#MIGHT AS WELL PUBLISH THIS MONSTER OF A THING

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[empty-movement]

Empty Movement's 2023 Revolutionary Girl Utena UPDATE

Fashionably late? As always. 2023 was a HUGE year for Empty Movement, so much so that to confess, we did a big fail in actually keeping up with sharing the stuff we did! OOPS. So finally, we proudly bring you: all the Revolutionary Girl Utena content we dropped in 2023. Essays, artbooks, CD information, you name it. Click below for the entire site update, or get it at the source, as always, at ohtori.nu.

In Analysis (Fan Essays): • seebee's essay The Power of Living an Embodying Narrative is about more than Utena, it's about the fandom--including us. We were both interviewed for this piece, and the result is an absolutely beautiful essay that has helped inform how we do Utena stuff going forward. Thank you so much for letting us be part of this! • seebee's VIDEO essay FILM CUTS BACK | transfeminism in utena absolutely blew our minds and it's so good we're listing it. Look at the title. Just go watch it, it rules. • Nicole Winchester's essay No Choice But To Become Witches: The Bishōjo-Demonic Phallic Mother Dichotomy in Revolutionary Girl Utena catches you up to speed on the academic discussion around what might best be described as the shoujo manga iteration of the Madonna-Whore complex. Then, naturally, it finds plenty to say about Utena. Great work that was well worth the coding!

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In From the Mouths of Babes (Translated Meta/Creator Content): • Cross X Talk, A Round Table Discussion Commemorating the Second Musical Utena GOGAI FUCKIN' GOGAI. Nagumo and friends bring us the final untranslated part of the 2019 Black Rose Musical's program guide: the monster interview with Ikuhara and the director of the musicals, Yoshitani. INCREDIBLE content here that 100% lives up to the first musical's similar encounter! A must read!! • The Rose Apocalypse's Ei Takatori Interview The director of the mysterious 1999 musical (yes the machine gun one, and YES WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION ABOUT IT COMING) interviewed in The Rose Apocalypse book. This...is that. Thank you so much to iris hahn for translating, and I can't wait to bring you more of this mythology!!! • The Utena Dossier Animage Magazine's June 1997 supplemental, this 36-page Utena tome has ben translated by Nagumo with editing by Ayu Ohseki. Because so much of the content is in its visual presentation, I worked the translation into the original scans! Check it out! (PS. Yes that is an entirely different gallery on the emptymovement.com domain, no this won't stay there, yes it has been a weird couple years.) The Dossier includes two long interviews that are also worked into html pages for easy viewing! The Auspicious Joining of Manga and Anime: Saito and Hasegawa For Whom the Director Smiles: Ikuhara and Kitakubo

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In Historia Arcana & The Bibliothèque (Untranslated Resources): • There are a lot of changes happening in this arena!!! How and where to place different materials has been a moving target, so I'll do my best! The sites don't quite reflect this yet, but Historia Arcana will be for cover to cover Utena media, including special magazine publications. Something Eternal's gallery, the Bibliothèque, will be for magazine articles, clippings, and other things. Major artbooks will likely be in both places, cross referenced. New books in Historia Arcana: • The Rose Spiral: Reflections on the Mythology of Utena While not strictly official, this is a fan published book of in depth analysis of Utena, circa 1998! Yep, cover to cover. • Revolution Dictionary (OST 1 First Press Bonus) Cross-referenced from Audiology, this is the bonus dictionary you only got if you grabbed it early! Cool! • Revolutionary Girl Utena Making of Visuals Book Art of UTENA I am mentioning this for completions sake and because I already uploaded it, but this is a cover to cover high resolution, uncleaned scan of the 1999 Art of Utena artbook. I am going to clean the scans, and ultimately be posting the official artbooks elsewhere. • Revolutionary Girl Utena Photobook: Rose Memories This special Animage bonus could be purchased for 700 yen, and back then, was probably a great way to keep the anime in your pocket! It's entirely shots from the TV series, though, so there's nothing specifically new. But I scan it all, baby. New books in the Bibliothèque: • Chiho Saito's 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection HI THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Read more about why when you visit! TLDR? Here's some of the best artwork of Utena, rescanned and remastered by yours truly to be the best big big scans of big big beautiful Chiho Saito Art. This is a feast. I even made myself a calendar! (Note that the price is such that I don't make a profit on these, so if you're looking to donate, definitely go by other routes, haha.) You will find multiple ways to obtain the scans, and in more than one size. Either way you soak up the rays, enjoy 'em! New articles and clips in the Bibliothèque: • H! Rockin' on Japan Magazine Saito X Oikawa This fashion music magazine's July 1999 article has ALREADY BEEN TRANSLATED? Like, I am going to add the translation officially to the site of course, but holy hell Nagumo is amazing!! This article is actually the origin of a Saito art piece that uh, well. Now we know she went to a love hotel with movie Akio's VA. Cool! Anyway check it out! • Comickers Magazine, August 1997 This absolute monster find is an industry-focused magazine with this gorgeous spread and interview with Chiho Saito. It gets into how she does things. The making of Utena. All kinds of stuff. I'd LOVE to know more about this one!! • Comickers Magazine, June 1998 Again, an industry-focused publication, this time it's exploring the manga and the anime and how they compare. Again looks like a tasty meal!! • Volks Magazine, Spring 2022 YEP SCANS OF THE BOOK OF THE DOLLFIES. For a lot of us, this is at close as we get to these ludicrously gorgeous dolls. I included a few extra pages because they were just fuckin' cool and felt relevant. • Sega Saturn Magazine, December 1997 One of two grabs I got recently on Yahoo! Japan! This appears to be the first look announcement of the 1998 Utena video game! (Yes we have more on it, yes we will eventually post links.) • Sega Saturn Magazine, April 1998 This feature brings attention to the voice actors, who are all returning for the game! • Dengeki G's Magazine, January 1998 Another gaming focused magazine, with frankly a more adult edge, cheaply lets the readers know about Utena. These three game magazine moments are just a bizarre reminder of how we did things before the internet, LMAO

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In Audiology (Music and CD Information): • Complete information about the STAR CHILD - Girls Character Song Best album! You also definitely can't grab the two new remix tracks there. • Did you know there was a first press bonus dictionary for the first OST? I DIDN'T UNTIL RECENTLY. Now I know all about it, and so can you. Check it out! Obviously, scans available, both here and in Historia Arcana. • I FINALLY acquired a complete set of the Utena CD singles!! Check out complete track lists, scans, and information for ALL FIVE Utena singles. Yes. Including the movie Akio guy's one.

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In The Doujinshi Gallery: • Several dozen dounjinshi were uploaded earlier in the year, and can be found listed on the Site Update archive here.

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That's all for now, folks! There's so so so much coming. I have the episode 18 and 20 (!!!!) storyboards to scan, as well as a fully translated scanlation of The Duelist Bible. We're planning to do something for Anthy's rare LEAP YEAR birthday coming up, probably a musical stream or something! Love!

[mayakern]

hello im maya and im making a new pinned post to be your one stop shop introduction to me/my work!!

im a fat, queer artist and author best known for my size inclusive skirts with huge pockets, and other apparel.

as well as my my queer polyamorous fantasy/romance novel, spitfire, which im currently in the process of reworking with my editor. the original/“legacy” version is still available as a self published book on amazon, but once edits are complete i’ll be shopping it around to publishers.

and my various illustrations/drawings

important tags/links:

all store related posts are tagged #store

all my art is tagged #maya draws things

posts detailing info about upcoming skirt news is kept in #skirt plans

posts detailing info about upcoming shirt news is kept in #shirt plans.

you can also find more product updates/info on the store blog

dog pics are in #dog pics

i also have a #FAQ tag for frequently asked questions, as well as FAQs on both my store and my portfolio site

you can find a compendium of (almost) every skirt i’ve ever sold here

links to my other socials as well as some other important places can be found here

other places you might know me from include:

that one webcomic, monster pop!

the cute underwear comic

the squiddle song and haunted, which were feature on homestuck colours & mayhem and welcome to nightvale respectively

[a-book-of-creatures]

Posting this because I reblogged something about Usborne Books and apparently most people seem to associate Usborne with lift-the-flap books for preschoolers.

Which is weird because to me as a child Usborne books were some of the spookiest books I could get my hands on. They filled the same place as Dorling Kindersley - colorful, creative, informative books that were educational as well as fun to read. And their approach to myths and legends was, not going to lie, very formative for me. If it wasnt' for Usborne, there might not have been ABC.

And much like Dorling Kindersley, Usborne went through a phase of extreme creative experimentation before stagnating into safer forms of publishing. But for a while, Usborne books were mindblowing.

So what has Usborne done then that aren't lift-the-flap books for preschoolers? Well, a lot. Puzzle Adventures. Extreme map and code puzzles. How to Draw Books. Cut-out and build houses, Trojan horses, and dinosaurs (by Luis Rey no less). How to Be A Detective. Nature spotter's guides. Nature Search books. Facts and Lists books that instilled cosmic horror in me years before I knew what cosmic horror was. I could go on forever.

There was a series of excellent myths and legends books which I posted about before.

These were illustrated by Rodney Matthews and were every bit as metal as you'd expect from something by Rodney frickin' Matthews.

Then there were the Quest books which were Where's Waldo-esque books that followed a storyline in a fantasy world.

In this case, they showcased lush art by Nick Harris in which you find various items or characters to make the story progress, as well as other random things (find 10 rats, find 8 clownfishes, etc).

The Tabloid Histories books, oh my gosh.

Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Medieval, etc. history told through tabloid articles and ads.

More about monsters though! There were books about folktales and legends illustrated by Stephen Cartwright.

For me it was my first time hearing of a lot of them, such as the Lambton Worm!

The Haunted World, now that was spooky! With lots of colorful, dripping art by Graham Humphreys.

Introduced me to a lot of ghosts, vampires, and monsters from around the world. Such as the story of Arnold Paole!

And there were maps and diagrams...

... and lindorns [sic] and mokele-mbembes!

The Supernatural Guides had denser text but sadly have not been reprinted anytime recently.

The World of the Unknown series, though... ohohoho those were good.

Of course (no offense to fans of ghosts and UFOs), I had eyes only for the Monsters book. With such gems as the Velue...

... the Lambton Worm...

... and cryptozoological rubbish such as the Monongahela sea serpent (below), the Loch Ness Monster, the Abominable Snowman, and their ilk.

You know, the sort of thing that would keep a 7-year-old fascinated (and perhaps scared under the blankets) for weeks.

Anyway, yeah I just really love Usborne books. Or at least what they used to be.

[buckrecs]

do you have a ceo bucky list ?

CEO!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

With Love by @jobean12-blog

Bucky might be the most powerful, successful, smartest, sexiest, most perfect CEO in all of New York but he’s your sweet and soft husband first and knows just how to show it.

Cuffing Season by @lunarbuck

Happy birthday, Mr. Barnes

SERIES

The Bienville by @indyluckycharlie

Bucky is the young CEO of his family’s publishing house. A year into the role and working his ass off, he’s finally taking a much needed vacation (upon the advice of his well-meaning family and friends). Solo and feeling a little lost, Bucky finds himself getting a little attached to the front desk receptionist, a local who grew up on the islands and dreams of bigger things.

Monster-In-Law by @holylulusworld

Your mother-in-law is the worst. She will try anything to ruin your loving relationship with Bucky. Will she succeed?

Beneath The Milky Twilight by @bucksangel

Being Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant has been tough, balancing a full time job while taking care of your younger brothers has you running yourself thin. Then, things take a sharp turn after a dinner with your boss when you disclose your financial situation.

Not Me by @simsadventures

Billionaire/entrepreneur Bucky is married to seemingly timid and meek wife, the reader. While he hates her with all he has, she tried to act her part as the wife of the big CEO. And while their relationship falls apart more and more, they both realised there might be more to the story than they previously believed. Will they be able to repair the damage that’s been done, or will they find happiness in somebody else’s arms?

Eye For An Eye by @sinner-as-saint

Battered and bruising, Y/N is out to seek sweet revenge from a man, James Buchanan Barnes, who tore her family apart 10 years ago. Y/N’s plan was simple; infiltrate his life, mess with his head, toy with his heart and leave him broken. Headstrong, she will stop at nothing, not even when it comes down to her being the villain in her own story...

[literary-illuminati]

An Arbitrary Collection of Book Recommendations

(put together for a friend out of SFF I've read over the last couple of years)

Cli-Fi

Tusks of Extinction and/or The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler. They’re pretty different books in a lot of ways – one is a novel about discovering a certain species of squid in the Pacific might have developed symbolic language and writing, the other a novella about a de-extinction initiative to restore mammoths to the Siberian taiga – but they share a pretty huge overlap in setting, tone and themes. Specifically, a deep and passionate preoccupation with animal conservation (and a rather despairing perspective on it), as well as a fascination with transhumanism and how technology can affect the nature of consciousness. Mountain is his first work, and far more substantial, but I’d call it a bit of a noble failure in achieving what it tries for. Tusks is much more limited and contained, but manages what it’s going for.

A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys. In a post-post-apocalyptic world that’s just about figured out how to rebuild itself from the climate disasters of the 21st century (but that’s still very much a work in progress), aliens descend from the sky and make First Contact. They’re a symbiotic civilization, and they’re overjoyed at the chance to welcome a third species into their little interstellar community – and consider it a mission of mercy besides, since every other species they’ve ever encountered destroyed themselves and their planet before escaping it. Awkwardly, our heroine and her whole society are actually pretty invested in Earth and the restoration thereof – and worried that a) the alien’s rescue effort might not care about their opinions and b) that other interest groups on earth might be more willing to give the hyper-advanced space-dwelling aliens the answers they want to hear. Basically 100% sociological worldbuilding and political intrigue, so take that as you will.

Throwback Sci Fi

Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky is possibly the only thing I’ve read published in decades to take the old cliche of ‘this generic-seeming fantasy world is actually the wreckage of a ruined space age civilization, and ‘magic’ and ‘monsters’ are the remnants of the technology’ and play it entirely straight. Specifically, it’s a two-POV novella, where half the story is told from the perspective of a runaway princess beseeching the ancient wizard who helped found her dynasty for help against a magical threat, and half is from the perspective form the last surviving member of a xeno-anthropology mission woken out of stasis by the consequences of the last time he broke the Prime Directive knocking on his ship tower door and asking for help. Generally just incredible fun.

Downbelow Station by C. J. Cherryh is, I think, the only thing on this list written before the turn of the millennium. It’s proper space opera, about a habitat orbiting an immensely valuable living world that’s the lynchpin of logistics for the functionally rogue Earth Fleet’s attempt to hold off or defeat rebelling and somewhat alien colonies further out. The plot is honestly hard to summarize, except that it captures the feel of being history better than very nearly any other spec fic I’ve ever read – a massive cast, none of them with a clear idea of what’s going on, clashing and contradictory agendas, random chance and communications delays playing key roles, lots of messy ending, not a single world-shaking heroes or satanic masterminds deforming the shape of things with their narrative gravity to be seen. Somewhat dated, but it all very impressively well done.

Pulpy Gay Urban Fantasy Period Piece Detective Stories Where Angels Play a Prominent Role

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark stars Fatma el-Sha’arawi, the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities in Cairo, a couple of decades after magic returned to the world and entirely derailed the course of Victorian imperialism. There’s djinn and angels and crocodile gods, and also an impossible murder that needs solving! The mystery isn’t exactly intellectually taxing, but this is a very fun tropey whodunnit whose finale involves a giant robot.

Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk is significantly more restrained and grounded in its urban fantasy. It’s early 20th century Chicago, and a PI is doing one last job to top off the nest egg she’s leaving her girlfriend before the debt on her deal with the devil comes due. By what may or may not be coincidence, she stumbles across a particularly gruesome crime scene – and is offered a deal to earn back her soul by solving the mystery behind it. Very noir detective, with a setting that just oozes care and research and a satisfyingly tight plot.

High Concept Stuff That Loves Playing around With Format and the Idea of Narratives

Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente is a story about a famous documentarian vanishing on shoot amid mysterious and suspicious circumstances, as told by the recovered scraps of the footage she was filming, and different drafts of her (famous director) father’s attempt to dramatize the events as a memorial to her. It’s set in a solar system where every planet is habitable and most were colonized in the 19th century, and culturally humanity coasts on in an eternal Belle Epoque and (more importantly) Golden Age of Hollywood. Something like half the book is written as scripts and transcripts. This description should by now either have sold you or put you off entirely.

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez is the only classic-style epic fantasy on this list, I believe? The emperor and his three demigod sons hold subjugated in terror, but things are changing. The emperor, terrified of death, has ordered a great fleet assembled to carry him across the sea in pursuit of immortality. The day before he sets out on his grand pilgrimage to the coast, a guilt-ridden guard helps the goddess of the moon escape her binding beneath the palace. From there, things spiral rapidly out of anyone’s control. The story’s told through two or three (depending( different layers of narrative framing devices, and has immense amounts of fun playing with perspective and format and ideas about storytelling and legacy.

I Couldn’t Think of Any Categories That Included More Than One of These

All The Names They Used For God by Anjali Sachdeva is a collection of short stories, and probably the most literary thing on this list? The stories range wildly across setting and genre, but are each more or less about the intrusion of the numinous or transcendent or divine into a world that cracks and breaks trying to contain it. It is very easily the most artistically coherent short story collection I’ve ever read, which I found pretty fascinating to read – but honestly I’m mostly just including this on the strength of Killer of Kings, a story about an angel sent down to be John Milton’s muse as he writes Paradise Lost which is probably one of the best things I read last year period.

Last Exit by Max Gladstone – the Three Parts Dead and How You Lose the Time War guy – could be described as a deconstruction of ‘a bunch of teenagers/college kids discover magic and quest to save the world!’ stories, but honestly I’d say that obscures more than it reveals. Still, the story is set with that having happened a decade in the past, and the kids in question have thoroughly fucked up. Zelda, the protagonist, is kept from suicide by survivor’s guilt as much as anything, and now travels across America working poverty jobs and sleeping in her car as she hunts the monsters leaking in through the edges of a country rotting at the seams. Then there’s a monster growing in the cracks of the liberty bell, an in putting it down she gets a vision of someone she thought was dead is just trapped – or maybe changed. So it’s time to get the gang together again and save the world! This one’s hard to rec without spoiling a lot, but the prose and characterization are all just sublime. Oddly in conversation with the whole Delta Green cosmic horror monster hunting subgenre for a story with nothing to do with Lovecraft.

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is a story about aliens destroying the earth, and growing up in the pseudo-fascist asteroid survivalist compound of the last bits of the human military that never surrendered. It stars a heroine whose genuinely indoctrinated for the first chunk of the book and just deeply endearing terrible and awful to interact with, and also has a plot that’s effectively impossible to describe without spoiling the big twist at the end of the first act. Possibly the only book I read last year which I actively wish was longer – which is both compliment and genuine complaint, for the record, the ending’s a bit messy. Still, genuinely meaty Big Ideas space opera with very well-done characterization and a plot that does hold together. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more literary & character tropes

Tropes - themes, motifs, plot devices, plot points, and storylines that have become familiar genre conventions

All writers manipulate language to create certain effects. At the level of individual phrases and sentences, the skillful use of tropes is key to creating writing that’s fresh, memorable, and persuasive.

Artifical Script - found mainly in fantasy settings, this trope is about fictional scripts invented by the author.

Busman's Vocabulary - when a character in a certain profession isn't on the job, they're going to still use jargon from that profession, basically to let us know what they do for a living. Mafia guys will use "whacked" and the like, chefs will use culinary language, and so forth.

Classical Tongue - a language that isn't typically known or used by the common man. It may be dead and mostly forgotten, or only spoken by educated elites such as nobility, scholars, clergy, or mages. A few words from it might be used to denote something special, or it is used for something or someone's name, or someone who knows it might drop a phrase here and there in an attempt to sound clever, but don't expect the common masses to use it (anymore). It's often an Expy of Latin, if it isn't Latin itself.

Dissimile - when you attempt to make a comparison between two things that can't be usefully compared, realize your problem, and then throw more words at the argument in an attempt to salvage it. This just undermines your comparison even further, to the amusement of anyone listening. ["Boxing is a lot like ballet, except there's no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other." — Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey]

Enslaved Tongue - certain types of monsters, wizards, and other supernatural or alien beings are able to control your voice, or otherwise replace your communications with those around you. They will use your voice to lie to teammates, friends and loved ones, or to deliver warnings or threats.

False Prophet - someone comes along and preaches a message about how they're going to make everyone's lives better. People will flock to them out of hope, or because they see an opportunity to increase their own power by aligning with the prophet. If they don't already have it, this figure will request assistance—physically, monetarily, or in some other way—so that their goals can be achieved.

The Grotesque - a character that induces both fear and pity in viewers because his deformities belie a perfectly normal — if not noble — personality. The pathos associated with The Grotesque is the implication that he could easily have been a well-adjusted member of society if not for the hideousness that he is powerless to remedy.

Higher Self - the aspect of a character which "knows better". More specifically, however, the Higher Self is the aspect which rises above whatever is going on in the plot and can see the situation in a way that's removed from emotional or melodramatic entanglement.

Inconsistent Spelling - when names and other terms are not spelled consistently in officially published materials (and not fan-made translations), usually because of transliteration issues.

Jeanne d'Archétype - a fictional character inspired by Saint Joan of Arc. This can incorporate various elements of the historical Joan's story. This character is Always Female, usually young, often an Action Girl, and often of humble origin. Her devotion to a religion, her country, or simply a desire to protect her loved ones causes her to assume an active role in liberating the oppressed from an overbearing force, eventually becoming not only a respected leader, but also a living symbol and a reminder of just how unjust the oppressors are if they bring out the warrior in the most unlikely of people. Therefore, her example directly inspires many otherwise ordinary people to follow in her footsteps and join the same cause.

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

More: Literary & Character Tropes

[skyeventide]

the amazon tolkien show was already pretty bad for a number of writing, characterisation, and thematic reasons, and profoundly mid the rest of the time.

then, in the last few weeks they proceeded to publish a magazine cover with barrow wights that are an orientalist caricature that looks like it came out of pre "don't dress up as sexy cleopatra for halloween" discourse. it's cursed wraiths bedecked in coin jewellery, sporting a belly-dancer outfit that is not sexy just because they're undead. that of course birthed the most insanely stupid discourse you can imagine. on one hand having the racists bemoan that the anglo-saxon-inspired burial sites magically transformed into middle-eastern-looking monsters because of woke. on the other hand, the "akshually the lore" people, trying to prove that, in the second age, these humans might well have been remnants of those who came from the east and not the shire-adjacent barrow wights we're all acquainted with, so, gotcha racists! par for the course for insanely stupid tolkien discourse. the point, as usual, being that it doesn't matter whether it's possible by lore. rather, what if we look at the reason why, in this day and age, a magazine SO ironically called "empire" puts on the front page the first glimpse of aesthetics/concept art that are markedly not western, and that art showcases a known orientalist look that doesn't even get the dubious dignity of being put on people and is instead sported by undead monsters? diversity win!

then yesterday they dropped a narvi look and a dwarf poster. we already knew they barely moved past the scottish dwarf stereotype set by peter jackson, a director with whom this series is continually in conversation. we already knew the prosthetic noses of the dwarves in the hobbit movies were silly at best. yet again, narvi is given a fake nose of such proportions that you might think he was about to play cyrano de bergerac. and then there's the poster, where a ring with a giant gem glinting gold in the foreground, in the company of the other rings, stands against a darkened background where a shadowy dwarf grasps forward with clawing, avid hands. of course, after doing some orientalism, it's time to throw some antisemitism in and make sure to hit every box in the bingo. if that poster hadn't appeared on the official account, I'd have thought it a parody.

I've never posted about the show because as a rule I don't feel like wasting too much time on things I think are bad. I sure hope I never will again. I'm also not looking forward to the next bit of corporate diversity we'll certainly be graced with soon enough.

[thechekhov]

Since you've covered a pretty big bit of the manga so far, can I ask what are your opinions on it? Deeper than just the quick reactions you've shared with us so far.

What are your opinions about the manga's characters? Its pacing? The mystery element? The magic system? What areas do you think it succeeds, and what areas do you think could be better?

I understand if you're reversing judgment until you finish, but you've also read quite a bit of the story so far. Idk, I'm just curious!

Especially seeing as you're a writer yourself, so I imagine you have a different perspective on how the story functions as, well, a story!

Oh, hmmm... that's an interesting question.

As of right now I'm on chapter 35-36 so I'm about a third through the story. The first major arc (find dragon, yoink falin out of its body, etc) has kinda happened, and we're hitting some larger world arcs.

As you mentioned, I DO want to withold judgement but for now... But I will say what I think thus far, with full awareness that my mind might be changed later depending on circumstances.

Comment 1: The manga is finished! Actually, just knowing that makes me feel like it's a more cohesive storyline.

Maybe I'm boring, but I'm not a huge fan of neverending storylines in general. Naruto, Bleach, etc. They have their place in the forever-young-monster-of-the-week genre, and I know why so many manga just keep... on... publishing....... but I feel like there's a lot of merit to being able to just wrap up a story and say 'there, that's how it ends'.

Comment 2: Laios is very well developed, even at this point of the story. Senshi remains a mystery. Marcille... speedran her arc?

I think this is the closest thing I have to a criticism. While I think Laios' character is well-paced in its revelations throughout the series (the slow ramp-up from 'oh this guy is weird' to 'oh, this guy is a freak club card carrying member' to 'oh, this guy is the freak club president' was great!) Marcille is.... a little more of a mystery to me.

Now, perhaps my memory is bad. But I did find her turnaround at the end of the Red Dragon arc a bit... out of the blue?

Don't get me wrong. I think it's entirely believable. But I wish there had been more hints - or rather, more visible progress of her studies of ancient magic. I know it's been mentioned, and there WAS that chapter of her and Falin during their school years... but watching episode 2 of the show on netflix when she goes 'I feel useless, my magic doesn't help anyone :(' and then reading the manga and seeing her straight up go from 0 to 100 as she decides "we're gonna rearrange falin's bones and then I'mma raise her using this ancient technique I've been studying all along that I didn't tell you about because it was sus" is... a little bit of a turn?

Maybe it's on purpose! Maybe, when I read further about her personal journey, the pieces will fall into place more neatly. But compared to the rest of the characters, which seem relatively steady in their reveals (Laios, Chillchuck, Senshi) Marcille took a bit of a turn.

Which, again, isn't bad! It just seems contrasted to the rest of the team.

Comment 3: The magic system is more like a magic ecology.

Actually, in the beginning, I found the magic system Marcille used very vague. It was just a 'do what needs to be done' type of power with very few apparent limits or power balances aside from 'sometimes you run out of mana'. But I think at this point, I'm beginning to assume that the details of the magic are closer to the functions of an ecosystem or an organism, and therefore WHAT the magic does is kind of moot point. Marcille is just a little bacteria inside of the great intestine labyrinth of the dungeon, and she is using its energy to survive, like a sort of microfauna.

Comment 4: Man, the worldbuilding is cool. It's so cool.

I don't think I've seen another story that goes so deeply into dungeon ecosystems before this one. Not only are the people who live there fleshed out in terms of individual cultures and traditions and norms, there are also monsters that serve as a natural fauna that inhabits the halls of what OUGHT to be a mindless 'turn left and fall into a trap' setting!

There's sticking monsters into your world, and then there's 'digging out a trench 1 meter deep, pre-soaking the soil, inserting monster's roots lovingly into the spot, and then covering it with fertilizer and spritzing the leaves'. I don't doubt that there ARE other works that go into this level of detail, but the dedication and the ideas Kui-san has for this very much makes the dungeon a living part of this entire tale. :)

I'll probably have more to say later but for now.. that's about it!

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Plays Games: Rotted Capes (And the Lesson I Keep Learning This Year)

Last month I finally played a long-awaited one-shot of Rotted Capes, and I (once again) learned a lesson that’s been leaking into my brain over the course of the past year.

(tldr: you should play games you think you don't like)

The Context

Over the past 4 years, one of the settings my home group has returned to time and time again is our own personal superhero universe. We call it the Dover City Universe (The DCU for short), and we started building it in Spectaculars, by Scratchpad Publishing. Spectaculars is great for folks who like playing in person, and like building their own comics universe, and it comes with a lot of fantastic aids for new GMs who like a structured adventure that they can customize to fit the themes of their table.

Since then we’ve also run games in MASKS by Magpie Games, Henshin by Cave of Monsters, and i’m sorry did you say street magic, by Caro Ascersion. Each game has been an expansion from the original setting, placing a focus on a different location or time period.

Now, one of the players in my group has a really big love for media that turns a bit darker, including post-apocalyptic media, so when we were talking about possible future games, I suggested Rotted Capes, by Paradigm Concepts. He got very excited, and even offered to help me buy it. It then took me nearly 2 years to get it to the table.

The Rules

Rotted Capes is what I consider a crunchy game, far crunchier than what I’m usually willing to tackle. Character creation involves a point-buy system that makes stats and abilities more expensive the higher you push them, and there are many advantages or powers that require you to build your character in a specific way before you have access to them. The rank of your ability, skill or power determines how many dice (and what kind of dice) you roll for any given action, and the ranks also scale the passive modifiers you add to certain things in a very gradual way.

When it comes to the powers, your characters are b-list super-humans - all the A-listers died, disappeared, or turned undead when Z-Day hit, so you’re all that’s left to defend humanity. Not all of you were heroes either. Combat against regular zombies is meant to be reasonably easy (with the bigger threat being bit) while combat against super-Z’s is meant to be terrifying. Rotted Capes provides you with loose categories of superhero types to guide you towards a character build that is going to be useful/effective in combat, but the superhero abilities themselves are general, allowing you to interpret exactly what it means to “generate energy” for your character, or how you have the ability to “entangle” your foe.

When you play the game, your character will roll 2d10 for any given action, and try to beat a difficulty number set by the GM. You add extra dice based on your Attributes, Skills, Powers, and equipment, the dice ranging between d4’s and d12’s, depending on the rank of your skills. As you might see in the above chart, once you get high enough, you might even be adding 2 dice for a rank of something once you get it high enough. Beating a 5 is so trivial, it might not even require a roll. Beating a 40 is an astounding feat, and extremely unlikely.

In combat, players roll Xd10 (X=initiative) and look for the lowest result. This result determines their place on a 12-slice clock. Each player has their own personal clock, while the GM uses a GM clock, which they use to track what slice of initiative is currently happening, as well as where all the NPCs are. Every time the GM moves to a new slice of the clock, whoever is on that slice has a chance to do something, and depending on what kind of move they make, moves a number of slices forward on the clock. They will not be able to act again until the GM hits that slice of the clock. If you do something big and complicated, you can do it, but you’ll have to wait more than a few turns before you can do something else.

There’s also a player resource called Plot Dice, which are dice that you can spend or add to rolls to give yourself a chance of success, help out a friend, resist harm, and re-roll failures. Plot Dice is determined by your lowest Attribute, but they can be refreshed by playing to your character’s personality flaws (the zombie apocalypse changed everyone).

The character sheet for Nautica, the big bad of our session.

The Game

To make this only difficult once, I decided to put the entire table into a Google Sheet, so that I only had to worry about how many points I was spending, rather than continually referring back to the table to change things like passive modifiers or dice sizes.

I also took on the bulk of character creation, asking my friends to build half of a character (choosing archetype, highlighting favourite powers, and describing to me their background) and then doing the number crunching on my own, to make sure I knew how their character abilities worked. I did this because I was the only one who had reliable access to the rulebook, and I knew that asking a group of people to study how to play a game just for a single one-shot was not likely to work out.

The players all made very different characters. We had an ex-military martial artist who showed no mercy, a former sidekick who was still learning how to use his fire-powers, and an ex-villain trash man who could talk to rats and mainly fought using sticky bombs and magnets. When we rolled up to game day, we passed around printed versions of the character spreadsheets, the initiative clocks, and a number of polyhedral dice. I set the scene for the culinary school the characters were looting, and ran the group through 2 easy combats and 1 terrifying confrontation with a villain (who was one of my old DCU characters, but in an older, grislier form). After the combat, we spent about half an hour talking about the hideout where our enclave was camping out in, and playing through ending scenes between the heroes and various NPCs.

The Takeaway

I bought Rotted Capes for two reasons, and neither of those reasons were because I was genuinely excited about the game. I suggested it because I knew my friend loved the genre and I knew about it in the first place because I had heard about it because I listened to Fandible’s actual play series and the group sounded like they were having a lot of fun. But zombie media isn’t usually my thing, and crunch makes me hesitate because as a GM, I know the bulk of the work is going to be on me.

However, once the initial hurdle of reading and prepping the game was cleared, we had so much fun. The actual rules for rolling were very easy compared to the amount of math that goes into building your character, and the biggest obstacle for the players was trying to navigate all the cells of our Google Sheets.

The two most exciting pieces of game-play for me were the moments where someone got to roll a whole fistful of dice, and when combat clicked. Moving on the initiative clock was so wonderfully intuitive, and having a visual aid made it so easy to keep track of who was going next, and how long you had until you could do something again. Tying your actions to moves on the clock ensures that no one person is doing a bunch of interesting and complex moves one after another - if you do something really complicated or impressive, you have a kind of cooldown before you can try something again. Meanwhile characters who do something small and simple will be able to act again before you know it, and might get to do something right before a villain gets a chance to respond.

This brings me to the big lesson I’ve been learning this year:

Play Games You Might Not Like.

Three of my most positive experiences over the past year were games that I played for reasons other than because I thought they were really cool. I picked up Last Fleet because I needed another space game to run (that I already owned) for our Galaxy Squad run, and it turned into a big dramatic story that was cathartic, satisfying, and truly jaw-dropping in its narrative twists and turns.

I played A Complicated Profession because my co-GM was really excited about it and wanted to use it to lead out from our Scum & Villainy arc. We ended up having the most hilarious time coming up with various customers (including a goat-man played by Danny Devito and his himbo boyfriend).

I played Rotted Capes because I like my friends, and I really love building a superhero universe with them. I ended up discovering an initiative clock that rocked my world, and had a blast throwing mitt-fulls of dice around with my friends.

There were also games that I was super hyped about to play that ended up not being as much of a fun experience as I was expecting. I think that since I had built up such a big idea in my head of what those games would feel like to play, that when the dice hit the table (or in our case, the Discord chat), the result couldn’t possibly live up to what I’d imagined.

So do it. Pick up the game your friend is asking you to play. Take a chance on that game that sounds like it might fit the genre you’re looking for. Read the rulebook for a system you’ve never tried. Not every game is going to be a hit, but in all of that mess you’re going to find real gems that you carry forward into future projects, and come away with moments beyond what you can dream up.

[spacehippieface]

A monstrous tripod, higher than many houses, striding over the young pine trees, and smashing them aside in its career; a walking engine of glittering metal, striding now across the heather; articulate ropes of steel dangling from it, and the clattering tumult of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder. A flash, and it came out vividly, heeling over one way with two feet in the air, to vanish and reappear almost instantly as it seemed, with the next flash, a hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool tilted and bowled violently along the ground? That was the impression those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool imagine it a great body of machinery on a tripod stand. [...]

Seen nearer, the Thing was incredibly strange, for it was no mere insensate machine driving on its way. Machine it was, with a ringing metallic pace, and long, flexible, glittering tentacles (one of which gripped a young pine tree) swinging and rattling about its strange body. It picked its road as it went striding along, and the brazen hood that surmounted it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of a head looking about. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal like a gigantic fisherman’s basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted out from the joints of the limbs as the monster swept by me.

Let's talk tripods! Every artist and fiilmmaker has different interpretations of the fighting machines. It's not hard to picture a towering three-legged alien death machine, of course, Wells gives us a good picture of what they look like, but I want to go over a few depictions of them and compare them to his written description, in no particular order, because I think it's interesting, and I think WOTW might actually be a special interest:

Wells drew this one himself. It's a stick figure, of course, but this was how he pictured them. I especially like the little guy going "oo-er!" at the sight of it, almost in polite terror.

The BBC version. To me, this one owes a bit more to Transformers design-wise, and moves like the Cloverfield monster, like the MUTO, like a lot of giant monsters we've seen in recent years, terrestrial or otherwise. But they are still menacing, and they actually make a clear "aloo!" noise when calling to each other. I've got to give them that, even though the BBC screwed up the Martians, the cylinder, they kept going on about Russia, the whole "you can't marry her, you're already married to your cousin" bit. It was a mess.

The Edward Gorey illustrations. O is for Ogilvy, burned like the flag. P's for the Parson, oh, what a drag. Sorry. This is basically a flying saucer with legs. Bit silly,but the tentacles are there, and the legs aren't the stiff kind Wells hated. Which brings us to...

Warwick Goble's illustrations from the original publication of WOTW in Pearson's Magazine. Wells famously hated these so much that when WOTW was published as a book, he wrote a segment into the story ragging on these stiff-legged water tower tripods. I think Goble took the milking stool description too literally, his tripods are always drawn tilted.

The 2005 Spielberg tripod. Great. Massive. Scary. Everything is there. The tentacles, the Heat Ray arm (two even), the suggestion of a head, even the basket. Say what you want about this movie with its excessive amount of Tom Cruise and young Dakota Fanning screaming, but the tripods are fantastic. Damn near perfect even. I think Wells would be very pleased.

The 1953 design. I am very fond of these, they're a great classic sci-fi ship, but they're more akin to the flying machines than the tripods. The filmmakers try to loophole their way out by talking about invisible electrostatic legs (which you can see when the machines initially appear) but I'm pretty sure they went this route because the film was getting more and more expensive and the budget wouldn't extend to stop-motion for the legs. Still, a wonderful creation, the goose neck/cobra head design for the Heat Ray is a good touch and my god, the hissing, ticking noises these things made. Love them.

The Jeff Wayne musical design. My favourite. My beloved. My nightmare fuel. Totally iconic. I'm sure when most people think WOTW, their first thought is the legendary album cover featuring one of these monsters melting the Thunder Child's valiant heart. Doesn't make them book-accurate though. The Heat Ray is built into the chassis, it's all one unit rather than a separate head on a body, the basket was given to the handling machines, and they are stiff-legged in stills. But they're scary in motion, and their howls still give me the jibblies. OH GOD, THOSE HOWLS. Opening Horsell Common And The Heat Ray on the Highlights album with that scream isn't fair!

Henrique Alvim-Corrêa's illustrations for the Belgian publication, and Wells' favourites. The effects of the Heat Ray are chilling, and they're definitely sinister when there's a lot of them just standing there or coldly blasting humans. But I'm just not sold on those googly eyes, they make them goofier. Although when these designs were used for the War of the Worlds 1913 indie game (which I still need to play) the eyes were just blank. Redemption!

[impala-dreamer]

Tell me about forbidding Rick to cut the curls.

Don't You Ever...

Rick Grimes x Reader

626 Words

Moderately Safe For Work, Post Sex, Hair Pulling!Kink

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Slipping from the bed, Rick stole the crisp white sheet and wrapped it low around his waist. You pouted at the sudden show of modesty as the glory of his ass disappeared.

“Don’t be all shy on me now, Officer,” you teased, shifting to sit up against the pillows. 

It was still strange having a bed. The mattress was perfect giving, the sheets smelled so clean. And the pillows! You’d almost forgotten what it was like to sleep with more than a backpack under your head. Alexandria was damned near perfect. 

Rick looked back over his shoulder and grinned. “Not shy,” he explained, “just cold.” 

Biting your lip, you slid your legs together seductively. “Cold? I thought we did a pretty good job of heating things up.” 

He laughed gently. “Oh, that we did.” 

His wink was devastating, knocking you back down into the plush bedding. Carrying on, he slipped into the adjoining bathroom and took care of business. You listened as he sighed happily, content and sated if only for a little while. 

The afterglow was upon you and you relished it with your entire being. For the first time in forever, no monsters were nipping at your heels, no bad guys were plotting against you. There was just clean sheets and lots of mind-blowing, earth-rocking sex with the most beautiful man the apocalypse could offer. Nothing could go wrong. 

Rick reappeared in the doorway, the muscles of his back catching your eye as he leaned over the little pedestal sink to wash up. He let the water run a bit and then cupped his hands, collecting a puddle of warmth to splash on his face. He came back up, drenched and a mess. 

He caught you staring in the mirror and smiled. “See somethin’ you like?” 

Unconsciously, your hand glided down to tease your nipple. “You know I do.” 

Rick sucked his tongue between his teeth and hummed suggestively. “I’ll be right with you.” 

Turning back to his reflection, he ran a hand through the mop of dark hair atop his head. “Ya know,” he said absently while pulling a ringlet from his temple and letting it spring back. “Thinkin’ I might take that Jessie up on her offer.” 

Memory failed you. “Who? And what?” 

He toyed with his hair some more. “Jessie,” he said again, “Blonde lady from the party? She said she’s a hairdresser. Thinkin’ I may go get a trim.” 

Your heart stopped. “A trim?” 

“Yeah. Like, shave it all off or somethin’. Feelin’ like a bum lately.” 

Wild rage flowed through your veins and you sprung up, flipping onto your hands and knees on the bed. “Are you insane?” 

Rick turned, confused and then amused to find you poised like a jungle cat. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t you dare do that to me!” Tears welled in your eyes. 

He laughed and stepped back into the room. “Do what?” 

You crawled slowly to the edge of the bed. “Don’t you ever…” 

He moved towards you, eyes locked on your beautiful curves. 

“Ever…” You reached the foot of the bed and sat back on your knees. “Cut…”

Rick met you there, bowed legs pressed to the mattress. 

“These…” Reaching up, you ran a hand through his hair. “Perfect…” You tugged and his eyes closed, his lips parted, his breath quickened. “Curls.” 

He bent to kiss you but you yanked him back, fingers tangled in the mess of sweaty curls at the back of his head. With your free hand, you pulled the sheet loose and wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly stroking him hard again. 

“You hear me?” 

Rick nodded as best he could. A hungry smile drifted over his face and he growled, ready to take you once more. “Yes, ma’am.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male centipede-alien x transmasc nonbinary reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Final commission from my batch of five! For @mongoose-king!

Content: sassy, confident, transmac reader, non-penetrative sex, oral sex, 't-cock' used for human's genitals, no other areas specified/mentioned. Brief threat to life (not from monster), some mention of isolation on a planet. And a giant pet slug. Wordcount: 6749

“Well. That’s… unexpected,” you croaked, staring incredulously at the small screen on the sleeve of your white space suit as it blinked a red and improbable warning at you.

The planet wasn’t exactly hostile to humans, but the harsh sun and arid air made being outside for long periods of time pretty uncomfortable for humans, and the oxygen levels were low enough that it made you dizzy if you didn’t take a gulp from your suit’s mask from time to time at the very least.

You were quite possibly the only other sapient being within about nine thousand miles, but while you were cataloguing obscure and previously unknown kinds of invertebrate, the research team on the literal other side of the world were geologists from Meliikos Prime, and they didn’t speak Galactic Common very well. They’d been polite enough when you’d hailed them out of courtesy when you’d flown in though, and when they’d discovered you were human, they’d beamed over their extensive survey data of the terrain and marked off water supplies too, which you’d thought was pretty nice of them.

Other than rocks and a few cool bugs though, there really wasn’t anything to write home about on this planet; certainly nothing that was going to win you any research accolades. It wasn’t on any of the major hyperspace links, there were no relay stations in this quadrant, and so far, other than a supremely flamboyant species of flatworm living in a toxic geothermal pool near your research ship, and a type of slug as big as a golden retriever that, rather relatably, hadn’t moved in over a week, there wasn’t anything of note here at all.

And yet, the general alert on your space suit had just calmly announced that a heavy cruiser bearing the insignia and codes of the Porphaerian Empire was inbound to your location and all civilians of the Republic were advised to evacuate the planet as soon as possible and make their way to the nearest Bastion. You weren’t even sure where the nearest military outpost was, given that the ever-belligerent Porphaerian Empire had never shown any interest in invertebrates on remote planets before, and this planet in particular sat on the outer reaches of the known universe and was so bloody insignificant that it hadn’t even acquired a proper name. It was still just: OR-2559-B.

“The fuck?” It came out as a little strangled yelp as you looked up into the purple-ish blue of your dear OR-2559-B’s atmosphere to find the silhouette of a huge ship appearing out of the veil of wispy clouds that whisked and drifted around on the upper currents. These things were only supposed to exist in immersive VR cinemas, and only then to get blown up by plucky pilots operating under astronomically small odds. Plucky you might have been, but you were neither a pilot nor currently in possession of anything more powerful than a handheld scanner for identifying the chemical composition of various types of bug goop. Your ship didn’t even have cannons, though there was a small pistol under the console, just in case.

You snatched up the tray of samples you’d spent the last three hours taking from the placid wildlife around the stream and legged it back towards the small and laughably fragile buggy that you used to cover greater distances into the field from your research ship. By the time you’d jounced over the rough terrain of the plateau and yelled at your little buggy to please find a little more juice in her batteries to get you up the hill at a pace faster than a mildly-inconvenienced slug, you saw other shapes flitting like bats around the underside of the huge cruiser. Fighters.

“Oh come on,” you groaned. Your ship lowered the ramp as it detected your approach and you steered the wheezing buggy up the incline and into the cargo hold, tripping over the side of the roll cage as you floundered to exit the darned thing, and raced to the hatch that would lead you up into the cockpit.

Sweeping a week’s worth of papers and vac-packed ration wrappers off the console, you punched in your code and yelled at the ship to come out of its sleepy hibernation state, which it did with enviable efficiency.

“Hostile signatures detected,” she said in that irritatingly calm voice she had under all circumstances.

“Well the fuck aware, thank you. Now, can we get out of here please?”

The brief thought flickered across your mind that it probably wouldn’t help matters if the ship’s AI screamed at you in panic instead of speaking in a monotone if she blew something down in the engine room, but you had little time to dwell on that as a larger fighter roared right past the windshield and a huge energy blast swept over the ship.

Instinctively, you covered your face and closed your eyes, and when the accompanying cloud of dust and debris had finished raining down and clinking off the glass and metal structure of the ship, you realised she had gone eerily quiet. “Girlie?” you exhaled into the relative silence.

Nothing. Hell, you’d take that dull monotone over this any day.

Opening your eyes and lowering your arms, your body flooded with adrenaline when you saw that all her screens were dark, and the lights had gone off. “Oh, you fucking assholes!” you yelled in the vague direction of the enemy cruiser. “You want my bug slime? Fine! Take it! But you leave my fucking ship alone!”

It was strange what came out of your mouth in times of stress, but you weren’t given the luxury of being able to the psychology of a lone human put suddenly under the immense pressure of an unforeseen and life-threatening situation, because a small fighter landed outside and you scrabbled under the console to retrieve the pistol that you’d placed there on the off-chance you ran into something that thought a scrawny research scientist in a space suit looked more appealing than its usual diet.

A blaster bolt battered its way through the hull of your ship and several more created an enormous smoking hole where the hatch had been, and you stood there, wide eyed, as three Porphaerian soldiers appeared like cartoon villains out of the twisting black smoke. They were all wearing black, form-fitting space suits made of some fancy, matte, composite material, and a shiny, black helmet with a blacked-out visor that revealed nothing of their slightly reptilian features underneath. Their three-fingered hands were also gloved, and they all bore a weapon of some kind: the one at the front of the trio had a blaster, while the one to their left — your right — had some kind of bludgeon that zapped with a purple energy at one end, and the other had a net that crackled with the same energy and a trident with barbed points.

“What do you want?” you chirped, hoping you sounded more composed than you felt. You tightened your hold on the grip of your pistol at your side, and glared at them. “And why are you blowing holes in my baby girl’s hull? She’s a scientist. What’s she ever done to you?”

Your words and tone seemed to confuse the leader of the three Porphaerians for a moment, and they froze, tilting their helmeted head to one side. Seven foot tall, bipedal, with four arms and a long, slashing tail that whipped back and forth behind it like a lizard in a tizzy, they should have been intimidating, but you were so damned outraged at the whole situation, it was hard to be fully afraid. The one to their left let out a growl and chittered something in their incomprehensible language. That was just one of the many things that made the bloody Porphaerians think they were better than everyone else: they had the most convoluted and complicated method of communication out of almost all known species.

“Well, what the fuck do you want?” you barked. As if you had somewhere else you needed to be.

With a put-upon sigh, the leader began to talk in Galactic Common, though their mouth full of pointed teeth wasn’t really equipped for its syllables. “You are in… possession of… a substance that is of… interest to our Great and Glorious Empire.”

You blinked. “You guys… really do want my bug slime?”

“Your… what?”

“I’m a scientist. I’m studying invertebrates. Bugs. The slug outside — its name is Goldie, by the way, and it had better not have come to any harm because of you losers — has become a bit of a mascot in the week and a half it’s been resting on that rock.”

“We are not here for… ‘bugs’.”

“Then I’ve got nothing for you, buddy,” you said with a slightly wild grin that was about 99% panic. If you had nothing to offer them, they’d probably just kill you for the inconvenience of a wasted trip. “But if you tell me more about what you’re after, then perhaps I can help?” You had no intention of actually helping them, but stalling them was going to buy you a few more precious minutes to think of a way out of this, so you took it.

“You are… researching… the refractive properties of… a newly-discovered mineral,” the leader said in stilted Common. “Surrender your research and all samples, and we will leave you unharmed.”

Minerals. Shit, that was the nice team from Meliikos Prime.

“I see that you are cognisant of our request.”

“I… what? No.” You stuck your thumb comically towards your chest and grinned, “Bug guy. Not rocks. And that was not a request either. You guys need to work on your Common. Your vocab is seriously lacking.”

One of them twitched their head as if something had come in over the comms, and all three of them tightened their grip on their weapons.

“Seems like you were telling the truth,” the leader scoffed and raised their blaster.

You barely got to duck out of the way before a shot went off, but when you rolled and came up, you saw that the hole where they’d been standing was now empty. A second later, you heard scuttling on the roof of your ship and panic set in for the first time.

The tapping of many legs skittered across the roof and towards the gap in the side, and then at the top of the hole caused by the Porphaerian’s blaster damage, a creature appeared, peering down over the torn and burned edge of the hole. At first, all you saw was a pair of long, caramel brown antennae investigating the space, but a head soon followed, adorned with colossal, mean looking mandibles that could probably punch a second hole through your poor ship’s hull with even less effort than the blaster bolt.

“What the fuck?” you coughed, reeling backwards. You’d never seen any sign of a centipede that size on this planet. When you spotted one of the Porphaerians moving in the limited view outside though, raising their weapon, you yelped and flailed your arms to get it to move, “Watch out!”

In a sinuous motion, the creature looked up, hissed, and slithered on its series of many, jointed legs down to where the Porphaerian was now standing. It reared up, lashing out with forelegs that looked at once deadly and fragile, like alabaster in the strange light of the planet’s atmosphere, and then in a flash, it lunged for the neck of its would-be attacker and closed its steel-jaw mandibles around it. A green fluid burst like an overripe fruit, and you wondered if that was Porphaerian blood or the creature’s venom. The second Porphaerian was caught by the whiplash of its tail and flung into the side of their fighter ship, and the third was nowhere to be seen.

When the centipede-like creature was done decapitating, it turned around and regarded you. It wasn’t just a giant centipede, you realised, as it had more of an upper torso section, with armoured ‘shoulders’ and a couple of limbs at the top that were more like arms with hands than the sickle-like claws that adorned the rest of the legs on its long, segmented, chocolate brown body, and it was regarding you from black, beady eyes with obvious intellect.

Only when it paused, staring at you while your charred ship smoked like something forgotten on a barbecue, did you notice that it had a kind of bandoleer around those shoulders, though it didn’t have cartridges or ammunition that you could see. Instead, there were pockets and some kind of comms device, and… you frowned. “You’re… with the Republic?” you faltered when you saw the insignia.

The alien nodded.

“You have any idea why the fuck the fucking Porphaerian Empire was after my little research ship? Actually, scratch that. They said they were after some funky mineral and — oh God, the geology guys! They —”

The creature chittered something at you, and while you didn’t understand it, you realised it had a distinct air of impatience, with a touch of exasperation thrown in too.

“What?”

Its chitinous shoulders drooped and it scuttled a little closer to the blackened hole in your ship before rearing up and peering in like a dog looking out of a window. You almost laughed, and then realised you were probably a little hysterical from all the adrenaline.

In a rasping, scraping voice, the creature said in Galactic Common, “The team from Meliikos are safe. They told me about you. I came to get you. We need to leave.” Then, after casting a quick, backwards glance, they added, “Now.”

And before you could do so much as grab your favourite pencil from your workstation, the creature had slithered into the ship, scooped you up in its uppermost arms, and was retreating at what felt like a hundred miles an hour out of the shell of your destroyed ship, and out towards the rocky plateau at the bottom of the slope.

As you passed the seemingly-dormant giant slug, you chuckled as it raised its head, eye-stems appearing, and you waved. “So long, Goldie! Take care! I’ll miss our chats!”

“Are you… alright?” the centipede-alien asked, sounding genuinely concerned for your sanity.

Perhaps you’d been alone on OR-2559-B for a few months too long after all. With a shrug, you let yourself be jostled lightly along in their arms and tried not to watch the mesmeric pattern of their honey-gold legs as they rippled beneath their segmented body over the uneven terrain. “Goldie’s been by my side since I got here. I’ve shared most of my research with her. I’m 95% sure she has some pretty nuanced opinions on that comedy military drama thing that came out on earth about a hundred years ago…”

“I will have you checked out by our ship’s medic,” the centipede-alien said as they thundered over the terrain, and you laughed and settled into their arms. Your research had been funded by the Republic, so if one of their soldiers had been sent to rescue you, they could file the reports and figure out what happened next. Honestly, as much as you’d formed an attachment to the community of flamboyant flatworms and the super-gigantic slug, you were suddenly looking forward to an excuse to go off-world and, you know, interact with people again. You just had to make it past the heavy cruiser and its fleet of fighters first.

It turned out that your centipede friend was part of some kind of elite team that made extraction from a hostile environment look like a visit to the archives, and you were tucked away in the corner of their nippy little shuttle while an alien of a species you didn’t recognise, with a crown of antlers and skin like a red nebula, piloted you away from the Porphaerians and out into deeper space. It was one of the roughest take-offs you’d ever endured, but it worked, and it was oddly heart-warming when the Meliikos team all looked around and waved at you in obvious relief when the centipede-alien brought you on board the Republic ship.

The ship’s medic turned out to be really nice, and when you explained that your supplies had all been left on the research ship along with literally the rest of your life in space, they set you up again with your regular prescriptions, and checked you over. After you’d recovered from the aftereffects of the shock, they were happy to discharge you, and you headed out to explore the ship.

Just as you waved your hand in front of the release mechanism for the medbay door though, it was opened by someone from outside, and you took a step back to avoid a collision. The person on the other side halted abruptly in the doorway — literally filling the doorway — and you tipped your head up to take in the full sight of them. It was your saviour, and you grinned at them at the same time as they made a kind of chittering with their thick, black mandibles and waggled their long antennae.

“Hey,” you smiled. “Listen, thanks for getting me out of there like that. I was kind of out of it on the ride over. I never got your name.”

A series of distinctive clicks and chatters left the creature, and you grimaced.

“You got a Galactic Common alternative? My mouth doesn’t, uh… move like that.” The more you thought about their mouth though, the more interested you were in them. They really were beautiful, with a mahogany brown, segmented body and paler legs, and a head with a woodgrain pattern that you hadn’t noticed before.

The centipede alien nodded and laughed, and then said in that harsh voice like bending steel, “I’ve been called ‘Kerritt’ before by humans because of the sound of my name in my own language. You may call me Kerritt, and I use the human equivalent of male pronouns. What should I call you?”

You told him, and he nodded seriously.

“Are you feeling well? I could show you around the ship, but the First Officer would like to speak with you before we do anything else. She sent me down to see if you are well enough to have an audience with her.”

He spoke in short, stilted phrases and his upper body swayed a little. The majority of his body was like that of a giant centipede, but he had a definite waist section that was different from the rest of the segments of chitin and it rose vertically while the rest of him stayed parallel to the ground. And yes, those uppermost limbs were definitely more like arms, with hands that ended in chitinous points and sections of chitin that were more like bracers and gauntlets. His eyes were glossy black, almond shaped, and huge. The way they were placed far apart on his insectoid head was really rather sweet as he regarded you attentively, his long antennae constantly waving up and down in a slow, mesmeric pattern.

“I’m good,” you nodded. “Bit shaken up, and confused as heck, but I’m good. Let’s go talk to your First Officer. Maybe she can explain why the fuck the Porphaerians mistook the bugs guy for the rocks guys.”

He chuckled. “The Meliikosian team will take offence if you call them the ‘rocks guys’,” he said as he turned around in a sinuous curve and began to lead you up the ship’s gleaming corridor towards the bridge. “They are a proud and reserved people.”

“Nah, we’re cool. They like me. They waved at me when you brought me on board. In their culture, that’s practically a marriage proposal, right?”

Again, Kerritt laughed. “Perhaps. Though if you’re so easy to get along with, why did your university send you to one of the most remote places in the entire universe?”

“Ouch! Actually, the Head of the Department was so jealous of my research that she got me funding for a project that would take me as far from the capital as it’s possible to go…” you said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Really?”

“No,” you snorted. “I have an insatiable hunger for the unknown, and some trader mentioned that a cargo pilot said that a friend of hers said there were weird bugs on OR-2559-B. So, I got funding and headed out.”

“That’s… convoluted,” Kerritt said diplomatically. “You went all that way to study invertebrates? Are there none on your planet?”

You eyed him up and down and watched his antennae pull back a little. Was that trepidation? “Sure there are, but what can I say? I’m a dedicated researcher.”

“Right.”

The conversation with the First Officer didn’t last long. She was a colossal Grummgarian with orange-yellow skin and horns on her chin, and absolutely zero patience. When she realised that the only reason you’d drawn Porphaerian attention was by accident, she informed you that you’d be dropped off at the Bastion and would be provided with transport passes back to your university, before she dismissed you with a wave of her three-fingered hand and Kerritt escorted you from the bridge.

“A bit of warning would have been nice,” you shot sidelong at him as the doors closed behind you with a soft thunk.

“There is no warning adequate for that woman,” he said dryly. “You were better off going in cold. Shall I give you a tour of the ship?”

You nodded and followed him as he helped you get your bearings. “Tell me about yourself?” you asked. “I mean, I’ve met a few different species, but I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“Oh,” he said, and clicked his mandibles. “Do you wish to study me too then? Since I am technically an invertebrate myself, after all.”

“Maybe, if you’ll let me,” you said with a wink and watched his antennae pull back again.

“I think I could be persuaded,” he replied. “I’ve not had much contact with your kind either. I didn’t expect you to be so…” he leaned down and tilted his head “… soft. How did you survive the atmosphere of OR-2559-B? I was led to believe that you require higher oxygen levels for respiration?”

“Space suit,” you said. “It did make me a bit dizzy sometimes, but you know, that can be fun too, under the right circumstances.”

“My sources were right about one thing,” Kerritt said dryly as he drew himself back up to his usual posture.

“What’s that?”

“Humans have strange preferences.”

“Baby, you have no idea,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Come on, let’s finish this tour before I keel over. I’m exhausted.”

The two of you traded light conversation back and forth as he led you up corridors and companionways until that banter devolved steadily into cautious but very much overt flirting, and when he left you at the door to what would be your quarters for the short hop to the Republic Bastion, you said, “If I weren’t so tired that I might pass out before the fun even gets started, I’d invite you in.”

“Another time,” he said with a sympathetic bow of his head. “My quarters are up the corridor, should you need me. I’m off duty for a while now.”

“Nice. And thanks for showing me round.”

Kerritt gave another nod, and then he left.

You watched him go down the corridor to another door, his legs rippling in a sinuous sequence to take him forward, and you remembered how it felt to be carried along in his arms and shivered. Your body was running on fumes, but your brain still liked the memory of that strange, chitinous creature holding you in his arms.

You barely had the energy to shower in the cramped en suite, but once you’d changed into something more comfortable and less singed and gritty than your current outfit, you fell onto the bed and slept for sixteen hours straight.

When you woke and dressed, and staggered out into the corridor, your first port of call was the refectory to silence your growling stomach, but everything was closed since it wasn’t the ship’s mealtime. A diminutive creature with four arms and scaled, purple skin looked up from one of the tables in the empty dining area though and chirped something that sounded like an exclamation.

“Wait, human! Kerritt told me about you!” They had a head like a snake and thick spines all down their back, and although they wore clothing over their top half, their lower half was a thick, sinuous tail that uncoiled as they pushed back from the table and made their way over to you. “You want some food? I’ve never cooked for a human before. There aren’t any on this ship, and I joined the Mantis straight from the academy. I had to look up recipes for you in the species guide! I’m not sure what you’d like, but I made six earth dishes for you to choose from. They’re keeping warm now. I didn’t know when you’d be by.”

Their enthusiasm was almost overwhelming after a sleep that was essentially a fully-blown hibernation, but you nodded and let them lead you into the kitchen where you chose something that vaguely resembled beef chilli, though the beans weren’t the usual ones. They were turquoise blue, but they tasted ok.

You were about halfway through an enormous bowl of it when Kerritt entered the dining hall looking tense. That was, he looked tense until he saw you, at which point he sighed and scuttled over in that smooth way you found so attractive, his body moving like a ribbon between the tables.

“You’re awake,” he said when he reached you. “Are you alright? I had to ask the ship’s computer if there was still life detected in your quarters.”

You laughed long and loud. “Yeah, I do that sometimes. Sorry. Yeah, I’m good. Turns out my faithful little research ship, rest in pieces, wasn’t actually built for long-term habitation, because my god the mattress in my bunk here is like sleeping on a cloud, I swear.” You took another spoonful of ‘chilli’ and asked, “How’s things?”

“The ship is on course to dock at the Bastion in seventeen hours,” he said, apparently not sure quite what you’d meant. “Everyone is interested in meeting a human. They have been asking me many questions about you.”

“Oh? What did you tell them?”

“That I have only known you a few hours and cannot speak on your behalf.”

You smiled at him and shook your head. “Ah, you’re a good soul, you know that, Kerritt? I like you. Tell you what, when I’ve finished this… uh… ‘chilli’, you can introduce me to your friends.”

He nodded. “May I keep you company until then?”

“I’d love that,” you replied. “You can tell me how the Republic knew about the attack in the first place.”

While he was talking, a few people drifted in and approached when they saw that you were there, talking with Kerritt. It seemed like he was something of a hero among the crew himself, and the array of non-humans aboard varied from the reptilian cook with their purple skin to another invertebrate built more like a spider than a centipede, and several humanoid species, though the differences between you and them were marked. Long after you’d finished your chilli, you were all still gathered around your table, chatting and laughing together, and as people left to tend to their duties or head to their bunks for their downtime, you remarked to Kerritt what a tight-knit crew they had.

He nodded. “We’ve seen a lot of action together in the Vith Sector. It has a way of bonding a crew.”

“For sure,” you said, turning more serious. That sector was where the Porphaerians had been making their most aggressive moves in the last decade of their expansion. You sighed and stretched your neck a little.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Mm. Might walk around a bit for a while. Stretch my legs. Wanna join me?”

He bowed his head and scuttled back from where he’d been coiled up on himself while you’d been talking. His legs moved like clockwork parts, clicking on the shiny floor of the refectory, and you bit your lip and ached to touch.

His mandibles drifted a little further apart for a moment, and you got the impression he was scenting the air, but he took it no further and you tried hard to ignore how attractive you found him and his strange body while you walked the ship’s halls together.

Down in engineering, you visited one of the people you’d just met, and they showed you a few details of how the ship’s engine worked, until you started yawning again, and Kerritt took you back up to the corridor with the living quarters.

“You know, I’m tired, but I'm not actually all that sleepy,” you said. “I think it’s just the stress of what happened.”

“Perhaps… you would like to relax in my room? The permanent crew’s quarters are much bigger than the guest room you were assigned.”

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “Thank you.”

He continued down the corridor to his own room and you followed at his side.

“You know,” you said as he tapped a wristband to the reader in front of his door and it opened almost silently, “I never thanked you for saving my life. Those were some pretty badass moves back there. I’ve never had anyone defend me like that.”

His antennae flicked back in what you were now certain was a bashful expression, and he shrugged one chitinous shoulder. “My unit is trained to handle unusual situations.”

“I count as an unusual situation, do I?”

“I… what?”

“You handled me pretty well.”

If his entirely-black eyes could have rolled, you were certain they would have done, but he waved his hand in front of the door panel and it shut before anyone else on the ship could overhear you. 

“You are very… forward, human,” he said, coming closer; close enough to touch.

You reached slowly for his ‘chest’ — or at least, for the section of his body that rose vertically, and which had much smaller segmented parts than the rest of him — and you held your hand out, palm facing him, just a few centimetres from his body. “May I?” you breathed.

He nodded. His own body had gone utterly still. All those mechanical legs holding him rigid as he tilted his head down to regard you, antennae pricked forwards.

Your hand connected with his cool body and a shudder ran through him from head to tail. A second later, lines of neon, bioluminescent green flashed along the length of his body and you gasped, taking your hand away in surprise before pressing it back down and watching the light pulse out a second time. “God, you’re beautiful. Can you feel that then?”

“Yes. Touch is our primary sense.”

You’d suspected as much, but you’d wanted to be sure. You brought your right hand up to meet your left and stood slowly, running your hands up his chest. All the while, his natural bioluminescence pulsed along his body, beginning at the point where you touched him and zipping down the segments of his body like lightning in a regular pattern. The chitin beneath your fingertips felt like glass: smooth and cool and oddly fragile. Your fingers traced the line of one of the segments that sat like armour on his shoulders and he gave another soft gasp and a shiver.

“May I touch you?” he asked.

“God yes,” you laughed, and he brought his clawed hands to your waist then up your torso and neck to rake the points of his fingertips across your scalp. For a second, your soul felt like it left your body and you tipped your head back and moaned.

“You enjoy touch too.”

“Unnfff.”

“Yes?”

You nodded.

“May I pick you up?”

A second and more enthusiastic “unnfff,” left your lips and he chuckled, lowering his mouth towards you for just an instant before he twitched backwards. “Mm?” you asked, only dimly aware that he was actually carrying you across the room towards his wide, comfortable bed now.

“I have to be careful. I have a lot of venom. It’s deadly to humans. Deadly to most species, actually.”

“Oh. I guess that means I can’t kiss you there then.”

“I have to inject my venom for it to be dangerous,” he said, “But I still have to be careful. It’s something of a reflex when I am… aroused.”

“I turn you on, huh?” you slurred cheekily.

“Yes.”

You loved how direct he was, and as he laid you down on the bed and moved his fingers to pause at the fastening of your clothes, you nodded before he could ask permission. He still did, of course, but it was more of a formality at that point. He raked his claws experimentally over your skin, so light it almost tickled, and you arched off the bed.

“I can smell you,” he said when he’d let your clothes fall to the floor. “May I taste you?”

You nodded, desperate to feel his mandibles against your skin. You were swollen and hard and sensitive already, and when he parted his huge mandibles wide to reveal his mouth and a black tongue, you bucked and whimpered and parted your legs for him.

The feel of his tongue exploring up the inside of your thighs was a torture of the best kind, and by the time he closed his mouth around your t-cock, you felt like you might come just from the touch alone. You had no idea what words came tumbling out of your mouth, but he let out a rumbling growl that made his whole body shake and pulse with light again, and you nearly yelled as he dug his claw-like hands into the muscle of your thighs.

You couldn’t think terribly clearly as he got back to work in earnest, practically worshipping your body with his mouth, his onyx mandibles raised just safely enough not to puncture your body but not far enough away that the wicked sharp tips didn’t prick your skin from time to time. His antennae glanced against your waist and shoulders from time to time and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing onto them. They were not horns, and you might even hurt him if you did. It was tantalising and you thrust your head back into the pillow behind you and let out a long, yowling cry of pleasure as you got closer and closer to coming.

Kerritt picked you up again, lifting you right off the bed with ease, and he brought the smooth segments of his lower body to touch yours as he lay down facing you on the bed beside you, encasing you in the cage of his many legs. The feeling of being held and almost immobilised was intoxicating, and you reached a hand up for his head and gripped around the smooth, curved contour of one mandible. He groaned again and you grabbed for the other with your free hand.

“How careful do I have to be with these?” you asked in a rough voice.

They parted and flexed just a little under your hold, but you could feel the immense strength behind them. You’d been right when you’d thought idly that they could punch through steel. One bite from those and you’d be dead.

“Not that careful,” he said, clearly amused behind his growing arousal.

He rubbed his glowing body slowly against you, catching your cock just perfectly with a smooth segment and you wrapped both legs around between two pairs of his legs to adjust the angle and the pressure. He was getting wet from the opening in his carapace, and the combined mess you were making was enough to set your head spinning.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathed as he picked up his pace, fucking against you more wildly with each of your pounding heartbeats. “Oh god, you’re going to make me come.”

“I’m close too,” he said, and you felt his mandibles start to shake and tremble in your grip. “I want to bite you,” he groaned. “I’m going to bite —”

The thick ring of his black mandibles slipped from your hold and in the blink of an eye they’d closed around your neck like a collar. You came with a blinding intensity, bucking against him while his hot tongue pressed against your throat.

A second later, his whole body locked up and he spilled over you in a rush of hot come that went up your stomach and down between your thighs while his whole body spasmed helplessly. His tail curled around you, locking you even more securely in place while his orgasm wracked his entire body, his legs tightening like the jaws of a bear trap against your naked body.

Eventually he stopped and went slack on the bed, and his mandibles opened slowly. All the chinks in his chitinous armour glowed a steady, quiescent green, and his antennae felt and tested at your neck. You nearly laughed at the tickling contrast between the powerful jaws and tender antennae.

“Did I hurt you? Tell me I didn’t hurt you,” he croaked.

“M’good,” you smiled and kissed one black, glossy mandible before he raised it completely out of reach.

He sighed with relief. “I’m sorry. My kind tend to lock in place during… you know. I thought perhaps with you it would be different, but… I’m sorry. It was a risk I shouldn’t have taken with you.”

“S’all good,” you said, your mind blissfully foggy in the wake of the best orgasm you’d had in months. “Come back here,” you said, petting the side of your neck to try and get him to hold you there again with his mandibles.

He did return his grip to your neck, and he slowly coiled his entire body around yours again while the two of you came down together.

“I think you’ve ruined sex with any other species for me after that,” you mumbled a while later.

Carefully, he withdrew his mandibles from you again and nuzzled the smooth top of his head against you, making a soft, crooning noise akin to purr.

“As I think you have for me,” he rumbled.

Without warning, the door to his quarters opened with its near silent sigh of metal on metal, and someone strode in, looking down at a screen in their hand. “Hey, Kerritt, I need you to sign this report for —”

Kerritt drew you even closer to him, masking you completely from whoever had intruded, and he hissed loudly at them over your head like a cobra.

“Shit! Sorry!” they barked, clearly as taken by surprise at the hissing as he had been by their arrival. “You never have company. I just… I’m so sorry! I’ll… uh… it can wait.”

You started laughing even before he set you back down on the bed, and by the time he had relaxed enough to draw back from his protective hold on you, your laugh had turned into a proper cackle.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he snapped.

“I’ve never had a partner hiss at someone to defend my dignity,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes and pushing up onto one elbow.

He regarded you flatly, and you reached carefully for the nearest antenna, running your fingertip along it before encircling it suggestively with thumb and fingers until he gave another huge, full-body shiver and let out a little moan, light pulsing again.  

“It’s sweet, that’s all,” you smiled and then asked, “You think you’ve got another one in you, big guy?”

“Keep touching me like that and find out,” Kerritt muttered, rolling onto his back, at once docile and provocative, and letting all the tightly-coiled segments of his body unfurl for you like a fern. That light still darted along him whenever you touched him, flaring to life to telegraph just how turned on he was by you.

This time, you rode him to orgasm, rocking your hips back and forth over his slit until you both came a second time.

Watching a creature as powerful as he was come so completely undone beneath you was probably one of the best sights you’d ever seen.

__

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[laurents-laces]

It took me 84 years, but here's the notes for Pacat's Instagram live on January 22, 2022! You can find previous summaries here. This time I added a section for things that involve both capri and dark rise because there was a lot of that.

“It’s funny, I tend to write, as I think back on Dark Rise and then before that, Captive Prince, I tend to write these book ones that kind of don't necessarily reveal themselves until the end or cohere until the end or maybe are written for the re-read rather than necessarily for the first read… I kind of have this philosophy that difficult pleasures are the most enjoyable because you have to work to achieve them, and so you know, I like the idea that you get rewarded at the end of Dark Rise for reaching the end.”

Important Updates

There has been some progress on the capri News™, though it was epically delayed by the pandemic. It’s not a fourth book, hardcovers, Laurent’s POV, or a TV series

There were updates about Dark Rise and Fence too but none of it is news anymore because this happened so long ago. The capri fandom is just unlucky like that

Pacat has a new project! It’s very different and is more adult in tone than his previous works. It’s kind of monster-horror-gore, he’s been wanting to do something with a shounen horror vibe like Berserk or Attack on Titan. It’s coming in the distant future, not soon

Captive Prince

Pacat hasn't heard of the capri fandom term Smaurent (small Laurent) but thinks that the idea of him does exist in the books as he was a very different person as a young child. Pacat likes writing characters who explore the idea that one’s past leaves fingerprints on one’s present self and Laurent is the most extreme version of this that she’s written

A fan said that they think of “Damianos V” as being a roman numeral, so that Damen would be the fifth King Damianos. Pacat really liked the idea

Pacat cried for a really long time while writing Nicaise’s death scene. Got a few strange looks as he sat in the Melbourne State Library with tears streaming down his face for a few hours. Nicaise’s death was planned from the beginning, he was always a bittersweet character to write

Laurent is such a private person. Writing more from his POV would risk exploding the mystery of his character and might kill some of the tension in capri

The capri News is like a missive from Rohan- it's on its way and it'll arrive at some point, just when you need it most

A fourth capri book isn’t completely out of the question but there isn’t one planned for now

The Brazilian capri covers are their own thing but they don’t represent the books well. They have a very dark-ages-hard-masc-medieval aesthetic

How tall is Damen? Laurent thinks that he’s a foot taller and that sometimes it feels like more

Orlant: Rough exterior, heart of gold, didn't deserve what happened to him

Pacat pronounces Vere like Veer (veer off course) but that is not the correct pronunciation that Laurent and the Veretians use so feel free to pronounce it how you want

Pacat wasn’t really involved in the art for the Japanese edition but has been a fan of Chinatsu Kurahana for a long time. Usually the author doesn’t get much input for foreign editions. The Japanese publisher was very welcoming and let Pacat have some input, but he was such a fan of the artist that he let her do whatever her vision was. He gave a bit of a description for clothing but didn’t tweak any character concepts once they were drawn because he likes having different versions of the characters in different media. We shouldn’t think of it as an official version of the characters or as Laurent’s canon hair length

Dark Rise

The submission date for the Dark Heir manuscript was June 2022. At the time of this live, Pacat was just past writing the midpoint of the first draft, heading towards the climax. The climax has been planned for a long time

We absolutely get James's POV in Dark Heir. Pacat had just finished writing one of his chapters when this live happened

How would Anharion describe Sarcean in one word? The answer would change depending on whether Anharion was wearing the collar. If he was wearing it he would say whatever Sarcean wanted him to say

James is not named after the gay king james (James I of England)

We will find out about James’s mother at some point, either in book 2 or later

Pacat’s current favourite Dark Rise character to write is a new character from book two

It was important that the stewards were racially diverse. When Pacat was pitching Dark Rise he had little pictures of the characters to show what the aesthetic of the book is, it was art that he found online. Things might have changed since then but this was three or four years ago and it was really hard to find fantasy imagery of non-white characters. If you wanted to find mages or warriors in suits of armor, all the artwork had white characters. So he wanted to include different types of people in the traditional western fantasy aesthetic

Favourite part of Dark Rise #1 is the ending because it was all of the pieces falling into place

Cyprian’s surname is not St. Clair but saying more than that would be a spoiler

Stewards have family in the outside world

Pacat would love to write short stories for Dark Rise like the ones for capri but she’s a slow writer so it would be some time in the future

Dark Rise/Capri

Justice’s appearance wasn’t specifically influenced by danmei, he has long hair because all the Stewards have long hair. The Stewards have long hair because everyone in the Old World had long hair and the Stewards carry on the sacred traditions of the past. This was inspired by the delightful long-haired-Laurent contingent in the capri fandom because they were so underserved by Captive Prince. No one in capri other than Ancel has really long, butt-length hair so Pacat wanted to change that in a new series

Where do you get inspiration for jewelry like Nicaise’s earring or James’s collar? Pacat has been thinking lately about the importance of creating a strong visual aesthetic for a character. The earring was created as a plot device. It’s long because it had to be very gaudy and noticeable because Laurent would use it as a disguise later, and it has blue sapphires because blue is Laurent’s colour. It's one single earring instead of a pair because it felt more poignant as a memento. The earring was more about purpose than aesthetics, but Pacat paid more attention to aesthetics in Dark Rise. When working on Fence, Johanna is so good at creating characters with an iconic visual look, and Pacat was thinking about that when he created James. He started with the idea of red because it's the colour of blood. The collar started off as a necklace that was a drop of blood, but it was changed to be more interesting and to have more of an impact. Pacat often thinks about the scene from the Hunger Games when Katniss is about to prove herself to the sponsors and they're not paying attention to her so she shoots the apple in the boar's mouth. A lesser author would’ve had her nail the bullseye but Suzanne Collins souped it up one more level, to come up with something slightly cooler or more imaginative. So Pacat goes through his finished drafts and thinks, is there anything I can turn up to 11? And the necklace wasn't at 11. So he thought about making it a choker, then a collar. A choker with rubies looks like a slit throat and that’s a very cool image, so that’s what it was changed to

Pacat is an only child so Tom and Auguste as older brothers aren’t based on personal experiences, but the idea of siblings has a strong importance to her. Dark Rise is dedicated to her half-sister Mandy who committed suicide when she was 15, which was the year Pacat was born

Fence Comic

The process of creating Fence: First Pacat writes the script, then it gets sent to the illustrator Johanna. It goes through a few rounds of notes where the two of them talk about the kinds of things they want to see happen, what would be cute or great in the upcoming storyline, and then Johanna does sketches. Then art edits happen, but usually the art is so incredible that it doesn’t need many edits so the only usual change is to make sure that Nicholas is left handed when he’s fencing. Then Boom (the publisher) looks over it before it goes to inks, then to the colourist Joana Lafuente, then to Jim Campbell for lettering. Jim places the speech bubbles and fits the script onto the page. Where the bubbles are placed and which words are emphasized makes a big impact on the flow of the script. Then everything gets sent back to Pacat for proofreading and editing of the lettering and then it’s done

Pacat worked very closely with Sarah Rees Brennan on the fence novels. They talked a lot about how events would play out, biographical details of the characters, made canon compliance edits, saw the books at every level and loved them. It’s impressive how Sarah can turn on a dime between two sets of opposing feelings when transitioning between emotions. Her books have a lot of wit and charm but also a lot of hard-hitting emotion

There was information about Rise and a preview but I'll skip over that part because it's already out now

Personal

When creating characters, Pacat often thinks of them in terms of dynamics they’ll have with other characters, or what they want to achieve, or what kind of archetype they resonate with, or how to build a backstory that gives them layers. Characters are interesting when they have more than one motivation, when they look one way on the surface but then different aspects of them from the past are revealed

Pacat was an Earth sciences major

Pacat chooses all the fanart friday posts himself and then his assistant Hannah sends a request to the artist

Least favourite book trope: band of misfits who save the world through a hail mary pass. Pacat likes a highly confident crew, not a small rabble of people who fluke their way into saving the world. It's not a bad trope, he doesn't know why he doesn't like it. He doesn't like Firefly because of this trope

He often reads fanfic on ao3 for more of a story than was in the original or more of a dynamic that was underserved in the original. But authors can’t read fic of their own works for copyright reasons

Owns multiple copies of the Lymond Chronicles. Book four is her favourite because the ending is so intense and devastating. Pacat often thinks of that ending when deciding what to do with her own works because most authors would’ve chickened out of writing an ending like that. She read book one for the first time in a restaurant at 9:00am and stayed there until she finished the book. She probably looked like a mess because of all the laughing and crying, and at one point one of the waiters came over to bring her a handkerchief and said “are you okay?” and Pacat said “I’m just at a really intense part right now"

Pacat does brainstorming sessions with friends to come up with ideas for books and looks at art books for inspiration

He’s reading the BL manga Twittering Birds Never Fly

Danmei dramas/web novels are really long so he isn’t familiar with most of them, but he ordered MDZS and he’s looking forward to reading it because he’s heard a lot of good things about it

Pacat doesn’t usually like love triangles, whenever he ships something in a love triangle he ends up choosing the unlucky guy. He liked Gale more than Peeta and liked Edgar more than Heathcliffe

[holycatsandrabbits]

Three Ways to Practice Writing Without Writing

Writers need two things to produce a work: motivation and time. There are sweet blessed moments when we have both, and then those times we’ve only got one. What to do then? Write without writing. 

Case #1: Time and no motivation

Writers need to take breaks. Writers hate to take breaks. It’s like we think taking time off means moving backwards, rather than practicing necessary self-care. If you’re having trouble resting, you might try this writing-adjacent activity: murder. Well, the fictional kind.

A murder mystery party is where you have all your friends over for dinner (or video chat), and along with the pizza, you serve up a whodunit. Writing a game is a great way to practice your creative skills and entertain an audience, without staring at a blank page, muttering incantations to make a short story appear. There are lots of free resources online to help you craft a case, from characters to clues, and anyway, who hasn’t wanted to blame a friend for murder? Right?

Case #2: Motivation and no time

Whether it’s deadlines at work, final exams, kids’ soccer games, or spring cleaning, real life can eat up your time off. In that case, you can play a mental game called What If?

Stephen King was inspired to write his novella The Mist after visiting a grocery store during a storm and imagining an attack by monsters. Because of course he did. But next time you’re in the checkout line, ask yourself this: What is the weirdest thing that could happen right now? Bananas bursting into flames? 100 strangers throwing you a surprise birthday party? Everyone suddenly speaking different languages? Now, what could cause such a strange thing to happen?

Or say you’re on your commute to work or school. Ask yourself, How would this be different if we were on another planet? Would public transit be seats on the back of a giant highway-going serpent? Might there be sentient stop lights who attack if you turn left on red? What if you could hire a quintet of tiny aliens to sit in the backseat and provide live music for your drive?

Playing What If  is a great way to practice creative skills when you can’t be decomposing at your computer. Just remember not to jot down ideas while you’re driving.

Bonus Case: You want to practice

Writing exercises are a fun way to sharpen your skills when you’re not writing anything in particular. You can find lists of these online, and here are a few of mine that use a photograph of scenery.

For practicing tone: Look at the photograph and think of 10 descriptive words, like cloudy, swampy, wintery, etc. Now imagine the photo is the first shot of a horror movie. Think of 10 creepy descriptive words. Now imagine it’s part of a rom-com and think of 10 sweet and upbeat descriptive words. And so on.

For practicing character development: Imagine a character of whatever description you like. This scenery is their workplace. What do they do? How do they feel about it? How did they end up with this job? Now imagine a character who has a recurring dream about this scenery. What does the dream mean? How will they find out? Then imagine a character who makes this place their home. Where do they live? Is it a hidden home or easily found? What do they eat? And so on.

For practicing action writing: Imagine two characters at one edge of your photograph. They’re in a race to get to the other edge, across whatever landscape you’ve got. Describe who wins and how. Now imagine they’re fighting from one edge to another. Then have them dancing, sneaking, or whatever you like.

Thanks for reading! Remember, you’re a writer if you write, even if it’s just in your head, even if it’s just sometimes. You are not your production. You are your creative spark.

This article was first published on my writing blog

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers

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[skyfallscotland]

Hi

I just wanted to ask if you're continuing BRV for the whole series or making you own ending

Hi! The plan’s always been to make my own ending and my intention is for Truth & Talon to diverge a little in the second half to support that. I have a broad outline for three arcs:

Fear & Flame Truth & Talon Love & Loyalty

(Yeah, it did just sound cool ok, what of it?! It’s actually fitting now though, so there’s that)

In saying that, I had intended to be finished with Love & Loyalty as well by the time Onyx Storm was published (lol). That’s clearly not going to happen because this instalment turned into a monster and I’ve had more time off than I planned, so some things from Onyx Storm might get incorporated into Love & Loyalty if they fit into my outline. You’ll see by the end of Truth & Talon what’s changed though and why things might be different.

I also think a lot of people aren’t going to like the direction I want to take Love & Loyalty in, so I want to try and write it almost to completion before I publish, both so I can avoid taking such a long break again if I can, and also so I can give the appropriate tags and warnings in advance so people can choose not to continue on the journey, because I will lose readers if I take it in the direction I want to.

I’m fine with that, I have to be—if I don’t write a storyline that sparks enthusiasm in me it will be like pulling teeth—but I do feel kind of bad because I know a lot of people have invested a lot of time in this series and will ultimately be disappointed.