.  They are also fond of music.

Yongaries are of animalistic intelligence, but occasionally will make bonds with small children, vulnerable-looking animals, and other creatures that rouse a parental instinct in the beast. These are likely to be oases of calm around its rampages, and yongaries are especially good at destroying standing structures. They seek to provoke firepower from other creatures in order to absorb its energy, and use their breath weapons to set large fires they can gain healing from. A yongary has a powerful ray that can cut between atoms, and they typically save this for targets able to actually injure them.

Yongary               CR 20 XP 307,200 N Colossal magical beast (earth) Init +5; Senses darkvision 120 ft., low-light vision, Perception +30, tremorsense 60 ft. Aura frightful presence (180 ft., Will DC 26) Defense AC 35, touch 4, flat-footed 33 (-8 size, +1 Dex, +31 natural) hp 387 (25d10+250) Fort +17, Ref +15, Will +21 DR 15/epic; Immune electricity, fire, force damage; SR 31 Defensive Abilities absorb energy, sensitive; Weakness vulnerable to poison Offense Speed 60 ft., burrow 40 ft. Melee bite +32 (4d6+15/19-20), 2 claws +32 (2d8+15), tail slap +30 (4d10+7) Ranged slice ray +18 touch (30d8 slashing) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. (20 ft. with claws) Special Attacks breath weapon (120 ft. line, 20d8 fire, Ref DC 31 half, 1d4 rounds), ruinous, trample (4d8+22, Ref DC 37) Statistics Str 41, Dex 13, Con 29, Int 2, Wis 25, Cha 19 Base Atk +25; CMB +48 (+50 bull rush, +52 sunder); CMD 60 (62 vs. bull rush, sunder) Feats Blind-fight, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Greater Sunder, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack, Stand Still, Toughness Skills Perception +30, Swim +23 Ecology Environment any hills and underground Organization solitary Treasure none Special Abilities Absorb Energy (Su) A yongary is immune to fire, electricity and force damage. Whenever it would take damage from one of these energy types, it instead heals 1 hit point per 3 hit points of damage that would otherwise be dealt. Hit points in excess of its max hp are gained as temporary hit points that last for 1 minute or until expended. Ruinous (Su) A yongary’s natural attacks penetrate damage reduction as if they were epic and magic, and ignore up to 20 points of hardness on objects struck. As a swift action, whenever it strikes a creature or object with a spell effect in place, it can attempt to dispel one randomly determined spell effect on that creature as if with a greater dispel magic (CL 20th). Sensitive (Ex) A yongary’s good saving throws are Reflex and Will. Its poor save is Fortitude. Slice Ray (Su) As a standard action, a yongary can fire a ray of slashing energy. Treat this as a ranged touch attack with a range of 500 feet and no range increment. A creature or object struck takes 30d8 points of slashing damage that ignores all hardness and damage reduction. A successful DC 26 Fortitude save halves the damage. A yongary can use this ability once per day, but it recharges whenever it uses its absorb energy ability. The save DC is Charisma based. Vulnerable to Poison (Ex) A yongary suffers 150% damage from any poison effects that deal hit point or ability score damage, or ability score drain.

[lizziestudieshistory]

Books of 2021: The Way of Kings - Brandon Sanderson

I have a few things to acknowledge here before we get into the proper review - this is REALLY LONG and VERY CRITICAL. I promise you I do genuinely love The Stormlight Archive, but if you are someone who doesn’t like to see criticism of Sanderson or Stormlight, then please don’t read this.

This review has spoilers for The Stormlight Archive - you have been warned.

I’ve made no secret of my love for the Stormlight Archive - it’s my favourite ongoing fantasy series. I’ve also avoided reviewing it, and I’ve been putting it off since I first read it back in 2016 (could be 2017? It was a while ago.) How could I review something I love so much? How do I approach reviewing a 1,100 page epic fantasy novel? I just didn’t know. To be honest, I still don’t. I adore this series, it’s become part of my identity - if you asked any of my friends what’s Lizzie’s favourite book they would probably say Stormlight. Maybe Lord of the Rings but that’s a different kettle of fish.

I’ve reread The Stormlight Archive annually for the last five years. I promise myself I won’t reread it and let myself come back in anticipation for the next book. I’ve failed miserably every year. And these aren’t small undertakings - they’re each 1,000 pages and there’s four of them now! For context I usually only read 2,500 pages a month. 

So, I’ve finally decided to review these doorstoppers dressed up as fantasy novels. These reviews are mainly for myself, they’re going to be self indulgent, long, and focus on what I want to discuss like characters, structure, and prose - rather than reviewing the things I should probably talk about (like the actual plot…) I want to work through all the things I love about this behemoth of the modern fantasy genre, but also focus on its flaws. The praise for Sanderson is everywhere, so I want to work through my honest opinion of these books, work out why I love them, and I’ll invite you on this journey of self discovery with me. 

Structure

I’m yet to work out why I’m starting with structure but we are, I guess it helps with the framing. In case you’re reading this having not read The Way of Kings, each book in the Stormlight Archive is made up of 5 main parts that follow major viewpoint characters, and the parts are split up with small interludes that expand the worldbuilding, follow important secondary characters, or foreshadow future moments. Everybook is centred on a key character - in The Way of Kings it’s Kaladin - who we follow in the present day as a major viewpoint character and explore their backstory through a flashback sequence. Each book also has a prologue which retells the assassination of the Alethi king, Gavilar Kholin, and an epilogue from Wit. 

Firstly, this book takes FAR too long to get going and even longer to get into as a reader. I’m not joking when I say there are FIVE introductory chapters: the prelude, a prologue, Cenn’s second prologue (technically the first chapter but it’s a prologue), Kaladin’s introduction, and Shallan’s introduction. It’s too much. We’re jumping around, nothing really makes sense, and we’re not sure how these characters are related. They could be taking place in different worlds for all you know on a first read.

When I first read this book I was a lot more patient with long introductions and multiple false starts - I had the time to dedicate to getting into the story. I could, and did, forgive the THREE false starts to this story before we get to Kaladin’s first chapter. However, the opening structure of this novel is a mistake. If someone gives up in this section I honestly don’t blame them - if I was reading this for the first time in 2021 I probably would too.

The prelude and prologue are both excellent. The prelude in particular is weird and confusing but also sets up a clear mystery and sense of the sheer scope of this story. Szeth’s prologue, the first time we see Gavilar’s assassination, is flawed but still wonderful. The fight scene needed a bit of cutting, for my tastes, and I think the introduction to the magic system is clumsy - there’s far too much obvious info dumping and it needed some serious editing, especially as the complicated use of the magic that Szeth uses is barely relevant in this book. However, I think the Herald’s giving up the Oathpact and a magical assassin is great! They’re a bit weird and you’re not sure what’s going on, but it’s engaging. 

Then there’s Cenn. Poor, innocent Cenn. I’m sorry but he’s completely unnecessary. Independently of the rest of the introduction to the Way of Kings Cenn’s chapter would be a pretty good prologue as he’s there to set up our main hero Kaladin from an outside perspective. We love Kaladin and Cenn’s chapter is fine for establishing him as a typical fantasy hero – he’s a warrior, cares about the people, and so forth.

However, Cenn’s chapter in the context bogs down the opening too much. It’s too long, not particularly relevant, and adds yet ANOTHER prologue to this already enormous book. Cenn’s chapter offers nothing to the reader that we don’t learn later on in the text when the content of Cenn’s chapter makes more sense. We even see the exact same sequence of events from Kaladin’s perspective in a flashback! Not having Cenn’s chapter would add more interest to Kaladin’s character and add more weight to the flashback sequence because we wouldn’t have met Kaladin at his peak (sort of…?) 

Kaladin’s flashbacks aren’t that engaging as it is, he’s a fairly standard fantasy hero from a small village who ends up leaving his happy family to go to war. So leaving a small mystery around him in addition to ‘how did he become a slave’ would help with my engagement. It would leave me wondering how reliable is Kaladin as a narrator, is he really as good with the spear as he claims? I wouldn’t know but Cenn’s chapter removes all the mystery apart from ‘how does Kaladin become a slave’. It needs to go to make Kaladin more interesting and cut down on some of the unnecessary page count.

While we’re at it… Just cut out ALL the interludes in this book, except for the Szeth through line. I KNOW they are here for the Cosmere connections and to foreshadow things much later in the series. However, new readers and Stormlight only readers don’t know this and, quite frankly, they SUCK. In later books the interludes make sense but here they add so much tedious, pointless crap to an already bloated book. They’re too much and add next to nothing – other than seeing Szeth lose it as he kills people, that was fun (in a disturbing, creepy way… Can you tell I like Szeth?) Either this stuff needs to be relevant to the book we’re in now, or painfully obvious that we’re coming back to this stuff in later books. I still don’t know why we got Ishikk’s interlude with the Worldhoppers, and I completely forgot Nan Balat had an interlude. I’ve read this book 5 times… THAT IS HOW POINTLESS THEY ARE! Sanderson should weave the necessary foreshadowing into the main text, intersperse the perspectives we do need for THIS story into the main sections, or cut them out. When I get to the interludes I physically sigh and sometimes put the book down - now I just skip everything but Szeth - but on a first read they’re really off putting. 

To finish up with my complaints about the structure, and this is a big one for me - why do we have huge chunks of this book without major viewpoint characters? I’m biased here but Dalinar is probably the most important POV character in the story because he introduces the real stakes of the story. He has the groundbreaking visions of the past, he is the viewpoint we get into the politics of the war, he is the character who does and continues to have the most impact on the development of the story on his own.Yet, we don’t meet him until we’re 190 pages in… 

Sanderson alternates Shallan and Dalinar’s chapters between the five different parts and that means they vanish for 400 pages at a time. Why? I ended up caring about them right as we’re about to lose their viewpoint again for the next part. We needed to see the three major POV characters interwoven together throughout the five parts, not randomly dropped and picked back up again. The structure of this book was a mistake. 

Okay, I promise I do actually like this book…

Worldbuilding

Something I do love is the worldbuilding of Roshar, and I usually don’t care that much about worldbuilding. I can really appreciate good worldbuilding, especially on the history side of things, but for most novels it’s just fine? If I roughly know what’s going on with the world then we’re good, I can just get on with the story and not worry about it. However, Roshar is genuinely beautifully built! It takes A LOT to get me to visualise a world as I’m not a visual reader. I can feel the atmosphere, get to know characters, but can I imagine a face or setting? No.

There are three fantasy worlds that have allowed me to actually see the world and it’s landscape: Middle Earth, Discworld, and Roshar. The bleak, storm weathered landscape of the Shattered Plains is so embedded in my mind it’s ridiculous, the only place I can picture more is the Shire – and Lord of the Rings has a film to help it!

Now, to be fair it’s hard for me to separate the worldbuilding in The Way of Kings from the rest of the series, so I now have 4,000 pages worth of worldbuilding in my head… However, it’s certainly strong and I distinctly remember having a vivid image of understanding this world, the atmosphere, landscape, and so forth, on my first read. Although it did take me until Oathbringer to realise that everything, except humanity, was basically a crab… (I think that was just me being dense.)

I do think Roshar needs much more of its history to be expanded on. We don’t have much between the Last Desolation (don’t ask me to spell it's in-world title!) and it shows at times. I don’t expect something on the level of The Silmarillion for Roshar, however, I do think we need to see something more substantial in the period between the Desolations and the present day. We know about the Recreance, the attempted takeover of the Vorin Church, and the Sunmaker? That’s 4000 years! To put it into context it’s the distance between us and Jesus’s birth TWICE, it’s like we know about the end of the 11th Dynasty of Egypt, the Reformation, and the British Empire in our own history... We need to find a balance, especially as we get so much development of science in the later books. More history please - but this is a personal issue and a series wide problem, not just The Way of Kings.

Magic System

Now, this is controversial for Sanderson, but I’m going to skip this for now. This review is already well over 1,000 words long and I’ve not even started on the meat of the novel yet. The magic system isn’t really fleshed out in The Way of Kings, we only really know stuff about the Windrunners (in an abstract kind of way) and the very basics of the Knights Radiant in general. So I’m going to discuss the magic when I get around to reviewing Words of Radiance, Oathbringer, and Rhythm of War, basically whenever I have the energy and more space.

Safe to say I actually really like the magic system in the Stormlight Archive. I usually dislike hard magic systems (I think I’m the only person who dislikes Mistborn’s Allomancy - while very well developed, it’s a bit silly and is far too much for my tastes...) as they often take some of the wonder, mystery, and excitement of fantasy out of the story for me. However, I think surgebinding is a fun system and there is a lot more of it for use to discover, preserving some of that mystery. Oh and, if you were wondering, I would be a Skybreaker!

Prose

Okay if you read the structure section and were wondering - why is this woman still reading these books, you’re in for another head scratcher. 

If you’ve ever talked to me about literature you’ll know that there are two things I look for in a really good book: characters and prose. Now characters are something Sanderson does phenomenally well in the Stormlight Archive, but that’s not something you can tell 100 pages into a 1,000 page tome. You have to sit with the characters for a long time and give the author some page time to familiarise you with the people you’re following. If you trust him, Sanderson pulls off some stunning character arcs, especially in the long term and I’ll talk more about characters later on (or you can just skip this section? Up to you really!).

However, prose is something you notice immediately, and Sanderson’s is…utilitarian at best. At worst it’s abysmal. These days I’m very picky about prose, a utilitarian style is fine but a book is unlikely to become a new favourite of mine without good writing. This doesn’t mean I want or expect the writing to be flowery or elaborate, but it does mean I want, and appreciate it when, the prose suits the tone of the narrative and world. I must acknowledge that I’m in a (vocal) minority here, a lot of people either don’t notice Sanderson’s style or like it - I certainly didn’t mind it when I first read ther series - so this is definitely a subjective opinion but one I’m certainly not alone in. 

Nevertheless, for me Sanderson’s prose is overly simplistic, repetitive, and very American. Okay so the American is probably only noticeable if you’re not American. However, I’m used to fantasy having a certain Britishness to the writing style, even when the author isn’t British, but to me (as a Brit and fantasy reader) the Americanisms are painful at times… There is no way in hell I’m ever going to acknowledge that aluminium is aluminum no matter how many times Sanderson uses it! 

Yet it goes beyond a spelling issue because, let's be honest, in this day and age American English is widely spoken and regularly used in fantasy literature - you can’t escape from it as much as I want to. It’s in the style of writing and construction of sentences. The entire narrative reads like an American has decided to tell me a story using their colloquial, everyday speech. It’s a deliberate choice on Sanderson’s part to make things accessible and digestible, and for some people this works. I do think he has a fantastic style to get readers in, especially readers who are getting to grips with high epic fantasy as it’s one less barrier to entry in an already difficult novel. But it does mean rereading isn’t always the best experience and sometimes the writing can jar me out of the story. 

In places it’s too simple and colloquial, so much so the writing becomes clunky, clumsy, and unrealistic to the world he’s creating, especially in descriptive passages and dialogue. It reads like Sanderson could have used more lyrical or formal writing but deliberately chose not to - at the detriment of the prose. This is particularly noticeable with characters like Jasnah Kholin. Jasnah is a princess, brilliant scholar, and political mastermind, she’s known for her poise, elegance, and intelligence. Yet she often speaks like an everyday 21st century American and other characters who haven’t had the same education or training as she has? I can’t believe this for a moment, her dialogue is so egregious in places that it’s like I’ve been hit over the head with my own book! I physically cringe when she says things like ‘“scoot over here”’ (chapter 70, p.1083). WHY is Jasnah talking like this?! It doesn’t make sense to me – Shallan maybe, but Jasnah? No. It doesn’t fit with what we’ve been told about her character.

(Just as an aside, I loathe the word ‘scoot’ – it should be burnt from the English language as an abomination!)

Part of the issue with this is Sanderson usually doesn’t distinguish between the character's voices, both in the dialogue and prose. Most of the time if you dropped me into a random section of the Stormlight Archive with no context I honestly couldn’t tell you who’s speaking or narrating without the signposts Sanderson gives us. This isn’t a huge issue as he’s writing in third person limited, and with context and the chapter icons we know who we’re following. However, it does mean we don’t have any idea of character voice – in the general prose, internal narration/thought, or speech. What’s the difference between Kaladin’s dialogue and Jasnah’s? I have no idea from the sentence construction or speech patterns. Certain descriptions of how characters speak help to differentiate (Jasnah is commanding, Shallan squeaks, Kaladin grunts, etc.) but from their speech patterns I wouldn’t have a clue.

All of this comes back to Sanderson’s overly simple and Americanised style. It’s his choice and it does work for many people, but personally it doesn’t always work with the characters or story. I’m not expecting him to write like Robin Hobb or Guy Gavriel Kay, but some finesse and awareness of character would be appreciated, especially if it helped to differentiate character voices.

I’m also going to throw this out as a very personal issue because I’m not sure where else to put it… Sanderson has the worst sense of humour I’ve ever had the misfortune to read. The comedic moments are occasionally amusing… However, Shallan’s puns are worse than my Dad’s jokes. Every time she says something apparently ‘witty’ and someone else remarks how clever and funny she is I want to hit them... At best she’s mildly amusing, at worst she’s cruel. It’s never funny. (This only gets worse with Lift, I almost DNFed the entire series because of the Lift interlude in Words of Radiance. And don’t get me started on Lopen.)

Characters

At last! Something I genuinely love and the reason I read these books! Sanderson has created some of the best characters in modern fantasy in this series and they are the only reason I’m still going. I like the worldbuilding and plot, but I adore the character work in this book and the series as a whole. The characters are generally so good that, even when I dislike them, it's because I dislike them personally, not that they’re badly written characters! Usually I love Sanderson’s characters though, even when they’re incredibly flawed (looking at you Dalinar!) because he’s particularly good at complex character arcs. 

Szeth – I love Szeth, slightly irrationally for how much he’s in both this book and the series as a whole, but he’s one of my favourite “secondary” characters in the series! Szeth is actually the character who made me fall in love with the series in the first place, which feels weird to say because he only has five or six chapters in the entire novel. However, a magical assassin with a strong, if morally dubious, sense of duty and obligations? Sign me up! The opening prologue from Szeth’s perspective is wonderful - it’s far too info-dumpy but it’s highly engaging and one hell of a way to open the series. 

What really intrigued me about Szeth was his role as the interlude throughline character for The Way of Kings. His internal conflict between his obligation to follow the Truthless’ laws and his personal morality is fascinating. Szeth’s character development has been one of the highlights of the entire series for me, especially as we explore his personal morality, questioning of power, and commitment to law and justice. This conflict is one of the reasons I love the Skybreakers in general and I sincerely hope we get to see more of this (and their conflict with the theoretically similar, although realistically very different, Windrunners) in book 5. However, Szeth is a promise that Sanderson hasn’t kept yet. So much has been built up around his character and we haven’t explored him properly (as of Rhythm of War) and I’m mad about it! He’s an incredibly interesting character, morally and thematically, and I hope Sanderson can live up to the hype he’s built up around him in the first four books of the series. 

Kaladin – Okay the real reason we’re all here, the shining beacon of the Stormlight Archive, everyone’s favourite heroic bridgeman: Kaladin Stormblessed. Confession time – I didn’t love Kaladin the first time I read The Way of Kings. Don’t get me wrong I liked him but I’m generally not a massive fan of underdog superhero narratives. (I’m still not a fan of Bridge Four in general for the same reason, I would apologise but I’m not sorry…)

Kaladin spends most of this novel running bridges for Highprince Sadeas on the Shattered Plains. Unjustly enslaved by a corrupt member of the aristocracy, Kaladin is fighting to keep himself and his bridgecrew alive during one of the most pointless “wars” I've read in a fantasy novel - the pointlessness isn’t actually a criticism. He’s facing systematic oppression and disregard for human life, as well as battling his own depression and forming a bond with a spren named Syl (I absolutely adore Syl! But I want to talk about her in my review for Words of Radiance.)

So… I’ve always been frustrated with Kaladin’s fundamental drive to save people and take responsibility for people’s deaths, even when there was nothing he could have done to save them. This book is probably the worst for it out of the four currently published and I just found it a bit much because I personally struggle to relate to his attitude. This level of personal responsibility is a completely alien concept to me, at least to this level, and it’s Kaladin’s entire thing - his driving personality trait - and I just didn’t get it. Kaladin and I are very different people and for a long time I really struggled to relate to him on the same level everyone else seems to in this book. It also didn’t help that the main plot around Kaladin running bridges, struggling with his depression, and trying to keep his men alive is very repetitive… So when you’re in the midst of it and struggling to connect quite so deeply with Kaladin this book can become a slog - yet, the pay off for his struggles is so satisfying and it is very much worth it for making the end feel earned. 

However, my issues with connecting to Kaladin is definitely on me and this is by no means to say Kaladin is a badly written character, I’ve always admired how well Kaladin is drawn in this book. Within a few chapters I understood who Kaladin is, and really loved the conflict he had with his depression and role as a fantasy hero. It's beautifully painful to watch and, even when you’re a bit ambivalent about Kaladin, you really care about whether he and Bridge Four are going to survive the bridgecrews – and the climax sequence with Kaladin becoming Stormblessed again at the Tower is still one of my favourite moments in the entire series!

However, on this reread of the series I had a completely different experience to what I’ve had on previous reads, and a lot of this is down to Rhythm of War. I don’t want to say too much here because it’ll involve spoilers for Rhythm of Warm but having seen Kaladin confront his, as Ron Weasley would say, “saving people thing” and really struggle to keep functioning as Stormblessed, I was so much more on board with this book. Rhythm of War’s much more personal approach to Kaladin really helped me understand him as a person, not just the underdog hero. The struggle with his sense of self, the way his depression impacts his ability to act, and the way he’s moving forward in Rhythm of War let me appreciate the character work for Kaladin in The Way of Kings. The struggle, graft, and determination, especially given his mindset, is much more admirable when I can strip away the focus on doggedly protecting everyone no matter the personal cost. 

Kaladin and I are very different people, but that’s okay and I’ve come to appreciate him a lot more in the last 7 months. Now I can happily adore him alongside everyone else, and not just nod along with the rest of the fandom because I understand he’s objectively a well written character. Also Kaladin’s mental health rep is some of the best I’ve seen in an epic fantasy series. However, I would approach this book, and series, carefully if you’re sensitive to depression.

Shallan – confession time round two: I hate Shallan. I really loathe her on a deeply personal level. And I’m still bitter about it because I used to love her, when I first read this book she was my favourite character! This was partly due to relating to her and partly due to my frustration with Kaladin. However, as I read Words of Radiance I grew uncomfortable with her and by Oathbringer it became a full on HATED of her…and it’s never gone away.

I first met Shallan when I was a shy 18-year-old, budding historian and scholar. I got Shallan, I loved her plotline, and found Khabranth a lot more interesting than the endless bridgeruns with Kaladin (sorry Kaladin!) I connected with her because she represented (projected) a lot of what I was at the time - and still am today, just an older version of that person. She was the main character that really drew me into the story - yes I loved Szeth and thought he was brilliant, but Szeth is largely absent from this novel and Shallan is the main female lead. 

And then I got hit in the face by the infamous Words of Radiance “Boots” chapter, and I immediately got iffy vibes, then there was the Chasm sequence, and so many other moments that made me uncomfortable. I’ll avoid spoilers and, for now, just say I got hit in the face by Shallan’s innate privilege, her causal abuse of social rank, and complete lack of social and self awareness. To top it off the narrative gives her no consequences for this and even rewards her for her behaviour, rather than making Shallan work through the issues around classism (something I, as a Brit, am hyper aware of and it SHOULD NOT under ANY circumstances be ignored, especially with Kaladin’s narrative running parallel to Shallan.) However, this is later book issues and a major dropped theme that I’m fuming about, but I still found I liked Shallan in THIS book when I reread the series.

Not this time. 

There are moments in The Way of Kings where we can already see Shallan’s privilege and complete disregard of anyone who is remotely lower than her in the Vorin hierarchy. The scene with the book merchant stands out. No one in that scene is innocent, and I’m much less annoyed by it than I am at the “Boots” scene, however, it shows an early form of Shallan’s complete inability to reflect on her own behaviour towards those with less power than herself. She’s casually abusive and manipulative, but no one really calls her out on it. The few moments when someone does confront Shallan about it, and the narrative consistently forgives her because Sanderson allows her to come across as the victor in each of the arguments. This isn’t to say Shallan’s causal abuse of the Vorin social system shouldn’t be present in the book. It’s actually very realistic, in our world white people (especially white women) have behaved like Shallan for centuries. However, what does matter is the narrative framing. However, I’ll dig into this when I get to reviewing Words of Radiance because a lot of my planned review for that book is centred around this issue.

I’m also resentful that Shallan’s character in The Way of Kings is a complete lie – we don’t know her at all, but not in the same way as Dalinar? We KNOW something is off with Dalinar, we KNOW he was a terrible person and a warmonger from the way people talk about the Blackthorn – but Shallan’s reveal largely comes out of nowhere in some respects and I HATE that the person I loved so much 5 years ago was a complete lie. I’m a bitter person and I will continue to hold a grudge until Shallan dies or the series ends, whichever comes first.

Jasnah – my problematic QUEEN. Is Jasnah a shitty person? Yes. Do I love her anyway? Yes. Difference is I knew Jasnah was shitty from the start… I like problematic characters, I just hate being lied to (*cue insincere smile at Shallan*)

Jasnah is a difficult character to talk about in this book because we don’t know much about her other than her public persona, however, she’s a large part of why I love it so much. I just like brilliant women who would kill me, okay? It also helps that she's an historian, I have a soft spot for murderous historians. I’ll talk more about Jasnah when I review Oathbriner, hopefully that won’t be in another 5 years…! I just wanted to highlight that I do love a female character in this book!

Actually on the topic, Sanderson is still a shitty author for female friendships – he has included more female characters in Stormlight but why are there no female friendships that aren’t rooted in backstabbing and lies?!

Dalinar – if Jasnah is my problematic Queen then Dalinar has to be the problematic King. Dalinar is my favourite Stormlight Archive character. I could wax lyrical about what a BRILLIANT character he is. You may not like Dalinar, you may not forgive him, but you have to admit he is the best written character in ANYTHING Sanderson has written, and one of the best in modern fantasy. Nevertheless, much like Jasnah I’m going to wait until I review Oathbringer before I talk about Dalinar because I can’t do him justice without his flashbacks. However, I will tell you a story about the time I first met Dalinar Kholin.

So, I first read The Way of Kings on my commute back and forth to Worcester Cathedral because I had a work placement in the Cathedral’s archives. I’d been doing this commute for months and reached the point where I knew when to get off the train by feeling, no need to check the stations (this is relevant).

 I was on my commute home, and as I was walking to the train station I started part two. I met Adolin and he was fine. I was a bit confused because this was a whole new perspective and set of characters, but I was doing okay. (Yes I was walking and reading, no I do not recommend this arrangement for health reasons.)

And then I met Dalinar. As I got on the train we got into his own head, with the mystery of the visions just starting, the hints towards his complicated relationship with Elhokar, and the amazing fight with the Chasmfiend. Bearing in mind I was automatically doing my commute through this – I’d become so invested in Dalinar, I missed my transfer on the train. I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. I’m paranoid about it! But I was so engrossed in this aged general, who was potentially going mad, that I missed the stop on my train and didn’t even notice until we hit Birmingham New Street.

I was so in love with Dalinar Kholin that I travelled to the wrong city… And my love for him has only gotten stronger*.

Conclusion

Overall I have a complicated relationship with The Way of Kings, and The Stormlight Archive in general. I love this series, I particularly adore the characters and character work Sanderson is doing as the books continue. However, it is severely overhyped. There are a lot of flaws in this book, especially with the writing and structural aspect of this novel. It’s poorly paced, clumsily written, and lacking finesse. For me Sanderson is an okay writer but a wonderful storyteller. As a storyteller he’s made a huge contribution to the fantasy genre and I’m here for the major improvement he’s made in popularising more complex character work and the inclusion of mental health representation. We’re just seeing the start of this shift in the fantasy genre and I’m excited to see where Stormlight and fantasy are going to go with this movement. 

However, as a writer he has a long way to go in improving his craft of writing. These are big books, and I will often forgive mistakes with narrative structure in books of this size because they are so huge. However, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t acknowledge them when reviewing the novel. Mistakes were made, especially in The Way of Kings, and are still being made but Sanderson has been slowly improving with the later books.

There’s a lot to love in The Stormlight Archive - the worldbuilding is insane, the characters are incredible, and the plots are gripping. I love them, and I will continue to eagerly await the next installments! But they’re far from perfect, and that’s okay. Sanderson has captured the imaginations of thousands of fantasy readers and I would highly recommend you give these books a go, despite my critical review. This is a fabulous time to be a fantasy reader and The Stormlight Archive is one of the most exciting reasons to be reading the genre!

*Dalinar and I are going to be on thin ice if Sanderson continues with his character as he did in Rhythm of War, but again I’ll address that when I review Rhythm of War.

[mrssimply]

That fiction you’ve been hearing about?

Following this and that, I nearly finished it, so I decided to start publishing it (final chapter is on the way). I’m publishing as I proofread, so expect updates every week I think.

This story now has a name: All of my heroes are dead.

It’s a SilverVdyne fanfiction (still not sure about the ship name) so it’s Johnny/V/Kerry.

Seks happens A LOT in that fiction, in all forms and combinations because everyone is versatile in my head.

This story is over 100k words. It contains 16 chapters, and 7 interludes, plus some bonus chapters I’m still working on. I would qualify this story as relatively self-indulgent, in the sense that it was at first born after reading “Chase the morning” by ThornWild, and wishing for the threesome between Johnny, Kerry and V to happen (So I kinda blame them for this fiction, but in a good way ;) It’s very different from this work, both in style and characterization, and I encourage you to read it). And then, because I can’t write anything without adding TONS of plot, it turned into this behemoth of a fanfiction.

To clarify a few things:

Years is 2034, but all the characters of the game are present, as if they were born way earlier. Johnny is about 45, and Kerry 43. V is 29. I reduced the age gap, and I probably had good reasons at first but I’ve forgotten them, so I’m sorry if you liked the 50+ years age-gap between Kerry and V in the game, I did too, just CAN’T remember why I reduced it at the moment but It might come back to me later on (to be fair, I started writing this story like two months ago, proof-reading it was a bit like rediscovering it.)

I kinda had to make choices about the timeline regarding Samurai, because the game gives contradictory information. To follow the game hints, Johnny would have been around fourteen when he enrolled in the army and I was just… Nope. I didn’t really check if it was canon in the others material, because just nope, nope, nope. I made him enroll at seventeen (still too young in my opinion but more acceptable). And because of that, the Samurai timeline had to adapt. Again, if you want to read a work that is a lot more respectful of the timeline, I invite you to read Chase the Morning (actually, it’s not an invitation, go read it… After you’ve finished reading this ;))

Most of what happens in the games also happens in that story, especially the side jobs, and the whole arc with Takemura. I made Evelyn survives (again, self-indulgence, I loved that character).

Contrary to my other work, I decided to be pretty descriptive about my V, so in advance I’m sorry if it’s weird for you, but I have found that I love reading fiction with others V and I really developed an obsession with mine, just like any of us did, I think.

Last thing: I’m French, and this work is proof-read only by me. I generally re-read every chapter 2 to 3 times but I know some things still escape me, as well as some sentence structures that probably appear weird to English native speakers. Sorry for that.

Extract under the cut ~~~~~

They were in the middle of Chippin’ in when it happened. At the back, the sea of people parted strangely and Johnny saw the unusual movement from the corner of his eyes. The strobe lights and lasers were not helping seeing the public, so it was more instinct than conscious thought that made him move.

He stopped playing and grabbed his gun that, while he never again fired in the public, still accompanied him on stage. With one smooth stride, he was in front of Kerry, metal hand extended to serve as a poor shield and pushing his friend to the back of the stage, toward Denny. Always swift to react to situations, she was already on her feet, pulling Lola along. Drausin also backed off, eyes riveted to the crowd, and Johnny knew he had not hallucinated: something was happening.

Although the music had stopped, it was to be replaced with panicked sounds and screams of fright. Then Johnny saw the man, gun blazing, marching toward them, parting the crowd like the red sea. He heard Kerry gasp behind him:

“There!” the second guitarist said, pointing to his right. And Johnny indeed saw another man advance on the first from the right side of the room, his gun also at the ready.

The first man fired toward the stage, but Johnny had anticipated it and pushed Kerry and himself down, hoping the two others would have had the same reflex. His heart was hammering in his chest as he covered Kerry with his body, experiencing a moment of terrible fright, but not for himself.

Alas, Kerry was still as stubborn as the day he was born, and he was pushing Johnny from himself to look at what was happening. He watched as the second man, face set and eyes shimmering like diamonds in the low light, steadied his stance and pulled the trigger. The shot was perfect, the bullet traced a neat line to the first man’s head, and blew his brain left from right.

But it was not finished: following the steps of the first man, two others assassins were coming for them, and Johnny tried to make Kerry drop his head but his bandmate was mesmerized by the man protecting them.

With a chiseled face, large but soft eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and long silver hair pulled up to the side of his head, he looked like and angel fallen from heaven. The strobes lighted his face in shadows and stark whites, bouncing off the cyberware on his face that shone like liquid gold, highlighting his slightly pointed ears. He was of middle height, and stocky built, but there was no denying his presence: he exuded concentration and assurance as he crouched slightly to steady himself before he fired twice. And each bullet found its mark, killing the two other assassins in as much heartbeats.

This time, the silence was deafening. He stood like this for a few seconds more, before running footsteps coming behind him made him relax and stand. Another man, this time built like a wardrobe and as tall, rushed to the fallen criminals, kicking theirs guns away before crouching to check their pulse. But Kerry had no doubts they were well and truly dead.

The smaller man turned to the stage, and his cold pale eyes swept over the members of the band, assessing their status. As his eyes crossed with Kerry’s, the musician felt a lightning bolt zap through him. The gaze lasted only a second, but it felt like an eternity: all thoughts stopped in his head, and his breathing stuttered as well as his heart while a wave of heat passed over him. But all those sensations disappeared the moment after, replaced by the rush of adrenaline this situation had kicked in his organism.

[nikxation]

If You Give a Mothman a Loan

Huge thank you to @birdgirlamp for commissioning me to write a fic by donating to WHO (if you want more information, see this post). Sorry it took so long to get this out, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2359

Characters: Stanford Pines (pre- and post-portal), Fiddleford McGucket (pre-portal), Wendy Corduroy (post-portal... obviously)

~ ~ ~

It’s three months into Fiddleford’s stay in Gravity Falls, and the skeleton in the closet (or the portal in the basement) is slowly looking less and less like just a bundle of messy wires and half-finished structural supports and more like the behemoth of a machine it’s meant to be. The raw stock for the exterior plating should be here any day now, the first of the two power transfer beams is online, and every day is another day closer to their end-goal.

He’ll hand it to Stanford Pines, this is some of their best work yet.

He still remembers the day he arrived and Ford showed him the initial drafts. He’d thought the size was overkill, that the hollowed-out basement beneath the house would just become a room with decent acoustics for him to practice his banjo playing away from his old college roommate while the real machine was built somewhere less cold and damp.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

Now, every time he walks in the room, he feels the thing like the presence it is, towering stories tall, looming over him in a way that he would almost consider menacing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just a machine.

He’s got blueprints and prototyped miniatures of literal death bots.

So why would the interdimensional portal in the basement put him on edge?

It shouldn’t.

So he shakes the thought away and gets back to work.

An unsuccessful system test led to the time-shift circuit on motherboard seven incinerating again. If he were the kind of man to actually keep count (which he certainly is), he’d know it’s the fourth time in the past week this same part has crapped out on them.

It’s also the reason he’s gonna finally stop out-sourcing these parts and just start making them in-house from now on. He’s about sick of replacing them every five minutes.

That’s what brings Fiddleford to where he is now, with his upper body shoved halfway inside the portal’s support structure and crammed between God knows how many electrical components. His arms have just started to cramp in their rather unnatural position as he pries at the burnt-out part to replace it with a newer one that will hopefully hold out against the power output better than its predecessor.

Ford’s sitting in the control room, supposedly running through some of the math again to double-check that they didn’t miss anything.

The “supposedly” is only because, for the past twenty minutes, the man has been prattling on like Fiddleford’s grandma at Sunday family brunch. He can only hear the occasional snippet from his position (quite literally) inside the portal, and as far as he can tell, he thinks he’s talking about either his most recent research outing, or something about preacher scouting. He wants to lean towards the former, but with the new stories he’s found about a so-called “velocipastor”, he can’t rule out the latter. Either way, the man hasn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe, let alone re-run equations that use relative space-time physics with integrated fourth dimensional calculus.

Fiddleford just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really can’t hear him.

He snaps the ribbon cable off the still-smoking component (after the first time it blew, he learned to bring heat-resistant gloves in here with him) and is rather glad to see it’s still intact. Rewiring is a day-long project he’s glad to not have to do again. He maneuvers his hand back out into open air and tosses the old piece somewhere into the room before getting to work mounting the new one.

Ford’s voice echoes from the next room over.

“… extra funds… exploring… investing for…”

Bolting the circuit down turns out to be easier the fifth time he has to do it, and he’s about to start running a simple, probably non-exploding test to make sure the new part is integrated correctly when he hears—

“… so I gave Mothman a thousand dollars…”

And that, of all things, stops Fiddleford in his tracks.

“Come again?” he yells. He had to have misheard because he swears he just heard the man say—

“I ran into Mothman in the woods yesterday,” Ford says, all too nonchalantly, “and they told me they were starting up a small business and needed an investment, so I gave them a thousand dollars from my excess funds with a verbal agreement that they would pay me back within the year.”

… So he didn’t mishear him, that’s for darn sure.

The fact that the Mothman is real is surely weird enough. But he’s lived in Gravity Falls (and known Stanford Pines) for long enough that it doesn’t really surprise him too much. No, that’s not the part that brings him to wiggle himself out of his position inside the portal’s underbelly just enough so that he can meet Ford’s eyes in the other room.

“You gave Mothman… a thousand dollars…” Fiddleford says slowly.

“To help kickstart their new business, yes.” It’s so casual, like he doesn’t even register the inherent absurdity in what he’s saying.

“And that business is?”

“Mothballs.”

“Stanford!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest scam I’ve ever heard.”

Ford sputters, his face aghast for a moment. “I did not get scammed by Mothman!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Do you even know what mothballs are for?”

He pauses, his mouth snapping shut, his face turning the slightest shade of red. Fiddleford can see it from the next room over. “No. I always assumed they were some biproduct created by moths during reproduction or something.” Fiddleford lets his head fall back, bonking on a bar of the steel framework behind him.

“Stanford, they repel moths,” he says. “You just let a bunch of moths convince you they’re starting a business making the thing they hate. That’s stupider than the time my neighbor tried to convince me his cat could see God. And you have three PhDs!”

“Four now,” he says quietly, and Fiddleford levels him with a single raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna go back, find that over-glorified insect, and get our money back. Or so help me, I will never do another grocery run for as long as I live here.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly fair. You know I hate going into town.”

“Then you better hurry along and find him.”

“You honestly believe the actual Mothman is pulling a con.”

“People lie, Stanford,” he says, finally ducking himself back into the machine to finally run the diagnostic on the new circuit. “Even cryptids and aliens probably from another dimension.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s broken a few moments later by the sound of a chair scuffing on the floor and footsteps ascending the wooden stairs out of the basement.

Fiddleford snorts, shaking his head and getting back to work.

~ ~ ~

“So, like, the Mothman,” Wendy says, keeping pace next to him as they make their way back into the woods, the sun’s last rays just starting to slip behind the trees. “The actual Mothman. He’s real?”

“As real as any of the other anomalies in this town,” Ford says, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He’d heard the cryptid had come back into town again shortly after Wierdmageddon, and after his first attempt at getting his money back a few weeks back (second if you count that time over three decades ago) went sour, he decided to bring back-up this time. But with Stan still out of commission and the kids rightly wanting to stay with him, he was hard-pressed for options. That is until the cashier girl piped up and said she’d do it for ten percent of whatever they recovered.

Ford negotiated her down to eight and a half. She drives a hard bargain; he can see why Stan hired her.

“Dude, that’s sick,” she says.

“I mean, I hardly think they’re ill or anything,” Ford says. “As fast as their moths die off, they re-introduce new ones to the population through some sort of reproductive mitosis—”

“Nah dude, it’s a phrase,” she cuts him off. “Means, like, ‘that’s awesome’.”

“Ah, alright.” Ford pauses to check the anomaly scanner on his watch, the little white blip flashing on the screen. “I’ve never been exceptionally ‘with it’ when it comes to slang, so you’ll have to pardon my misunderstanding.”

“You’re fine, Dr. Pines,” she says. She kicks a loose rock off into the brush. “I’m pretty sure Stan doesn’t understand half of what I say either.” Ford hums an affirmative, intently watching the small blip on his watch, confirming that it is, in fact, slowly moving in their direction. After a few seconds, he drops the bag he’s been carrying with a thwump, a bit of dust swirling up from the dirt.

“We’re going to set up the trap right here,” he says. “We have probably ten minutes until the Mothman comes through here, so we’ll need to act quickly.”

“You got it boss-man.”

It’s a fairly simple net trap, one that they make short work of assembling. Ford had already built the majority of it to bring out here, including a magic-imbued mosquito net that should contain the Mothman’s consciousness so long as they catch the majority of their moths.

He made that mistake last time, the Mothman managing to escape in the couple moths that his trap missed.

“So, you really were in, like, a different dimension for a bunch of years, right?” Wendy asks as she spreads some leaves and twigs over the net.

“Multiple dimensions,” he says as he carefully sets the trap’s trigger pole. “I travelled through thousands of them in my thirty years away from this one.”

“Dude, that’s nuts.”

“It was… pretty sick,” he says, shooting her a wry grin. Wendy groans.

“Well,” she says, “you just confirmed for me that I was right to never teach Stan slang, so thanks for that I guess.”

“Glad to help.” With the trap finally set and ready to go, he pulls the last item out of the bag: the bait, which he flicks on and gently sets down against the trigger.

“That’s a flashlight,” Wendy says, the statement almost a question.

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it, like,” she says, waving her hands slightly, “I don’t know, magic or something?”

“Nope,” he says, backing off and giving the trap one last look-over. He has to hand it to the girl, she knew what she was doing.

“You’re serious?”

“Entirely,” he says. “It doesn’t take much to attract them. Back in the eighties, they used to hang around streetlamps and windows all the time. It’s a wonder they’re still considered a cryptid considering how blatantly out in the open they—”

He hears the tell-tale sound of fluttering insect wings, not too far off, but loud enough to make him pause. He glances in the direction and then down at his watch, the blip on the screen almost on top of them. Quickly, he motions to Wendy to hide and then does the same himself, crouching behind the nearest tree and peering around the side to watch.

It’s rather quiet for a few moments, the darkness starting to settle into the pines, the lit flashlight a lone beacon, just the sound of the pine needles whistling in the breeze and the far-off humming of the approaching cryptid. But that low hum gradually gets louder, turning to a white drone of hundreds of small wings beating in tandem.

A familiar dark shape emerges from the underbrush. Humanoid, but just barely. Ten-feet tall with two enormous wings sprouting from its back, two large yellow eyes reflecting the scattered light of the flashlight in the clearing. Their entire shape feels blurred at the edges, like someone drew a line of charcoal and smudged it, the hundreds of moths that make up their body shifting and moving amongst each other in a din of small beating wings.

The Mothman.

Ford hates to admit that the thought still sends an excited shiver up his spine.

They emerge into the clearing, glancing around and taking an immediate interest in the flashlight lying on the ground. They approach it slowly, cautiously, glancing around as if waiting for the ambush, eventually making it onto the net before moving to bend down to pick up the flashlight.

They stop.

Ford holds his breath.

“Stanford Pines,” a voice says, the sound a high whine broken up and mixed with soft clicking. The Mothman stands back upright, snapping its eyes right in his direction. Immediately, Ford’s mind starts swirling with potential fallback options to try to turn this in their favor. “Surprised you’re still alive after last week. Really think we’re stupid enough to fall for—”

“Suck mothballs, lamp licker!” Wendy screams from across the clearing, the Mothman whipping around just as a projectile of some sort (is that an axe?) flies out of the underbrush and hits the trap’s trigger dead-on, sending the net shooting upwards and capturing almost all of the moths above it. A shrill screech fills the air from the now-dangling mass of moths, but Ford is too busy gaping at the cashier girl as she emerges from her hiding spot.

“Nice shot, Wendy!” he beams, shaking off the shock and coming out to join her on either side of the now-enraged Mothman. She shrugs, retrieving the axe from off the ground and sliding it back into her belt loop behind her back.

“No biggie. My dad enters me into the annual axe-throwing competition every year. I’ve won the last 5 in a row.” Ford, having not known anything about this girl before today, is rather stunned. He certainly was not expecting that from the teen, let alone the nonchalance over it. “But anywho,” she says, turning her attention to the writhing mass in front of them. “About that money…”

~ ~ ~

About two hours after they left, Ford and Wendy arrive back at the Mystery Shack, Ford heading to the back of the house to find Stan and the kids, Wendy collecting her things and heading back out to go home, a crisp one-hundred dollar bill tucked into her pocket.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Machines of War

"Gentlemen and Ladies, allow me to welcome you to Mars.” the human representative said as they bowed to the assembled aliens guests. They were dressed sharply in a black suit with matching pants and shoes. “We here at the Icarus Foundation believe we have quite the merchandise for you.”  “I’m sure their sharpened sticks will make excellent toothpicks.”  The whispered remark drew a few stifled chuckles from the assembled aliens. If the human had heard it they gave no sign of irritation and continued with the presentation.  The guests, as they were respectfully called, were buyers from various organizations and alien governments around the universe. A Predatorian sat calmly in the sampling some of the prime rib bone and all, a Quwaty and Draxic were in a seemingly deep conversation about how much they despised humanity which wasn’t surprising given their previous defeats against them, a group of Ureti were gathered around a table observing the room with their keen eyes no doubt gathering as much mental detail of what was going on to report to their superiors later, and surprisingly a Flinchestet government official sat in an arm chair along the opposite wall. There were many more different species present but the Flinchestet was the star as the universe knew they prided themselves as being the “bigger man”, as the humans say. After what had happened to their representative after coming into contact with the human delegation their government may finally realize their ivory tower isn’t as stable as they once thought. 

Pulling out a remote from his pocket he pressed a button and the side wall opposite the guests slowly began descending, the harsh red wastes of the martian soil greeted the guests behind three feet of reinforced glass.    The Ureti seemed to notice something immediately and raised their concerns. “Why is there no energy barrier in place?” The other guests examined the glass and saw that indeed there was no barrier or other form of energy shielding. “What? Was it too difficult for you monkey’s to figure out?” quipped the Draxic. “After previous engagements it was found that an energy barrier or shield would distort our guests view of the demonstrations which given how far many of you have traveled to view would be nothing but an insult to you.” The human’s response was clear and crisp as he nodded to the Ureti group, completely ignoring the Draxic much to their frustration. ���Our pilots are highly skilled and have practiced hundreds of hours to ensure no unforeseen incidents occur. Besides, should one of our products impact this building there is no level of protection that could stop the ensuing damage.”  The guests were shocked at the bold response, some even fidgeting in their seats and eyeing the nearest doorways. “Is this not safe?” another of the Ureti questioned, to which the human offered a warm smile and brushed the front of their suit. “If what you sought was safe then I believe many of you would not have come.”  The Ureti seemed satisfied with the response and nodded.  “We here at the Icarus  foundation have been on the cutting edge of weapons technology for the past thirty years. With our existing contracts with the various human government and organizations spread across the galaxy, an Icarus Weapons has been on every battlefield that has ever had a human present.”  The Quwaty let out a low growl as a warning. Their conquest would have been complete had it not been for the intervention of a human task force that wiped out their army and forced a cease fire.  “We’ll start out with the latest all purpose infantry weapon, the Lævateinn.” A door to the room opened and several humans wheeled in carts each carrying a strange looking rifle. Once the carts were positioned around the room for the guests to get easy views of the weapon the wheelers quickly left the room from the way they came and closed the door.  “What does “Lævateinn“ mean?”  “When translated it means ”Twig”.”  The guests eyed the human to see if he was serious and paced the room as he continued.   “In our history there was once a story of a mischievous god known as Loki. At the very doors of death itself Loki ventured and plucked the Lævateinn. It became one of the most powerful weapons of the gods, easily able to shift between staff, sword, and knife at the wielders command. So powerful was this weapon that it was eventually taken by another god and protected by them in a chest fashioned with nine locks.”  He wound up at one of the cart’s and spread his arms over the weapon. “The  Lævateinn now is no mere myth but has been made real and is presented to you as the all purpose weapon of the future.”  At the proclamation a armored soldier carrying the Lævateinn stepped outside of the reinforced glass while inside the room several monitors appeared each viewing the soldier from a different angle.  “What makes the Lævateinn so potent a weapon is its ability to adapt to any situation. Close quarters.”  Without warning several cutouts appeared behind the soldier, popping from the ground. The soldier pulled the barrel of the rifle downward and it slid below the grip turning the barrel into a much shorter version of itself similar to smg’s. They spun around and in rapid succession fired well placed shots center mass in each of the cutouts.  “Medium range.” The close range targets retracted into the ground to be replaced by prefabricated buildings 1-2 stories high. In the windows and atop the roof of the structures more cutouts appeared and the soldier re-slid the barrel back into place and started firing semi-automatic bursts into the cutouts.  “And of course long range”  As the last target was hit the buildings retracted into the ground clearing the space once more. Far off in the distance, easily one mile away, a new series of cutouts appeared atop a ridge. The soldier quickly went prone and pressed a button rifle and the barrel extended and deployed a tripod as they began lining up shots.  The guest watched in amazement on the monitors trained on the cutouts as the soldiers sniper fire once again hit center mass.  When the last cutout went down the soldier calmly stood back up, turned to face the viewing room and stood at attention.  “Weren’t they an wonderful shot?”, the human spoke. “Let’s all give a round of applause for our Icarus specialist shall we?” and began clapping his hands together. The Ureti clapped as their somewhat friendlier association with humans had taught them the significance of applause, but the others were slow to join in with some even refusing to clap.  “As you can see, the Lævateinn gives a single soldier the fire power of several weapons easily compacted into one; thus making any warrior equipped with this weapon a foe not to be taken lightly.”   The guests now seemed more inclined to the weapon and began examining it in better detail. The Draxic in particular was hefting the rifle and looking down the sights of it. After a moment of fiddling with it they grunted and set it back down. “This grip is too small to be used by my people.”  “With bulk orders of 10,000 or more modifications can be made free of charge per species.” The human replied smoothly. “Once we have been given measurements of a species the handle can be properly molded to allow proper usage. We also can alter the paint scheme to imprint different camouflage patterns and cultural symbolism.”  This seemed to renew interest for the Draxic and they continued eyeing the rifle as the human motioned to the window once again.  “Next on our list is the latest in armor warfare, the MegaTank.”  The room began to shake as a large round metal sphere rolled out in front of the window. It appeared as a massive ball bearing, its sides perfectly circular and smoothed.  “The MegaTank features a revolutionary gyro system that allows for rapid movement over any surface without inhibiting the driver. It’s shell is made up of a different composite of metals with the end result being the vehicle is nigh indestructible save for the heaviest of energy weapons attached to battleships.”  The human waved to the tank through the glass and a thin line emerged down the center of it. The tank split open down the middle revealing a human operator at the center of a canopy surrounded by a mass of cables, wires, computer screens. The human waved back before closing resealing the tank.  “Today’s modern armored vehicles are little more than elaborate transports for heavy weapons. Once the weapon is neutralized you are left with an expensive tractor. The MegaTank changes this by turning the entire vehicle into a weapon. Observe.”  The same prefabricated buildings appeared again in front of the guests along with a variety of different types of ground vehicles. The sphere appeared to turn in place to the nearest one and line itself up. Instead of a port opening to reveal a weapon of some kind the sphere shot forward without warning and smashed through the buildings. One by one the sphere rammed its way through the buildings, easily flattening cars and obstacles, while never losing speed.  This time the applause was more forthcoming as the entire room appeared impressed by the display.  “Our final item for the days festivities is our proudest achievement and has since been improved upon after tasting combat for the first time, Icarus is proud to present the next generation of mech frames!”  The MegaTank quickly rolled out of sight as the ground itself split open revealing a deep hangar underneath. Warning sirens began ringing outside as a heavy duty platform slowly began to rise up from the dark depths below and atop it carried the war machine that everyone wished to get their hands on.  Towering several stories tall a massive metal humanoid behemoth wearing the visage of a human skull emerged. As the red sands of mars blew across the planet it softly coated the machine and to the horror of the Quwaty and Draxic it appeared as if the great machine was covered in blood. Even the Flinchestet stood up from their seat and gazed upwards.   “These machines recently saw conflict on several fronts and the valuable data we retrieved as helped improve the next generation that stands before you.” Pulling out a small com device and putting it in their ear, the human looked at a monitor. “Can you hear me pilot?” The monitor switched from an outside view of the machine to what appeared to be a cockpit of some kind with a human inside.  “Loud and clear sir.” The voice was female the guests wagered, but many were too transfixed by the machine to care who piloted it. “What loadout do you want today?”  “Let me ask our guests.”  He turned back to the transfixed aliens. “Our mech units can be equipped with a variety of different weapons to suit any combat need. Today we have the anti vehicle auto cannon, the missile barrage launcher, and the energy lancer as possible options. Which would you care to see?”  The guests murmured amongst themselves for a time before the Flinchestet spoke. “I would care to see this “energy lancer”.” When no one else spoke up the human nodded and touched their com again. “Our guests would like to see the energy lancer please.”  “Roger that.” A second set of hangar doors opened up next to the mech and a large barrel weapon easily the size of a football field was rolled upwards. The mech walked over to the weapon, leaned down and hefted it upwards, connecting several tubes from the weapon to the back of the mech.  “Our energy weapons have their own power supply for usage, but when coupled directly to the mech itself the power yield triples in capacity.”  The energy lancer began to hum and glow blue as energy began directly feeding into it. “Weapon is charging now,” the pilot cut in as they flipped a series of switched, “we can fire in a minute.”  “Excellent. Your target is shuttle 313 which will be taking off now. Confirm?” “Confirmed. Shuttle 313 is the target.”  Far off in the distance the guests could see the streaks of engine exhaust as the shuttle took off the ground and made for orbit.  “Are they truly going to fire upon that shuttle?” the Ureti asked. “They will, but rest assured the ship is on auto pilot and no one will be harmed during this firing.” The shuttle was well into the air now and beginning to reach the upper atmosphere.  “Firing in 3,2,1..firing!”  In an instant the glass tinted itself dark as a blinding gout of light shot out from the energy lancer. The stream of energy raced forward easily closing the distance between the mech and the shuttle and struck home. The shot hit the engines and set off a chain reaction leaving the once functional shuttle a burning pile of falling wreckage.  With that the human turned around back to the guests as the glass untinted itself once more. “That today concludes the demonstration of some of our wares. At this time you may now go out and inspect the weapons yourselves and speak directly with the pilots. Bidding will begin later tonight and into tomorrow evening. Thank you for your time and we look forward to doing business with you.”  The room was silent now as the guests all observed  what had happened. It was the Flinchestet that once more broke the silence. “If that mech was your foundations greatest weapon, why did you save it for last instead of opening with it?”  “We humans have a saying known as “Saving the best for last”. Additionally, while the mechs are our greatest achievement, they also are our most expensive product and not every client can afford such devastation. We carry a variety of other products that are more affordable for the average buyer and can still provide for you military needs.”  The Draxic, while still looking stern as always, showed signs of being giddy at that news as they still had not fully recovered after handing over their homeworld to humanity after their failed challenge. The Ureti also looked interested as they were still trying to grasp how humanity had defeated them in their recent war and having such access to their latest weapons could give them insight.  The Quwaty lacked any such subtly and asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Are you not afraid we will turn these weapons against you? You must know many of us here hold a grudge against humanity.” The human simply smiled at this as if the question was coming from a three year old trying to figure out what three plus three was. “The Icarus Foundation plays no favorites and offers our products to anyone that honors our terms.” The human’s face took on a sterner face than previously at answering the next bit. “But rest assured that should anyone break the terms of an agreement with us or take action against the Foundation in anyway we will defend ourselves. You should consider that there is no one better to understand a weapon, than those that forged it.”  Meeting the gaze of the Quwaty for several moments, the Quwaty finally broke eye contact and did not meet it again.  The tone of the room finally took ona lighter mood once more as it became clear that humans were just as happy to destroy other humans as much as they were; for a price at least.

[yeet-imma-skeet]

Oh There’s The Sky

(Based on @starr-fall-knight-rise ‘s unique universe. Part 4 of the story.)

(Part 1: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/613232997621202944/the-sky-is-falling)

“Holy shit.”

“What a big ass spaceship!”

“Looks like right out of Star Trek.”

“Doesn’t it look like it’s broken though?”

The crewmen and marines gathered in the mess hall to recuperate murmured to each other in agreement as a wide projection of the strange vehicle outside spread throughout the ship like wildfire.

It slowly grew closer to them as they fumbled through space with what was left of their thrusters, showing evidence of damage to its hull. A jagged line the size of their own ship cut through its back end, nearly cutting off a winged structure.

"I bet the ones who built it are tiny."

Someone choked on their drink, "Pfft, how do you know that?"

"Well usually the smaller the alien, the bigger they make their stuff. You seen a Celzex ship? They're fucking huge."

"It’s best not underestimate whatever is in that monstrosity," A bright yellow Drev joined in, cradling a slinged arm.

The resting humans begrudgingly agreed until a sudden sense of caution flowed through them as the pearly ship towered close to their own. The few injured Drev in the room felt unease at the sudden restlessness the humans shown, especially those who were marines.

The yellow one asked, "What's wrong?"

"That." A young marine pointed at the display, "The vibes feel weird."

"The vibes."

"Don't underestimate the power of vibes, too."

The Drev shook their head in disbelief, but then again, humans were known for their strange power of prediction...

————————————

"Caldat!"

Thunk! Galia’s vision erupted into black and white splotches as she held her throbbing head. Dizzy and quite mad, she slid out from under a techy floor table on the fritz.

"Yerras! What?!"

"Report to the command room immediately!"

Sensing something wrong, she ignored the fading pain and ran out one of the gathering decks. Within a few minutes, she flew through the corridors to burst into the command room. The hovering orb projected a few panels of information around it as it connected to the master control panel. Then she heard it. It was a mix of lilting tones along with short hisses and abrupt humming not unlike her own voice. Curiously, she opened an arial, listening to the disconcerting yet beautiful sound.

Remembering why she came there, she asked, "What is up with that noise?"

"We've encountered another dolmier through short range communication. The noise you are hearing is an unknown language sent from it. It also sent data which I am working to translate by looking through their own systems. Their security is surprisingly weak, almost ancient."

Her eyes widened in shock, "Doesn't that mean—"

"We have met another sentient species."

A bombshell could almost be heard inside her head. Scientists theorized that there could be others in the vastness of space but no one found any interest outside their solar system. They had plenty of resources and had no shortage of companionship. The few who gazed towards the stars were only seen as eccentric and mostly worthless. Why would they look past their reach? Why would they try to find anyone else? What worth is there in another people?

Now that Galia is about to encounter another, she had no idea how to react. The past fifty cycles of training and combat did nothing to prepare her for meeting a whole nother alien species. Sure, some diplomacy would probably help but how would she know that it was appropriate for them? She sighed as she remembered that her comatose friends could've helped as they were taught to be the best diplomats. As numerous thoughts and improvised ideas past through her mind, the orb made a revelation through its translation.

"They are asking for assistance. Their dolmier is critically damaged and they have injured."

"What?" She was knocked out of her thoughts, "Show me the dolmier."

With a few moving around of its projections, a large image appeared. She was prepared to see something mysterious and powerful. Maybe discover a giant behemoth of a dolmier or one decked out in countless weapons. Instead, she found a stumpy, gray brick. A very beat up brick. Chunks of space rock were stuck in its hull. It was... quite small. She couldn't imagine living in such an enclosed space.

"Despite its appearance, it has a powerful engine called a 'warp core' made for deep space exploration."

"Exploration? Why?"

"After looking through some of their data, the makers seem to be an unusually curious species. Their dolmier's directive is to purposely find and record unknown things."

"Hmm." Her tail swished around in concentration, "We have no shortage of rooms but we have next to no food for others."

"...Our directive to keep the Royals safe and search for others. They may jeapordize our purpose."

"Yes, but we can't really do that in the middle of nowhere when we are running out of food and have a broken thruster. If we save them, they may offer us some assistance in return."

"...They ARE omnivores like yourselves and seem to have a better handle on food production."

She walked to the control panel, "Then we agree to assist them?"

"I shall send an affirmed message and instructions on docking. Though the translation isn’t perfect, they should get an understanding."

———————————

Captain Silva sat hunched over in his quarters, head in his hands as a heavy sigh slid from his lips. If anyone was with him, they would've smelled the faint aroma of rum from his breath. Granted he only had a sip, a shot-sized sip, but one nonetheless. He wanted to keep sipping, maybe from the bottle itself as the thought of the many deaths he caused weighed on his mind. As mich as he craved the feeling of freedom in the form of alcohol, he promised his crew that he would be back after a break. They wouldn’t find it very comforting to find their captain inebriated and he needed to do all he could to prevent panic.

A voice called from his com, “Captain, please report to the command deck. We have a reply.”

He heaved his heavy body off his untouched bed, combing his hair into place to look like he hadn’t just been pulling at it a few moments ago. Looking into a mirror as he almost left, he swiftly washed his face of any tear stains. He can’t let them see him like this just yet.

The weary officers on deck perked up at the sight of their captain entering the bridge, looking tired yet stern as always. A lingering medic, the head doctor in fact, narrowed her eyes at his flushed cheeks but paid no mind once he started giving orders as usual.

“What’s the reply?”

The communications officer stood as she reported, “They have accepted our ask for help and showed diagrams on how to board their ship. They apparently have a docking bay that can fit half of the ship though it is normally used for smaller craft.”

“Have you gotten anything about what kinda alien we are dealing with?”

“Well we received a bulky package of medical data. Some of it is unintelligible but we do have an image. It’s—um, well see for yourself. You too, doctor.”

The room grew still as the hologram of something not unfamiliar showed. The first thing they noticed was the face. It was very much like their own except for a lack of a mouth and nose, only a smoothened white face with red eyes which seemed to stare into nothing. They then saw the noticeable differences. The most apparent thing they all noticed was a long reptilian tail on their rump, ending with a tuft of hair the same yellow hue as the mane on their head. Something like bird wings grew from the sides of their head where ears would usually be. They were also bipedal, with legs resembling a prehistoric raptor’s.

Latinar stepped back at the sight, eyeing their three toes ending with sharp claws. He shivered at the thickness of their arms and even sharper looking claws from their six fingers.

“A predator species!” He exclaimed.

The room erupted into a flurry of whispers of surprise and awe as a few muttered in unease. Silva gazed at the rotating image as shock rolled into his mind. The commander and his crew were the only other ones to find a predator species. They were only just barely sentient with a young civilization but a predator species nonetheless. And he, Captain Silva, and his crew discovered another one!

“Now, now. Everyone quiet down.” He motioned with his hands, “Are they safe to approach?”

The officer read through the incoming message as she said, “The message they sent was cordial though some words were a bit off. Plus, they sent us their anatomy and medical records. I don’t see why not.”

“Hmm. Doctor?”

“Whoever is doing the translating is appearing to be accurate. The records are changing as I’m reading it and it shows biologies similar to us.” She answered, not looking up from her screen, “I suggest we wait a bit until everything is translated so we can produce vaccines as needed.”

Silva nodded, “Alright then. Send a message that we’ll wait for the medical records to fully translate and secure our safety before we come. Also, send some of our information to their side.”

———————————

“We received a message back and a data bank of biology records.” The orb wrote on a screen.

Galia stopped her pacing as she asked, “What did they say?”

The orb relayed the message as multiple squares of information projected from its form. The foreign characters on them changed into Farrisan ones as she skimmed through. Then her gaze landed on a 3D image of the dolmier’s creators within. They were almost like her own species! They had forward facing eyes with strange protrusions on their face and had small, strangely-shaped arials on their heads. Their legs were almost straight and gangly along with their arms. They also seemed to be clawless and only had five fingers on each hand. What surprised her the most was their lack of a tail. How the heck do they stay balanced without a tail?

She tilted her head at the sight of the strange creature, looking into its blank eyes. The image seemed empty, devoid of life. She couldn’t imagine it being real if it wasn’t for the fact that they were within orbiting distance of multiple. Another projection caught her eye, one completely different from the first creature.

It looked like a shiny, armored bird. They stood like Farrisans, with strong legs that ended in two stubby toes. They also had no tail, making her flick her arials in disbelief once again. What made up for the lack of one was an extra set of arms. An interesting thought crossed her mind as she imagined the creature in front of her. It would be quite interesting to fight with one, especially because of their extra arms and large stature like their own males.

“The first species which makes up the majority of their group are called humans. The one you’re looking at now are called drev.”

The unknown sound it said aloud for their names sounded almost musical. It would be quite hard for her to pronounce ‘drev’ but found saying ‘human’ much easier on the tongue.

An icon appeared next the the orb, “They are requesting for a live video call, caldat. Do you want to answer?”

Her arials perked up as her tail flicked around in thought, “You’ll translate?”

“Of course.”

“...Accept the call.”

———————————

The room of humans and a drev stood uncharacteristically quiet as the centuries old dial tone rang in the air. Captain Silva sat on his chair, dressed with his cap and uniform jacket as he anxiously waited for anything to happen.

Then it did.

The image almost blinded him with the sheer amount of white on the other side of the call. The room inside seemed to be of the same material one the outside of their ship, an almost obnoxiously bright pearly white. When his eyes adjusted, he finally saw what inhabited it. The creature was almost as white as the room with long dark hair. One of its golden eyes was closed as a pink scar ran down the left side of its face. Though he hadn’t seen them for long, even he could tell that they looked weary and cautious.

They hummed and hissed as words crossed below the screen, showing a translation, “Greetings human. I am Galia. May I know who this is?”

He spoke with practiced ease, “I am Captain Silva of the UNSC Esperanca. I’m glad to speak with you as we need immediate help.”

The being paused as they read their own translation, “Yes, I have seen but I also am in need of aid.”

“We have seen the damage to your ship as well. In exchange for sheltering in your ship, we can help fix it. There is next to no room left for our crew and we need to contact our allies.”

“That is a sound exchange though may I ask for help with provisions? My food supply is almost empty and its procurement is slow.”

“How many are in your crew?”

“...It is only me.”

Silva’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, “You are alone in that giant ship?”

“Yes, there were more but...” Her strange ear-wing-things drooped, “A sickness has killed them.”

The nearby doctor’s head shot up from her readings. Without any regard to the captain, she butted into the video, “A lethal sickness?”

The creature looked at her in surprise, “Yes, but the onboard AI has found a preventative medicine to combat it from my own blood. I was fortunate enough to be naturally immune to it. I will mention, however, that there is no cure at the moment if one does get infected.”

The captain and doctor looked at each other, a silent conversation passing through their eyes. The white being looked between them, confused yet intrigued at the staring contest.

The doctor asked with a serious expression, “Can you send us all the information about it?”

——————————

For once, Galia had no clear answer. Who would want to help them if they knew about the Infection? Saying ‘well you’ll find that it killed most of our population right after they gone mad and infected others and there no cure so please help’ is going to make them run for the hills. She did the best she could to not visibly look panicked but she had to say something, the hesitation was starting to show.

The orb interrupted, “I’ll send every known instance of the disease and my progress in its eradication. Forewarned, it can be graphic.”

The humans looked at the orb in shock as information poured into the doctor’s tablet, causing her to brush off her shock as she scanned it.

Galia openly gazed at the floating ball in disbelief, “Orb! What the h—“

“After looking through their data, I have concluded that they will not leave us behind.”

“H—Why?”

“Because they are human...”

(Part 5: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/616966577516150784/the-sky-is-in-pieces)

[gascon-en-exil]

But What If You Want to Come Out on Vers Bottom?: A “Coming Out on Top” Review (Part 2)

Part 1

The main substance of Coming Out on Top - and around 80% of its wank material - lies in its main story love interests, so each of them deserves a dedicated section for review and...erotic evaluation, if you will. It would be much too cluttered to try to cover all six in one post however, so this one will only include the first three with Part 3 to follow with the remainder. Note that I’ll be doing these in alphabetical order, except for the sixth who was added in an update and whose route comes with some mechanical differences that warrant leaving him for last. I wouldn’t want to seem biased, would I? But I’ll be ranking them from most to least favorite at the end anyway.

Also, if anyone is wondering why most of my screenshots are from dialogue scenes rather than CGs, it’s because there are remarkably few CGs in this game that are both interesting enough to include in a review and tame enough for Tumblr’s censorship standards.

Alex: Mark Makes the Grade (With His Ass)

And how fitting it is that I get to start with Alex, fresh off over a year of involvement in the fandom of Fire Emblem: Three Houses and all its exaggerated pearl-clutching over that game’s teacher/student relationships. That’s exactly what Alex’s romance with Mark is, begun under more innocuous circumstances wherein Alex judges Mark’s alcohol preferences (the uncultured barbarian favors whiskey, and has nothing to say if you have Mark order a glass of presumably passable cabernet) but then progressing rapidly to hot for teacher territory once Mark discovers that Alex is his anatomy professor. As expected a handful of jokes - and one sex scene, kind of - hinge upon Alex’s field of expertise, but compared to the other routes of CooT this one is remarkably tame. It’s the only one in which it’s impossible to have sex with the love interest during the game and still get his ending, and the story requires the player to thread a fine line between expressing attraction to the man and respecting his professional boundaries. Alex is nothing if not ethical, almost to a fault, and the game also doesn’t allow you to lose sight of how strange his connection with Mark is...allegedly, anyway. I personally don’t see much issue with it, when Mark is of age (this isn’t even the largest age gap of the main love interests) and about to graduate. Eh, I’ll chalk it up to a cultural difference and move on.

The plot of the route also pivots around the potential scandal to be found in some hot one-on-one anatomy lessons, as Mark finds himself embroiled in the cutthroat world of tenured professorships and overworked postgraduate toadies moonlighting as paparazzi. I guess I lucked out in my much more reasonable graduate advisors, but I think I would have taken well to snooping around in men’s locker rooms looking for hot gay action/blackmail material. With all that going on it’s little wonder that there’s no real sex to be had on the full route, and that the one potential steamy encounter Mark can have with Alex in the professor’s office swiftly ends the romance then and there. I suppose it’s worth noting that Alex is also the only primary love interest who will never bottom for Mark in any encounter the player gets to see, so props if you’re looking for a total top. He’ll give head though, so that’s nice.

That said however, I can’t help but feel as though CooT wants to have its cake and eat it too when it comes to the teacher/student fucking. Amidst everyone being reasonable and ethical about the situation Mark can have a dream in which Alex fingers him and gives him a prostate orgasm as a live demonstration during a lecture - unquestionably hitting some of those teacher crush buttons even as it comes with the easy out of being a dream sequence. I’ve also seen reactions to this route labeling it as an example of the type of lover/beloved relationship found in ancient Greek pederasty, in that Alex is lowkey masc4masc and that he and Mark bond over the ancient and manly sport of, er, racquetball (I don’t know, just go with it). You also have to keep Mark’s grades up to get Alex’s full ending, which is both entirely logical - Mark is trying to date his professor after all, even if he doesn’t fully get there until the semester is over and he’s ready to walk the stage - and an extension of the idealized pederastic relationship as an educational one for the beloved younger man. If you’re into that kind of thing, Alex’s route is among the better options in this game to find it.

There’s also this obscure random line, which triggers an unusual extra CG added in an update that might be pet play? It’s honestly hard to tell - and I say that as someone who likes pet play. Something you may notice in my review is that, while the five romances included in the game on initial release are all fairly mundane, the writers clearly felt more free to get weird in the later additions. 

Brad: Frat Boys Gone Wild Parts 2, 5, and 7

Do you like beefy jocks, and huge dicks, and harsh but realistic indictments of the unequal attention lavished upon athletics departments at most American universities? One of these things is not like the others, but thankfully the route knows where to place most of its priorities. This is the story that puts Mark to work in his job as a writing tutor, tasking him with saving a hunky frat boy from failing his composition class and losing his scholarship in the process. Much unlike my own time as an undergraduate writing tutor however Mark is required to make house calls, setting him on a collision course for Brad’s burgeoning homosexuality and almost getting his ass kicked by the other equally hunky - but tragically straight - members of the frat. Brad is indeed the only one of Mark’s love interests who struggles to any degree with his sexuality, but it’s a muted part of this storyline and only really comes up in one scene involving Brad’s overbearing older brother. Despite some heavier moments here and there CooT is still a lighthearted dating sim at its core, so don’t expect too much in the way of angst even for a character who under more realistic circumstances would likely have to keep his inclinations on the DL.

Where there is plenty of intensity though is in those tutoring sessions, because, well -

- Mark ends up with a serious case of blue balls from all the UST and frequent teasing of Brad’s behemoth cock. Disclaimer: despite years of professional phallus measurements, this reviewer is unable to determine if Brad’s endowment is measurably more impressive than those of the other love interests based on his CGs alone; all pronouncements to this effect may thus be taken as the hyperbole of a horny size queen.

An even bigger source of tension in this route is the cheating angle: during their first meeting Brad will attempt to pressure Mark into writing his paper for him, remarking that American football players at universities get this kind of preferential treatment all the time and that their grades are basically irrelevant. Mark can actually take him up on this offer, and end up quite a bit richer for it via a little bribery (a nice perk if you’re angling for Ian’s friendship ending). Doing so will make it impossible to obtain Brad’s good ending but will instead lead to an alternate storyline with its own set of CGs, culminating in some saucily unethical fellatio as Mark proves to Brad that he can provide just as many perks as the rival female tutor who’s been capturing the jock’s attention with blowjobs and amateur porn. Incidentally, while it very quickly ends the route I like that Mark has a dialogue option to offer those exact services to Brad in front of the other tutor. It’s almost as funny as the earlier option about rimjobs that also ends the route but results in a dream CG of the straight frat guys having their way with Mark. That’s like wish fulfillment Inception, or something.

But no, to finish this route properly you have to keep both Mark and Brad honest, and convince Brad to write his own essay with Mark’s help...and provide genuinely good help, so I hope you know the basics of how to structure an academic essay just kidding you can save scum through that stuff. Many heartwarming life lessons are learned through all-nighters, ruminations on long-term career prospects, and mutual masturbation, until at last the two of them succeed and celebrate their victory with full penetration. How exactly you prefer the penetration to go down isn’t the most intuitive set of dialogue options in the world, but bear in mind that on initial release the only possibility was Brad splitting Mark open with that ginger club swinging between his legs. As I brought up in Alex’s section, the later additions usually get rather freakier. In this case that means an extended dream sequence with football role play (which is a thing that exists, I guess?) followed by some actual sex, with Brad bottoming in both scenes and much loving detail lavished upon his meaty ass. It’s...clever, I suppose, but I think I prefer the original version. Maybe that’s just because I always thought American football uniforms looked ridiculous; where’s the sex appeal to be found with those ridiculous shoulder pads?

Ian: Oh My God They Were Roommates

Even years later I still don’t know for certain whether including Ian so casually with the other love interests counts as a minor spoiler. He’s introduced alongside Penny as Mark’s longtime roommate, and in that first scene it’s also established that he has an on-again, off-again girlfriend. I’m going to err on the side of it not being a spoiler however, because well before his route proper begins the game drops hints that there might be more to Ian than a goofy slacker best friend with appalling personal hygiene. His route progresses as might reasonably be expected from Mark’s coming out, with Ian as the fantasy gay-friendly straight guy who turns out to be not quite as straight as initially advertised. 

There’s just one very large problem with that and it’s not the size of his dick. Because Ian is first and foremost Mark’s roommate he has the privilege of appearing as a supporting character in routes other than his own, and in fact there are CGs featuring him in some of those routes. This results in Ian receiving the most overall development of any of the love interests, ranging from the oddball humor that he injects into situations all over the story to his raging and, er, adventurous libido leading to all manner of masturbatory mishaps for Mark to, most jarringly, poorly-disguised jealousy over the other love interests should Mark choose to pursue them. One would expect this to result in a fantastically fleshed-out character and an excellent foundation for a route of his own that builds off Ian’s simple charm and manic energy to craft an excellent best friend romance.

Yet...it kind of doesn’t? It took me until my most recent playthrough to appreciate this properly, but more than any of the others Ian’s route is written as the most conventionally romantic. It incorporates a host of romcom staples - UST, misunderstandings, miscommunication, more than one romantic false lead, a wedding at the end, mood lighting for its softcore bondage scene - and while most of the other routes include one or two of those elements as well this is undoubtedly the only one that ever comes close to feeling cheesy or maudlin. Unfortunately however that kind of writing just doesn’t play well with Ian’s over-the-top comic relief antics, and so for most of the latter part of his own route he comes off as oddly bland. The writing mines some jokes out of his growing jealousy of the other men Mark expresses interest in dating, and it offers Mark a devastating early sex scene bad ending opportunity in the form of Ian coming onto Mark while drunk and forcing the player to choose between a rimjob now or double oral and/or flip-fucking later. Sure, that setup and some of what comes before it plays right into who Ian is as a character - a well-meaning idiot with a lot of insecurity surrounding his relationship to Mark - but after that point whether you take the rimjob or not Ian practically fades into the role of generic romantic lead as Mark must work to repair their friendship and then guide it into uncharted territory.

To illustrate the point I’m trying to make, contrast these two CGs. The first is from Ian’s friendship ending (something only he and Penny get, based on spending time with them on weekends among other factors); the second is from his romantic ending.

Which of these images tells you more about Ian’s characterization, or about his dynamic with Mark?

I’m not going to deny that Ian has sex appeal, or that he doesn’t have a slew of genuinely funny lines all over the game’s script, or that there’s nothing satisfying in watching Mark and his best friend fall in love with each other - but it’s the lack of integration between Ian the comic relief roommate and Ian the love interest that doesn’t sit well with me. When I was reviewing Chess of Blades I name-dropped Ian in comparison to that game’s own best friend love interest Arden. I’ll do the reverse here: Ian may be sweet and a ton of fun, and there may be far more options for which pegs go into which slots in this storyline, but Arden’s character and story stick in my mind more because they’re never at odds with one another. Ian in the earlygame and outside his own route is so goofy that it’s very hard to take him seriously as someone who could be a romantic partner for Mark, and unfortunately that comes across all too well when the occasion finally arises.

[filthyjanuary]

I've never seen an episode of supernatural all I see is what's on your blog and each and every day I become more confused about the writing of the show and why people enjoy it :l

okay well first off i am SO sorry you have to see me like this jknbuvgyuhjn i cannot believe im spnblogging in 2020 like im 15 again but things happen i guess.

second of all, the thing to know about supernatural is.... i think, for general audiences, it is an average-to-good show. it's not Bad. It's not Beloved and/or Acclaimed. objectively, i think is also probably the most balanced view of the show and is also probably what the cw and/or people who worked on the show see it as. it lasted 15 years because it consistently pulled in reliable numbers for the cw and grabbed a lot of demographics. like i know the tumblr bubble skews perceptions but, people of all ages, genders, sexualities watched and enjoyed supernatural, yes even to the very end. most people are also not looking at supernatural with the hyperfocused lens that tumblr is and that’s like... okay. those fans aren’t any less relevant or important. if only tumblr was watching supernatural, i promise it would’ve been cancelled like at least 7 years ago.

the spn *fandom* is interesting because like one, no one is watching the same fucking show. like we all watched the same episodes but like this fandom cant even agree on like...basic facets of canon, let alone digging into complex meta. people’s views of characters actions and motivations skew wildly. things one side of the fandom considers nearly canon are like essentially viewed as ooc on other sides of the fandom. you love and hate all the characters and everyone is always about to start swinging on everyone else. you have to simultaneously juggle the ideas that the writers — and for the record this show has had four showrunners and like a billion individual writers who all see and interpret it slightly differently — are brilliant and the writers legitimately are both stupid and bad at their jobs. you have to turn your brain off in terms of continuity because they retcon their own lore every 15 seconds. this isn’t even getting into the ship wars, the boundary crossing, the weird invasiveness , etc., etc., etc. supernatural’s writing is sometimes incredible, sometimes terrible, but generally pretty average, but it had a charm (ESPECIALLY IN SEASONS 1-3) that reeled you in, even if you hated the genre.

when a show is on this long, i think the fans (rightly so) will look back and dig in and get nitpicky on things they wish were covered with more care. things that the show obviously did not decide to write with the intention of addressing/grappling with later on. case in point: dean’s drinking habits. with the exception of like... season 7 where they DO address it, dean drinks a lot as a feature of his character with little to no consequence. he doesn’t get drunk. he’s always driving. it might as well be water. the writers don’t intend for that to be more than just a facet of what makes him a rough and tough action hero even though logically, he should be drunk all the time. even w/ interviews w/ the cast/crew, it’s clear the writers don’t think the fans will care and/or notice a lot of things. they do, because well, they’re invested. the fandom extrapolates because that’s what fandom does, but i really don’t think the writers connect those dots because dean’s drinking /isn’t/ a problem until they need it to be. because spn has gone on so long, it has more instances of things like this than other shows, and our cultural contexts have also evolved a lot along the way from 2005 to 2020. so again, there’s a lot to work with. i don’t really think that’s so much a reflection of the quality of the show than it is a reflection of how long it’s been on and the way society has changed since then. dean not knowing what myspace is is funny for two completely different reasons in 2005 and in 2020, for example.

my own personal opinion is, there’s a lot to enjoy about supernatural. seasons 1-5 are legitimately good tv. for all their flaws, they have a very clear aesthetic and tell a story that is well-structured and relatively coherent in terms of themes and continuity. they set up complex characters and relationships and everyone’s motivations make sense and that arc wraps on a tragic but ultimately narratively consistent and thus fulfilling point. of course, there’s stuff i personally like and dislike but separating my emotions from it, it’s very good. i think if anything, i would recommend anyone watch those five seasons and then decide whether they want to continue or not. if you don’t, you’ll end on a note that feels complete. it’s what i’m doing w/ my friend elaine, currently, actually. if she decides she wants to continue after 5, we’ll do that, but for now we’re just vibing in season 1. after that point, i think if you decide you care enough about the characters to push through wildly inconsistent writing, there’s stuff to enjoy in seasons 6-15, but the quality and particularly the consistency dips and this is also where the retconning really starts to...intensify. it’s also where the mythos of supernatural grows bigger than the show itself, which i think was always supernatural’s downfall. the crew started caring more about the whims of the fandom and frankly the fandom became more of the story than the show, and that’s how you get people piecing together what supernatural is based on out of context gifsets that skew perceptions wildly and get Supernatural Fandom™ which... frankly, in my opinion, changed fandom culture as a whole for the worse, like yes it’s a huge, powerful and often memeable behemoth but also... the way it changed creator-fan interactions is something we’re going to be unpacking for a long time. i think had the writers tuned out fandom wars and internet yelling and strived to tell a story that made sense and was well constructed to /them/, we wouldn’t be here and seasons 6-15 could’ve found a way to be as beloved as the first third of the show. i’m personally of the opinion that being a fan of something, for better or for worse, does not entitle you to part of it’s creative process. it doesn’t become a collaboration, and the door is always there if you get to the point where you want to leave. i think supernatural getting too caught up in its own fandom and balancing all these conflicting interests is ultimately what made the last 10 seasons, and particularly the back third of the show oftentimes flounder. the finale chaos, in my opinion, happened because they tried to please everyone by keeping too many things vague so people would have room to play in their own sandboxes and round out the story the way they wanted to see it and thus ultimately, a lot of things were left in the air and so for many people, the closure they were hoping for just wasn’t there.

i dont know how this became a long and scattered collection of thoughts but tldr, people enjoy supernatural because at the end of the day, it’s an enjoyable show and i think the more you stew in a fandom bubble, there’s more to get worked up about. which is fine. i like that fandom engages in complex conversations that the show won’t grapple with, but that’s not for everyone and i don’t think the fact that we have these conversations is necessarily an indictment of the show’s overall quality.