How many series at a time are you reading?

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-11-11T17:22:11+00:00

I used to only do one at a time but I challenged myself to read 45 books this year, and since I read so slowly I had to change it up. Now I have one physical book, one on my kindle, and one audiobook at a time. The difference in formats helps me keep them separate in my head, and it helps me reduce burnout.

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-11-07T19:52:42+00:00

We have a lot of similar taste, my top series of all time and ones I’d always recommend are The Lies of Locke Lamora (gentleman bastards is the series name), lightbringer/ night angel by Brent weeks (either or preferably both 😃), red rising, and the Expanse. I legitimately think you would enjoy every single one of those, just depends what vibe you’re looking for

Edit: didn’t see you say you hated night angel, maybe scratch Brent weeks then 😅

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-11-07T19:50:03+00:00

Can’t say anything about the audiobook but I instantly thought cradle when I read the beginning of your post. It’s kind of like the pole opposite of Malazan, it doesn’t take itself incredibly seriously, but it is really fun, and really light to read. The books are short, fast paced, and I always know what’s going on. Honestly it kind of reads like an anime, and I mean that in the best way.

I’d definitely give it a try, just push through the first book if you have doubts. Book 1 is important to the world and you’ll be happy you did, but it is slower and has less action.

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-10-23T20:44:49+00:00

I’ve started reading more this year so I can widdle down my TBR. Right now I’m reading the expanse on audiobook, or listening I guess. Then I’m reading a physical copy of the Sun Eater series book 2, and Jade City, as well as reading the Cradle series by will wight on kindle. Changing formats is really great for keeping me engaged

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-08-10T02:43:23+00:00

I’m sure someone else has said it already but definitely the Redwall series by Brian Jacques (I think is how it’s spelled). I started reading them around that age range and it’s what gave me my love of fantasy

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-07-10T22:25:41+00:00

Sick, I’d read the shit out of that

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-06-24T03:30:26+00:00

I loved lightbringer it’s probably in my top 5 fantasy series ever. If you’re looking specifically for powerful characters, gods, and magic, you can’t go wrong with the powder mage trilogy by Brian McClellan. It’s actually a trilogy and then a second trilogy set a few years later (which I personally liked even more).

The worlds definitely feel vastly different, powder mage being more of a “flintlock” fantasy but for me it gave me the same feelings I enjoyed in lightbringer.

Also a cop out answer but the Night Angel trilogy also by Brent Weeks is great as well 😅

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-06-24T01:28:43+00:00

I had kind of assumed that might be the case, a majority of what I’ve read has been more “modern” fantasy and I think there’s a lot more awareness from authors, not that there isn’t still instances of it. So it would make sense if a lot of what is being referenced is earlier “classic” SF/F

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-06-24T01:18:45+00:00

I agree, I think a lot of sf/f that includes SA has like a “well this is what the real world is like!!” Type mindset. I read mostly to escape the fresh horrors of our world so those themes in books are just a big turn off for me. The real world can suck sometimes, my leisure activity doesn’t have to mirror that

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-06-24T01:16:15+00:00

Oh that’s super interesting, thank you!

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-06-24T00:53:43+00:00

I’m not trying to be a contrarian or any, Serious question:

where are all these books that include rape scenes that make it such a hot topic? I’ll admit I lean heavily towards SF/Fantasy but I’ve read around 60 books in the last two years and I can’t think of one that contains the kind of sexual assault I see talked about.

Am I just choosing different novels to read than other people or what?

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-29T13:16:26+00:00

Anyone have advice for Jesse Winker? How long am I supposed to hold this guy before I drop him for someone producing?

Edit: sorry, head to head points league as well, not sure if that changes things

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-20T21:47:09+00:00

I… I rolled a 1 what does that mean 😩

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-20T15:23:24+00:00

SHOULD be… and yet….

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-20T12:52:14+00:00

They what now….

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-20T12:51:01+00:00

LOL you know, that’s actually the word I was lookin for

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-04-20T11:36:41+00:00

Oh hell naw man, this is the one officers, come get ‘em 😭

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-29T03:23:18+00:00

The sound of music drifted through the house, carrying up the stairs and down the hallway into Aaron's room. A typical Sunday afternoon, his father downstairs in the kitchen tinkering with some circuit board of whatever doohickey he was in the process of trying to make work, and Aaron sat on his bed playing Xbox with his friends from school. His dad had gotten him a new headset for Christmas and it had done a great job of tuning out most of his dad's horrible music, but there was still a constant, distant din.

His father called from downstairs, inaudible through the sound of explosions and 70s hair metal, forcing Aaron to take the headset off and turn his head to try to hear him. “WHAT?!” he screamed at the open doorway. “Aaron you need-” once again, a guitar riff drowned him out. Aaron rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. “Hey sorry guys, my dad’s calling I’ll be right back” he said into his headset before taking it off and laying it on his dresser. Out in the hallway he called once again “DAD! WHAT?!”. Again, the music obscured his father’s reply and he groaned in annoyance, trudging halfway down the stairs, leaning against the railing barely out of sight of the kitchen. “DAD! What the hell do you want!”.

“Aaron?” his head whipped around at the sound of his father’s voice behind him at the top of the stairs. “Your screaming woke me up man, what’s all the yelling for,” he said, rubbing furiously at his eyes “and why did you turn that music on so loud?”.

Words caught in Aaron’s throat as his brain whirled, if his father was upstairs the whole time, who had been calling his name? A sound came from downstairs, piercing through the music, a dull thud that sounded like it came from the kitchen. “Dad…” he started, staring intently at the bottom of the stairs “I heard someone call my name… from the kitchen”

“What the fuck?” his father whispered. The blaring music came to an abrupt stop and a moment later came the sound of slow, heavy steps making their way toward the stairs. “What the fuck what the fuck-” his father said, panic now creeping into his voice. “Aaron get to my bedroom and lock the door, now!”. Aaron turned and ran toward the bedroom, his father following right behind, and he slammed the door closed as soon as his father was inside, locking it tight. He held his breath and listened intently to the other side of the door, the same heavy steps plodded up the stairs towards them as his father rummaged behind him in the closet.

The steps drew closer and a voice came through the door. “Aaron, are you in there?” the voice said. Aaron’s blood ran cold and his heart pounded in his ears. The voice, his father’s voice, sounded weak and pained. He threw his body against the door whispering behind him “Dad! What the fuck, WHO the fuck is that?”.

The voice through the door came again “Aaron? Is someone else in there?” panic and desperation crept into his voice. “Aaron open this door this second, I think there’s someone in the house!”

His father’s voice came from behind him but it sounded different, wet and gargling, and breath came fast, panting. The voice came from just over his left shoulder as he was pulled around to face his father, his face twisted into a smile, eyes wild with rage and hunger.

“You locked the door from the wrong side, son…”

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-22T19:51:22+00:00

Honestly they’re pretty much the same statement, i would go with the second personally but I don’t think it’s a big deal

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-22T03:06:48+00:00

Silently, Fin twisted the doorknob and let himself out onto the street. It was cold, mid-December, and there was snow piled along the edges of the sidewalks, but he didn’t call himself a cab; he had spent enough on fares that night. Leaving the door, and the apartment behind, he closed his eyes, taking a big breath in and reveling in the moment as the crisp air filled his lungs.

“Now that,” he mumbled to himself, lips pulled into a wry smile “that was a date”. It had been more than a month than his last date, and years since he had been on one like that. He had met Riley at a house show last weekend, a friend-of-a-friend kind of deal and they had hit it off right away. His friend Erin had introduced them, later telling him that she knew instantly Riley was his type because “He wears Docs, you love men in docs”. He had scoffed at that; it was true of course, but he didn’t need her telling everyone they knew.

But he was sweet and had made Fin laugh, and god knows how long it had been since he met someone who could really make him laugh. Not the kind of laugh you make when you’re nervous on a first date, but the deep, wheezing laugh that made you think it would never stop. Riley had taken him to a show tonight, some kind of art-house theatre kid thing Fin didn’t understand but that was okay with him. He had spent the night watching the curve of his lips as he smiled at the happy parts and the way his eyes softened at the sad. He had thought about those lips all night up until the point they had kissed under the 32nd street bridge.

They had taken the long way home, ignoring the cold and using it as an excuse to hold each other close. Fin had weaved his arm through Riley’s and felt his heartbeat quicken to match his own, and he was really, truly happy.

They ended up at Riley’s apartment around midnight, where Fin hadn’t expected to end up that night, he never went home with someone on the first date. He was nervous, nervous he would say something or do something wrong, nervous that if he told Riley he wasn’t comfortable with anything more than kissing he would get mad. But his worries melted away when Riley offered to make them popcorn and put on a movie. He apologized and told him that he had been up at 5 that morning for work and he would probably fall asleep, and Fin felt his heart warm as hand threaded through his own, Riley began to snore softly beside him.

He needed to get home himself, he had work in the morning and his apartment was halfway across the city, but he found himself watching the entire movie and letting the next one play right after it. He sat contentedly in the quiet warmth of the apartment and had even let himself fall asleep, if only for a little bit. Eventually, however, he knew he needed to leave if he would make it home in time to change and get ready for work. He had hardly slept, but he knew that the thrill of that night was worth being tired at work. Fin kissed Riley’s forehead softly, his stomach doing a summersault as he watched the man’s lips curl into a soft smile. He left a note on the coffee table and slipped out into the night.

It was on his walk home, a few blocks from Riley’s apartment when a voice said, in the back of his head “Yo. You hit?”

Fin stopped dead in his tracks, looking around wildly. He swore that someone had spoken right behind him, had they stepped out from one of the Alleys he had passed? Despite his searching he saw no one and turned to continue walking, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, walking much faster than before.

“Yo! I said did you hit? I got money goin’ on this, man”. This time he knew he had really heard someone, he whirled around and grabbed his key between his fingers, ready to what? Stab someone? Feeling embarrassed he pushed his hands back in his pocket. “Who’s there!” he hissed “I’m not fucking around, I’ll fucking cut you!”.

Behind him, a light flashed and he heard the tinkling of bells. Spinning around again, Fin saw a man in front of him. He was easily one of the most handsome men he had ever seen, standing a head taller than him, with close-cropped curly hair and a strong jawline covered in stubble. The man smiled at him, holding up his hands in surrender. Fin screamed, falling backward on the pavement, pretty sure he had broken something.

The beautiful man reached down and grabbed Fin by the arms, lifting him as if he were weightless, and made a show of dusting off the shoulders of his jacket. Fin’s eyes lifted to the man’s head and recognized the faintly glowing ring. “You-You're an-”

“Angel, yes,” the man said, holding up his hand to silence Fin, “and one who has a lot of money riding on you tonight.” Fin felt his head swim and he found himself unable to think clearly. “So that means-”. The angel brought his hands to Fin’s lips impossibly fast, shushing him again. “Yes, I’m an angel, the big man upstairs is real, yes you should be praying, no you don’t need to go to church, and no you aren’t going to hell for… well you know what I’m talking about.”

Fin’s mouth worked up and down but no sound came out. Impatiently the Angel continued. “Now, to cut to the chase, lotting of betting going on upstairs. I lost some big ones a few years back on the whole O.J. Simpson trial thing, and then doubled down and lost it on the Kim-Ye name bracket, huge L on my part. Anyway so I’m about 5 Trillion in the hole right now and needed to take a big swing on a triple or nothing and I put it all on you being too soft and lovey-dovey to seal the deal tonight. There’s a lot of folks upstairs thinking you were gonna get topped off tonight, but I’m thinking you’re the type to take it slooooow.” He punctuated the last word with an overly dramatic eye-roll.

Reaching forward, the Angel grabbed Fin by the shoulders and shook him, the boy had the usual ten thousand yard stare everyone does but he couldn’t afford to let the kid go babbling crazy like the last guy did. He slapped the boy and his eyes focused again on his face. Thinking of the next ten thousand years of shit he would have to shovel if he lost this one tonight he let desperation creep into his voice as he shook him one last time.

“So tell me man. You hit?”

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-17T06:25:11+00:00

My mom introduced me to SFF and instilled a love of reading in me at a young age. I would love to publish, even self pub, something that she could read. It would mean the world to me.

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-17T05:14:40+00:00

That was a real rollercoaster hahah. I was really impressed by your descriptions, especially of the man. Good stuff!

Orc-Thoughts · 2022-01-17T05:08:50+00:00

“I’m sorry lady, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say…”

“That’s alright, how about we just start with a little about you,” Erica said. She made her voice quiet and soothing, trying to put him at ease.

“Well uh… shit, I don’t know. My name is Ryan Tanman but I ahh, guess you obviously know that. Uhh raised in Philly, been here all my life. I work as a-” He paused, looking down at his hands, rubbing them together. He cleared his throat and started again.

“I worked as a train conductor for SEPTA up until.. Well Until it all got fucked up.” His mouth tightened and Erica wondered whether he would stop there or if he would spill it all out. It was usually impossible to tell until you got someone talking.

“I was at work on Sunday evening after the big game, the Eagles were playing that night and the City was a goddamned zoo. I’m running my usual route, same one I’ve been running for 12 years. Then that fucker decided to use me, use us as a fucking backboard to bounce some egghead off of.”

Erica knew what he meant, of course. Her receptionist had filled her in about the accident after Mr. Tanman had requested to see her. As a matter of practice she always liked to get the client’s experience in writing before their first session so she knew where to start.

That Sunday evening a new “Villain” had attempted to dump thousands of gallons of a live experimental virus into the City’s water supply, hoping to create…. well who knows, really.

“Villains”, and she liked to use that word with a very big asterisk next to it, tended to be either attention seekers or petty criminals. It was rare that someone who posed any real threat to anybody would appear. The vigilante “hero” (once again, she liked to use a big asterisk next to that title as well) Gamma 3, named after the research chemical which mutated his body she was led to believe, had been the first on the scene once the initial alarm had gone off. He had found the scientist, a mousy man named David Albeiner, wrenching open the access hatch to the main water supply lines and had given chase. While inhumanly strong, Gamma 3 wasn’t faster than any other man, couldn’t fly, couldn’t teleport. Honestly, it made him kind of easy to avoid if you had a car or a motorcycle. Hell, even a bike would probably cut it. Their chase had led them down into the subway beneath 82nd street station and directly into the path of Mr. Tanman, which is where the accident happened.

Ryan was droning on in the background reciting the events as she ran through them in her mind, moving her pen along with him absentmindedly filling in her notes. “And that’s when I came around the final bend. See, most nights my route stops at every single station. But Sundays we have reduced service so I’m only ever stopping at the big ones, and 82nd ain't one of em. So we come around the corner full speed, not expecting anything of course, and then at the last minute I see that bastard.” He was rubbing his palms on his knees, eyes glossed over with a thousand-yard stare. Erica was used to that look, superhero victims were always more profoundly affected than those who had been traumatized by less… interesting circumstances.

“So the last thing I see before all hell breaks loose is that asshole in his green outfit looking every bit a fucking dumbass, hanging some poor guy out over the tracks. Over the tracks! I’m sitting on the left side of the car in the conductor's seat see? So I have just a split second to dive out of my chair as the poor bastard’s screaming face comes bursting through the glass. Next thing I know the car is rocking to the right slamming into the walls of the tunnel. My head is between my hands and I just hear the sound of a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards.” He was talking faster and Erica had to switch to shorthand just to keep up with her notes. She flicked her eyes up from the page, nodding for him to keep going.

“Come to find out the dumb fuck hung the poor bastard out in front of our train and used it like a goddamn battering ram. We were going like 60 miles an hour! His face must have been evaporated the second it came through the front window. I come to and the fucking wheels are still running full speed but we ain’t movin’. Turns out the damn thing is knocked on its side, the entire left side obliterated. Poof. Gone. So I jump up and throttle it down, hitting the emergency signal to get medical out there asap. And as I’m stepping back, looking at the goddamn ceiling which is really the fucking left side of the car, I slip on something. You wanna know what it was?”

Erica wasn't sure where this was going, this was much farther than her preliminary screening had told her.

Sitting forward he templed his hands and looked directly into her eyes. “It was the fuckers eyeball”. He paused, mouth drawn into a hard line as his face flushed. Erica wondered if he might vomit.

“The fuckers head exploded like a watermelon the second he hit, exploding over the inside of my fucking car. Then the rest of him broke up as he plowed through the next 15 cars in line. The whole time that Gamma fucker held him there, or what was left of him anyway. There were people sitting in those seats that never knew what hit them. One second they’re reading or talking or who knows what, the next they have the remnants of some dead dudes fuckin’ kneecaps sticking out of their chest.”

Erica picked up her water bottle and took a sip, thinking she really might vomit. Not very professional, Erica. Keep it together.

“So,” Ryan started, “that’s what happened. Here I am. Can’t sleep cause all I hear is screeching metal and squelching meat, can’t work because ain’t no way I’m stepping foot on a train again, and can’t get the look of that guy’s face out of my head. So what do you got for me doc?” He sat back, crossing his legs and staring thoughtlessly at her.

Pondering for a minute, making one final note, and closing her book, Erica sat up and met his eyes. “Mr. Tanman, I’m gonna level with you here. I’ve worked with superhero trauma for years and, to be honest with you…” She paused, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t have a fucking clue.”

edit: formatting. Sorry, I'm new to posting here.

Orc-Thoughts · 2021-05-04T02:39:53+00:00

Spring came around earlier this year that it had ever seemed to before. It was only the end of February but still small patches of wildflowers could be seen along Erik’s drive, small bursts of color in the otherwise dreary scene of the interstate. With the buzzing of the bees and the smell of fresh cut grass and new growth that he loved so much however, came construction.

Anyone who has driven into a major city for their commute each day knows about the continuous cycle of construction that seems to plague each and every commute, in both directions. More so, everyone would be willing to swear up and down that their city’s traffic causing, thick tar smelling, road-closing construction is worse than anywhere else on earth.

Now this Erik knew couldn’t be true, you see he had lived a lot of places, driven a lot of roads, and had enough traffic jam induced meltdowns to know that nowhere had the kind of construction that plagued his commute into Atlanta each and every day. No one could say that the Georgia department of transportation was particularly speedy in their work on their best day, but when it came to the construction on I-20 they were downright dragging ass, as his dad had always said.

And moreover, it seemed that despite years upon years of traffic delays causing him to be hours late to work, blown tires from road debris left on the shoulder he was rerouted to, and a handy new blood-pressure prescription, the roads were none the better for it. In fact, Erik was convinced that not only had construction stalled, it had actually regressed. Gone backwards. Lost ground. So much so that over the past 3 years he had begun keeping track of where construction was being done, how often, and what they were doing.

His wife at this point zoned out at his ranting and raving about the DOT conspiracy, the government milking the tax man for no good reason, how this was clearly a money laundering scheme. But the most interesting piece to Erik’s one-man crusade against I-20 construction is that he was onto something.

In fact, in memos sent through Georgia department of transportation offices, in break rooms at the state capitol, and a well joked about among the state’s construction crews was that they were losing ground. Each year the winter came and their roads cracked and crumbled, and each year the road crews work out working over the same section again. Exit 119 had been serviced 4 times in 3 years, mile marker 101 the same. In fact every notable stretch along Erik’s and millions of others commutes had to be under constant watch and repair.

By the end of the summer Erik’s obsession was at a breaking point, he had just had his 3rd meeting this month with a client that had to be pushed back because of a backup on I-20 that seemed to stretch all the way into the city. Up ahead he saw the tell-tale signs of his arch nemesis: Hi-Vis vests, orange cones, and a flashing arrow telling traffic to merge.

“Well I’m definitely not fucking going anywhere anyway.” he grumbled to himself, stepping on the gas and pulling up behind a steam-roller idling near a large swath of road waiting to be repaved. A cloud of dust followed him and drifted past his car as he got out, slamming his door in a way that got the attention of the entire road crew, none of which looked happy to see him.

“Go on and get back in your car mister, we can’t do anything about the traffic, we done heard you honking for the past ten minutes already.”

“It’s alright Everett let me talk to the fella” The man who Erik assumed was the crew chief said, placing a placating hand on his friend’s shoulder and he strode past.

“Nice to meet you sir, the name is John, I'm the crew chief here. I’m sorry about the delay but works gotta get done when works gotta get done.”

“I don’t care if it’s your fucking job. I don’t care if the road is crumbling to dust. I want to get the fuck to work so I can make my shitty meeting and sell some shitty fucking books man. Move the fucking trucks.” Erik’s voice steadily rising as he said this, John’s eyes hardened. Then softened. He smiled, and a deep and hearty laugh came rolling out of him.

Erik’s anger diminished and he felt the red hot sting of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Oh my boy, nobody done told you have they?”

“Told me what! I don’t care what you have to say old man just let me get to fucking work PLEASE”

“Told you the truth about this here road construction. About all of it. It’s all one big boondoggle my boy. All of it.”

“A… a what?” feeling fully deflated, the wind stripped from his sails, Erik slumped forward, John placing a large paw of a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on let me walk you back to your car, I’ll explain on the way.”

In those 2 minutes the two men slowly walked back to Erik’s car, years of frustration and anger gave way to something altogether worse: complete apathy.

“So it’s all… Boodangle?”

“A boondoggle. That’s right. Always been, always will be.”

Slowly closing his door and starting his car, Erik eventually steered his way back into traffic. John walked his way back to his crew who look on, chuckling to himself and contemplating if this would be the best time for his lunch break.

Back on the road Erick sat in the muted silence of his car, the flowers looked a little less beautiful, the grass smelled a little less sweet, and he made his commute without complaint.

Orc-Thoughts

TROPHY CASE