Serpentine Squiggles

Follow-up to: The Duality of Mantes

Diamantes don’t have a concept of friendship.

To some, this is a ridiculous thing to assert — mantes are a social species. How could they function without this fundamental stitch in the interpersonal fabric? Indeed, at a coarse level, the skepticism is vindicated. If a “friend” is simply some bug you like, whose company you seek out and enjoy, who helps and supports you, then of course mantes have friends.

A fallacy I’ve engaged in, now that my writing has achieved some success, is to turn that success into the goal. When I contemplate writing, too often I’m no longer thinking about the story, I’m thinking about what I want the story to be. How I want the audience to be impressed with me, how I want them feeling about what I’m writing.

But all my best stories happened because I simply had an idea that I wanted to convey and so I explained it. No pretense, no expectation.

Therids are spiders. Setae-furry, with colorful tufts to distinguish individuals, and big ol’ abdomens larger than their heads. They’ve got claws on their paws, and chelicerae-fangs with enough venom to kill just about anything their own size — or larger.

Their leg-span’s about a meter and a half, and they slump instead of standing, rising about half a meter. Most bugs look down on them, and the sprawly gait means they move pretty slowly.

Someone above you always knows better than you
There’s something comforting in the stranglehold of a shepherd’s crook
— Subrosa, “The Wound of The Warden”

Curating my favorite fanfics for my favorite web series about angsty murderbots.

Like my last essay, this was a first a tumblr post, so it’s a bit more informal than other essays. Context dictates form as well as style; these posts leaned on Murder Drones examples in contrast to my typical unexmplified abstraction.

hi again! I have another question😭 do you have any tips on writing pre-existing characters? (while still adding more to the table of course.) How do you keep it in character? like how you write J or Uzi for example.

Uzi’s been living with J’s team for a while now. They’ve settled into a comfortable routine. A very comfortable routine — she hopes no one’s noticed the bite marks. She’d kill J for that, but it’s not like that worked out last time.

Worth it, though, to cement their mutually beneficial partnership. Even if it meant acting as a glorified oilcan whenever J got hungry. Uzi isn’t sure what’s the worse embarrassment: that she kind of likes it, or that J really likes it.

No, the worst embarrassment is that they’ve been doing this long enough that J wants to spice things up.

This was originally a tumblr post.

J narrowed her eyes, eyeing the two disassembly drones in the pod. N and V leaned against the wall, white sheets of A2 paper in their hands. V rolled her eyes, but N raised a finger, as if requesting permission to ask a question. What a waste of time — just ask.

“Hey captain, what’s this?”

“It’s your schedule for the next week. Memorize it, or keep it safe. I won’t be printing out another.”

I’ve reread and made extensive tweaks and updates to the text of Hostile Takeover. If you’re inclined to reread and haven’t already, now isn’t a bad time to do so.

For those that aren’t, I’ll excerpt some significant things that have been changed or added since your initial read, divided by chapter. This summary concerns plot and worldbuilding updates, rather than everything of value.

When I was a dragonet, I saw cave paintings with clear-eyed wonder. Murals showed off snow-capped mountain ranges, canyons of rocks layered in seven different colors, abyss-deep lakes that stretched as broad as the horizon. And I would wonder how any dragon could ever want a hoard.

But I think most of growing up didn’t make sense to me. I was anxious to get a heartflame (who wasn’t?) but the rest of it — leaving the lair forever, courting a mate, herding a den of kobolds… well, it wasn’t stupid, it couldn’t be. One day I’d figure out why it made my mother smile so wide.

Uzi was pretty frickin good at her job. Her sick as a hell railgun totally works, and she has the body count to prove it! With a trail of dead murder drones behind her, she’s finally secured her place in the frozen wasteland.

Okay, maybe she had a little help. But she didn’t need J’s protection or anything. She could handle herself just fine!

Tonight, she needs to repair her railgun. Maybe tweak a few things while she’s at it. And sure, she’s staying up a little late to do it. (Don’t tell J.)

The railgun’s what kept her alive, after all. She needs to hone it to perfection — what else did she have?

Uzi didn’t remember the blade-wings in the sky nor the drooling, oil-hungry mouths. Neither did Doll, her former best friend. But their mothers did — how could you forget how you almost died? Yet everyone survived; both families were safe behind the outpost’s doors.

Were.

Khan and Nori are dead. Everyone would be, too — a murder drone had slipped past the doors — but Doll was there to fight them back. Now she wants to take the fight to them. She’s everyone’s hero — except one.

I once decried the three act structure. I once called “beginning, middle, and end” the worst of high school english class truisms.

And yet, when someone came to me asking for advice, what’s the most appropriate thing I thought I could say?

It’s been a few years. I’d like to check back in on that old post on the no-called Ur-development and see how I feel now.

i am asking about your ocs

give me a yap about one of your favorites >:3

i’m gonna tell you about Prince Lucien Aetheart. i figure you’ll appreciate this, because he’s from the cometverse like Knight-Commander Novus and Vela, whose fight i yapped about all those months ago

so, Prince Lucien. he’s an aethling, one born of noble blood in the kingdom of Extola.

To be blindfolded in a world of baleful, enchanting illusions is simply survival. To wear that handicap proudly can be excused as excess. But when your world contracts to that dark, claustrophobic interiority, where do the monsters dwell?

Mantes could once hear another’s thoughts as keenly as voices. They still hear voices; they just don’t listen.

Make no mistake: Uzi was a disruption. Unlike Lizzy, she was never one to text during class. Was. Now, Uzi seems to spent all day glued to her phone. It’s obvious: she’s made a new friend — or something more? No amount of rumor or gossip can’t figure out who.

Uzi certainly isn’t telling.

Storm-veiled stars, frozen city ruins, knives in the sky.

Railgun finished early, Uzi hunts.

Doors. Frickin’ doors. Remember when all your problems were as simple as shut the hatch and lock it twice? No, you don’t. You’re too young. Outpost-3 only stood secure for what, a year?

Then Saint Nori and Brother Khan went and faced down the robo-vampires and the very harbinger of the company. Saved them all with power of truth, justice and the Doorman way. Tragically stepped through the door to robo-Heaven in the process — classic martyrdom stuff.

Note: this was originally a post on tumblr.

so, my kneejerk reaction to the finale climax was ‘that looks cool, but it’s kind of underwhelming and underbaked. what does any of this mean in the end?’

but i decided to actually give it a moment of thought and no, the show actually does hangs together thematically and this is what it’s been building to all along

When every word was a lie, only silence suggested truth.

J held her tongue.

That wasn’t her voice. A thought looping, encircling, and strangling until there was nothing else to think or say. Silence brooked no falsehoods — nor answers. And was that trade worth it? Was this the best strategy of the most effective disassembly drone when confronted? This meek, passive hush? No, J needed something to work with.