#dune was the first example that came to mind here

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

how do you get yourself to stop daydreaming and start actually writing? (i've had an idea for a world of walker fic and have been rotating a version of #28300 around in my brain like a rotisserie chicken but i keep finding plotholes and they make my brain stop working TwT)

Daydreaming is kind of my "cooking time" for a lot of my stories, and things can change rapidly when I'm still brewing a new idea. But once I have some lore solidly worked out, my main tactic is to just start writing down notes for the story when the idea is at the front of my mind. I don't worry about making them orderly or coherent at first, I just get the ideas down. I'll write down anything, whether it's actual plot points or character profiles or just worldbuilding fluff that I know I want to include in some way. This usually helps me get in the zone to start writing, and helps my ideas feel a bit more real and a bit less like they're trapped only in my head. Writing it down can also sometimes make plot holes clearer to see and help you figure out how to fill them (for example, if you know you need to get from point A to point B in the story, writing it down might help you think "okay, what are some logical steps that would come in between these two points?"). I also do this because I know that if I keep daydreaming, the story will keep changing and I might lose ideas because I didn't write them down. Even if you just scribble something on a sticky note and stick it on your fridge, I encourage you to write something down, no matter how small!

I also really encourage you to write down worldbuilding or any other lore, especially if you're struggling with the plot. Doing this will a) make it very clear what is allowed in your world and what isn't, so you don't accidentally contradict yourself down the line, and b) might make certain plot pathways clearer. For example, let's look at Dune, which has very extensive worldbuilding. In that universe, people use shields to protect buildings, ships, or even themselves from harm, but shields will only stop fast-moving objects, not slow-moving ones, and if a lasgun (laser gun for non-Dune-readers) hits them, then you and probably most of your local city is getting blown to kingdom come. This means that if your characters are trying to destroy a shielded target in the middle of a populated area, then they can't use a fast-moving projectile because it'll just get deflected, or a lasgun because of the catastrophic consequences, so they'll have to come up with a different method. I believe one solution in the universe was to create projectiles that would slow down just before impact, so they could get to their target fast yet still get past the shield. So if you have a plot hole, start writing lore, it could actually help you find a solution!

Also, don't force yourself to fill in a plot hole quickly, especially on your first draft. In my experience, you'll usually be able to come up with a solution that feels more natural if you give yourself time to mull it over without urgency, instead of trying to come up with a quick band-aid fix. Absorbing ideas from other media, and seeing how they handle similar plot points, could also help you come up with a solution of your own (not necessarily copying what they did exactly, but using it as a springboard for your own solutions).

Hope this helps!

[physalian]

8 Signs your Sequel Needs Work

Sequels, and followup seasons to TV shows, can be very tricky to get right. Most of the time, especially with the onslaught of sequels, remakes, and remake-quels over the past… 15 years? There’s a few stand-outs for sure. I hear Dune Part 2 stuck the landing. Everyone who likes John Wick also likes those sequels. Spiderverse 2 also stuck the landing.

These are less tips and more fundamental pieces of your story that may or may not factor in because every work is different, and this is coming from an audience’s perspective. Maybe some of these will be the flaws you just couldn’t put your finger on before. And, of course, these are all my opinions, for sequels and later seasons that just didn’t work for me.

1. Your vague lore becomes a gimmick

The Force, this mysterious entity that needs no further explanation… is now quantifiable with midichlorians.

In The 100, the little chip that contains the “reincarnation” of the Commanders is now the central plot to their season 6 “invasion of the bodysnatchers” villains.

In The Vampire Diaries, the existence of the “emotion switch” is explicitly disputed as even existing in the earlier seasons, then becomes a very real and physical plot point one can toggle on and off.

I love hard magic systems. I love soft magic systems, too. These two are not evolutions of each other and doing so will ruin your magic system. People fell in love with the hard magic because they liked the rules, the rules made sense, and everything you wrote fit within those rules. Don’t get wacky and suddenly start inventing new rules that break your old ones.

People fell in love with the soft magic because it needed no rules, the magic made sense without overtaking the story or creating plot holes for why it didn’t just save the day. Don’t give your audience everything they never needed to know and impose limitations that didn’t need to be there.

Solving the mystery will never be as satisfying as whatever the reader came up with in their mind. Satisfaction is the death of desire.

2. The established theme becomes un-established

I talked about this point already in this post about theme so the abridged version here: If your story has major themes you’ve set out to explore, like “the dichotomy of good and evil” and you abandon that theme either for a contradictory one, or no theme at all, your sequel will feel less polished and meaningful than its predecessor, because the new story doesn’t have as much (if anything) to say, while the original did.

Jurassic Park is a fantastic, stellar example. First movie is about the folly of human arrogance and the inherent disaster and hubris in thinking one can control forces of nature for superficial gains. The sequels, and then sequel series, never returns to this theme (and also stops remembering that dinosaurs are animals, not generic movie monsters). JP wasn’t just scary because ahhh big scary reptiles. JP was scary because the story is an easily preventable tragedy, and yes the dinosaurs are eating people, but the people only have other people to blame. Dinosaurs are just hungry, frightened animals.

Or, the most obvious example in Pixar’s history: Cars to Cars 2.

3. You focus on the wrong elements based on ‘fan feedback’

We love fans. Fans make us money. Fans do not know what they want out of a sequel. Fans will never know what they want out of a sequel, nor will studios know how to interpret those wants. Ask Star Wars. Heck, ask the last 8 books out of the Percy Jackson universe.

Going back to Cars 2 (and why I loathe the concept of comedic relief characters, truly), Disney saw dollar signs with how popular Mater was, so, logically, they gave fans more Mater. They gave us more car gimmicks, they expanded the lore that no one asked for. They did try to give us new pretty racing venues and new cool characters. The writers really did try, but some random Suit decided a car spy thriller was better and this is what we got.

The elements your sequel focuses on could be points 1 or 2, based on reception. If your audience universally hates a character for legitimate reasons, maybe listen, but if your audience is at war with itself over superficial BS like whether or not she’s a female character, or POC, ignore them and write the character you set out to write. Maybe their arc wasn’t finished yet, and they had a really cool story that never got told.

This could be side-characters, or a specific location/pocket of worldbuilding that really resonated, a romantic subplot, whatever. Point is, careening off your plan without considering the consequences doesn’t usually end well.

4. You don’t focus on the ‘right’ elements

I don’t think anyone out there will happily sit down and enjoy the entirety of Thor: The Dark World.  The only reasons I would watch that movie now are because a couple of the jokes are funny, and the whole bit in the middle with Thor and Loki. Why wasn’t this the whole movie? No one cares about the lore, but people really loved Loki, especially when there wasn’t much about him in the MCU at the time, and taking a villain fresh off his big hit with the first Avengers and throwing him in a reluctant “enemy of my enemy” plot for this entire movie would have been amazing.

Loki also refuses to stay dead because he’s too popular, thus we get a cyclical and frustrating arc where he only has development when the producers demand so they can make maximum profit off his character, but back then, in phase 2 world, the mystery around Loki was what made him so compelling and the drama around those two on screen was really good! They bounced so well off each other, they both had very different strengths and perspectives, both had real grievances to air, and in that movie, they *both* lost their mother. It’s not even that it’s a bad sequel, it’s just a plain bad movie.

The movie exists to keep establishing the Infinity Stones with the red one and I can’t remember what the red one does at this point, but it could have so easily done both. The powers that be should have known their strongest elements were Thor and Loki and their relationship, and run with it.

This isn’t “give into the demands of fans who want more Loki” it’s being smart enough to look at your own work and suss out what you think the most intriguing elements are and which have the most room and potential to grow (and also test audiences and beta readers to tell you the ugly truth). Sequels should feel more like natural continuations of the original story, not shameless cash grabs.

5. You walk back character development for ~drama~

As in, characters who got together at the end of book 1 suddenly start fighting because the “will they/won’t they” was the juiciest dynamic of their relationship and you don’t know how to write a compelling, happy couple. Or a character who overcame their snobbery, cowardice, grizzled nature, or phobia suddenly has it again because, again, that was the most compelling part of their character and you don’t know who they are without it.

To be honest, yeah, the buildup of a relationship does tend to be more entertaining in media, but that’s also because solid, respectful, healthy relationships in media are a rarity. Season 1 of Outlander remains the best, in part because of the rapid growth of the main love interest’s relationship. Every season after, they’re already married, already together, and occasionally dealing with baby shenanigans, and it’s them against the world and, yeah, I got bored.

There’s just so much you can do with a freshly established relationship: Those two are a *team* now. The drama and intrigue no longer comes from them against each other, it’s them together against a new antagonist and their different approaches to solving a problem. They can and should still have distinct personalities and perspectives on whatever story you throw them into.

6. It’s the same exact story, just Bigger

I have been sitting on a “how to scale power” post for months now because I’m still not sure on reception but here’s a little bit on what I mean.

Original: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy New York

Sequel: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy the planet

Threequel: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy the galaxy

You knew it wasn’t going to happen the first time, you absolutely know it won’t happen on a bigger scale. Usually, when this happens, plot holes abound. You end up deleting or forgetting about characters’ convenient powers and abilities, deleting or forgetting about established relationships and new ground gained with side characters and entities, and deleting or forgetting about stakes, themes, and actually growing your characters like this isn’t the exact same story, just Bigger.

How many Bond movies are there? Thirty-something? I know some are very, very good and some are not at all good. They’re all Bond movies. People keep watching them because they’re formulaic, but there’s also been seven Bond actors and the movies aren’t one long, continuous, self-referential story about this poor, poor man who has the worst luck in the universe. These sequels aren’t “this but bigger” it’s usually “this, but different”, which is almost always better.

“This, but different now” will demand a different skillset from your hero, different rules to play by, different expectations, and different stakes. It does not just demand your hero learn to punch harder.

Example: Lord Shen from Kung Fu Panda 2 does have more influence than Tai Lung, yes. He’s got a whole city and his backstory is further-reaching, but he’s objectively worse in close combat—so he doesn’t fistfight Po. He has cannons, very dangerous cannons, cannons designed to be so strong that kung fu doesn’t matter. Thus, he’s not necessarily “bigger” he’s just “different” and his whole story demands new perspective.

The differences between Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi are numerous, but the latter relies on “but bigger” and the former went in a whole new direction, while still staying faithful to the themes of the original.

7. It undermines the original by awakening a new problem too soon

I’ve already complained about the mere existence of Heroes of Olympus elsewhere because everything Luke fought and died for only bought that world about a month of peace before the gods came and ripped it all away for More Story.

I’ve also complained that the Star Wars Sequels were always going to spit in the face of a character’s six-movie legacy to bring balance to the Force by just going… nah. Ancient prophecy? Only bought us about 30 years of peace.

Whether it’s too soon, or it’s too closely related to the original, your audience is going to feel a little put-off when they realize how inconsequential this sequel makes the original, particularly in TV shows that run too many seasons and can’t keep upping the ante, like Supernatural.

Kung Fu Panda once again because these two movies are amazing. Shen is completely unrelated to Tai Lung. He’s not threatening the Valley of Peace or Shifu or Oogway or anything the heroes fought for in the original. He’s brand new.

My yearning to see these two on screen together to just watch them verbally spat over both being bratty children disappointed by their parents is unquantifiable. This movie is a damn near perfect sequel. Somebody write me fanfic with these two throwing hands over their drastically different perspectives on kung fu.

8. It’s so divorced from the original that it can barely even be called a sequel

Otherwise known as seasons 5 and 6 of Lost. Otherwise known as: This show was on a sci-fi trajectory and something catastrophic happened to cause a dramatic hairpin turn off that path and into pseudo-biblical territory. Why did it all end in a church? I’m not joking, they did actually abandon The Plan while in a mach 1 nosedive.

I also have a post I’ve been sitting on about how to handle faith in fiction, so I’ll say this: The premise of Lost was the trials and escapades of a group of 48 strangers trying to survive and find rescue off a mysterious island with some creepy, sciency shenanigans going on once they discover that the island isn’t actually uninhabited.

Season 6 is about finding “candidates” to replace the island’s Discount Jesus who serves as the ambassador-protector of the island, who is also immortal until he’s not, and the island becomes a kind of purgatory where they all actually did die in the crash and were just waiting to… die again and go to heaven. Spoiler Alert.

This is also otherwise known as: Oh sh*t, Warner Bros wants more Supernatural? But we wrapped it up so nicely with Sam and Adam in the box with Lucifer. I tried to watch one of those YouTube compilations of Cas’ funny moments because I haven’t seen every episode, and the misery on these actors’ faces as the compilation advanced through the seasons, all the joy and wit sucked from their performances, was just tragic.

I get it. Writers can’t control when the Powers That Be demand More Story so they can run their workhorse into the ground until it stops bleeding money, but if you aren’t controlled by said powers, either take it all back to basics, like Cars 3, or just stop.

—

Sometimes taking your established characters and throwing them into a completely unrecognizable story works, but those unrecongizable stories work that much harder to at least keep the characters' development and progression satisfying and familiar. See this post about timeskips that take generational gaps between the original and the sequel, and still deliver on a satisfying continuation.

TLDR: Sequels are hard and it’s never just one detail that makes them difficult to pull off. They will always be compared to their predecessors, always with the expectations to be as good as or surpass the original, when the original had no such competition. There’s also audience expectations for how they think the story, lore, and relationships should progress. Most faults of sequels, in my opinion, lie in straying too far from the fundamentals of the original without understanding why those fundamentals were so important to the original’s success.

[movienerdd]

a deep dive into scifi

A/N: please have in mind that i am not a proffesional and obviously this is just a sum up of my research on th etopic, obviosuly credits will be given at the end of the post and i will give links to all my resources so you can check them out! Lastly please keep in mind that english is not my first language so there might be some mistakes here and there but ill try to not make them so this can be easily read! Thank you for the understanding!!

In all honesty i believe that every single person in the world is familliar with the term "scifi" or more complete "science fiction", but do we all know eveyrhting about it? Is it truly what we think it is? Are all scifi media the same? Well thats what im about to analyze today.

WHAT IS SCIFI?

To begin this lets make sure that everyone is familliar with the term scifi and what it actually means in media. Going by definition science fiction, commonly known as sci-fi, is a .speculative genre that focuses on imaginetive futuristic concepts such as advanced techology, time travel, space exploration, alien life and technology.

A common question that is posed is what is the difference between scifi and fantasy. Well, the world in fantasy novels and films is different from our own due to fantasy whereas the world in scifi is different from our own due to technology.

SCIFI: ORIGINS

It is widely believed that sci-fi starte dmaking an apperance in the beginning of the 20th century but thats not true. Im not going to be talking about various media that may or may not have some aspects of scifi in them, but scifi goes back to the 4th/5th century BC in ancient India. Back then many poems were released that had scifi elements one of the most popular being a HIndu poem called "The Ramayana" which included clear scifi indicators. It included flying devices that took mankind to the water, the sky but also space. It is interesting to think that people all the way back thought about this without even having invented cars.

Now, if we go to more "modern" time? I guess not mordern but surely closer to us that the 4th BC can ever be, we will be able to see the masteriece and the first book to actually indicate scifi phenomena, "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley in 1818. It is a mix of gothic horror and scifi, and it included scientific advancement. Shelley, was able to forge a path for future scifi writers to be able to take a dive into and reflect on the moral and ethical impications of scientific advancements. It is also worth mentioning that by having these ideas Shelley went against the progressive ideals her time had, making her stand out.

In 1926, H.G.Wells with "The War of The Worlds" along with Jules Berne and his book "2.000 leagues under the sea" made a huge impact and almost kind of shaped scifi as we think about it now. But during these times, another leap for scifi media to spread came crushing in and that is non other that Pulp, and with it came the scifi pulp magazine. Magazines like "Amazing Stories" , and "Weird Tales" made people aware of scifi as a genre, becaus eevn though "The War of Worlds" and "2.000 leagues under the sea" helped shape scifi, people didnt yet think of scifi as a genre. Along with everything else that was also the time of the first space operas, including "Star Wars".

It is important to note that history affected scifi. A big example for that is Octavia Butler, who used scifi to spread a strong essage about topics such as racial injustice.

And now, we have finally reached the Golden Age of scifi, when authors like Heinlen, Asimov and Clarke came into picture and made scifi what it is today. Scifi was not about building character anymore, t wa sabout scientific ideas and their ramifications. The well known piece of literature "Dune" by Frank Herbert had so much impact on how sicfi went but also how it was split.

With the arrival of Dune, scifi got split into two parts, hardcore scifi and soft scifi. This made so many people fight due to hardcore scifi fans sating that soft scifi fans werent "real" fans and soft sicfi fans just wantign to enjoy their movies and book. It notable though, that soft scifi was usually more successful with the box office. Int became more popular in the 70s and 80s with movie ssuch as Star Wars, Back to the Future and many more. While hardcore scifi movie spopular to us are movies like "2001: The Space Odyssey", "The Annihilation" and "Arrival".

For a quick runup hardcore scifi mainly focuses around worldbuilding and science over characters and plot or focuses on chemistry, physics, biology etc , while soft scifi focuses around characters and the plot more that worldbuilding and science, or focuses on sciences like psychology, sociology, political sciences etc.

But generally speaking scifi movies have also been here for a long time, maybe not a long time, maybe not as long a sbooks but still they date back to 1902 with "A trip to the moon". While "2001: Space Odyssey" was the height of visual scifi and maybe scifi as a whole.

You may think that books and films are the only media that mad e an impact on the sicif genre but that is not correct. Video games were also a major help to develop scifi as a genre and played a huge role in its popularity, especially in recent years and they also helped push credibillity for scifi as a whole.

SCIFI: SUBGENRES

I believe that we are all aware that scifi is a genre, and obviously like every other it has its own subgenres. While we talked about hardcore and soft scifi, there are way more subgenres that we can come across in the scifi genre as it is. But lets take look at them one by one.

Millitary scifi: As the name suggests millitary scifi, is a subgenre that distinctly revolves around the envirnment of the millitary. Most of the time characters are a part of a military organization and usually the plot will revolve around a war that might take place and/or millitary conflict.

Robot fiction: I believe the majority of us is familliar with this term and even if youre not it is easy to make out what it is by the name. Uusally media of this subgenre revolve around robotics typically relating to the work of Isaac Asimov and the ideas advanced in his robot series.

Social scifi: Fiction in which future societies are extrapolated, explained and often criticised, usually for the purpose of social satire. The social sciences are the main theme of this topic, however that doesnt mean that you wont see technology and science play a distinctly important role in this society. Certain writers that publish works dont prefer to label it as socal scifi and mostly stil with speculative fiction due to the stigma attached to science fiction, especiall when technology and science dont play a big part on the plot.

Space opera: Personally space operas are my favourite media. It is one of the more confusing and ill-defined terms the genre has to offer. It often refers to a long running series based on space with many continuing story arcs. They are usually based in space, hence the name, have a large number of characters and focus on epic fictional events, such as galactic wars.

Steampunk: The basic idea of steampunk is the introduction of futuristic concepts into an earlier setting, or vice versa. It argely focuses on the "age of steam" and the perceived inventiveness of industrial engineers. Since the 1980’s steampunk has grown beyond a simple literary genre and expanded into a large-scale artistic and cultural movement.

Cyberpunk: It focuses between the link of biology and technology and highlights and explores humanities relatoonship with computer systems. Cyperpunk niche g hand in hand by social decline.

Biopunk: It focuses on the link between genetic engineering and bio-technology.

Nanopunk: It is closely related to cyberpunk and biopunk, with the only difference that it focuses on nanotechnology.

Superhero fiction: Another one of my favourites, and as resources point out, it is still unsure whether or not superhero fiction belongs in the scifi genre or the fantasy one. Many also believe that it belongs in its own genre. But th emajority of people believe that it is a scifi subgenre.

Voyages extrodinaires: Jules Verne usually used this term to characterize his own work way before the scifi genre was discovered and named. In our days, this term can be placed upon works that are immediately influenced and inspired by Verne or works that use the same format as his own works.

Scientific romance: This term has been goingaround beore th eterm scifi was coined. It refers to the wrokds of early Bristish scifi writers.

Gothic scifi: Gothic scifi is a blurring on the line between gothic horror and scifi. It often takes gothic concepts such as vampires, werewolves and such and tries to explain them with scientific terms.

Mundane scifi: It is science fiction whcih uses the currently available or even achievable technology. The writers of works which fall into this genre usually aim to create realism, although this subgenre is ore of a movement.

Scifi/horror: It is a mix between horror and scifi

Scifi/comedy: a mix between scifi and comedy

Scifi/fantasy: Although usually opposed this subgenre mixes elements of the scifi world such as science and technology with elements of the fantasy world as as magic.

Apocalyptic scifi: A widly knwon subgenre which revolves around a cataclysmic event thay plays a huge role on society or even the whole human race, such as a zombie apocalypse or the end of the world.

post apocalyptic fiction: This subgenre usually revolves around the aftermath of a cataclysmic event and how it impacts the characters but also the changes sociaety and the world faced.

Zombie fiction: Most of the time it is considered to be straight up scifi without any doubt. An individual story about zombies, the majority of the times zombie apocalypse, can fall into more than one of these subgenres. But it usually falls under the post apocalyptic scifi subgenre because we are talking about the affects of the zombie apocalypse.

Alien invasion: As the name suggests we are talking about an alien species invading the planet and the attempts of humans to survive

Alien conspiracy: Fiction in which the existence of aline life, or the goverments interaction with alien, is hidden from the public.

Time Travel: Again as the title suggests, time travel is a subgenre which revolves around characters travelling back or forwrd in time and many times we see them come back and try to warn people of the current times for a catastrophic event, or if they moved backwards in time we see them try to chnage the pace of history

Alternate history: Evene though it can fall under many genres Alternate history converges with the "social science fiction", "time travel" and "pararell universe" subgenres of scifi.

Lost Worlds: A continuation of Jules Vernes voyage extrordinaires. This specific subegnre is more of a story telling format than it is a genre and it usually revolves around voyages on forgotten lands and scientific discoveries.

Dystopian fiction: We are all aware of what it is i believe, itdeal with political issues and it usually revolves around rebellious teenagers or people that try to chnage the flow of the world, because usually the said worlds freedoms are limited and generally it loks morality. This is the opposite of a utopian world.

Space Western: One of the lesser known subgenres of scifi, it consists of a future space-bourne society prortrayed as being like that of the American West.

Retro futurism: An attempt to recapture the spirit of the "Golden Ages" of scifi.

Recursive scifi: It is a science fiction in which there are multiple references to other scifi works or which attempts to examine, parody or pay homage to existing science fiction works.

Speculative fiction: This is an umbrella term which includeds the larger genres of scifi such as horror and supernatural fiction.

Slipstream: Highly dubious genre that is still being debated upon if it is a part or not in the greater scifi umbrella.

Pulp scifi: This is not a genre of scifi it just refers to the Golde Age of scifi where pulp, a swe mentioned, was going around.

Scifi fanfiction: Much closely to todays fanfiction, scifi fanfiction are sotries written by fans for an already existing scifi world.

Erotic scifi: Sexually explicit scifi also made by fans.

RESOURCES:

VIDEOS:

The "Complete" History Of Science Fiction

Every Science Fiction Subgenre Explained

Science Fiction: A Complete History

How to Write Science Fiction [ definition ]

SITES:

A Guide to Science Fiction Subgenres

A/N: That was it for today! If you want me to make a more detailed post about anything here or anything else scifi, superhero or space relted please dont be afraid to ask me to do so! Im planning on making a post solely focused of scifi movies so wait for that! Also justa reminder that i am not a proffesional and quite frankly im just really intrested in the subject so please dont send any hate thank you!!

[desperatefunproductions]

The Great Satisfactory State of Play April 2025 #3

Rocky Desert Phase 4 Factories

So we went to the Dune Desert to pay one last visit to Factory Town before it gets destroyed; we popped into the Northern Forest to visit the Phase 2 factories; and now we're about to zip into the Rocky Desert to have a gander at the Phase 3 rigmarole.

And here we are on the natural bridge that connects Northern Forest to Rocky Desert. In the distance, we can see several factories, two of which feed the reactor on the opposite side of the big rock tower. So we travel west, then up the slope...

And here we have an open air silica and quickwire factory. The golden wire is crapped out in the foreground; silica is made down the back.

And where does the raw quartz come from to feed the machine? Well...

It comes from the bottom floor of the steelworks immediately below us, since the reactor doesn't use all that much silica, and I have more than enough being belted from deep within the immense cave that spans the entire width of this biome. It was a cinch to add a splitter and get that sorted!

Iron plate, silica, steel beams go out past the encased industrial beam factory in the distance, which adds much needed EIBs to the feed. Without these, the reactor stops hard.

An early WIP shot of the reactor. Obviously it's an uranium reactor, that also makes plutonium fuel rods for recycling. This was before I added the assemblers and manufacturers needed to finish that job. But that was then...

...this is now. The quickwire and silica are trained down this line to the far distant factory on the shoreline. But there's a factory closer, and newer, and it's the best example of my idea of the Stack. Shall we have a closer look?

That box in the foreground is from a mod, that allows you to tap power from train lines without needing a station. The modernist thing on the left is the caterium smeltery. That's all it does. So we skip that and hover along the power line to the skeletal one behind it. That's the Stack for electromagnetic control rods.

The idea of the Stack is simple. Each floor is dedicated to a single step in the manufacturing process. I tend to forget that because compactness. In the distant left, foundries and smelters feed copper and iron into the Stack.

Ground floor, iron and copper ingot arrival, copper sheet making. Please mind your step as getting bowled from stepping on the belts may offend (they're sent to one corner.) Going up.

Belt bridge porn. Where was I? Oh yes.

Second floor, copper wire. Note that my prefabs for 8 constructors are actually 4x4 rather than 5x5, which I use for the assemblers further up. Step to the rear of the car please.

Third floor, quickwire extrusion. This setup with the mesh flooring (from a mod) actually works quite well as it offers plenty of space for in- and output belting. Everybody up!

Fourth floor, iron pipe manufacture. With this half-floor we see one flaw of the Stack concept, if you consider empty floor space a flaw. And now we have to step outside the concrete pillar framework to look into the next floor up.

Fifth floor, AI limiters and stators. Yes, on the same floor, because it occurred to me that there was no logical reason to put them on separate floors. But now I wonder if another half-floor would have been so bad. Stators in back, AI limiters in front.

The prefabs include built-in logistics floors, and conveyor supports for the inputs, assuming everything, er, enters the same way. And those go up to...

Top floor, ECR final join and dispatch. I have kluged up two drone ports at the reactor to receive these, and also supply said drones with fuel rods for plenty of power.

So that's my first true Stack! So what came before?

This is what came before: This damnable thick square building that makes parts for and does final join on modular engines and adaptive control units. On top are five drone ports. One receives fuel for the others. The two we can see receive smart plating and automated wiring. And there's that train station at the bottom of a rather entertaining ramp. Let's look inside.

Cool! We have a satellite HUB terminal (from a mod), and all other mod cons! Not to mention well-lit, at least in these lower floors, I skipped lighting as I went up and got impatient.

So many foundries and coated iron plate assemblers. Oh, and steel beam constructors.

I can't wait for the day when 1.1 is made mod friendly. This form of compact vertical transport is... well, it's not the going-up, it's the going-down. A 20m drop is hair-raising.

Silicon circuit boards and so, so many screws. There's about eight belts of them going up the south wall.

And this is where everything ends up: the roof. That building in the centre is where all the spaghet for dispatching the Phase 3 goods and receiving Phase 2 is. And dispensing fuel. And feeding the sink. While we're up here, let's look around:

So many miners! Copper, iron, limestone, it's all here and all getting exploited a mile into the ground.

In back of the tower are the wet concrete refineries on the left, and the steamed copper sheet works. These were difficult to make, since I was, apparently, right on the edge of where I could place water extractors.

The mighty metal-roofed motor factory system! In the back, the double A-frame houses the solid steel ingot foundries; each different roofline indicates a separate stage of motor production. Copper ingots are belted in to a wire factory in the foreground.

The ground floor is marked with a coloured floor and path patterns, to highlight where you can walk from one end of Rocky Desert Motors to the other.

All of these constructors are making screws. All 64 of them. So. Many. Screws. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was running Satisfactory+.

And here we have a distant shot of the abominations I made on the West Coast. There's a basic aluminium ingot factory, spagged to a hastily made heat sink factory and fuel packing plant, and also a massive refinery for making residual rubber and plastic to feed the tower. Coke, rubber and plastic are supplied by train, obviously. There's also a little fuel power plant that I really need to either redo or replace.

Actually this whole shebang desperately needs reworking. If I can rework the plant to make recycled rubber and plastic, that should improve output immensely.

Aaand that's where I am right now. In my pad of Warwick 14J5 I have a plan for a grid system that I can use to rebuild Factory Town... but first I have some more damned mining to do. I promised my passengers I'd have them in the North America Nebula by Easter.

Also, over Easter and possibly starting Wednesday, I'm going to reset Windows and see if that fixes the stability issues I've been having while streaming. Which means ensuring all my documents are backed up. So excuse me, I have to take my Type 8 Ye Olde Rock Thudder out to do just that...

[liketwoswansinbalance]

@discjude Ohh, so that's where that point came from, the book itself! Also, there’s a few things here I don’t remember, and when I started to draft this response, I didn't have my books with me, so I don't exactly have that good of an answer to everything right now. What was his talk with Sophie about?

Arpeth sounds far better! Don't know why the common name ended up being Jaric. "Warpath" evokes "path to war," which certainly describes Japeth's becoming the Snake well, so I've no notes and you get a standing ovation for the pun, even if it was unintentional.

Do you mean "happy," as in reunited with Aric's soul, by death? Or being freed of the burden of the throne? And could the Storian have fated Japeth to die because it was the easiest way out for him? Versus, a potentially lesser chance at a happy life?

Again, I don't remember the specifics of the F+B dialogue. What did Tedros-as-Aric say?

Against my better judgment, I think it'd be nice if the Storian had pitied him, but it feels unlikely.

Now, I wonder if the Pen specifically likes the blood of Mistrals because it impales the OG prequel Rafal twice, and has acquired a "taste" for it?

Random point: I think the irony of Agatha becoming Camelot's queen and Sophie not getting what she wanted was a great ending. The TSY ending fit practically all the characters (or at least Sophie) much better than did TCY ones. Sophie getting a supposed True Love in Hort went against all the earlier messaging, even if they could probably also qualify as Evil's love. (Honestly, I don't like Hort, but Aladdin is still the worse of the two, and sometimes, Hort has sympathetic moments.)

I think I've seen the flanderization, yeah. It seems to happen to a lot of love interests in general, even Tedros, who isn't actually an absolute idiot.

Which plot point? The reason why I hate Aladdin is because he caused the first quarrel between Rhian and Rafal (his removal from the plot = no conflict—at the same time, I want conflict, so it's a double-bind, having him or not), and his narration/thought process/actions just struck me as annoying. Also, yes! I was expecting some kind of ending for him, where he becomes the Sultan, probably an awful one, just because of the set-up about Pasha Dunes and Reena his granddaughter, but I wonder if this Aladdin is only an Aladdin with the same name as the main series one, like James Hook versus TLEA undead Hook?

Ooh, a Sader brother could've been interesting!

Yes! Thank you for the validation of "Evil can love"! (I intentionally decided to use Sophie and Agatha, platonically, because I think they're the example that would've been met with the least resistance since Sophie and Rafal could've had potentially insincere love, depending on interpretation, and Hester and Anadil were not exactly canon for a while.)

Yes, I thought it was either close to being canon or I've heard it often enough, that Aric was grappling with That Internalized Trait. (And even Tedros did, in resisting his attraction to Filip, so I think you're right. It must be common in their world.)

I think I can guess what the Rhian II theory is. Would you mind if I asked about it?

That's funny because the inverse happened to me with you! I saw Japeth as the Snake Guy from TCY, who's just another Evil sorcerer and Rafal's "copycat," but they're both nuanced characters in their own right. So, I can't complain. I was just delusional because I believed in Sophie and Agatha's povs thinking Japeth was Rafal when he was first introduced, and got a bit miffed that he wasn't. But I can't fairly or reasonably blame him for the imaginary "sin" of: Not Being Rafal. That'd be insane, haha. Also, I still love the QFG near-hanging scene inexplicably. That was one of Japeth's best moments, I thought, even if it later turned out to be staged for Rhian's good PR.

Oh. Good point. I do see it as sweet, from his side, if not Aric's. Happy Pride Month to you!

Oof, poor Japeth, if that's the case around the things to be "cured," in either sense. But, it's interesting nonetheless—the next time I read TCY, I'll have to look out for that belief in Rhian II. It could possibly explain his distancing himself from Kei, aside from the betrayal and Sophie's involvement.

I am really curious to see your take on Aric and Japeth's relationship. I mean, the beloved author and creator of the series have addressed this issue with 'in their own sick wicked way they had loved' so yeah it's cannon cool. But I feel like the further implications of this? We saw evil 'unable to love'/ 'only ever have true love'. From what I remember Japeth mentioned Aric more than once, how they would write letters to each other how Aric 'begged' for Japeth to come to him but Japeth never did so and then bro spent the last of his life trying to bring Aric back to life. There are so many implications, the dynamics, the context, everything, but I love how you theorise and explore all sorts of ideas so I can't help but wonder how you view all of this :D.

Thanks for taking the time to read this and have a great day/afternoon/evening/night!

Sorry to disappoint, but I should probably start off with the fact that I don't ship Japeth and Aric. While I like Japeth, partly in thanks to @discjude winning me over, and further recognizing the tragedy surrounding him, his relationship to Aric never canonically does him any favors. And, with Aric, I think I'm apathetic enough towards him that I don't actively hate him; I just don't care about him. In truth, if not for Aladdin's pitiful existence actively hammering on my nerves, Aric would probably be my least favorite character.

The first thing I want to address is that Evil being "unable to love" or "only Evers have True Love" is actually false, despite the many times the series puts forth this claim. Yes, we are explicitly told this "fact" in book 1, but the book's point was to subvert/deconstruct the myth.

First, by the end, with her self-sacrifice, Sophie proved Evil's capacity to love, meaning: Evil being unable to love is just a commonly-held belief in the Woods, not the absolute, be-all, end-all truth.

(And the belief could've been perpetuated by "Rafal's"/Rafal's way of running his institution that literally shapes the Wood's perceptions and the future. Alongside this claim about love, consider the existence of the Doom Room, created to punish a singular mutinous class of first-years, based on a now-revised philosophy about Nevers' learning from harsh treatment and (probably) disproportionate retribution that an excessively stubborn dead man already too entrenched in his old ways never had the chance to change because he died—and this is all aside from the fact proven by the display at the very first Circus of Talents, that Rafal's students did indeed learn better when he finally listened to them and mentored them as an equal in their position (as Fala). In addition, the statement: "Nevers learn from deprivation" similarly reveals how the Woods really do generalize about Nevers—until Sophie, the "exception" and iconoclast, comes along.)

Second, Sophie's non-romantic True Love at some point was said to be Agatha, and I think this established fact is consistently maintained throughout the series, even if other elements overshadow it, so not only Evers can have True Love.

My take on Japeth and Aric is that Japeth's love for Aric, however twisted or sincere it was, drove him to become the Snake, follow along with Rhian's Camelot ambitions and initial staging-terrorism-and-hostage-scenarios plot, and commit all his other, duplicitous, villainous acts throughout TCY, later by his own will, which is a motive I find fascinating (and contradictory about the nature of the Woods' Good and Evil souls, whenever Japeth is set next to the rather grey Rhian).

So, while Japeth's devotion to Aric could be viewed as romantic, it's just not appealing to me, personally, due to the relationship's ambiguous one-sidedness in particular. And, I think I once may've read something about Japeth as a Never fighting for True Love (or his perception of "True Love") and Rhian as an Ever fighting for power (the Nevers' ideal fairy-tale ending) being ironic or inverted in some way. That's also some world-building fodder to consider, or even just another point that could overturn the Rules as we know them, yet again. I'm not surprised by that subversion honestly. Japeth is very much like his parents. Nearly every SGE villain Soman has ever written has been motivated by the pursuit of love, or by the overwhelming force of their own (often obsessive) infatuations (with the exception of somewhat flatter, less-developed, secondary villains, like Aric, Vulcan, Marialena, and Peter Pan).

Also, thanks for the compliment!

[nicad13]

How well does The Mandalorian pass the Bechdel Test?

I kinda got grumbling about representation of women in Mandalorian fanfiction as it relates to the abundance of nameless reader-insert characters a couple days ago. Namely, the general failure of the Bechdel test – does the story have two women who talk to each other about something other than a man? One step further – do both women have names? Two steps further – do they talk about something other than babies?

It shouldn’t seem that radical – two named characters who are women who talk to each other about something other than men or babies. Yet so few fanfics pass this benchmark. Among a set of authors who I suspect are mostly women.

Granted, the source material of the show presents a challenge in that the focus is, well… a man and a baby. And then I had to think about how long it took for the show itself to pass the Bechdel test, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen until late in the second season.

The first time two named women appear in the same episode was s1e4: Sanctuary, with Cara Dune and Omera. While Omera is named in the credits, I don’t think anyone calls her by name during the episode. I’m also pretty sure Cara and Omera don’t talk to each other directly. The closest we get is when Cara is telling the villagers they have to abandon their homes and Omera protests. Omera later serves Cara a beverage and Cara thanks her. Aaaannnd… that’s it! I don’t feel like this passes.

The next time we get two named women in the same episode is s1e8: Redemption, with the Armorer and Cara. Whether “the Armorer” as a title counts as a name is up for debate. I guess Din goes nameless most of the season as well, so I’ll allow it. Regardless, in their limited time together in the Forge, they don’t really interact. Cara notes that the Imps will arrive soon and the Armorer instructs them on how to escape. Aaaannnd… that’s it! Season One fails the Bechdel test.

The next time we get two named women in the same episode is s2e2: The Passenger, with Peli Motto and Frog Lady. Again, whether “Frog Lady” actually counts as a name is up for debate, and I don’t think Peli is ever called by name, either. They do have a brief, but direct, conversation confirming the presence of Mandalorians on Trask, albeit it’s in Frog language and we can’t understand it. I’d give this one a maybe, depending on how strong one wants to hold to the criteria.

Next up: s2e3: The Heiress, with Bo-Katan Kryze and Koska Reeves. I don’t think Koska is ever called by name. There’s some battle interaction, and they’re having a conversation at a table, though we don’t hear any of it. Weak maybe.

Next up: s2e5: The Jedi, with Ahsoka Tano and Morgan Elsbeth. Finally, a solid pass! Ahsoka and Morgan have a direct verbal exchange at the beginning of the episode regarding the well-being of the townspeople and they are both called by name. Ahsoka questions Morgan directly after winning their duel, and there is, presumably, an interrogation, though it’s off-screen.

Next up: s2e7: The Believer, with Cara and Fennec Shand. Both are named and they have a conversation about setting up their strategy, and closely coordinate their shots while Din and Mayfeld escape the compound. Solid pass.

Last up: s2e8: The Rescue, with Cara, Fennec, Bo-Katan, and Koska. Bo-Katan calls Koska off of Boba at the cantina; battle planning directly between Bo-Katan and Cara, with Fennec participating in the general planning; the radio exchange between Bo-Katan and the unnamed Imperial coms officer; some battle conversation between Cara, Fennec, Bo-Katan, and Koska as they mow Stormtroopers down on their way to the bridge; and a few direct lines between them on the bridge itself. Solid pass.

So, out of 16 total episodes in the first two seasons so far, only 7, fewer than half, have at least two women who appear in the same scenes, and only three of those are what I would call a solid pass. Not a fantastic track record.

What surprises me here is the number of near misses – four of the seven came so close but didn’t quite make it. It becomes more surprising when you consider Dave Filoni’s prior work. While the male:female character ratio in The Clone Wars wasn't stellar, whenever two women were in the room together, they almost always had names and they almost always had direct conversations with each other about politics or battle strategy or something. Rebels was even better by way of Hera Syndulla and Sabine Wren together on the same ship. My memory of Jon Favreau’s prior work isn’t super-sharp on this subject, but the MCU didn’t offer a whole lot of opportunities (though I admit I’ve managed to miss most of the newer Spiderman stuff). Maybe Dave needs to steer Jon in the right direction on this for later seasons.

Point being: one of the great uses of fanfic is filling the gaps left by the source material. The Mandalorian has some huge gaps in terms of women with names who talk to each other (about something other than men and babies). The potential is enormous. Did Cara and Omera develop a friendship on Sorgan? Cara and Fennec seem to get along well – how did they become such fast friends? Why is Koska so loyal to Bo-Katan? These are all easy things to tuck in around our favorite Man and Baby. Like, you know Cara and Fennec are having conversations about their favorite guns while Din’s in the back losing his mind over finding Grogu. It’s not hard. (And yes, I’m working on a few of these, myself.)

I’ll also admit I’ve been so wrapped up in my own writing lately that I haven’t had much time to check out AO3. If anyone has some good examples of Mando fanfic that passes the Bechdel test, please feel free to reblog with recommendations! OCs with names - actual developed characters who are their own people - count as well! (Conversations can, of course, include our favorite Man and Baby, but just not be limited to them.)

Happy writing!

[whatitis-inside]

Crazydaysandnights have posted that Timmy has been saying awful things about Zendaya behind her back as a revealed blind item (meaning the poster has enough info to believe its real). He did also apparently show up out of his mind fucked up after a night out for one of the dune morning show interviews. Pretty sure he was also high during the Dune promo tour in Venice when he was wearing the white outfit (which was turned into a meme) and also during the Minecraft interview in London when he is wearing the blue Celine hoodie.

I'll do it in points, might be easier for you to get the meaning of it.

1. Crazywhatever had a problem with Tim even before he was this famous. A rumour has it that they are besties with Lizzo and therefore they paint him as a douchcanoe that is mean to everyone. You are again giving an example of someone I don't see as a trustworthy source - even when it comes to rumours which is laughable really.

2. Tim might not like some people he has to work with - like everyone in the world really. Me in the first place in that category but that doesn't mean he will act unprofessional and be purposefully mean to his costars. Not to mention that sorry but if you think that Zendaya would just hear about it and be okay with it to play pals with him in front of the cameras then you're sorely mistaken. They are both professionals that know a thing or two about the work they are doing.

3. Maybe you should pay closer attention to the words you use, I'll give you examples: "did also apparently show up", "Pretty sure he was also high". None of these things is true, you just consider them as one. You act like they are the truth, but you have no basis to prove any of it. That's why it's all about 'apparently', 'I'm pretty sure' and 'rumours'.

4. Even if he came to one of these things you've mentioned high or after a night of partying - like lord heavens, he is a guy that worked his ass for this movie and it was finally out, God forbid he would celebrate it - with his pals and/or crew. The audacity of this lad really ...

5. I don't really know why you come here with all of this - like I frankly don't care what's your opinion about him. You seem to base it all on rumours, what some blogs on ig are saying and whatever is out there that proves to you he is a mean douchebag. You don't want to see him in any different way so just do it. Just don't like him, say he is a typical Hollywood guy that treats chics like hell and wants to just fuck around. Really just do it. But have in mind that I don't fucking care about what you think. And if you are his fan, as if you follow him as an actor and human, then I can only feel sorry for him - that the fame he so much wanted, led him to have 'fans' like you. That will believe he is an asshole citing the sources like "crazywhatever" and "deuxmoi".

6. If you have something else to say do it on your own blog. I don't care about what you think. Or about your so-called 'proves'.

[mandoalorian]

my time to shine- may i request a cobb vanth x reader 👀👀 maybe a enemies to lovers question mark trope-

for example maybe when din meets cobb, the reader is just like ohmyfuckhessohot but also fuck him for being so cocky i want him underneath me once i pin his arrogant ass down- and like 👀 maybe yk what that happens, and the reader can feel his bulg- 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨 i have nothing but horny thots for middle-aged men in my peabrain- s'ok if you don't do this- just horny thots

By The Fire (Cobb Vanth x Female Reader) SMUT

hiya bae!!! im so sorry this request took SO long to get out but i hope you enjoy it none the less xx

if you have a request feel free to submit it via my ask inbox!

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2k

Warnings: SMUT; close to female receiving oral but not all the way, cock warming, spanking, riding, unprotected (use protection!)

So he was different, and you couldn't figure out how you were supposed to feel about him. If the Maker had just granted you a second alone with Din, you would have spoken to the Mandalorian about him. Din was always good at weighing people up from first glance. You, on the other hand, had always been called 'naïve' and 'gullible'. You tried working on yourself; you really did- and you believed you were improving. But when you met the marshal of Mos Pelgo; he threw you completely of course. You couldn't do anything under his watch. You failed to perform the most basic of the tasks… you couldn't hotwire the speeder bike you had claimed, nor could you manoeuvre the squirming child into his high chair. And it didn't go unnoticed.

Din grabbed your arm and took you to one side. "What is the matter with you?" his question was harsh, and came out as more of a statement. You felt yourself fluster, defensively folding your arms across your chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." you scoffed and rolled your eyes. Under his beskar helmet, Din was not amused. He narrowed his dark eyes and pressed his lips into a fine line.

"Ever since he joined us, you've been acting off." Din said matter of factly. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"Oh," you shrugged nonchalantly. "You mean the Marshal?"

"Yes. The Marshal." Din spat. "Cobb Vanth is an elite. He is smart. He knows what he's doing. And he owes me one. He's going to help us get off this sand-rock of a planet, and then you can finally forget about him. Because that's what it is, isn't it? He's on your mind and it's distracting you."

Maker, he was good. He could read you like a book. Everything Din had said was true, no matter the level of denial that you were in. You stood there, comprehending his words, and after a few prolonged beats of silence, you took a deep breath.

"No." you shakily exhaled, gritting your teeth and pursing your lips together into a pout.

You cursed yourself. You were a bad liar. The worst Din had ever met… and Din had encountered plenty of scoundrels in his adventures across the galaxy. Din didn't answer you. He didn't need to. He knew you well enough to understand what exactly was going on in that little mind of yours. There was no use playing innocent with him.

The Marshal’s eyes were burning into your back. You hated it. You hated him. You hated the way he spoke to you. He over-explained everything, like you were too young and innocent to understand. He was so cocky and so arrogant. You tried your best to devise an efficient way to get off Tatooine, with his help, but he just kept shutting you down. You couldn't understand it. He wouldn't listen to you, and it irked you so much.

You hated the smirk that graced his lips and that sultry gaze he shot you from across the cantina as he sipped on his spotchka. You hated the way it made you feel. You hated the burning sensation that erupted in the pit of your stomach and the way you'd have to press your thighs together in order to suppress the need for some kind of sexual release. Never in your life had you met a man who could do so much to you, without doing much at all.

"I'm going to travel to the sand dunes, and I'm taking the child. Hopefully I can find some jawas who will trade parts with me. Then we can get started on the Crest's repairs and get off this planet." Din informed you. "I need you to wait here with the Marshal, make sure he doesn't do anything suspicious while I'm gone."

"I thought you said you trusted him," you knotted your eyebrows together. "That he 'owed you one'."

"He does owe me one. I just don't know if he's a man of his word." Din sighed before spinning around on his heel and walking towards the speeder bike with the child. Pft, a man of his word. That scoundrel? Not a chance.

Nights on Tatooine were warm and humid, as you had found out. The Marshal, who you had learned was named Cobb Vanth, had told you to collect sandwood from the outskirts of Mos Pelgo and bring them back to his hut. You did so, begrudgingly following his instruction, and watched him make a fire.

There was something so erotic about the way his biceps flexed as he quickly rubbed each piece of wood together, trying to ignite a flame. Beads of sweat laced his hairline as he concentrated, occasionally squinting to see if his attempts had made a spark. It didn't take long before Cobb created a roaring campfire. It was nice, amber embers floating through the air as you perched yourself on a log. Cobb discarded his armour and sat opposite you.

The atmosphere was nice and…. sensual. The only thing was, neither you or Cobb hate uttered a word to each other since you came back with the sandwood. It would've been awkward if there wasn't the undeniable sexual tension in the air. You were the first to speak.

"I don't know if I trust you." you said, immediately regretting the words after they departed your lips. There was a beat of silence.

"Smart." Cobb smirked, and you felt yourself swell up with more fury. His voice was so rich. You hated it. You hated it.

"You hardly think I am smart when you've refused to listen to me all day." You tsked, shuffling closer to the fire and warming yourself up. "My plan wasn't flawed. If you had just listened to me, me and the Mandalorian could've been off this wretched hive hours ago."

Cobb nodded his head slowly. "You're probably right."

"So what's your deal?" you groaned, tossing your hair back and closing your eyes.

What a sight. Cobb admired your stretched out form, his eyes boring into the skin of your chest and up the length of your neck. You had ditched your cloak, leaving it to just crumple by your feet. You were glowing. Cobb was sure you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen enter Mos Pelgo; and he wanted to prove that to you in some way or another. When you opened your eyes, Cobb was on his knees, in-between your legs.

He looked up at you, his eyes completely lust blown and he swiped his tongue over his lower lip. He looked primal. He needed you. "Wasn't listening to your stupid plan because I didn't want you to leave so early." Cobb admitted, his voice gruff and hoarse.

He wanted more. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to weigh you up as well. What was your deal? Were you courting the Mandalorian? Surely not. There was no denying the tension between you two. The cod piece of his armour had hid the erection you had given him all day. He shamefully had to relieve himself in the restroom of the cantina. He just couldn't get enough of the way your lips twisted around the fruit you sucked on, and the way your eyelashes framed your doe-like eyes.

He placed a big hand on the inside of your thigh, where your skin was as soft as cream, and pushed your tunic up, exposing your panties. You stiffened up under his rough touch. This was exactly what you wanted. There were no signs of Din or the child. It was just you and Cobb Vanth. He shuffled closer to you and began to plant sloppy kisses along your thighs. You hummed in delight as his greying stubble tickled your skin and you felt him smirk against your body. That damned smirk.

You ran your fingers through his locks of hair, occasionally tugging. His groans under your touch vibrated through your core and left your panties ruined from arousal. His lips nudged against your clit, only the thin material of your underwear gating his tongue from your cunt. You craved him so desperately. You needed him inside you. But he was teasing.

"You've been calling the shots all day." You whimpered as he licked a stripe down your pussy. You went to pull your panties off but his large hands stopped you.

"I always call the shots." he growled in your ear sending shivers down your spine.

"Not tonight." You smiled, tugging on his hair and pulling his head away from your core. You stood up, taking extra care not to stumble and fall into the fire, and dragged him to his feet. You pushed him onto the log where you had been sitting and sat on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and straddling him.

And oh Maker, he was hard. You could feel his entire length throb and press against his stomach as you grinded your hips, slow at first. Achingly slow. Cobb lowered his hands to your waist and pulled you closer to his chest, desperate for you to increase your speed. "More." he gasped, nuzzling his head into your neck and biting down into your skin.

Your grip on him tightened. You wanted to go slow; and tease him for as long as possible. He deserved it. You wanted to edge him until he was crying out your name, begging you to let him cum. But you needed a release too. Fuck, you needed him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and hovered over his lap. "Pants off." you commanded, to which he happily obliged.

Within seconds, the Marshal had pulled his pants off. You spat into the palm of your hand, saliva dripping amongst your fingers and grabbed his length, rubbing it as you slowly sank on top of him.

He was big. He was so big. His cock throbbed inside you. It stretched out your walls and you could feel every vein. You held yourself on top of him for a few moments as you adjusted to his length. Cobb dipped his hand down and began to circle your clit a few times, earning a few delicious moans.

It wasn't long until you were balls deep into him. His cock was amazing. As you began to ride him, you realised it curved in just the right place, and with every thrust, he hit your sweet spot. You knew you wouldn't last long. "Fuck, so good," Cobb grunted as you bounced on top of him. "Such a pretty girl."

"Don't wanna leave," you gasped. "Wanna feel your cock fill me up every day. Wanna feel you cum inside of me. Please."

"Keep doing that." The Marshal urged, his hands pressing into the small of your back. "I'm close."

"Want you to fill me up, make a mess of me." You were practically screaming, tears pricking your eyes as he began to buck his hips upwards, his thrusts meeting yours.

"Yeah? Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" Cobb cooed and you let out a little squeal as he spanked your bare ass- the sound echoing through the desolate village.

He drove you straight to your climax, your cunt clenching around him, tight like a vice, which sent him to his own orgasm. His load shot up inside of you, sending bolts of pleasure into your body. He pressed his forehead against your chest as your rhythm became more slow and sloppy until eventually he softened inside of you. Reluctantly, he pulled out, and you whimpered at the lost feelling of him.

"Next time you find yourself on Mos Pelgo, I'll be the one calling the shots." he growled, biting down on your ear lobe.

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):  @supernaturalgirl666 @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

Tale of the Nine Tailed: Analysis and Theories of Ep 8

Welcome to another edition of Mind Melt On A Bun’s analysis and theories of TOTNT. I hope you all will enjoy this post, but fair warning it’s once again another VERY LONG POST! So if you want to turn on your thinking cap and face the risk of your brain blowing up into a million pieces then feel free to keep reading!

Snail Bride and Her Husband

Ureongi gaksi (우렁이 각시) or Snail Bride is a Korean legend which tells about a poor farmer who breaks a taboo and marries a woman who is actually a snail. One day while working in the rice paddy field, the farmer says to himself, “Who will I eat this rice with?”. To which a voice replied, “With me.”. Having heard this voice, the man turned around to see who it was, but only saw a snail. After having heard that, the man found that each day after returning home from work, a meal was always prepared for him. 

The farmer was curious of who had been preparing his meal. So one day he pretended to go to work in order to catch a sight of whoever it was that had been preparing his meal. To his surprise, he had seen a beautiful woman emerging from the snail shell. Having been blown away by her beauty, he immediately asked her to live with him instead of returning to the snail shell. However, the woman told him it was not time yet and to be patient. Being the persistent man that he was, he eventually got the Snail to marry him.

The farmer became plagued with the fear that his beautiful Snail Bride might one day be taken away from him so he instructed her to never leave the house. The Snail Bride listened to her husband and did as she was told until one day when her mother-in-law told the Snail Bride to go and deliver lunch to the farmer. And so, the Snail bride did as she was told. However, along the way, the Magistrate who was enamoured by her beauty decided to kidnap her and make her his bride. Despite the farmer’s many efforts, he never found his Snail Bride and ended up dying of a broken heart and being reborn as a blue bird. Tragic I know !!! 

Anyways, when applying this story to TOTNT, you will find that Ji Ah’s boss had shared many similar characteristics to the farmer from the Snail Bride myth such as persistency. Other clues that supports the ideal that Ji Ah’s boss is the farmer can be seen in the conversation between Green Juice Lady. The first clue is his fear of flying. This could be seen as a side effect of him being reborn in a previous life as a blue bird. I bet if Ji Ah used those Eyebrows of a Tiger Glasses, she would see him as a bird blue. 

The second clue was in what the Green Juice Lady said, “ What are you doing here?”. I interpreted this as her knowing him in the past as well as her not expecting to see the farmer’s reincarnated self in the same vicinity as the Snail Bride.

Green Juice Lady Origin 

In Korean mythology, there is a creature by the name of “Dueoksini/Dokeoksini” (두억시니는 ) that kills you by crushing your head (figuratively or literally). In Korean mythology, this creature is seen as an in between of a dokkaebi/goblin and a yokai. Because Dueoksinis have been mostly been forgotten throughout Korean literature, they are usually refer to as being a type of Korean Yokai. 

Or the way I like to view the Green Juice Lady is that she's basically Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, and the Boggart rolled into one. After all its like Frank Hebert once wrote in Dune: “Fear is the mind killer”.

Taluipa

In TOTNT, the character Taluipa is seen as being the goddess of birth and fate, Sansin Halmoni. Besides having the ability of controlling birth and fate, Taluipa also can also foresee the future as well as grant immortality (i.e her husband). Given all of this, it is likely that her child, Bok Gil, would’ve had some pretty powerful abilities because he came from such a superior mother. 

Now not much is known about Taluipa’s son other than he had committed suicide. Furthermore, the act of suicide was seen as a such a bad taboo that ensured he could never be reborn/reincarnated. In the context of TOTNT, it is inferred that even if you sacrifice yourself for the one you love, it is still considered suicide. 

Lee Yeon’s Original Plan For the Imoogi

I think originally Lee Yeon had planned to take the Imoogi into himself and subsequently kill himself. However, when faced with the possibility that this would mean Lee Yeon could not be reincarnated, Ah Eum decided it was better that Lee Yeon killed her because at least she could be reincarnated. 

Now you may think that well if Ah Eum sacrificed herself for the one she loves, isn’t that contradictory to what I said earlier about how sacrificing yourself for the one you love is still considered suicide and thus meant you couldn’t be reborn? It really doesn’t and here’s why. Remember that at this time, Ah Eum already had the Imoogi inside of her so her death by Lee Yeon’s hands were not seen as a sacrificial suicide. Rather, it was seen as him killing a greater evil and preventing the deaths of hundreds. Thus, this meant that Ah Eum could be reincarnated. Had Ah Eum ran into Lee Yeon’s knife or stabbed herself in the temporary moment she gain back control of her body, then that would’ve been seen as sacrificial suicide. 

If both Lee Yeon and Ah Eum were able to find a loop hole at the very last minute that ensured Ah Eum’s reincarnation, I am sure that this time around  Lee Yeon will be able to find a better loop hole given that he has had more time to than previously as well as learning from his past mistakes as it pertains to the Imoogi. I largely believe that this loop hole will have something to do with the favor Lee Yeon had asked of Taluipa’s husband. Maybe the favor Lee Yeon is asking Taluipa’s husband for is the elixir of life that is located in the Underworld (Hint: read my posts about Princess Bari). I think that Lee Yeon will want it just in case either him or Ji Ah dies in their battle against the Imoogi. Such an elixir could revive them!

Taluipa’s Son/Bok Gil = The Imoogi

As previously mentioned, I had theorized that Taluipa’s son, Bok Gil, must have been one hell of a powerful being given that his mom was a powerful Goddess herself. As to what those abilities could have been, it is still a mystery. However, I feel like his powers would’ve been connected the ones Taluipa had (i.e birth, fate, and ability to see what others cannot see). Again, not much was mentioned about him other than he committed suicide and that his name was Bok Gil. 

Now let’s look at the Imoogi, we know that he has the power of life (bringing the bird back to life), death (sucking the life out of his nannies), and rebirth (being reborn as that boy). 

By the way, I think it’s interesting that the cycle of life, death, and rebirth is represented as an “Ouroboros” or a snake eating its tail. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyways back to what else we know about the Imoogi. We know that he was born in a leap year as well as being born in a place between the living and dead (btw Lee Yeon was born in 420AD also a leap year..possible connection somehow?). The Imoogi could also see what others don’t see such as your soul and your deepest emotions.

If you think about it, when Bok Gil committed suicide, his soul/body was neither in the land of the living nor the dead. He was in between those two realms or in limbo. Connecting this to the fact that the Imoogi said he was born in a place between the living and dead, there is a significant possibility that Bok Gil is indeed the Imoogi. Furthermore, if you look at the kinds of power the Imoogi has and the powers that Taluipa has, you will find that they are strangely similar or related. If that doesn’t convince you enough then just compare the voice of Bok Gil to that of the Imoogi!

Imoogi and Lee Yeon

Initially, I had thought the Imoogi had wanted Lee Yeon for his fox bead (a kind of Yeouiju) so that it could become a dragon, but now I am beginning to think there’s more to the story than just Lee Yeon’s bead. If indeed Bok Gil is the Imoogi then I am left to wonder what kind of relationship did Lee Yeon have with Bok Gil before he died. Furthermore, could Lee Yeon have been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide in the first place? If Lee Yeon had been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide, then I can totally understand why Bok Gil/Imoogi would want to try to exact his revenge and/or anger on Lee Yeon. Maybe Bok Gil was jealous of Lee Yeon for getting more attention from his own parents than he was or maybe Lee Yeon got the girl he was interested in or maybe Lee Yeon was really mean and had bullied him or maybe the person who Bok Gil had died for (aka a loved) was somehow connected to Lee Yeon. I don’t know, I’m just purely theorizing and for all we know all the Imoogi wants is just Lee Yeon’s fox bead so that it can become a dragon.

Black and White Imagery

Other things I found interesting is the usage of black and white in Ep 8. For example, the shirts Lee Rang and Lee Yeon wears, the colors of the stones of the “Go Game”, and the cars in the background of the parking lot Lee Yeon was in. 

Typically, the color combination of black and white represents Yin/Yang, Good/Evil, and Life/Death. In either cases, the concept is the same. Both represent the concept of dualism or the ideal that everything is interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated. Meaning you can’t have Yin without Yang, Good without Evil, and Life without Death. Or in the case of Lee Yeon standing in between the two cars and the two doors, both Lee Rang and Ah Eum/Ji Ah’s lives and fate were interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated to that of Lee Yeon’s. 

Episode 9 Predictions

Lee Yeon will get Lee Rang out of the Forest of the Preta and Lee Rang will realize that his brother never really abandoned him in the first place. Additionally, their time in the Forest of the Preta is like a blessing in disguise because it helped both brothers to resolve the misunderstanding that occurred 600 years ago.

Now with Ji Ah, I think she will overcome her fear of the car accident. However I think she will be faced with another fear of hers which is seeing Lee Yeon die. I think she will overcome this too, but the Green Juice Lady will pull out one last trick out of the bag. Instead of making Ji Ah relieve some of her worst nightmares, she will make Ji Ah live in a world where all her dreams have come true such as having her parents back and Lee Yeon by her side. The Green Juice Lady will do this as a way to make sure that Ji Ah would never want to leave. After all, why leave a world where all your dreams come true right? Plus, Ji Ah’s mentality will become weaker because she will start to believe that the dream world she is living in is a reality. Therefore, in order to win against the Green Juice Lady, one must have a strong mind that is not killed by fear nor weaken by fantastical delusions.

This kind of reminds of the creature, “Black Mercy”, from Super Girl. Briefly, “Black Mercy” is alien parasite that makes its host dream their perfect fantasy world while it feeds off of them. The only way for the host to get the “Black Mercy” to detach itself is for the host to realize that the fantasy world they are living in is not real. So for Ji Ah, maybe she would have to do the same on her own or it would take Lee Yeon coming into her dreamworld in order for her to realize this.

Last Remarks

For all of those who are still left confused as to why Lee Yeon chose to save Lee Rang first, you can check it out here:

https://mindmeltonabun-blog.tumblr.com/post/633271037441818624/tale-of-the-nine-tailed-ep-7-thoughts-and

And if you’re too lazy to click/read all of that post, I’ll put it simply here:

In the past, Lee Yeon chose to go after Ah Eum first instead of saving Lee Rang from the villagers burning down the mountain. So this time around Lee Yeon did not want to make the same mistake twice and also Lee Yeon wanted to atone for his past mistakes. Plus, Lee Yeon knew that between Lee Rang and Ji Ah, Lee Rang had the weaker mentality so he would need more saving than Ji Ah would. 

Happy Readings! I need a drink now after writing all of this !

[cursedlore]

Second Impression

Two weeks after Many Thanks.

Better than the first one, right? In which we see a more in depth-conversation between Miss Librarian and Alastair.

Kathrine Snow - The Librarian jordan.nova - Alastair

---

Kathrine Snow Late afternoon sun gilded the sand, the desert air starting to cool after its afternoon bake. The contented crunch of cows and the clucks of chickens filled the air as they ventured from their shelters for the first time since the morning. A soft swish of water accompanied them as the Librarian waded, barefoot, in the little pool between her corps. The wheat reached up past her chest in golden waves.

As she cut and bundled the grain into sheafs, she mulled over the other tasks she still needed to complete. Book printing, shelf making, preparing more stone for the morning. And assisting the testificates—that came first. They wanted bows, and the librarian would make sure they got them.

Another pack of bandits had showed up two days again—come right up to the wall. They’d acted shocked, almost panicked, when she’d yelled at them. When she’d ordered them to leave, one of the bolder ones had tried to talk to her again. She’d cut him off with a warning shot.

They left without too much trouble after that. But appearly they did this often, when they thought she wasn’t home. They’d come right up to the locked doors. Henrik dealt with that when it happened. He had an axe of his own, and could use it well. He could have been a pillager himself, if he’d had a mind to—he had the build for it. But even if he could keep them away from the door, without range, he couldn’t drive them away. He knew better than to challenge them outside. Henrik and Minn had arranged a watch system, recently. Minn had relocated to the top of the tower as a look out, with a system of runners to warn those below when the parties came in sight. They shouldn't need to resort to that, though… not in their own home.

The librarian ripped another batch of stems and bundled them, more aggressively than she needed to, then stopped to scan the edges of the dunes. She squinted at a few dark shapes on the hill—but they didn’t move. Probably cactus.

With a sigh, she returned to her cutting.

jordan.nova Alastair lingered in the shadows of the towering library, arms folded as he leaned against the cool wall. He watched the Librarian busy at her gardening tasks apprehensively.

He'd continued his habit of stealing from the garden over the past half moon, successfully dodging the Librarian catching him out here. Perhaps too successfully, a twist of anxiety suggested. He hadn't heard a single word from her since she'd aimed an arrow between his eyes. Not even a response when he'd followed her example and left a written note in the little box by the rooms she'd made him.

Well. She'd responded. Just not with words.

Alastair shifted and let out a heavy sigh. Anxiety and uncertainty had started to keep him awake at night. His thoughts raced constantly with what she could be thinking of him - could be planning for him.

He had to talk to her. Now, before she finished gardening and he missed his chance. He wasn't keen on following her into the building anytime soon.

With a deep, steadying breath, Alastair pushed himself off the wall and made his way up the dune to the garden.

Kathrine Snow The librarian picked up on his steps almost immediately, turning to face him as he climbed. He thought he caught the smallest start, the slightest tightening of her hand around the hilt of her diamond sword—the one she currently used as a grass-cutter. She had her goggles on again, obscuring her expression.

“—Alastair?” She asked. Her tone gave little away.

jordan.nova Alastair startled a little that she alerted to him so quickly. "Only me," he assured her, his hands raising defensively.

He approached the garden from the far edge, both to not intrude on her personal space and to stay well out of her sword's striking range.

Kathrine Snow The Librarian gave a slow nod, and most of the tension leaked out of her stance. But she tracked him him as he walked and didn’t return to work.

“I hope you’ve been well.”

jordan.nova Alastair paused at the edge of the field, and his brow furrowed uncertainly.

What was that supposed to mean?

"Well enough..." he said cautiously. "And, ah - yourself?"

Kathrine Snow ”Occupied, but well,” she said with another nod.

jordan.nova Alastair frowned slightly as he mulled over that statement. He crossed his arms again and fussed with the folded sleeve of his coat. "Ah. Understandable. I had... wondered why I had not seen you around."

He had seen her, quite often, just never worked up the nerve to approach her. And she certainly had made no attempt to approach him.

Kathrine Snow “I have not seen you, either. Though I’m not surprised,” she said, taking another chop at the wheat.

jordan.nova Alastair's heart leapt to his throat as her sword sliced clean through the wheat stalks. He took a subtle step backwards.

"...not surprised?" Alastair repeated. "You, ah - know where to find me. If you've had need of me."

Kathrine Snow She hesitated at that, then returned to lashing her bundle with twine.

“You strike me as a very... private person. I gather you’d not appreciate my presence.”

jordan.nova Anxiety twisted in his stomach again. "I'm not opposed to your presence," he corrected her nervously.

He caught himself, and turned to pace along the furthest row of wheat stalks. The idle motion soothed his stress and helped him think just a little clearer. "You're so... involved with your villager clan. I had assumed... I'd thought you were displeased with me."

Kathrine Snow Hasn’t seen me, has he? she thought, brow wrinkling. But she soothed the thought. He had stayed here for some time before they talked—long enough to see her meeting the the villagers before now.

“You’ve respected my wishes—not harassed me or the villagers. I have no complaint.”

jordan.nova Alastair's gaze flicked to her, then returned to idly watching his own feet as he stepped through the sand.

"I believe in returning as I take," he explained. "I wouldn't accept your... generous invitation and not do as you've asked of me."

Slowly, he stopped walking. "...I wondered... when you would decide what else you wanted from me."

Kathrine Snow The librarian paused in her work again, her brow furrowed.

“...I do not want anything more from you.”

jordan.nova Alastair's heart sank hard, making his stomach lurch. His eyes flicked over her, searching desperately for any indication that she didn't mean that.

Was she just toying with him? Did she expect him to beg? Or did she really not want -

No. Everyone wanted something. Especially in this awful world.

"For now, perhaps," Alastair finally pressed. He cleared his throat, realizing nerves constricted his voice. "I'm sure you'll think of something you'd like."

Kathrine Snow Discomfort crossed her face, so strong he could see it despite the goggles. She turned away from him and continued hacking at the wheat.

jordan.nova A chill of dread went down Alastair's spine at her look. He clenched his jaw and shoved the feeling down with anger instead.

"Oh - unless you've already got something on your mind?" he pressed, his voice low and tense. He paced down the edge of the garden - not daring a single step closer to her, but at least circling around to the direction she faced. "Too tempting, of course, for you to have never considered the possibilities. The bloodthirsty brutes of this place would do ghastly things for a good witch in their service."

He stopped in front of her, still a careful distance away, and had to purposefully remind himself to breathe. "And here, one has fallen into your debt. How terribly fortunate you are."

Kathrine Snow The librarian looked up at him again. He saw the tension force out of her as she took a long, slow breath.

“I have no need for a witch, Alastair.”

jordan.nova Anxiety twisted like a vice around his heart again, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He held her gaze in an uncertain way that made him feel absolutely pathetic.

A quiet gasp of laughter slipped out of him. Not that he found the situation amusing. He just couldn't help it.

"Someone will..." he realized, quietly. "Is that your plot, then? To sell me out for the right price?"

Kathrine Snow The Librarian recoiled, half-stumbling backward and rising to her full hight.

“No. Never. Why would you have that sort of idea?” She said, something like anger in her voice.

jordan.nova Alastair took a reflexive step backwards when she straightened up, recoiling from her tone.

"You don't want anything else!" he said, defensively. His voice twisted in a way he hated to hear. He swallowed the rest the desperate sound and didn't let himself keep talking.

Kathrine Snow A silence hung between them, punctuated by the sharp pull of Alastair’s breath. Even the Librarian could see that he shook. What did he want from her? Some sort of assurance, she could see that plainly—but she had assured him? She needed him to stop shaking, for the tilt in his voice to stop. How had the conversation gotten HERE.

She gave a long, soft sigh, rubbed her face under her goggles, then squinted at the barrage of light as she pulled them away. Her expression was tired, anxious, and worn.

“Alastair, I know—I have made a guess, on your position. I know the relation between pillagers and witches.” Despite her careful, calm tone, he still flinched. The Librarian took a breath and started again. “I am certain the pillagers that have approached me are looking for you. But they can not have you. If they tried to take you, I would drive them away, if only to spit in their faces.”

jordan.nova Alastair's eyes widened at the mention of the pillagers approaching the Librarian. He'd been correct - they were here, looking for him, trying to persuade her to hand him over.

But, the more she talked, the less sense the whole situation made. She certainly wasn't bluffing - he'd been able to hide under her fortress for so long because she had proven herself able and willing to run the pillagers clear out of the desert. It just didn't make sense. She'd made beyond clear she had no reason or incentive to keep him here, and the pillager clan -

Alastair didn't want to consider what they might do to get their hands on him.

As fear slipped gradually into uncertainty, Alastair studied the Librarian's face for any indication of a ruse. She suddenly seemed a lot less the cold and calculating mastermind he had assumed her to be.

He took a stuttering breath and managed to force his tense shoulders to relax. "Why... allow me to stay here?" he asked in a careful, even tone. "If they're prowling around looking for me, then... it sounds as if I'm only causing you trouble."

Kathrine Snow “They don’t know you are here. Even if you weren’t, they would come anyways,” said the Librarian with another, almost bitter sigh. “I welcome the opportunity to spite them.”

jordan.nova Alastair's brow furrowed, utterly baffled. They didn't know? They didn't know. How could they possibly not know.

Her sentiment didn't entirely answer his question. But, in a way, it did. The clan had evidently been correct to fear the madwoman building a stronghold fortress in the desert. Perhaps he had been correct to hide from them right under her nose.

The enemy of my enemy, it seemed.

"Ah. Well. We do share that sentiment," Alastair said, awkwardly folding his arms across his chest.

His gaze went down to his boots as he idly scuffed his toe into the sand. He frowned thoughtfully. Then, he flicked his eyes back up to her. "I do... apologize. For my misunderstanding," he said in an even tone. "I did not expect..."

A human with a shred of genuine selflessness left in their soul? That was a loaded and complicated thought. "...You aren't what I expected."

Kathrine Snow Confusion crossed her face, but she nodded solemnly.

“You don’t know me. And if you’re running from the pillagers—I can’t blame you for your pre-conceptions. I will do my best to make my intentions clear.”

The field of wheat had dwindled to a few sparse heads, now, waving weakly in the wind. The shadow of the library hung well over the field, casting the space in a mini-patch of twilight. Alastair lingered as she completed her work, watching as she cut and bound the last.

“Are you in need of more supplies?” the Librarian asked, as she stepped out of the water and onto the sand.

jordan.nova Alastair followed her around the edge of the garden, carefully maintaining exactly the same space between them. As he struggled to process what exactly her words - her assurances meant, her question caught him entirely off-guard.

"No, no. I can gather for myself," he assured her, waving his hand dismissively.

He couldn't owe her a greater debt than he already did. But he decided to keep that thought to himself.

Kathrine Snow “The fields takes several days to replenish, and you seem limited in what you’ll eat. If you have a need, take some of these bales. You can replace what you borrow in one of the chests, next time you glean.”

jordan.nova Alastair hesitated. He very badly did not want to take anything else from her.

But, borrowing felt better, more familiar. He could borrow, as long as she let him repay her. And he had been concerned that he'd upset her by refusing the meat she had left in the rooms.

"...fine," he accepted with a nod. "I'll replace it. Thank you."

Kathrine Snow She nodded, stowed her sword, and set two of the bales in his reach at the edge of the field.

“I have other tasks to attend to before evening, so I’ll take my leave,” she said, tugging on her shoes. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

jordan.nova Alastair nodded in return, waiting until she'd stepped away before he approached to collect the offered wheat. "And you, as well," he said, sincerely.

[realisaonum]

book meme

thank you, jen @det395​ !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series? 

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it. 

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut 

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius​ @mouth-rainboy​ @iwonderifthatisart​ @phereinnike​ @magnificentmoose​ @wambsgangs​ @moriarteaparty​ and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf? 

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend. 

[luluxa]

Drifter

Something I wanted to do for ages - an illustration to one of my original worlds. And I’m using James as a character because of reasons :D

Edit: the reasons :)

An intro for an AU fic set in one of my original worlds. Written a while ago and by now I honestly don't know when (if) I'm gonna finish it, and as a standalone bit it doesn't make much sense, but I guess it can provide some context for the art.

Guide You

Summary: Jeremy and Richard are set to have an adventure in the lands they know very little about, and of course, for that they will need a guide.

So it would appear they were going in the entirely wrong direction.

Hammond glares at Jeremy, weariness and anger on his little mug underlined poignantly by a ratty beard.

“You are a bellend, Clarkson,” he says very politely due to their new company, a nice change to all the abuse that was hurled at Jeremy for the last three days.

Their – well, Jeremy doesn’t want to say ‘saviour’, since they weren’t dying or anything – their finder inclines his head at Hammond’s expressiveness. An inclined hand is all the emotion that can be read off him, since he doesn’t remove his scarf or goggles, remaining mysteriously faceless and nameless.

“You could turn around and go in whichever direction you wished,” Jeremy retorts testily. He really doesn’t fancy appearing incompetent and pathetic in front of strangers.

“And then explain to your wife and children I just left you in the desert for the wild goats to feast on your flesh?”

Jeremy huffs, gesturing at his face. “Of course, the wild goats wouldn’t do you any harm since you look so much like one they’d accept you in their ranks immediately.”

Hammons scratches at his beard. “I look like Rob Dawny Jr and you know it. Don’t be jealous of my good looks.”

Jeremy lets out a massively sarcastic snort and the mystery man sighs and switches off the engine of his Falcon.

“Would you prefer to continue with this admittedly entertaining comedy double act or shall we make a camp?”

Jeremy and Hammond both grin at the comment and agree that the camp would be great.

“I’m Ainnay,” the man introduces himself at last, as they all dismount. “You, I gather, are from Ktider.”

“We are,” Jeremy nods, “I’m Clarkson, the midget is Hammond, and we were supposed to make a documentary about the desert but he’d challenged me to a race and then we got into the sandstorm and lost all our bearings.”

“You lost our bearings!” Hammond starts again, jabbing a finger at him. “I told you were going the wrong way!”

“Oh sure, because the direction you had proposed wouldn’t have lead us to the mountains a thousand miles from where we’ve started!”

“Yeah, where there’s at least some civilisation and not endless dunes with just an occasional goat skeleton stuck in a dried bush!”

“Gentlemen, please,” Ainnay interrupts them suddenly, holding his palms up. “It’s very easy to get lost in the desert, especially for someone who’s never been here before. Experienced Freemen sometimes get lost in sandstorms. I wouldn’t fight about it on your place. Of course, going for a race in the desert is another matter entirely,” he adds smoothly.

Jeremy gapes at him for a second, exchanges a glace with Hammond, and they both smirk.

“The race was definitely not my fault,” Jeremy says easily.

“You agreed to that!”

“And you agreed to follow me around! Five years ago, in fact!”

At last, Hammond gives up. “Yeah, all right, that was my biggest mistake and I have no choice but to concede it,” he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

While they were arguing, Ainnay managed to start a fire and somehow task semi-distracted Hammond with erecting a canopy, so Jeremy can celebrate his victory by sitting down and taking off his incredibly annoying itchy scarf.

“Ohh, I swear, it only cumulates the sand in your hair and does nothing to protect you from it!” he groans, scratching at his head vigorously, while Hammond nods along. “This is rubbish!”

Having brought all his pots and little bags under the canopy, Ainnay sits down as well. “It’s cos you’d put it on all wrong,” he comments. “I’ll show you later how it’s done, but one of the main things is that you put your goggles on it, not under it.”

Jeremy shrugs sheepishly and then has to spend a while ignoring Hammond’s speculations about the comfort of goggles-wearing, because Ainnay takes all his head-gear off as well and appears to be immensely pleasurable to look at.

Swallowing and averting his eyes with an effort from the sinfully pretty bow of pink lips, Jeremy hopes his blush will be mistaken for a heat rash. Will he ever be past this stupid and perverse notion of finding men attractive?

“Are you a Nahan, then?” he hears Hammond ask cautiously and looks up to see a red vertical stripe on Ainnay’s forehead, revealed now when he’s flicked the curls away from his face.

“I am. Couldn’t you tell that by me name?” he asks, looking confused, his accent very slight but audible now when Jeremy thinks about it.

Jeremy glances at Hammond, both of them shrugging.

“Not really. Should we?” Jeremy scowls. “Are we being massively ignorant and rude somehow, by any chance? In which case, please excuse us, we’ve literally came over here a week ago and know close to nothing about the local customs.”

Ainnay smiles, eyes squinted and sparkly, making Jeremy’s insides quiver. “No, not so far, although I can tell already you have a potential.”

Jeremy finds it in himself to snort and Hammond grins ruefully – well, he could get away with a lot, being stupidly charming when he wants to, but Jeremy has nothing to counterbalance his bellendism. He rather hopes he won’t offend Ainnay terribly at some point, as he does, indeed, has a lot of potential – and experience – in this area.

“Nahan people have pretty distinct names,” Ainnay explains calmly, making tea. “A Nahan man will always give you just one, it’s our ‘Amma namet’, a tribe’s name, given to us by someone from the tribe we live in. Those names are Ruisk in origin and usually descriptive – mine, for example, is two words: Ain – soft and Nay – hard.” Ainnay glances up from the tea, looking very soft and lovely indeed, and although Jeremy has known him for twenty minutes, he can tell the ‘hard’ part is there as well.

He nods. “Got it. Why is it always just one name?”

Ainnay offers them cups with tea and switches to making some sort of heavily spiced sandwiches that Hammond eyes with deep distrust.

“Do you believe in any sort of higher power – gods, fate, anything at all?”

Jeremy scowls at the sudden subject swerve. “No,” he says categorically, and Hammond shrugs with indifference. The little fussy moron sips the tea and tries very hard to not make a face – Jeremy thinks the tea is perfectly fine, but then again, Hammond is known to make faces at water. “I mean, we have organised religion in Ktider but it’s no more than a collection of fairy tales and a list of ridiculously strict rules and improbable threats of post-mortem punishment to make an illiterate peasant behave.”

Ainnay frowns fleetingly at that. “How odd. Well, here people do believe in higher powers, although no one’s imposing it on them. I would guess it’s because living somewhere as unpredictable and dangerous as a desert makes you invoke anything at all to ease your struggle with the world around.”

Jeremy contemplates it and nods. “Maybe. The seamen are like that as well – every sea-going man I’ve ever known was superstitious as hell, regarding the seas to be well, almost a deity of its own.”

Ainnay nods. “Yes, so is the desert – you know these lands as Tensah, I think, but it’s really the name of the goddess that is supposedly looking over us.”

Jeremy notes that Ainnay doesn’t seem to be very religious himself, wondering, why doesn’t he conform to the beliefs of his people.

“So what does it have to do with names?” Hammond asks, ever impatient and probably annoyed with the non-promising dinner.

Ainnay doesn’t look bothered with the rudeness, remaining serenely calm and immersed in the food making. “Our tribe names are designed to hide us from the goddess who’s known to not like men very much. Women go by the first name always, as they’ve nothing to fear.”

Men fearing a goddess sounds pretty entertaining – Jeremy’s heard about ancient people worshipping Earth like the ultimate Mother, and it was proposed by some historians in those ancient times women were the rulers – he wonders, whether it was or hell, still is, true for the local desert people.

“I think we have something similar to your Amma namet thing – nicknames,” Jeremy says on an afterthought. “His is Hamster,” he points at Hammond, making the latter glare.

Ainnay hums. “Yeah, we have nicknames too, but it’s not the same thing. Amma namet is absolutely formal and ritualistic rather than amusing and affectionate. It’s for permanent use, since our first name has to be hidden. The first name can only be used one on one, and only your mother can use it, or a person to whom you give that name – usually a life partner. So, if a Nahan man ever gave you his first name he would be actually saying ‘I love you and I want to spend my life with you’.”

“I hope to never hear that one,” Hammond says immediately, and Jeremy immediately and ridiculously wonders what is Ainnay’s first name.

Bad thought, he tells himself angrily. Incredibly bad and out of order.

They receive their plates with the sandwiches and Jeremy makes a point to declare it very tasty – which it is – to counterbalance Hammond’s politely concealed but still evident disgust.

“Don’t mind him. Hammond hates everything that isn’t eggs and gin,” Jeremy explains, talking away his portion to not waste anything.

Hammond lets him with relief. “I don’t hate everything. I’m just not used to foreign food, sorry. I have some crackers on me, I’ll be fine with those.”

Ainnay shrugs. “All right. What’s gin?”

They spend another hour discussing alcoholic beverages and food, Hammond increasingly horrified with Ainnay’s descriptions of the local drinks that seem to include snake bile and scorpions, until Jeremy realises that while remaining perfectly deadpan, Ainnay is having a lot of fun making Hammond queasy, and sits back to be entertained.

“There’s no such thing as rotten shark soup!” Hammond cries eventually, riled up and red in the face. “You’re having me on!”

Ainnay looks at him with clear-eyed sincerity. “Why would I be having you on? It’s a delicacy, I’ve had some, they serve it with fried whale intestines – it’s actually delicious, as long as you don’t breath in.”

On that, Jeremy gives up, giggling and pointing helplessly at Hammond’s constipated mug. “Your stupid tiny face, all scandalised,” he manages at last. “Ainnay, you’ve got to stop or Hammond will be sick.”

Looking pleased with himself, Ainnay nods. “As you wish. Although everything I said was the truth.”  

“You’re worse than Clarkson,” Hammond says, looking hurt. “I hoped to meet someone nice on this journey.”

Ainnay’s expression remains as kindly and innocent as it was. “Tough luck.”

Jeremy dissolves in giggles again, delighted beyond words, and Hammond turns away pointedly, sulking.

“And here I thought we’ll be stuck with just the scenes of the dunes and Hammond moaning,” Jeremy says, pleased, patting his absorber under the coat. He’ll have to sort the stream soon, to not spend hours and days editing the raw material. “That would’ve made a boring show.”

Noticing Ainnay’s confusion, Jeremy produces the absorber disc from under the layers of his dusty robes. “We have them on us 24/7, basically. Bit difficult to make a comprehensive story out of the uninterrupted stream, but we resolved it by embracing a lot of the randomness. People like it, oddly enough.”

Ainnay just looks more confused. “Hold on. I did not understand a word. What is that thing?”

Hammond turns around from his sulking and his crackers to gape at Ainnay along with Jeremy. “You don’t know what it is?”

Ainnay shrugs. “Should I?”

Jeremy looks at his absorber. “Well, yeah, since it came from your part of the world. It’s black niurite, it absorbs the perception of a person connected to it.”

Still blank, Ainnay reaches for the absorber but thinks better of it. “Could you be more specific, please?”

“It absorbs your perception, things you see, or hear, or smell, or what you feel by touch – it stores it as a stream of uh, sensory experience. People then can duplicate it to their absorbers and tune in. It’s a bit like dreaming,” Jeremy tries to explain, “only it’s not your dreaming and everything is real. Well, you could tune into your own stream, which would be like remembering something, but you know, with full presence in the moment. So what Hammond and I are doing here is making a stream – after editing it’ll be his and mine streams in turn combined into one. There should be also a third-person perspective of our discmen, but since we’ve lost them right after coming here, it’ll be just our points of view, so to speak.”

Ainnay listens with his mouth open. “Whoa,” he manages at last. “That’s amazing!”

Bemused, Jeremy exchanges a glance with Hammond again. “Are you saying you have nothing like that in your lands?”

Still transfixed with the absorber, Ainnay shakes his head. “No. We don’t really know what to do with black niurite – your lot likes it enough to buy it, so we sell it to you. We just thought you use it for jewellery or something else decorative. Can you show me how it works?”

Luckily, Hammond has a spare absorber, so he gives it to Ainnay, tying his scarf around his eyes securely and explaining how to connect to it, which takes Ainnay a while but eventually, he lets out a startled yelp and waives his hands about, reacting to something Hammond has on it.

“Bloody Norah!”

Filing away the unfamiliar curse, Jeremy watches Ainnay go from flaily amazement to the stillness of intent concentration – he always loves to watch kids do it, but a grown man discovering streaming is especially endearing.

[leiainhoth]

Work summary: For so long, Din fought the reality of giving the child up, giving him to the jetii and moving on. He had prepared for it, packed a bag and left it all behind, so his son could have the life he deserved. All until he didn't have to. Or the one where Luke rescues Grogu on Tython, and Din rescues Luke in return.

Chapter summary: Luke, Din and the child continue their journey to Mos Espa, and Din makes a startling discovery

... 

The pre-dawn light stirs Luke from a dream, and he rises with a grin. It was the sixth morning of their journey, the sixth day of traversing the desert waste of Tatooine with strangers and friends alike, and he was  enjoying  it. Surely more than one should enjoy journeying across dunes on the back of a bantha. But he was. He was at peace—  true  peace— perhaps for the first time since he had left Tatooine in the first place all those years ago.

There was peace to be had, even when Luke thought himself incapable of relaxing outside of his morning meditations, this was it. This was what he had been searching for, this  feeling,  this realization that his endless searching would never be victorious. That perhaps what he needed was to be still, be still and listen.

The force was like the wind, here. It ebbed and flowed, the energy of all living things tangled in a web, connecting each and every thing to another. It swelled around Grogu, the child small in his father's lap, dipping and swaying around the Mandalorian. Luke looked within, pleased and in awe of the feeling of oneness that the force had always given him. There was still so much Luke didn't know. So many secrets and techniques that had been lost, fallen to time. He wanted to learn, wanted to listen, but his world was so  noisy,  engines and footsteps and clanging metal. There was no use for the force on Chandrila, on Coruscant, on any of the core worlds. Whatever the Jedi order used to be before the war was gone, now. It was up to Luke to decide how it would continue; if it would continue, the future of the Jedi was in his hands.

It was a lot of pressure, Luke thought with a reflective exhale, a pressure that had been placed on him with the expectation that he would fulfill it. But he was older, now. Not necessarily wiser, but perhaps warier. Less anticipatory, more thankful; not often expectant of good things to come his way. It made him feel old, and Leia had teased him about it when he told her. But he was a Jedi master, damn it. What the order looked like, what it felt like, was up to him. And nothing Leia could say would change his mind.

Luke opened his eyes from his musings and looked around, not that there was much to look at. They were still far enough from Mos Espa that the landscape was unfamiliar. And even if he had, as a youth trapped here, he wasn't focused on the sand so much as the sky. Wishing beyond his wildest hopes that one day he'd be able to pilot something better than a landspeeder or a skyhopper, that he'd join the Academy and never have to step foot on Tatooine again.

It was a dream he had garnered for much of his childhood, unaware of his father's prowess as a pilot beyond what Owen and Beru had told him. Unaware, but still hopeful that there was something greater waiting for him out there.

But that was years ago, Luke thought with a pain of nostalgia, almost ten years. He wasn't a youth anymore, and any great hopes he held for his future were quiet ones. Find more force-sensitive younglings, set up a temple on a peaceful planet. Spend time with his sister, and Han and Lando, try and keep his droids running smoothly and his lightsaber in one piece. He wanted a life for himself that was different than that of a rebellion hero, something…predictable, something still. Something with a garden and a familiar bed, and… if he could be selfish, perhaps a companion. Someone to keep him company, someone to love and cherish and grow old with. Luke wanted that life, a quiet life.

He had spent his years in the rebellion being what the alliance needed him to be; a damn good pilot, a leader, an example: the poster boy for hope and peace across the galaxy. But he wasn't that man anymore. He didn't want to be a hero; he wanted  peace . Because with heroism came fame, recognition; Luke didn't  want  people to come up to him and thank him for his service. He didn't want those he didn't know to shake his hand and congratulate him on what he did for the rebellion. He didn't want the insignia of the damn Death Star painted on the starboard wing of his X-wing, a concrete and constant reminder of what he had done in the name of the rebellion.

A million souls had died that day, and there were still nights Luke woke up in a cold sweat imagining their fiery deaths. Still times when he sat down suddenly in great pain, still moments where he was overcome with the overwhelming swells of grief and loss. Leia tried to comfort him, as did the droids in the medbay after he came to that day.  It wasn't your fault,  they told him, pressing the personal comm code for the rebellion psychologist into his palm.  You did what had to be done. More people would've died, whole systems would have been destroyed had we not done it first.

We , they had said, and Luke remembered. Had not  we  done it first. But there was no  we,  was there? There were the half dozen pilots behind him, and later Han and Chewie in the  Falcon,  but it was Luke who made the shot and ended it all. Luke, who would hold those souls with him for the rest of his days.

And all because Luke wanted to be a hero, all because he wanted nothing more than to leave when all that he had ever truly needed was at hand, sitting on a moisture farm in Tatooine.

It was easy to say it was all behind him; the war was over. He was lucky that so many of his friends had survived, that he still had his X-wing and Artoo and Chewie and Han and Leia, but…something was missing. Of course, he had lost friends; he wasn't the only man to be orphaned and alone. But it wasn't just that; it was  companionship  that Luke craved. A companion who didn't care that he was Luke Skywalker of the rebel alliance, who didn't mind the lightning scars on his arms and belly, someone who didn't  care  he had a missing hand and debilitating nightmares; someone who wouldn't ask questions he didn't want to answer. Someone to joke with him, to  care  for him, someone who would hold him tight and not let him go.

Luke remembered crumbling the comm code in his palm, nodding to the droid so they would leave, promising to himself that he'd never call them no matter how bad it got. He couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, the looks of  disappointment  when they saw him for who he truly was. As if he'd let them down; as if the great impenetrable Luke Skywalker was a fluke, not a hero, just a kid from Tatooine with strange powers and a good trigger finger. He wasn't all that they thought he was.

And so, for five years, he tried to forget.

And frankly speaking, he was more or less successful. He watched with pride and happiness as Leia, and the other generals in the rebellion became the pillars of the New Republic, stood by their side when Han and Leia wed. He had held his twin's hand and congratulated her on her pregnancy, and when Ben Solo was born with early signs of force-sensitivity, promised to teach him the ways of the Jedi. And others did the same; his friends settled down with partners and friends, started families and adopted orphans from every corner of the galaxy. Started a new life, and Luke watched with a feeling close to loneliness as he failed to do the same.

It wasn't that he  wasn't  interested; there were more than one pilot and hotshot with a blaster he had taken a fancy to over the course of the war. Luke wasn't the only one to sneak a bedfellow into his compartment after dark, but it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted something deeper, something less desperate, something more than a stolen kiss in a cupboard and fumbling hands in the dark. Luke wanted something,  someone , he could hold tightly, someone to comfort him, to stand by him; someone who didn't sleep with Luke Skywalker for the rights to goading brags at sabacc tables and crowded cantinas. As if was a pawn, just another ace in an X-wing with no future and no past and no interest in living beyond the moment.

Leia tried to set him up once or twice, but Luke hadn't taken her up on it. He wasn't interested in senators or state officials, less so in their stories about the war. DIdn't they get it? Didn't they understand that all Luke wanted to do was to forget? Move on? He didn't  want  to be the grand hero for the rest of his days? Why couldn't anyone understand that all Luke wanted was for others to treat him like a person? Not a legend, not a hero, but just as  himself?

And then, out of nowhere, he received the distress call from Tython; and everything changed in a moment. His ill-timed philosophical musings of a better life put on hold for a child calling desperately for help.

The cost had been his X-wing and Artoo, who (no doubt) would have words to share with Luke when they returned to rescue him, but it had been worth it.

Because now, he had friends.

Friends who neither knew nor cared that he was Luke Skywalker of the rebel alliance; Luke Skywalker, the man who blew up the Death Star. Luke Skywalker, the Jedi, the last Jedi in the galaxy, and Darth Vader's son. They didn't know, they didn't mind. They treated Luke as one of their own with no questions asked. To them, he was just that,  Luke , and who he was to them was who he was inside. The one with an eye for mechanics, a love of flying, a fair knowledge of desert flora and fauna. He was Grogu's teacher, Scoeeri and Laele's friend. He was Varre's companion as Grogu played with her baby, A'vod and Cor's helper into the underground cave network Luke had  definitely  not known existed. He was the mechanic who helped Cobb Vanth with his modified speeder when it broke down the night before.

But to the Mandalorian, it was strangely unclear. What was Luke to him?

Surely a friend, Luke thought with careful consideration, trying not to be nosy and look behind him to see for himself. He was intelligent, but quiet, kind. Soft and generous with those around him, despite the thick armour about him at all times. They were friends, right? The man trusted Luke to watch his child, to teach him the ways of the Jedi. All Luke had done was meditate with the child, but so far, Grogu's father had accompanied them every morning, exiting the tent he and the child shared fully armoured with the baby in his arms. It became more difficult to focus with the Mandalorian so near (damn, his thoughts were  blinding),  but Luke tried. But even as he did, even as he taught the child about the bond he was forming between them, he couldn't ignore the primary strand Grogu had. Luke could feel the golden strands connecting Grogu to his father twist and fold together with time, evolving from strings to cords to bolts, impenetrable. And this man was apparently just that, not force-sensitive at all.

There was something amused in Grogu's consciousness when Luke asked the boy about it. Clearly, the baby knew something Din didn't, but he didn't pry. Whatever it was that had brought Grogu and his father together had been formed in and amongst significant loss. Grogu had told Luke about the day his father adopted him, describing the feelings of warmth and oneness he experienced whenever his father held him close. The warmth the baby exuded through the force when he spoke about his  buir  was blinding, and when the child asked about Luke's  buir,  his parents, he deflated with a brush of pain at the loss he had experienced. He didn't want to shock the child, but he told him that his parents were gone, passed on; but they had loved Luke very much.

The child sent a wave of understanding and affection, and Luke felt a small hand grip his own.  Together,  the baby seemed to say, his eyes wide and open.  Even if you have no  buir  of your own, my family is yours to share.

Luke let his eyes drift shut, a smile widening as a tear slipped down his cheek. What would it be, Luke wondered, his mind struggling to face the impossible, what would it be to take what had been offered? What would it be to have a family of his own?

Luke thought of the baby's father, the warmth Luke felt whenever he considered him. He and the child were so happy together, so content to stay close, and it brought a laugh to his throat when Luke remembered when the Mandalorian tossed his child in the air for his amusement when he carved figures out of tough stalks of grass for the children to play with. More so when he and his companion were alone, but Luke didn't quite know  what  to think about that.

It was easier to talk when the air was still, and the world was dark, Luke decided, trying not to look too much into his and the Mandalorian's time together. He remembered asking, just that morning, in fact, if his companion could teach him the language of the Tuskens. It had been an innocent enough inquiry, stemming from nothing but good intentions. For the whole time he'd known her, Luke had been using the force to read the baseline level of Varre's thoughts and emotions to communicate with her. He still felt uneasy about it and wanted to speak freely when Grogu and her baby played together. But the Mandalorian had stuttered out something unintelligible, gesturing strangely before Luke got the message. Too far. It was just as well, he supposed he could ask Cobb. Even the basics would be better than nothing.

But there was  something  to be said for having an excuse to spend more time with his companion. Luke enjoyed his company; it was simple, complimentary. The Mandalorian didn't ask prying questions, didn't seem to want anything of him other than his companionship. In the soft evening light when the day's travel was done, they sat together and watched the suns set, Grogu often lulling in his father's arms. It was in these times that Luke spoke, knowing that the Mandalorian wouldn't mind. He talked about his childhood spent not far from here, his family, his sister. Spoke about how proud he was of Grogu's growth in the short time they had been together, joked about the funny expression on Laele's face when he caught Cobb staring at him.

His companion laughed a little at that. Luke felt his chest warming, the deep tones of his laugh raising a blush to Luke's cheeks. Was that all it took to make him laugh? It  had  been funny, Cobb's expressions were longing and soft, and it was nice to take the piss out of someone else, for a change. For so innocent a recollection, for so simple a reason, his companion had laughed; and Luke wanted nothing more than to hear him do it again.

When they hitched up their bantha's the next morning to begin, Luke couldn't help but feel an itch on the back of his neck and turned without thinking to see the Mandalorian looking right at him. Luke had never found it difficult to understand his companion's expressions even with the helmet but blushed anyway. Even the implication that the Mandalorian had been looking in his direction was enough to bring a stuttering breath to Luke's chest. The suns were bright; perhaps he didn't notice the flush that had settled across Luke's face. Or maybe he had; Luke thought with a strange lurch in his gut; the Mandalorian  didn't look away  but tilted his head in recognition instead.

Kriff,  how was he supposed to turn away?

Luke closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, turning his head firmly in front of him, refusing to budge his position no matter how much he might want to.

Luckily or not, their journey across the dunes was much the same as it always was, the steps of his bantha slow and lurching, massaging and opening Luke's sit bones and hip joints in a way they hadn't ever been massaged before. A sand crawler appeared in the far north-east, and Luke jerked at the sound of A'Vor, Cobb and the Mandalorian drawing their rifles.

Luke started at the sound of Grogu protesting in the Mandalorian's saddlebag. He turned, catching his companion's eye with what he hoped to be wordless understanding, halting his bantha in his tracks to let the Mandalorian catch-up.

"Can you," the Mandalorian said softly, not wishing the others to overhear. "Can you convince the Jawas to stay away?"

Luke nodded, "If you want me to. Do you want me to take the child? You'll need both hands to use your rifle,"

"Yes," the Mandalorian said, handing Luke the squirming child. Luke sent a wave of calm to the baby and felt him settle in Luke's lap, unhappy and concerned but willing to remain quiet for the time being. Luke took a deep breath, steadying his mind before reaching out across the sand, feeling inside him a flurry of activity. He had never fully mastered the Jedi mind tricks he had seen Ben perform; they felt so invasive, so personal, to actively work against one's will to achieve his ends. Luke didn't think the Jawas would mind, and at the very least, they owed him from the last time he was on Tatooine. He felt only a twinge of guilt in redirecting them to the southwest, far away from their little caravan.

"They seem to be turning," Cobb said from ahead of them, a pair of binocs in his hands. Luke blinked his eyes open with a smile.

"Imagine that," the Mandalorian said, and Luke smiled, pleased. Cobb lowered his blaster, and the Mandalorian did the same, lowering his heavy pulse rifle to its holster on the side of his bantha.

"Can I keep the child for the morning?" Luke asked, looking down at Grogu, calming down now that his father was still. "He could use a change of scenery."

"If you'd like to," the Mandalorian said but then hesitated, fishing in his saddlebag for something. "He's fine in the satchel, but I have a head covering for him."

That was how Luke found himself fixing a canvas hat to the baby's head, laughing at its floppy brim and too wide chin strap as the baby cooed at this strange thing on his body.

"It's a hat, Grogu," Luke said, adjusting the garment so it didn't fall. "It'll keep you safe in the sun; your dad doesn't want you to get sunburnt,"

Luke understood the hesitancy; he had applied a sunblock patch every day of his life before he left Tatooine and resumed the habit now that he'd returned without a hitch. But Luke recalled the Mandalorian's hesitancy in applying on onto the child, unsure if it would irritate his skin or cause a rash. Luke had watched with affection, helping the Mandalorian drape the baby in his tunics so the beating suns would stay off the child's skin. Grogu didn't seem to mind and was fascinated with this strange fabric in front of his face.

"Keep it on, Grogu, that's it," Luke said with a laugh, settling the baby between himself and the saddle horn. "Look, I have one too!"

Grogu turned and smiled toothily at Luke's sun gear, babbling happily about everything and nothing and all of the things around.

Luke felt the Mandalorian's gaze on him for the entirety of the morning, and when Luke turned with the pretence of showing the baby where his father was, Luke flushed, a hesitant smile on his face.

continued 

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 7-10

This is the “Dead Zone” arc, featuring Luke and Jan Valentine.

This arc is set around... uh, September 3rd-ish, I think.   By now, Hellsing has had time to investigate this recent uptick in vampire incidents, and she calls a meeting of the “Convention of Twelve” to discuss her findings.   This group represents the heads of various important agencies, political leaders, and noblemen, and the manga states that they “essentially” run the British Empire.    I’m not sure how to read that, exactly.  Kouta Hirano appears to be establishing one of two things:

1) Parliament Shmarliament, everything is really controlled by this secret group of oligarchs sitting at a table.

or

2) This is a collection of all the big wheels in British society, so they might as well be calling the shots even if they aren’t a true governing body. 

I’m not terribly concerned about which one it is, since we left real-world Great Britain behind a long time ago.    The Hellsing U.K. seems to put a lot more power in the monarchy, for example.    Also there’s friggin’ draulas runnin’ around everwhere. 

Anyway, Integra reveals that the vampires they’ve been killing lately all have microchips installed in their bodies.  She says the chips “define the vampire’s status, behavior, intent, and aggression.”   I don’t know if that means outright control or a more subtle manipulation.    It might exaplain why the couple in Chapter 3 weren’t exactly being subtle.

Moreover, these vampires haven’t been following the conventional rules laid down back in Chapter 1.   Vampire bites can turn a person into another vampire, but only if the victim is a virgin.   Otherwise, they turn into ghouls.   Destroying the head vampire will destroy all the ghouls he’s created.    But that hasn’t been happening.    The couple in Chapter 3 killed a lot of children, but they all became ghouls.   And in Badrick, Anderson killed the vampire, but the ghouls remained active long enough for Alucard and Seras to fight them.  

At least, that’s what Integra is saying.   We never actually saw any ghouls in Chapter 3, and Anderson killed the vampire in Badrick off-panel, so we don’t know the exact timing.    But I’ll take Integra’s word for it.   

Something that got lost along the way was the matter of what happens to Seras if someone managed to kill Alucard.   According to Chapter 1, she’d die immediately, but we never actually see that play out, and Seras is the only vampire created by another vampire in this story.   We never see ghouls die en masse, either, because there’s never a situation where their master dies first, and the ghouls we see from here on out are these rule-breaking microchippy kind anyway.    

Never mind that shit, here comes the Seras part.   Walter has replaced her bed with a coffin.    Apparently she had a bed in this dank-ass dungeon, and then one day Integra got a wild hair and decided “Oh, yeah, she should be sleeping in a vampire bed.”     She’s been a vampire for like two months now.    I feel bad for Walter, having to lug that big-ass bed down here, only to have to take the damn thing right back out.   He must have known it was going to end this way.   You’d think he would have said something before.  

Seras hates this idea, but Walter relays a second order, one from Alucard: Seras has to sleep in the coffin.   Well, that seems kind of redundant, but I guess Seras might have tried to sleep on the floor or something instead.    The main thing I find interesting about this is that Seras is mostly irritated by Integra ordering the coffin, but she takes it much more seriously when Alucard is mentioned.  

According to Walter, since Seras hasn’t drunk any blood, her powers will weaken... unless she sleeps in a coffin lined with soil from her birthplace.   So maybe it’s an either/or deal.   Integra was fine with Seras using a big girl bed because she assumed Seras would be drinking blood.  But without it, she has to use a coffin, or she’ll be no good to the team.   And after two months, it’s become clear that Seras has no intention of drinking blood, even bags of donated blood, like the one Alucard snacked on in Badrick.

Even Seras doesn’t know exactly why she won’t do it, which Alucard finds baffling.    If this was a dealbreaker for her, she should have just died as a human in Cheddar.  

But Al isn’t entirely unsympathetic either.    His words are harsh, but they’re the truth: Seras is a vampire now, and there’s no going back.  She keeps trying to resist this, but it’s already happened.   Denial will only make this more painful for her.   I think that’s part of the reason he offered his own blood to her in Badrick.   I mean, there weren’t a lot of other options, but from an ethical standpoint, drinking Alucard’s blood seems reasonable, since it won’t kill him.    The unspoken sentiment here is: Listen, I know this is difficult for you, and I’ll try to make this as easy as possible, but you need to do this and there’s no way around it.    But even that doesn’t seem to work, and Alucard’s in no particular hurry, so he’s willing to table the matter.   Which I suppose is how the coffin thing came about in the first place.

Walter also takes this moment to give the vampires their new guns.    Alucard wanted something special for the next time he tangles with Alexander Anderson.    Recall that Al already has a special cosmogun with an infinite supply of magic bullets, and he shot Anderson in the face and it didn’t stop him.    So Walter builds him “The Jackal”, which is basically the same as his first gun, only even bigger and with a black finish.   It also says “Jesus Christ is in Heaven Now”, which drives me nuts because I don’t know if that’s like a message to Anderson, or just some random thing.    Kouta Hirano puts these nonsense religious slogans all over Hellsing, and I’m pretty sure he’s just doing it for effect, and not particularly concerned over whether there’s any religious significance to the words.   

As for Seras, she gets a giant bazooka-looking think called the Harkonnen, named after a Dune character.   One of these days I want to sit down and read Dune.   I kind of feel guilty that I haven’t already, because then I could be writing this and get all excited for this moment.   “HOLY SHIT!! IS THAT MOTHERFUCKING DUNE REFERENCE?!”  Instead I’m like, ho-hum, yes it is.

Let’s move on.    This arc is about the Valentine Brothers, two vampires who take the fight to Hellsing instead.   They have a small army of ghouls, and their plan is to just drive up in a tour bus and storm the gate.   Ghouls are mindless, zombie-like monsters, but apparently they can work a gun well enough, and Hellsing never imagined an enemy would try such a thing.

As soon as Integra finds out about this, she tries to evacuate the Twelve, but their helicopter gets destroyed, cutting off any chance of escape.   Then Jan (pronounced “Yon” by the way), calls her on the comm system and threatens to kill them all.  

So Integra calls Walter, who already knows what’s happening.   Um, how?   I feel like the anime explained this better.   Maybe Jan’s profanity-laden threats were on a public-address system instead of just for the conference room.   But it sure looks like Walter’s just chilling out in a windowless, underground room.   But he already knows there’s no hope of reinforcements arriving to save them.   He proposes himself and Seras using the ventilation shafts to get to the coference room, where they can defend the twelve, while Alucard can go on the offensive.

Alucard is amused to hear that Walter is going back into action, and calls him “Angel of Death”.    We’ll come back to that.

So Walter’s pretty much on top of things here.    No one ever considered anything like this happening before.    Hellsing is supposed to be a secret organization, so a vampire shouldn’t know to come here in the first place.    Moreover, no one dreamed that a vampire would plan it out so well, using ghouls in a military fashion.     But he’s optimistic about their chances for survival, because...

Walter has super powers.    Specifically, he has these magic wires he can use to bind and slice up his enemies, and this makes short work of the Valentines’ ghouls.   He then repeats Jan’s taunts back at him.   Okay, so I guess Walter did hear Jan’s message from earlier. 

The problem I always had with this development was that it seemed awfully convenient for Walter to have super powers.    But then, it took me a while to catch on to Anderson having super powers, and he took a bullet to the face.    I think the conceit of the Hellsing world is that these “anti-freak” organizations have to have super-powered operatives, so they use secret techniques and alchemy or whatever to empower men like Walter and Anderson.   It’s really not that hard to swallow.

Except that the first vampire-hunter we meet in Hellsing is Alucard, who is himself a vampire. So it seemed like the whole point was that he was the best suited for the job because he had the raw power to do it.   Integra doesn’t seem to have any powers, and neither do any of the rank-and-file Hellsing operatives who get mowed down by the Valentines’ ghouls.   So it always confused me for Walter to just go “Wassup, I have powers too.”   But it only makes sense for Hellsing to have more than one card to play.    Clearly, Walter used to hunt vampires on  the regular before he retired to become a butler.

Between Walter’s wires and Seras’ giant gun, they manage to subdue Jan easily enough, but he reveals he has a partner, Luke, whose job is to tackle the second half of their mission: to destroy Alucard.   Let’s check in on him...

Yeah.    I was thinking about doing a blow-by-blow of this fight, but it’s kind of pointless.    Luke talks a big game, and seems confident that he’s on a higher level than the vampires Alucard has been fighting recently, and for a hot minute, even Alucard believes that he might be a worthy adversary, “above even a ‘Category A’ vampire,” so he releases his “control art restriction,” to “Level 1″.  

I guess I should back up and explain this.    Alucard, like all overpowered anime characters, can hold back his full power and reveal it in stages.   For some reason he has to announce that he’s doing this, like Windows 10 describing it’s own updating.   Presumably, there’s a Level 4 where he usually operates, and that was enough for him to fight Luke evenly.    But here, we see him jump all the way to Level 1, which allows him to turn into some shadowy form with lots of eyes and two dog heads.  

Also, centipedes.  The point is, this is all stuff Luke can’t do.   He’s more of a “super speed gun-shooting” kind of vampire, so he’s immediately outclassed.    Alucard’s dog form eats Luke and that’s the end of him.... OR IS IT? 

Meanwhile, Jan’s ghoul army is beaten, but he still has reinforcements in the form of all the Hellsing soldiers they killed earlier.   These men rise up as new ghouls and chase down Seras while Jan makes a break for the conference room where the Twelve are holed up.    Walter tries to catch Jan, but only manages to rip off one of his arms.   He makes it to the door, only to find...

Integra and the others all have guns, and they shoot him down.  

All Jan has left now is his second wave of ghouls, except Seras manages to overwhelm them.   At first, she was panicking, but then she freaks out and goes feral on them, to the point where Integra has to jump in and order her to stop.   When she does, she seems to have no idea what just happened.    This is mostly overshadowed by the sheer horror of Hellsing’s soldiers being reduced to the undead.  

All that’s left is Jan, who refuses to talk.    He has the same microchip implants as the previous vampires, and the people who sent him are monitoring him in real-time, which means they know he failed, and they can make him self-destruct before he can tell Hellsing anything.  As he dies, Jan flips them all off and gives them one word of information: “Millennium.”

After that, Integra tasks Walter with destroying the remaining Hellsing ghouls, until Sir Irons, one of the Twelve reminds Integra that this is the duty of a commander.   As Hellsing’s C.O., it’s her responsibility, so she agrees and starts shooting the ghouls in the head.   

Meanwhile, Jan’s mysterious overseers talk amongst themselves, and their leader calls for them to resume their “research”.   As devastating as this attack on Hellsing was, for Millennium, this was merely a test.   

[thatonealise]

On Worlds.

We inhabit them. We've christened ours Earth, but there are some who call Middle-Earth their home. I've heard many dashing tales from the Borderlands, and on all too many occasions guested in Azeroth. All these faraway lands are unique in their own right, sporting flora and fauna so diverse it really does make one wonder how such things came to be, whether out of nothing, or out of the wilds of human imagination.

I've always been under the impression that it would take a person too much blood, sweat and tears to fashion one. But here I stand, alone, and I need a place to set my latest overambitious and never-ending enterprise. It's a habit I'd always detested deep down, but came to respect over time, and now I say it is the prospect of making something grand, chipping away at it day and again, that gives me one more reason (among many, mind you) to get up early in the morning, and wonder what aspect of it am I going to work on next.

So it is, that I've been pondering on the sort of a world I would want you, the Player, to quench your wanderlust, and perhaps take your subconscious somewhere it has never travelled.

My research -- that hunt for inspiration, artistically speaking -- took me to media I have and have never ever witnessed, or heard, or read, or seen. I've browsed art, played this game and that; I've watched film and series, and I've brushed the dust off some of my forlorn literature. I've even dared to show up in the local library for once in an embarrassingly long (by a reader's standards) while, and borrow a "manuscript" or two I thought had a few interesting ideas. But, I have to admit, Stack Exchange remains my personal favourite. There are so many great minds there, with an equal knack for world-building, and even more thought-provoking questions granted inspiring answers. I can't recommend it enough.

On to the point, though, and it is that I've compiled a list of "archetypes" to take into consideration building my own world:

Earth-likes

What a surprise, huh? I believe it to be the most widespread archetype, and it is rather self-explanatory. An Earth-like world is more often than not a carbon copy of the blue planet (or our rather milky galaxy), with oceans and continents shuffled a notch to dodge the cosmic copyright, so to speak. It is again most common, and for a good reason: we know plenty about the science that keeps such worlds (and, by extension, our own) spinning, and the life living the way it does. It is a solid point of reference, backed with facts and studies so easy to look up on the web, or anywhere bookish, and it is always oh so tempting to use.

A few notorious examples taken from modern authors include...

...a continent under the influence of Celtic and Germanic myths; known as Middle-Earth of J. R. R. Tolkien.

...the super-continent of Stillness by Nora K. Jemisin.

...the Present World, to some extent a mirror of ours, and found in Kentaro Miura's Berserk.

...or the unforgiving deserts of Arrakis, credited to Frank Herbert.

...or Faerun, the iconic setting of Forgotten Realms.

...or even the Journey, courtesy of thatgamecompany, and the dunes one has to slide down rushing to the mountain's peak.

If at least two of the above ring a bell, you may have an idea of what brings all these worlds together, and by extension, what I think constitutes an Earth-like world. If not, then let me illustrate my point instead:

Go on, draw a comparison! It wouldn't take a particularly perceptive eye to notice that even a seemingly outlandish example, the desert planet of Arrakis, shines features not too unlike those we may find here on Earth, albeit "turned up to eleven," for the lack of a better expression. They are planets filled with oceans, and continents in between the oceans, most of them, and in general they follow the same rules we follow in our universe: desert storms rise as the wind blows, plates collide to erect mountains, and sentient life is soon to usher in an age of civilisation. Physics and passage of time progress the world as you would expect them to.

Naturally, there will be a degree of variation between Earth-likes. George Martin's Westeros, for one, is an otherwise conventional continent subject to unconventional seasons, some so abnormal they shape entire cultures -- consider the Long Night, for instance, and the impact it had on the Westerosi folklore.

Let's touch on Arrakis again: it is too an Earth-like world at the core, that suffered from a speculated misfortune of a near-miss encounter with a comet, and what once might have been an arid and bountiful world has now been left a scorching desert inhabited by massive sandworms that have evolved to swim through the sands as though they were oceans, and gobble up the teeny-tiny human wanderers crossing their "soil." A few similar worlds come to mind: Kharak, just as extreme and featured in the Homeworld series, and the much more famous Tatooine, the brainchild of George Lucas.

This big quirk -- extreme weather, unpredictable seasons, or morphed geology, or fictional species -- I prefer to dub "the Twist." It is something, a phenomenon or fact of life, that sets this world apart from ours -- something you can use to suggest that the world at hand is its own, and not Earth put in an alternate reality. Extreme biomes of Arrakis or Kharak, and bizarre seasons of Westeros, are just two examples of the Twist. Magic and magical beings found on Azeroth, or in Faerun, is another.

While the Twist is found in all archetypes, I'm of the opinion that Earth-likes depend on it more than others. Take away the Twist, and you will be left with yet another exoplanet, abiding by the rules we all know and, to be frank, find them too mundane to entertain us, or to leave a lasting memory.

As you'd expect, this was the first archetype I visited and considered for my game. The Twist I wish to feature, to go hand in hand with game mechanics I have devised, is the marriage (or clash, depending on your point of view) of science and magic, and the many ways cultures practicing either-or-both would balance them out, or tip the scales in one's favour if they so desire. I'm also very keen on endangering the Player on their journey, which I want to be perilous, and for it to matter more than the destination. Think of it as a world of vagabonds and gallivants, travelling from one bizarre place to a place twice as otherworldly, and embarking on life-threatening quests.

I've considered several worlds, most notably Kharak -- whose native species, the Kushan, traverse it on trucks and jeeps and other sand-crawling machinery. Cities on that scorched planet exist as only safe havens around, surrounded with lifeless sands, and to make it from one city to another is a dangerous affair indeed. The theme resonated with me quite a bit, but I did not find desert planets a good choice for my game, for many reasons:

It is, as the name suggests, a giant desert. There aren't that many biomes (just two, in fact, if you count largely mechanical cities as one) for the Player to explore, and there is little challenge in generating them on the fly, as opposed to a more varied world.

Throwing in arid biomes we discover in worlds like Middle-Earth or Narnia, or Faerun, felt far too conventional to me, and in my mind there would not be much room for an apocalyptic event so crippling as to make exploring this world nigh fatal.

Even if I dodged the desert altogether and rolled with a different biome or biomes, I'd still have to balance between two problems I doubt are easy to solve: featuring more biodiversity in a fundamentally monolithic environment, or more extremes in an Earth-like world that would not fit in very well.

Banality. Banality was a major concern for me, as there are oh so, so many Earth-likes out there in the industry, and the last thing I wish for my little side project is to offer yet another one. No sir!

Scope was the last but nevertheless just as important. It is difficult to fill up a giant continent, or continentS, with enough quests and points of interest to keep the Player invested. It is hard enough to produce enough scripted content, a la World of Warcraft, and it is harder still to delegate the creative matters to an automaton (Talking about you, Left 4 Dead!). Earth-likes, to my understanding, necessitate imposing scale, that I can not hope to achieve neither alone nor in company.

So I scratched this archetype off my list, and again I went searching every nook and cranny of the game industry and beyond for patterns and clues to make into archetype...

Otherlands

Perhaps not the best title to describe a world so otherworldly as to defy all laws native to our universe, but I nonetheless thought it described what I had in mind for such worlds best. Exotics, Otherlands, Alternate Realities, you name it: they spit on the natural laws we've always known, and turn what we consider to be natural upside down, from a relative point of view (I'd image they'd think we earthlings bend their ideas of what is natural, vice versa). They more often than not have so little in common with a conventional; continental world, that as a Player, you ought to be born anew, in a sense, as you have to come to terms with the new reality, and learn the rules alien to your human brain-box.

While not so abundant in fiction or film, there is an unexpected plethora of otherworldly examples found in video games. I suspect, as little more than a humble writer and not at all a qualified game designer, that the blame (the reason, rather) is at least in part to be pinned on the freedom of mechanics worlds detached from all physical boundaries allow. You're no longer on Earth; seldom even in our universe, and more often in a dimension forged by game designers to fulfill a very blunt purpose: to serve the gameplay, in full. I'd imagine it is times easier to set a game built on mechanics hostile to laws of physics somewhere abstract; mallable, in a way, to the designer's whim.

Thinking of examples took me to these fine pieces of digital entertainment:

William Chyr's Manifold Garden is, to me, a quintessential Otherland. It is set in an abstract world wrapping on itself, juxtaposing impossible geometry against Euclidean space. About the only link to our reality it maintains is the presence of gravity. Look up and down, try interacting with the objects or solving the puzzles, and you will very soon understand this is NOT the realm accomodative of your earthly instincts.

Alice: Madness Returns, too, features an Otherland (not Otherlands, fellow Alice fans!), a level set among the clouds, far above in the sky -- none other than Cardbridge! Playing cards dwell there, and glide along the windy streams to form marvellous paper castles in the sky, and bridges, and gates for Alice to cross on her way to the evil (is she really?) Queen's heartful (quite literally) domain. Like in Manifold Garden, physics still permeates this world, but the only "actor" it appears to affect is Alice herself. All that surrounds her, on the other hand, behaves in a way we would think odd.

Oddly enough, Valve's Ricochet is one more example of an Otherland, the way I see it. It's set in a pitch black void, a pocket dimension of a sort, and constricts its gunslinging inhabitants to a small archipelago of quasi-futuristic-looking platforms. It is in many ways abstract and disconnected from what we would brand a "real" world; akin more to a simulation than something even an advanced civilisation would be able to orchestrate in the vacuum of deep space. It instead serves a solitary purpose: to be an open and clear arena for the Players to pull off dextereous ricochets and physics-bending leaps from one spot to the next. There are no other earthly rules to govern this world, and beyond the dark arena is the thrice as dark abyss.

Of course, by this logic, one could consider more abstract games along the lines of Tetris Effect or even Pinball Dreams, to also fit under the same umbrella of otherworldness, and I reckon they would be right. Both games take place in places foreign to our expectation for a, dare I say, traditional setting. This is not to say, oh no, that Otherlands belong to just the games -- far from it! Otherlands are to be found in many other media.

Off the top of my head, I'd count that one scene from the cult-classic 2001: A Space Odyssey, as a "classic" Otherland in a mind-boggling nutshell:

The message I'm trying to convey, if not clear, is that Otherlands are very stubborn, and insistent on breaking you as an earthly thinker; to augment your mind and let it comprehend and utilise the new reality and the rules it enforces, like one would use the laws of our universe. "When in Rome," is the mantra they will have you etch into memory, until you think and interact with it as though you had never known another home.

The entire world, in other words, is one big Twist, standing in stark contrast to the little twists applied here and there to an Earth-like dimension. Furthermore, one could even assert that the Twist in an Otherland is turned on its head -- whereas in an Earth-like Twists were other-landish phenomena many in number but little in scope -- the Twists in an Otherland are instead few and far between, and grounded in reality. They are the links linking an Otherland to the Earth-like law. Say, physics would be very much expected in an Earth-like world, but treated as an exotic Twist in an Otherland.

To be a little more precise, an Otherland does not bother to stay true to the mechanics we think mundane and natural. It instead moulds or kills them outright, and throws itself at the mercy of the designer's wants and wishes.

Otherlands were an option, but not the option, that I'd choose for my world. I cherish the freedom they bestow upon you as a designer, but it alone did not convince me to opt for this archetype. Simply put, the downs outweighed the ups:

The world I wish to create will host fantasy far too Tolkien-esque to distance so much from Earth and earthly law. There is, in my view, a strong pull among many dungeon-crawling aficionados towards fantasy, and fantasy I will deliver. My own strain of fantasy, to be clear, but it will nevertheless mandate a degree of reality deemed by me too Earth-like to belong in an Otherland. I just can not see, at this time, a world of fantasy that is also an Otherland, not if I want my world to radiate welcoming familiarity.

This game being an open-ended RPG, it is difficult for me to envision it in an abstract environment. It calls, as I see it, for landmarks sensible to someone never ever "tainted" by the quirks of Otherlands, familiar and homely in a way, based in laws of physics and around points of interest grounded in our reality. Elevating it to be the Twist of an Otherland, brings the latter much closer to an Earth-like, but not quite. Neither this nor that, if you will, and that in turn leads me to the next and last archetype...

Near-Earths

Should you ever run into the same predicament as yours truly did in the paragraph above, I'd strongly advise you to consider Near-Earths. Not entirely Earth-like, but also too Earth-like to fit as an Otherland, a Near-Earth world is based to some considerable extent in the laws and traits of an Earth-like. It takes the best of both worlds -- mind-boggling Twists of an Otherland and experiential familiarity of an Earth-like -- and mixes them up to shape up something in-between.

Near-Earth remains ultimately an extension of an Earth-like world at its core, but to set itself apart it puts an emphasis on large-scale Twists -- that would be considered too outlandish for an Earth-like. One popular trope among Near-Earths is to feature earthly topology, strewn around the universe in the form of isles or even whole continents. Fundamental laws that define an Earth-like it bends to a fictional degree, but preserves the essentials, such as planets or stars or faimiliar dimensions, that make up our universe. Thus the link between our universe and that lives on, and it's easy for a newcomer to the world to find their way around with little to no hand-holding required.

I can't help but conjure up a few shots from Treasure Planet, which I gather needs no introduction, to illustrate my line of thought. Take one of the more iconic stills from this flawed masterpiece, R.L.S. Legacy docked at the spaceport of Crescentia:

It is in many ways familiar, I think, to anyone who has ever been to any run-of-the-mill harbour, except that ginormous frigate appears to stay suspended mid-air, not even ropes to hold it in place, and not at all swaying side to side on the high seas as one would assume. No, in this universe carpenters and shipwrigts build 18th century vessels propelled by internal combustion engines to fly through the breathable expanse that they call Ethereum. Indeed, there it is possible to breathe in space, so long as one stays careful not to lean too much on the taffrail and fall into the Ethereum proper, doomed forever to be a cosmic castaway.

Treasure Planet is very representative of a Near-Earth world, as I reckon the aforementioned scene proves. While grounded in culture and (partly) science of our universe, it strays a lot from what our scientists would deem feasible, to the point that it is fundamentally different from our universe in some respect, such as there existing a breatheable atmosphere everywhere in their universe, but not so fundamental as to defy every law of science we know in our world. Physics, and planets, and other celestial bodies and phenomena still exist there, albeit altered in a variety of ways.

Another such example would the High Wilderness, that we're told to travel aboard a literal locomotive, in the brilliant game and one of my many favourites -- Sunless Skies:

It, too, features all the same biomes and structures and many laws with a basis in our universe, and like Treasure Planet, it introduces a major twist: the space beyond the confines of Earth (which does exist in Sunless Skies, and generally follows our history with significant deviations perpetrated by Masters of the Bazaar) is an intricate maze of seldom interlocked and often overlapping topology, stacked on top of one another, and filled with an atmosphere reminiscent of Ethereum, breathable but named a different name.

It is still familiar enough to us as earthlings, and it would not take a seasoned Otherlander to pick the thing up and know the rules of play by instinct. Sure, we are driving a locomotive through time and space, and pass by living stars that govern all, called the Judgements, but the spaces we traverse and people we meet and phenomena we witness are not confusing in the slightest. Shrouded in mystery, maybe, but ultimately sensisble if given enough thought. There is not another dimension for us to consider, and impossible geometry wrapping on itself to comprehend, as seen in Manifold Garden. Nay.

On the Judgements, as a side note, I've found them to be an interesting twist in and of themselves: they are intended to be the law-makers that decide what is real in this world, and what is not. Kill, or posses them, and the world will return to a chaotic state, easily a contender for the quintessential Otherland.

One last sample for you to taste would be the city-state of Sigil, the center of all planes in the planar world of Planescape (pardon the tautology!). Also an earthly world in many ways, it departs from tradition by dabbling in the ideas of interplanar travel, and whole planes of existence drifting from place to place depending on the belief of its denizens. Name me a single spiral-shaped medieval town suspended miles in the air:

I hope my criteria is now clear, or clear-er, better still if as a day. A Near-Earth has some of its fundamental laws thrown away, or meddled with, but there is always at least some foundation identical to that of an Earth-like.

Enter the Wild

In the end, I had a choice to make; a choice of three options, all of which bore pros and posed cons. Weighing all of them took me several restless nights, about a week in total, and some creative encouragement from a colleague, who suggested I turn to Sunless Skies-esque worlds for inspiration: islands floating in the sky, nurturing islanders and their peculiar settlements. I fell in love with the idea in a heartbeat, and on and on I went searching for references. It implied to me a Near-Earth, and all the marks of distinguishment I outlined before for other archetypes pointed to Near-Earths as the perfect fit for my world.

I settled for a few points of reference, among them...

Variably-sized islands and quasi-continents of Dragon Hungers, complete with pocket cultures and hosts of creatures that dwell there:

"Outdated" and outlandish means of transportation between the islands, like airships or fire-breathing dragons, a la Sunless Skies:

Celestial bodies of Treasure Planet, like black holes or nebulas, making an appearance, though toned down a bit to ditch some of their more destructive and lethal properties. A black hole wouldn't spaghettify you in the blink of an eye, but falling into one will nonetheless bring a swift (albeit not quite so fast and unavoidable) end to your career:

What they amounted to, ultimately, is an amalgamation of varied islands, some as big as a continent, others as small as my balcony, and all sporting ecosystems never-before-seen on most other islands. They are suspended in the sky, fortunate to have a man-friendly atmosphere, with a devilish twist I'd rather keep a secret for the time being.

Wannabe heroes make their living sailing through this sky aboard mighty airships or fire-breathing dragons (among many other means of transportation), from one island and on to the next, undertaking quests and accepting commissions from the locals to earn themselves some sustenance. It's a floating world of vagabonds, gallivanters, and legends-in-the-making.

OR! Those same gallivanters may find a particular island, or spot upon on the island, very tempting to settle on. Indeed, if they so desire, players would be able to adopt a sedentary lifestyle, and see what the wilds beyond the comfort of their heart might bring one treacherously blissful morning...

Us locals have entitled this universe the Wild. Enter at your own risk, traveller, for you may never return. This theme seemed to me like a good middle-ground between all the problems I've outlined reviewing archetypes:

Scope was confined to the typical bounds of an island. Some are bigger than others, no doubt, but all of them are a far cry from the usual dimensions of a continent. A narrow scope, as such, is a scope amiable to developers limited in number, or readiness to tackle an enormous landmass.

Narrowed scope in turn shortens the distance one must travel to leave one point of interest for another. We're feeding two birds with one scone -- there is no need for us, as developers, to fill up the lands betwixt with something for you to do, and you won't have to drag yourself through an overstretchesd piece of half-arsed (pardon my French) filler to finally reach the objective that caught your eye in the first place.

At last, as my colleague pointed out, islands in space are capital. Done before to be sure, that road has been travelled many times (and so were most others), but it is still the Earth-likes that proudly keep at the victorious spree as the dominant archetype among the developers. A Near-Earth to me felt like a fair and much-wanted change of scenery, for once in a blue moon.

A floating world shattered into many habitable pieces by far imposes so many more factors upon the cultures, languages, civilisation, technology, and nature of the wild, that to turn it down in favour of an all-too-researched Earth-like world seemed a lazy way out the massive creative problem, I think, many people of letters and pencil and other trades would be thrilled to approach.

P.S. I do realise all my scribbled judgements are arbitrary, and the lines separating Near-Earth from Earth-likes, from Otherlands, is apparently fine, and entirely subjective. These are little more than my five cents; my five thoughts on the subject, and I personally found grouping these worlds into archetypes a good "bookmark" that I've used and will likely come back to designing my own worlds. Peace.

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

1.1 - DEMURE | Sephiroth

A/N: AHHH, this was supposed to be up yesterday but my internet SUCKS sometimes so I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YA’LL ENJOY IT!!

WARNING: THIS BOOK IS RATED 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED. IN THE FUTURE THERE WILL BE SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SCENES, SWEARING, ADULT THEMES SUCH AS PAST ABUSE, ALCOHOL, AND AGAIN SEXUAL SCENES, I CAN NOT REPEAT THIS ENOUGH. This is basically an erotica between OC Kalista Shir and Sephiroth.

PLEASE TAKE CAUTION

1.1 - Chapter 1

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” - Charles Bukowski

[TRACK: Ancient Roman Music - Synaulia I]

(You can listen to the tracks in the background if you wish, these are just the songs that either inspire me/listen to while writing the chapter. Some of them are not in the taste of some readers, so it’s not necessary to listen to it. Anyway, enjoy!)

SEPHIROTH had no time to react. Just the immediate grabbing of a woman falling into his arms, blood coating his gloved hands, the collective angry screams of the other girls ganging up on a man still hiding in the room behind them. When he had entered the Poppy Circus Outlet, there were a number of things he was prepared to witness, but what happened in front of room 423 became more or less an example of how he can never be fully able for everything. 

One moment she had been hiding in his chest for help, her neck nipped with a blade, soaking the white sheet that barely covered her body in a light coat of red and soft tears, the next she was being dragged from his hands, and finding himself in the owner’s office with a wet rag to clean the dried blood upon his leather.

Lockwood “Daring” Heart kept his lips sealed as Sephiroth cleaned up the mess, trying to find words on how to describe the situation they all just had witnessed. Daring, who had owned the Poppy Circus for nearly six months, had never considered a mishap as large as one of his girl’s being targeted, let alone letting one of the top men in Midgar see the action unfold.

Daring was the type of man who was always dressed in a pressed suit of purple stripes, short yet thin, with a mustache curled at his sides. Daring had a kinder personality, especially compared to the others in the business. He’d never allow someone like Mr. Dunes to come cut his girls, let alone his most prized ones. He’d always kept such strict regulations, made sure his girls were just as happy as he was. He missed the ball on that one.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be coming in,” Daring said through his teeth, lighting a cigar with shaky hands. A moment passed as he took in a puff, letting it blow through his nose briefly before he tried to continue with his voice more steady. “Your SOLDIER men enjoy their time here, more so than the Honey Bee Inn apparently.”

Sephiroth didn’t say a word, but the tension building in the room made Daring take in another long inhale of his cigar, this time, taking the moment to let it fester in his lungs. Daring was terrified. Even more so when Sephiroth placed the wet, now bloodied, rag on the table beside him, and the ice-cold stare he had given Daring made his heart beat a little too fast.

“Genesis enjoys-”

“I’m not going to have the place shut down,” Sephiroth said, his voice as icy as his personality, but Daring still let out a deep breath at those words.

For a minute, he had thought his booming business was going to shut down. All his girls would be homeless on the streets, no longer taking refuge in their piece of heaven located in sector two.

The Poppy Circus Outlet was a rival to the infamous Honey Bee Inn, but had a lot less strict rules and more beautiful girls to choose from. The only pop of color amidst the construction, decorated in pinks and red, golds and yellows, the lobby displaying artistic views of the female form just to tease on what was hidden behind the iron doors. 

Daring always believed the underdog slum locals would be taking advantage of the Poppy Inn more than any other demographic, but he had been mistaken, poorly so. SOLDIER and all their tight-ass personnel kept coming back, and the more they did, the more money lined his pockets. The red-head with a bit of an attitude problem, Genesis, was a continuous source of money. Despite his ego problem and ridiculous requests, the girls not only loved him, but he always counted on that big paycheck to pay off the building.

If there was one man with the power to turn heads, Sephiroth would be one of them.

“Kalista is perfectly alright,” Daring reassured him, despite not getting a sense he even cared. “Just a little cut, the cheese knife got a bit too close I guess, caused her to panic, and when she panics,” he tried to smile, “they all panic.” Another deep puff caused Daring’s true personality to shine a little more, the happy-go-lucky, eccentric owner the rest of Midgar knew him to be.

“It would be more than a pleasure to continue having SOLDIER business,” Daring said with a click of his tongue, “and I’m sure Kalista would be willing to give an apology if-”

“An apology isn’t needed, it wasn’t her fault.”

“Right, but you know, for the blood. Can be quite damaging to clothing sometimes.” And his forced laughter cut off with an unexpected silence. “Okay, maybe an apology isn’t needed. But I’ll throw in some deals for your SOLDIER and we can forget this ever happened.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed just a little, almost as if his face hadn’t moved at all. But Daring could tell, the type of solace only found in men like Sephiroth, the ones who have kept everything so bottled in sometimes it was hard to convey even the best emotions. An enigma, both the same and different from Genesis.

“I want to meet her.”

Daring’s ears burned a bit, thinking it was some play on his mind in the heat of excitement and adrenaline. “Excuse me?”

The small office appeared smaller. The soft glow of red hiding his locked jaw, Sephiroth’s subtle grin, how Daring wished he wasn’t face-to-face with the one and only 1st class General. Any other man who had asked would have been given a flat out no, unless a payment had been provided first, but his tongue dared not say it. His stomach at his feet, the cigar no longer calming his nerves. A million things jumbled in his brain momentarily. 

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the lack of humor in Sephiroth sent shivers down Daring’s spine.

“Kalista is what we call a circi here in Poppy. You need an appointment, money, you can’t just ask to meet her and expect it to happen.”

“You just offered to have her give me an apology.”

“An apology and a meeting is different, at least here it is. Kalista is a busy girl.”

“Genesis always talked so fondly of this place.”

“We don’t allow mundan meetings, General.”

“Mentioned you could leave them on retainer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A high price to make sure they’re yours and yours only.”

Daring let off a grin, another puff, nodding his head. “If you’re threatening me over this I won’t go down without a fight.”

“I only came to see where Genesis spends his time. No better way than to apologize than allow me just a meeting.

Daring let the smoke of his nose, finally setting his cigar on the ashtray, leaning forward. “One meeting. Ten minutes.”

Sephiroth’s subtle grin returned, “I’ll see what I can do in that time.”

KALISTA bit her tongue as she cleaned the blood from her skin, the graze stinging from the antiseptic soaked in the towel. She couldn’t help the shaking, how close the knife had gone to her face, the blade in her eye’s vision as he ran it up and down her body, scaring her, waiting for her panicked reaction to take over. But as she sat still, feeling the coldness of steel ponder above her thighs, near her waist, up near her neck, her heart began to beat fast, but she couldn’t move a muscle. She was just silently allowing him to lay wet kisses on her cheeks, the blade moving so close to her artery.

Her body hadn’t reacted in time as he pressed it in, his drunken breath filling her nostrils as she shoved him back. Grabbing the spare sheet on the floor in an attempt to run, her eyes growing wet. She didn’t even make it far in the end, simply colliding with something heavy, smelling of soap and a light sense of musk, a man, no one in the Poppy Inn left without a scent of vanilla and honey.

An outsider.

She couldn’t help but hold onto his arms until one of the other girls heard the running. How the man yelled behind her, requesting her to come back. She wouldn’t look, she wanted to escape in the outsider’s scent for a few moments longer.

Kalista  patted the skin as she glanced back in the mirror, inspecting the small cut like it was a war wound. It hadn’t even pierced deep, but Kalista was shaking like it had cut through her muscle and veins. 

Just focus. And Kalista shut her eyes briefly, trying to pine in on the small burn it left. One deep breath, fists clenched on her knees, She’d have to use all her energy, stop shaking for just a second to get the desired results, and just like that, it was done.

Kal took a moment to inspect again, parting her hair to examine her own work. One moment she had bared an unfortunate cut from a cheese knife, the next, it was as if nothing had happened. Minus the still chipping blood near her ear, the deed was no longer visible. Just as she liked it. Daring wouldn’t question it, nor would the girls. 

They knew her secret as well as she did.

Kal took a long drink of the champagne bottle left on her vanity, hoping the alcohol would ease her shattered nerves even briefly. She could hide it, but she couldn’t hide from it.

Thankfully Daring was a good guy or else Kal would have to do everything in her power to hide from that bastard Mr. Dunes. She’d have no need to wait in the halls for him to pass, for him to glance over her as if she was a piece of meat, he’d never have to endure that again, and neither would the others.

Kal finished off the rest of the bottle when a knock had come at her door. She instinctively wrapped her robe around tighter, wiping the smeared red lipstick with her sleeve before she approached the expected visitation.

But when she opened the door, she wasn’t arranged to meet the tall man standing behind him. For a second she had thought Daring was trying to strike up a conversation as he always did with her and her potential customers, but his solemn look said otherwise. It was like he was trying to send her a neurological signal as a warning, but Kal couldn’t tell why.

“Kalista.” Daring greeted her, a smile popping on his face for a second before it completely disappeared. There was a small amount of happiness in his eyes left, but the unfortunate accident had left Daring just as shaken up as she felt. “this is General Sephiroth. He’s the one you bleed all over.” 

Kalista bit her cheek, as always he was pretty blunt when it came to the job. 

“He works for SOLDIER.”

Kal nodded slowly as if she was intently listening, but she was a bit drunk at that point, not to mention Sephiroth seemed a little chillier than the other men Daring would bring down. She constantly walked cautious, and despite Sephiroth not giving off any terrifying vibes just yet, she still had to remain a bit hesitant. It’s how it started with Mr. Dunes. He was a very generous man in the light, but drunk and in the dark, knife-play was possibly the least dangerous thing he could have pulled. She was lucky to find out so quick.

“He wanted to come meet the bleeding woman.” Daring continued with a revamp of his playful tone. Allowing himself into her bedroom, Sephiroth following, Kal got a quick whiff of his soapy smell yet again as he brushed by, and she took in a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry if that’s worth anything,” Kalista said, trying not to bite her lip. She had already scraped off the excess dried skin the past few hours, anymore and she’d tear off her whole bottom lip. The other girl’s would be constantly tearing her apart with their humor, and after the knife, she needed a few days before she could handle being teased by childish entertainment. 

Daring patted her shoulder, “he doesn’t want an apology, Kal. Calm down. He just needs to ask you a few questions.”

Kalista was prepared to say something, but Daring had shushed her like a disobedient child, closing the door behind him before Kal could protest. She should have guessed he’d spring something on her so quickly. 

Sephiroth took a moment to inspect Kalista’s bedroom as Kal reopened her door, escaping to find Daring wherever he had disappeared to. 

Her room was much different than the bright crimson decorating throughout the rest of the Poppy Circus. Everything was coated with deep wine, burgundy, much more calm compared to the exaggerated golds in the hallways. Huge tapestries hung on the walls, a canopy hanging off her bed, large curtains blocking the sunlight, leaving nothing but the soft glow of the candles surrounding him.

Sephiroth stopped in front of her wall paintings, noticing a white streak that read Kalista Shir hidden in the corner. His fingers scraped over it, letting the leather run over the rough texture slowly, but before he could circle through her name, Kalista had stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.” She said, taking in a deep breath. “The oils and dirt on your gloves would erode the paint faster.”

After a quick debriefing with Daring in the hall, she realized Sephiroth was a bigger name than she had originally thought. But that didn’t mean she had to let him run his hands all over her things as if he owned them. Customers paid for sex, not to view an art gallery.

“Do you paint?” Sephiroth asked, and she was taken back by his deeper voice. 

Kal shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Do you also sometimes bleed on men in the hallways?”

Her eyebrows cocked, suppressing a smile. She had a hard time trying to tell if he was being serious or joking. “Yeah, it’s how I always find my next client. You know, a way to make sure they know I mark them before they mark me.” She let off a small grin.

Sephiroth had seen beautiful women all over Midgar, but none who had captivated him as much as Kalista seemed to. Underneath the soft candlelight glow, he could still see the freckles dusting her olive skin. Everywhere. On her exposed shoulders, her cheeks, small moles seen on her hands. Hair as dark as a raven’s wing, curly, cascading down her back, and eyes unlike one’s he’s ever come across. Auburn, almost even more gold than the designs of the Poppy Circus.

“That’s why I asked to come talk to you,” Sephiroth said, moving from the painting, inspecting Kalista’s vanity clear on the other side of the room. “Daring said you're a circi, what does it mean?”

“Daring has a big mouth,” she said quietly, “it’s a fancy word for reserved whore mind you.”

“A bit brash are we not?”

“You can sugarcoat a lot of things, that’s not one of them.”

Sephiroth tried to hide the grin, “how much are you usually reserved for?”

 “Depends I guess. When you put girls on retainers it adds bonus funds.” Kal swallowed hard, but she still tried to remain still, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in the middle of the room.

“Hmm, like what?”

“The daily cost alone can range between five thosand to six thosand gil, added costs are unknown to me. You’d have to ask Daring about it.”

“He’s a strange man.”

“He’s annoying,” Kal corrected. “He can be good, but most of the time I’m stuck doing his work. If he allowed me to do my job and he does his, we wouldn’t be crossing paths so often.”

Kalista found another bottle of champagne, half-full, and took a moment to take a drink while he continued to inspect the paintings surrounding her room. She kept her eye on him as she tasted the sweet undertones.

“Kalista, correct?” Sephiroth tested the name on his tongue, pausing, turning back towards the open door. He could hear the small giggles and whispers of the other girl’s on the floor, probably listening in. He couldn’t ask the things he wanted. Not yet anyway. 

She was about to answer when he said a simple “take care, Kalista.” Leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Quietly, Kal sunk deeper in her chair.

When Sephiroth had officially left the building, Daring had popped back into her bedroom, his boisterous voice back and booming in her ear as she always remembered to be. Him begging her to tell him the things Sephiroth had asked, wondering why he had even walked through the Poppy Circus Outlet in the first place. But Kalista had nothing to say, and it would be another twenty-four hours before Kal could hear what he had wanted. 

CHAPTER TWO WILL BE PUBLISHED APRIL 10th, 2020