#Fi & Hi Europe

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[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[triumfointernational-blog]

FI EUROPE & HI Frankfurt 2023

[liewithm3]

Obscure artists should be very careful when using Stage Names. People are stealing my work again, thousands of hours.

Skyrim is even more beautiful thanks to the modding community:

https://www.nexusmods.com/users/1880305 I've lost the installed games that I created these videos with thanks in large part to the abuse of my family and the local religious community's greed.

I called myself Jake, like a stage name, to protect my ID and to honor Jacob Parrott, the first United States Medal of Honor recipient. I had hoped to make a living doing gaming videos after I realized that my family would never help me, but never realized how ashamed of themselves they were.

Realistic Lighting Overhaul https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/844 Obsidian Weathers and Seasons https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/12125

[morporkian-cryptid]

Welcome to the wonderful world of Arsène Lupin Copyright Shenanigans

Have I ever told y’all about the absolute madness that is the legal issues around the Lupin franchise ? Probably. Can I find the post in question ? No. Am I going to tell you again ? You fucking bet !

The year is 1905, and detective stories are all the rage. Maurice Leblanc, a young writer, is commissioned by the magazine Je Sais Tout to write a short story on the same model as Sherlock Holmes. Maurice Leblanc says « Screw this detective shit », and creates the character of Arsène Lopin, gentleman thief.

No, this is not a typo.

Arsène Lopin, a municipal advisor in Paris, hears about it and contacts Leblanc. « You are not fucking writing a story about a thief who shares my name. » To which Leblanc replied, « Lopin ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Arsène Lupin, completely different person. »

And he gets away with it.

Leblanc writes a bunch more stories about Arsène Lupin, they get popular, and he decides he wants to write a crossover with the famous British detective, Sherlock Holmes. A crossover in which, of course, Lupin will win and Holmes will be humiliated.

Arthur Conan Doyle hears about it, and is not thrilled. He contacts Maurice Leblanc with a message along the lines of « You are not fucking writing a story where my Amazing-Original-Character-Do-Not-Steal gets bested by a thief. » To which Leblanc replies, « Sherlock Holmes? No no, you misunderstand, this is Herlock Sholmes, completely different person. »

And he gets away with it.

The years pass, more Lupin stories are written, they’re translated and exported outside of France, and wouldn’t you know it, Japan takes a strong liking to the « gentleman thief » archetype in general and to Arsène Lupin in particular.

The years is 1967, and mangaka Kazuhiko Kato, best known by his pen name Monkey Punch, is commissioned by the magazine Weekly Manga Action to create a manga for their first issue. He reads 15 of Leblanc’s stories, and creates Lupin the Third, a character who is the grandson of the famous gentleman thief. He does not bother asking the Leblanc Estate for permission, as Japan doesn’t give much of a crap about French copyright laws.

(For the record, Weekly Manga Action was the first manga magazine for an adult audience (outside of erotica), and Lupin III was published in its first issue, effectively making it one if not the very first adult manga in the history of manga.)

The Lupin III manga gets popular, is adapted into an anime, the anime gets popular, it gets translated into other languages and exported to Europe…

And then the Leblanc estate rears its head. «You are not making an anime about our character without paying us fucking royalties, » they say to Monkey Punch. To which Monkey Punch, channeling the spirit of the deceased Maurice Leblanc into his very soul, replies : « Lupin ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Rupan, completely different person. »

And he fucking gets away with it.

(Arsène Lupin became public domain in France in 2012. Before that, Lupin the Third took many different names in European releases, among which Rupan, Wolf, and in France, Edgar de la Cambriole (Edgar of Burglary).)

Additional tomfuckery :

The year is 1982, and science-fiction animated series are getting extremely popular. TMS decides to try and get a slice of the cake, and begins the development of Lupin VIII, a sci-fi spinoff about Lupin III’s descendant. The anime is being produced in France, and the Leblanc Estate once again rears its head. « Sure, you can make that anime, » they say, « but pay us fucking royalties. » TMS, as previously established, does not want to pay the Leblanc Estate diddly squat, and so they scrap half of the project, recycle the other half, and go « Lupin VIII ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Inspector Gadget, completely different person. »

The year is 1930, and famous Japanese writer Tarō Hirai writes The Golden Mask, a novel in which his detective character Kogoro Akechi goes up against none other than Arsène Lupin. Hirai’s pen name was Edgar Allan Poe- wait, wait, no, sorry, it’s Edogawa Ranpo, completely different person.

(Later, Gosho Aoyama names his character, Detective Conan Edogawa, after Arthur Conan Doyle and Edogawa Rampo (and the anime is distributed by TMS).)

(More than fifty years later, the Lupin III anime makes a tribute to Ranpo’s Gold Mask with the double episode The Imperial City Dreams of Thieves.)

The year is 2021, and Capcom is releasing the video game The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles, in which famous detective Sherlock Holmes plays a central role. Unfortunately for them, a few Sherlock Holmes stories are still under copyright, and the Conan Doyle Estate is about as stubborn and greedy as their French cousins. « Pay us fucking royalties, » they say.

In the English release of the game, Sherlock Holmes is renamed to, you guessed it...

...fucking Herlock Sholmes.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 3 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Australia, sir."

Bucky froze in place when he heard that. Australia? It was so unlike you. In all the time you spent together, you always talked about visiting Europe. That was your dream—to save enough money to open a café there, buy a boat, and travel around the continent.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter now. At least he finally knew where you were.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded.

After his security team gave him the location, Bucky immediately called his pilot to prepare the plane. Within minutes, he was on his private jet, accompanied by his assistant, who sat nervously across from him.

The assistant hesitated before asking, “Sir, when do you want to reschedule the meeting?”

Bucky didn’t look up from his phone. “If I’m not in the company, there’s a vice president. Let him attend the meeting instead. The company pays him a high salary for a reason. If he makes the wrong agreement at the meeting, I’ll fire him.”

The assistant swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting with the pen in his lap. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the cushion as silence settled between them. The hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin. His gaze drifted to the window, the clouds blurring past.

The matter of this marriage was far more complicated than any company matter.

He broke the silence. “Do you ever have marriage trouble?”

The assistant’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question. “Uh… yes, sir.”

Bucky turned his head slightly toward him. “Have you ever argued to the point where your wife left the house?”

The assistant hesitated, his hands stilling. “That’s… no, sir. We argue sometimes, but not to that extent.”

Bucky exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I see.”

His situation wasn’t like those couples who separated after endless fights. This marriage was different—it was based on a contract. There was no need for messy legal proceedings or divorce lawyers. No drawn-out drama. It was supposed to be simple, painless.

But it wasn’t.

He rested his elbow on the armrest, his fingers pressing against his temple as memories of his parents’ divorce flashed through his mind. He’d witnessed it all—the yelling, the accusations, the blame. He could still remember the cold, suffocating atmosphere in the negotiation room as both sides tore each other apart. And they’d forced him, a child, to sit there and watch.

They called it love once, but what he saw was anything but. His parents acted like children while he was expected to be the adult.

Marriage was supposed to be a union between two mature individuals who respected its meaning. His parents may have loved each other once, but they destroyed that love with betrayal and adultery.

It was full of lies and deception. For young Bucky, hearing the arguments was painful. Even now, he still feels a lingering resentment toward his parents.

Bucky shook his head, clearing the bitter thoughts. He’d never wanted a traditional marriage because of them. When his grandfather, Paul, had told him he needed to marry to inherit the company, Bucky had been clueless about what to do.

That’s when he remembered a friend mentioning a matchmaking agency. “It’s expensive, but it’s worth it,” his friend had said.

And it was expensive—but it was worth it. With you, he’d fulfilled his grandfather’s condition and taken over the company. You were his perfect partner.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He rubbed his chin as he rewound every moment he’d spent with you, searching for something he might have missed. He couldn’t think of a single instance where he had disrespected you. Both of you respected each other’s personal space and schedules. He knew you had a close relationship with Grace, your best friend.

Friends.

Friends?

His brows furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Grace was the only friend of yours he really knew. While you had met most of his circle, he knew almost nothing about yours.

Bucky leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly. After giving it more thought, he realized the imbalance in your marriage. He was the dominant one, the one whose needs and routines shaped the relationship.

And he had barely noticed.

His jaw tightened, the weight of his ignorance sinking in. For the first time, he wondered if that was why you left.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After a long flight, Bucky’s plane finally touched down at the destination. He had managed to close his eyes during the journey, but rest was impossible—his thoughts were consumed by you. Memories, questions, and unspoken words replayed endlessly in his mind.

As he stepped off the plane, the crisp air hit his face, bringing a brief sense of clarity. The head of his security team approached him immediately.

"Sir, we’ve found her location," the man reported.

"Where is she?" Bucky asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

The security detail led Bucky toward the docks, their hurried footsteps crunching against the gravel. His heart was pounding, each step feeling heavier as the weight of anticipation bore down on him. He scanned the area, his sharp eyes searching frantically for any sign of you.

And then, he saw you.

There you were, standing near the edge of the dock, the soft breeze tugging at your hair as you stared out at the endless horizon. The setting sun cast a golden glow around you, making you look almost ethereal, like a mirage he’d conjured in his desperation.

His breath hitched. Relief washed over him first, flooding his chest so quickly that it nearly brought him to his knees. After days of relentless searching, and agonizing over where you could be, there you were—within reach.

But then came the ache. A sharp, searing pain in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Seeing you standing so calmly as if the world hadn’t turned upside down for him, struck a chord deep within. You looked so at peace, so distant, and he couldn’t understand it.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He closed the distance between you in long, determined strides, his emotions spiraling into a chaotic storm. Relief, anger, confusion, longing—it all melded together as his voice broke through the silence.

He called your name, loud and raw, the sound carrying across the water.

You turned, startled, your wide eyes locking with his. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He saw the flicker of surprise on your face, the way your lips parted slightly as if you were about to say something. But what shook him most was what he didn’t see.

There was no regret in your eyes.

Bucky’s chest tightened, his fists clenching instinctively at his sides. How could you look at him like that—so calm, so unaffected—when he’d been unraveling without you? He reached you in a few quick strides, his hand shooting out to grab yours before you could move another step.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he called out your name, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves. You turned, visibly startled but composed, no trace of regret on your face.

He didn’t stop running until he reached you, grabbing your hand before you could step onto the yacht. "Why did you leave?" he demanded, his tone raw with frustration. "Didn’t I say we’d talk this through?"

You look at him, your eyes steady but filled with quiet resolve. “I don’t want to continue the marriage contract."

“I know.” He fell silent, his gaze locking onto yours. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

"No," you replied, shaking your head with a soft smile. "Didn’t you get the letter I left for you?"

Bucky frowned, the words unsettling him. The letter? What could it possibly say that justified this?

"It’s not you," you said, your tone steady. "It’s me."

"Lies," he shot back, his voice clipped with disbelief.

"It’s not," you insisted firmly.

"Explain it to me like I’m five years old," he demanded, his frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface.

You sighed, gathering your thoughts. "In the contract, we promised no lies, no deception. We even agreed that if one of us developed feelings, the marriage would end before things got messy."

Your gaze softened as you added, "Bucky, I love you."

The confession hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned and speechless. He had braced himself for accusations, for anger, but not this.

You took advantage of his silence, gently pulling your hand free from his grasp. You turned to the captain of the yacht and gave a subtle nod, signaling him to start the engine.

As the boat began to drift away from the dock, Bucky’s senses returned. "Where are you going?" he called out, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Anywhere," you replied, your words floating back to him.

Standing at the edge of the dock, he could only watch as the boat carried you farther away.

From your place on the yacht, you glanced back at him. “What a fool,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I told everyone not to let you find me.”

The captain, standing at the helm, turned to you and asked, “How far do you want to go?”

"Keep sailing until I say stop," you said, your tone resolute.

"Alright," the captain replied, steering the yacht into the open sea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The yacht moved steadily through the endless expanse of blue, its wake cutting a gentle path through the water. You stood at the edge of the deck, the wind brushing against your face, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The horizon stretched infinitely, meeting the sky in a blur of hazy gold and blue. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the breeze tangle your hair and the sun warm your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you thought. The kind of beauty that felt untouched, unclaimed—exactly what you were searching for.

“This is it,” you murmured, barely audible to yourself.

With steady steps, you approached the captain’s cabin. He glanced at you briefly, his expression questioning.

“Stop here,” you said.

“Are you sure?” His voice carried the weight of uncertainty.

“Yes.” Your answer was firm, final.

He nodded and went to work, releasing the anchor with a heavy clunk as it descended into the ocean’s depths. The yacht slowed to a gentle halt, rocking slightly with the rhythm of the waves.

Without hesitation, you peeled off your clothes, revealing the simple swimsuit underneath. The air felt cool against your skin, but it didn’t matter. You stepped to the edge of the deck, your toes curling over the rim. For a brief second, you inhaled deeply, and then you leaped.

The water embraced you like an old friend. It was cold but refreshing, its weight washing over you, pulling you into its quiet, endless depths. You swam, letting your body move freely, unbound by the constraints of gravity or obligation.

You dove deeper, the light above you diffusing into shimmering rays that danced like silver ribbons. Down here, there were no walls to confine you, no contracts to dictate your actions. It was just you and the ocean—an infinite space where you could finally breathe.

For the first time in years, you felt free.

You floated on your back, staring up at the vast sky. The sun cast a golden glow across the water’s surface, making it sparkle like liquid diamonds. You let out a long breath, your body rising and falling with the gentle waves. This was what you had been looking for—a release from the weight of expectations and the burden of feeling tethered to things you didn’t truly want.

You didn’t understand why, but in this moment of letting go—of money, of love, of the life you’d meticulously built—you felt alive.

All your life, it had been about money. Growing up with a father whose high income only highlighted what was still lacking, you learned early that nothing was ever enough. There was always another competition to win, another prize to chase. Independence wasn’t just encouraged; it was demanded.

Money became your anchor, the thing that kept you afloat. You thrived on it, obsessed over it. You checked your bank accounts daily, reveling in the sight of green numbers climbing higher and higher. It was intoxicating, the sense of control and success that came with it.

Each time you earned more money, it was a step closer to impressing your parents. Impressing them became a lifelong goal—one that would finally make them say, “We’re proud of you.” But no matter how much you earned, it was never enough.

And then there was love—a concept you understood in theory but never cared to possess. Money filled the void better than any romantic notion ever could. Love was messy, complicated, and it demanded sacrifices you weren’t willing to make. Money didn’t ask for your vulnerability; it only required your focus, your ambition, your endless thirst for more.

The two were the same, you realized. Money and love—they both left you parched, chasing something that always seemed just out of reach.

Then what were the other things that made you confront money and love at the same time?

When you joined the matchmaking agency to find a wealthy partner, you hadn’t really thought it through. There wasn’t a grand plan, just the vague hope of finding someone who could meet your terms. Honestly, you expected the candidates to be older men—someone seeking a companion to attend events with, nothing more. You had even specified one unique condition in your profile: no intimacy.

So, it came as a shock when the person who agreed to your circumstances turned out to be Bucky Barnes—a man only two years older than you. Not only that, but he was willing to pay an impressive amount to seal the deal.

When it was Bucky’s turn to lay out his requirements, everything seemed to align perfectly. He needed a partner who could convincingly play the role of a devoted spouse, just long enough for him to inherit his family’s company. You knew you could handle that. Pretending to be his loving wife? It felt like an easy role to play.

His parents were simple to fool, far less intimidating than your own strict, demanding family. The real challenge, however, was his grandfather, Paul. With his sharp eyes and no-nonsense demeanor, Paul had a knack for spotting liars. Yet, even he couldn’t see through you. You gave him exactly what he longed for—a granddaughter-in-law who treated him with genuine care. That part was easy because you understood what it felt like to crave love and approval.

The first year flew by without a hitch. You and Bucky played your roles to perfection. The arrangement opened doors for both of you—financially and socially. When the time came to discuss extending the contract for another year, you agreed without hesitation. The benefits far outweighed any drawbacks.

But then, somewhere in the second year, things began to shift. You started to feel something for Bucky—something dangerous. It wasn’t part of the deal, and you hated yourself for it. From the start, Bucky had been upfront about his feelings��or lack thereof. For him, love was a waste of time. He had no use for romance, and you had respected that. Until now.

You couldn’t stop it, though. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your emotions, they crept in, uninvited. It was written clearly in your agreement: no feelings, no complications. If either party broke that rule, the contract would be terminated immediately.

So, you buried your feelings as best you could. Love was messy, unpredictable, and it made you want things you couldn’t have. It filled your mind with fantasies, leaving you restless and craving more. And you despised it.

You just needed to hold on a little longer.

But then, everything changed.

Two days before the marriage contract was set to end, something happened—something you hadn’t anticipated.

And in that moment, you realized nothing would ever be the same again.

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[woniehugs]

The Touch of Extinction

—✧ summary: in a future plagued by a deadly virus, scientist Y/N is unexpectedly paired with the enigmatic government official, Lee Heeseung, as they work to save a fractured continent. What begins as a mission for survival transforms into an intense, forbidden connection, only to be shattered when Heeseung’s own secrets come to light. With danger lurking and time running out, the truth behind their mission and their connection unravels in ways neither could foresee. Will their shared sacrifice be enough to leave a lasting mark on the world they tried to save? This isn’t a love story, it’s a story about love.

—✧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem! reader

—✧ genre: dystopia, futuristic fiction, not really romance

—✧ warnings: mentions of blood and abuse (only brief), non-consensual sex, let me know if i missed anything!

—✧ word count: 4.3k

—✧ author’s note: putting this out here in the meantime because i’m not finished writing the next chapter for “operation: fuck sim jaeyun” yet. i wrote this for a school project, and no, i didn’t actually use y/n and heeseung’s names lmao. and also, this is actually inspired by the handmaid’s tail and manacled, so if you’re familiar of those, you’ll know.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

Who would’ve thought the future would end up like this? We could never have predicted that life would slowly cease to exist.

50 years ago, in the country of Netherlands, a group of young and intelligent scientists from BioCorp worked on experiments that focused on enhancing human genetics. After much hard work, they had made vast progress, thanks to the advancement of technology over the years and took a week-long break to celebrate Christmas. However, during a hazy night on the 24th of December, the night of Christmas Eve, one of the scientists had gone inside the laboratory that contained their equipment and supplies, completely out of their mind— drunk. The scientist had accidentally knocked one of the containers used in their experiments, breaking each flask containing what seemed to him as “mystery fluid” and spilling it all over the laboratory floor.

Knocked backed into consciousness realizing what he had spilt, he panicked, and tried to clean it up before it could contaminate the entire room, but because of the state he was in, the broken flasks and test fluids had caught onto his dazed and drunken state, causing the scientist to drop on the floor, unconscious. It took 12 hours until the whole building was contaminated due to the open vents, notifying security and the other scientists about the situation.

Luckily, the scientist woke up the next day, completely healthy and well, which was a surprise. Authorities had brought him to the hospital, along with his colleagues who waited for him to wake up. While the other scientists continued working on the experiments a week after Christmas, they were stopped by the news of another colleague’s sudden death in the comfort of their own home, exactly a month after the laboratory incident. Days after, the scientist’s own wife was laid to rest on her deathbed, a month after she had made contact with her husband who had gone home from the hospital. This prompted BioCorp into a mass crisis. Taking multiple hours of rigorous research, studying, and hypothesizing, the scientists discovered that the incident had caused a new infectious virus to erupt. …Infectious, how? With the knowledge of the deaths of the scientist and his wife, the scientists concluded that the virus was transmitted by skin-to-skin touch and that the virus’s effect didn’t accelerate despite how much one has touched another infected person.

By the time the scientists had made this horrible discovery, hundreds and thousands of people had died in the lower parts of Europe. The virus had spread rapidly, with no one knowing who had it or didn’t. There weren't any symptoms showing and one could only know they had caught the virus when they had taken their final breath. The moment the Dutch government was made aware of this tragedy, they took in scientists from BioCorp, while in the meantime, putting the whole country on lockdown to protect the people from the virus and could conjure a cure. They supplied the scientists with everything they needed for their research, but as they did so, many Europeans died at their expense, the number of deaths increasing with every single day that passed. Choked up by guilt, the scientists persevered, but even so, they still had little knowledge of what they could do to solve the pandemic they had caused, and some died never seeing the day they could fix this mess.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, the European population dropped to an all-time low. Due to the pandemic, the continent of Europe was divided into two: the Eastern and Western Parts. A boundary was placed, dividing the Netherlands, Germany, France, Italy, and more countries in the eastern part, from the entire western part of Europe. A military base was placed upfront on the boundary to prevent anyone from trespassing. This sent the Netherlands government into turmoil, as the situation had not been handled well years prior, affecting their neighboring countries, most especially their own population.

The division wasn’t enough to make anything but a benefit. Soon, the governments of each country worked together and came up with a repopulation effort, a program attempting to revive the dying population. Women, from the lower class, and the ones who are single will be assigned to men and will bear children for them. Whether the men have wives and children is out of the question, they will still have to participate in the program. They will be monitored frequently by authorities if they have done the job, if not, a punishment shall be done. The selected women were quarantined in a prison-like building, yet still being fed well. However, because of how many of them were trying to escape the hell they had to go through, having to bear children they didn’t want with men they didn’t even know, the government grew strict and eventually became a totalitarian regime. For all the women, it was hell on Earth.

Y/N L/N, the daughter of one of the scientists who took part in the failed experiment, and followed in the footsteps of her parents, happened to be a part of the selected women for the repopulation program. With your last name at the forefront of people’s minds, “the daughter of one of those evil scientists who caused this animosity”, you get assigned to one of the higher-ranking government officials in Europe.

On your first meeting, you had been dragged by the authorities, hair secured in a bun at the base of your neck, wrists manacled behind your back, lip busted, one of your cheeks bruised purple, and your face bloody fighting off the authorities. You wore a robe as white as snow, streaks of your blood painted the areas near your waist, a skirt spreading down to your feet, and long sleeves covering your entire arms.

Screaming at the top of your lungs to let you go, the authorities pushed you until you fell to the ground, your face first hitting the ground with a loud crack. You heard the door close behind you, clicking with a lock as you groaned in pain, tears falling down her face. As you slowly tried to stand up from the ground, you hear a chair creak, someone standing up from their seat. You look up, coming face to face with the man you had to endure. Lee Heeseung, the son of the prime minister of the Netherlands. He had an unreadable look on his face, his eyes dark as he examined you carefully, looking you up and down. Filled with disdain, you gathered enough saliva and spat at his feet, a drop of spit landing perfectly on his polished shoe.

Before you could get any more disrespectful, you were brought up to your feet, Heeseung’s hand gripping your forearm as you yelped in pain. Dragging you across the room, he turned you around and pushed your body down on his desk, pressing your manacled wrists behind your back with one hand. You struggled to get out of his grip, trying to kick him but to no avail. He was too strong, and so much taller than you. You feel tears prickle on the corners of your eyes, one side of your face scraping against the wood of the table.

With your eyes shut, Get this over and done with, you think to yourself, hope slowly leaving your body as you count down the seconds until he is done with you. Barely 5 minutes had passed until he stopped moving, and as swift as a fox, backed away from you. You felt your wrists free from the manacles, and planted your palms on the table, slowly guiding yourself to stand up and turn to face him, but before you could utter a word to him, he was gone. Uncontrollable tears fell from your face then. You felt pain, disgusted, and used. Your whole world had been reduced to a room where you’d be forced to do things you didn’t want to do, and that hurt you. You could do better things than this. But no. For now, you fall back down on the ground, your body sprawled out on the floor as sleep takes you in.

You wake up the next day on a bed and in a room you don’t recognize. This wasn’t where I was yesterday, you think to yourself. Looking to your left, you see a doctor scribbling on his notebook with medical equipment laid out on a small table on top of the bed. The doctor notices you, a sad smile on his face, “How are you feeling, dear? You passed out on the floor yesterday and Mr. Lee had to carry you to your bed.”

Confused, you shake your head, “After being forced to do things against my will? Yes, I believe I’m feeling a lot better.” The doctor lets out a sigh, letting you drink your medicine before leaving your room quietly. You take in your room. It was huge and filled with everything she needed to survive this hellhole. Keeping yourself busy, you took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and read. There was a long shelf of books at the side of the room, so you grabbed everything that caught your eye. You read, and read, and read until you couldn’t anymore.

Food was served by two maids during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When you asked if you could get out of your room, one of the maids answered that you needed to rest and could only get out the next day as said by their master. Rolling your eyes, you nodded your head, grabbed the dinner from their hands, and sat back on the bed. As you ate, you thought about how grateful you were that Heeseung hadn’t gone into your room and took advantage of you again. Peacefully, sleep takes you in once again when you finished eating.

The third day. “It’s not so bad here”, you think — yet. While you ate breakfast on your bed, the door opened. Your eyes looked up to see Heeseung close the door behind him. You feel your heart race, dropping the utensils on the plate. The sound catches Heeseung’s attention, quickly looking at you to see what’s wrong. He takes a few steps towards you but you raise a hand to stop him. “N-not yet.” you managed to speak out despite your voice and hands shaking. Heeseung shakes his hand, and continues his way toward you, “I’m not here for that. Not this early, at least.” Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you nod at him in relief, picking your utensils up to continue eating. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, hands trembling.

“I wanted to let you know that you can come out of your room now, anytime you want.” Heeseung starts, “However, I expect that you’ll be back here by 6 pm. I have duties I need to attend to later that night, so we’ll have to…” he clears his throat to get his point across, “...do it, before I leave. Is that okay?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. You’ll do it anyway.” you hear his breath catch at that.

“How frequently does this have to happen?”

“Once every two days.”

“What? Who do they think we are? Rabbits?” you try to joke but Heeseung’s face remains expressionless. “I have something to ask from you. It’s the least you can do for, erm… me.” You cringe at your words but proceeds nonetheless when Heeseung doesn’t say anything. “I need a laptop so I can research, and books and studies on anything that could help me on knowing more about this virus. I can’t not do anything here but bear your children, the thought disgusts me as it is.” you explain, your tone desperate. “That’s all I ask for. I’ll do anything you wish, just let me continue my research. Please.”

Heeseung nods his head, “Of course. I’ll provide you with everything you need.” you thank him. He hesitates for a bit before returning to the door, about to leave. Before he does, he looks back at you, “I apologize for how I acted before. I had just been made known about you that day, and I acted… out of remorse. I’m sorry.” you nod your head at his apology, “It’s quite alright. I acted irrationally too. I was scared.”

“We all are, aren’t we?” Heeseung replies, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “Let me know if you need any help with your research. I’ll see you tonight.” The door shuts close behind him, leaving you alone in your room. That night, Heeseung visits you in your room, only this time, he acts gently and — you let him. Your business was finished as quickly as it had started. When you fall asleep in his arms, he carefully positions you back on the bed, covering you with a blanket, and delicately pats your forehead. Once Heeseung is sure that you are deep into your slumber, he leaves.

You immediately rise from your bed to start your fourth day with some research. A stab of pain erupts from your abdomen, making you groan in pain. You slowly get up on your feet, to the chair in front of the desk placed on the right side of the room. The moment you sat, you noticed a stack of books placed neatly on the table and your very own laptop that you were sure you left behind at home. You smiled at the effort that Heeseung had put into making sure you had everything you needed. Shaking your head, you began as you took a bite of mango and chocolate toast specially made for you. Hours passed and you were able to read most of the information you had already known: about the incident years ago, the non-existent symptoms, the lockdown, your parents along with other scientists locked away and dead, and the division. Searching on the Internet, most of the articles you came across were more on people’s predictions and not based on scientific evidence. That was all you did that day. Research, read, study, and make your hypotheses. — Why aren’t there any symptoms? you think to yourself. It was the most bizarre thing you had known, it was a virus with no symptoms. No wonder everyone was dying around you because, to this day, no one had found the answer to that question.

“I see you’re still up.” A voice interrupts you from your reading, dropping your highlighter on the book she was reading about viruses. You had been so distracted you didn’t even hear Heeseung enter your room in the first place. “I can’t seem to figure this out on my own. I’ve been reading for hours.” you answer, rubbing your temples with the pads of your thumbs. Heeseung hums behind you, taking a peek at what you were reading. “What I’m about to tell you might help.” you turn your head to him, “I’ve been feeling some strange sensations. My head’s been feeling light since yesterday. I’ve taken some painkillers but it doesn’t seem to go away.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “A-are you implying you’ve caught the virus?” Heeseung shakes his head, “No, or wait, maybe a little. I’m not so sure honestly. But seriously, anyone could have caught the virus by now, even indoors. We’ve also already made skin-to-skin contact. Shouldn’t we not be surprised about that possibility?” You think carefully before answering him, “I’ve never thought about that, but you’re right. Anything could happen.” But I don’t want any of us to die. A few moments pass before you clap your hands together, bringing Heeseung’s attention back to you, “You’re right. I’ll keep that in mind, just in case, however, it doesn’t mean you have the virus.” you send him a look that makes Heeseung sigh, “Right, but I just thought I should tell you.”

“And you didn’t do anything wrong by telling me. I appreciate it, Heeseung. Really.” you assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Heeseung looks you dead in the eyes when you do, and you quickly put your hand away once you realize. “Right. It’s getting late. You should be going. I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” Heeseung didn’t end up leaving you that night, and it wasn’t entirely his choice. He stayed with you until you fell asleep on your desk, and he carried you once again over to her bed. Half-asleep, you manage to pull Heeseung towards you, whispering “Stay with me.” and Heeseung does, falling asleep next to you.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of soft breathing beside you. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing Heeseung was still in bed with you. The realization brought a mix of emotions—confusion, and fear, but also a strange comfort you hadn’t expected. You gently removed yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him, and moved to the desk where you had been working the night before. Your thoughts were swirling with everything Heeseung had revealed to you. His admission about the strange sensations he had been feeling gnawed at you. If he was indeed showing symptoms, this could be the breakthrough you had been desperately searching for—a lead that could explain the virus’s behavior. You needed to gather more data. If Heeseung truly was infected, how much time did he have left? How much time did you have left? If Heeseung was infected, then that would mean you were too. You both didn’t have much time left.

You pulled up a document on your laptop and began typing down everything you remembered from Heeseung’s account. You noted the onset of his symptoms, their progression, and any possible environmental factors that might have contributed to his condition. If you were going to make any progress, you needed to treat this as a case study—methodical, detached, and purely scientific. The hours slipped by, and when Heeseung finally stirred, you had already compiled a preliminary report. You turned to him as he sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. His expression was unreadable as he glanced at the clock, noting the late hour.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Heeseung frowned slightly as if considering the question. "A little better, I suppose. The lightheadedness hasn’t completely gone away, but it’s manageable. Why? Are you worried about me?"

You hesitated. "I’m just trying to understand what’s happening. If you’re showing symptoms,” You hesitate finishing your sentence, “...if I’m showing symptoms, it could be critical information for my research. But more importantly, I don’t want anything to happen to you."

Heeseung’s eyes widened at your words. "You think you’ve caught it too?” you nod your head, “It’s plausible since we’ve been together… for the past few days.” You cringe at your choice of words, “So it’s best that I entertain the possibility. If we both don’t have much time, we should stay here until we’ve figured this out. Together.”

His gaze softened, “I agree. I appreciate what you’re doing. I didn’t expect you to care so much, given the circumstances."

You shrugged your shoulders, "I may not have a choice in this situation, but that doesn’t mean I’m heartless. We’re both victims of a system neither of us controls." He looked away, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

"The world has gone mad, hasn’t it? People reduced to numbers, in a repopulation program, and those responsible for the mess are either dead or hiding behind closed doors." You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "We’re trying to survive in a world we barely recognize anymore. But if there’s even a chance that what we’re experiencing could lead to a solution, we have to pursue it." Heeseung nodded slowly. "Then let’s work together on this. If we’re both infected, we need to know how it’s progressing and what we can do to stop it … if anything."

Over the next few days, you and Heeseung settled into a strange routine. During the day, you focused on your research, cataloging Heeseung’s symptoms with clinical precision, while also poring over your parents’ old notes and the limited data available on the virus. Heeseung made sure you had everything you needed, from medical supplies to access to secure networks that could aid your research. At night, you did what you had to. The only difference is that afterward, the two of you shared a bed, a tenuous bond formed out of necessity, and a growing, unspoken understanding.

Heeseung continues to visit you daily, and with every visit, you sense that he is hiding something. There’s a restlessness in his eyes, a kind of weight that he carries with him each time he steps into your room. One night, as he sits at the edge of the bed, a quiet question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Why are you doing this, Heeseung? Why did you bring me all these things when you could have just kept me locked away like the others?”

He looks at you, a flicker of something like regret in his gaze. “Because, Y/N… I owe it to you. I owe it to everyone who’s been affected by this virus. My father and his colleagues may have failed, but I… I won’t. If there’s any chance you could help find a cure… I’ll give you everything you need.”

His words stir something deep inside you. You can’t decide whether it’s hope, resentment, or both. You’re still unsure whether to trust him, but as days turn into weeks, you notice a subtle shift in the way you interact. There’s a tension that lingers between you, unspoken but palpable—a tension that is not entirely borne of fear or obligation.

As time goes on, you and Heeseung start to talk more. He tells you about his childhood, about his strained relationship with his father, about the weight of expectations that had always loomed over him. It’s not much, but it’s enough to remind you that, like you, he’s just a person caught up in the chaos of a world turned upside down.

One evening, as you sit together in silence, you find yourself blurting out, “What if this virus can’t be stopped? What if we’re all just… delaying the inevitable?”

He meets your eyes, his voice soft. “Then we fight it anyway. Because that’s all we can do, Y/N. We fight until there’s nothing left to fight for.”

You don’t respond, but his words echo in your mind long after he’s left the room.

The next evening, as you sat together, you noticed a slight tremor in Heeseung’s hand as he passed you a cup of tea. Your heart sank, but you kept your expression neutral. "Heeseung," you said softly, "Have you felt any other changes? Anything new?" He shook his head, setting the cup down with more care than usual. "Just the tremor. It started yesterday, but it’s not too bad. I can still control it for the most part." You bit her lip, your mind racing. "We need to accelerate our research. If the virus is progressing, we’re running out of time." Heeseung nodded, his expression grim. "I’m with you, Y/N. Whatever it takes."

Weeks pass, and the once suffocating atmosphere of your confinement begins to change. The tension between you and Heeseung continues to grow, evolving into something more complex. Conversations that once revolved around the virus and research now include moments of shared silence, subtle glances, and small admissions. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, as if the mere act of surviving together has created a fragile bond. You can sense that he’s struggling with something more than just the weight of the world outside—something personal that he hasn’t yet shared.

Days after, the usual routine is disrupted when Heeseung arrives later than usual, his expression troubled and distant. You notice his hands shaking as he sets down a tray of food. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he steps closer, his voice low and strained.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Y/N. It’s… it’s about the virus.”

Your pulse quickens as you watch him take a seat across from you, his head bowed as if weighed down by a burden he can no longer carry alone.

“My father wasn’t just one of the researchers involved,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He was one of the first to become infected. They kept it a secret, covered it up because of his position, and… they used him as a test subject for the early trials of the cure.”

The revelation hits you like a cold wave, leaving you speechless. The pieces begin to fall into place—the rushed experiments, the hidden agendas, the urgency in Heeseung’s actions. You feel a pang of anger for being kept in the dark, but it’s quickly swallowed by an unexpected sense of empathy. Heeseung’s determination to find a cure isn’t just about the greater good; it’s personal.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and understanding.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his gaze finally meeting yours. “And… I didn’t want you to think that I was using you for the same reasons they used him.”

For a moment, the room is silent. You look at Heeseung, seeing the torment in his eyes and recognizing a kind of vulnerability that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before. It’s as though, in sharing his secret, he’s offered you a glimpse of the person he is beyond the government official, beyond the virus. And perhaps, you realize, it’s the same for you. This whole time, you’ve been hiding behind the walls you built around yourself to survive, afraid to let him see the parts of you that long for connection in this cold, fragmented world.

“You could have told me,” you say softly. “I would have understood.”

Heeseung gives a faint, bitter smile. “I didn’t know if I could trust you to understand, or if you would see me as just another monster.”

Before you can respond, a wave of emotion sweeps over you, and without thinking, you reach out and touch his hand. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to break down whatever was left of the barrier between you. His fingers curl around yours hesitantly, as if he’s not quite sure if he should accept the comfort you’re offering, but then his grip tightens, and you realize just how much he needed it.

The days that follow are marked by an unspoken shift in your dynamic. The tension that once existed has transformed into a closeness that you’re both wary to acknowledge, and yet neither of you can deny. When he’s with you, the air feels warmer, the silence less suffocating. But in the back of your mind, you know this fragile connection is built upon the uncertainty of a world ravaged by disease—a world that could take everything away in a heartbeat.

It’s in this closeness that you begin to notice Heeseung showing signs of fatigue. He tries to hide it, but you see the subtle winces, the way his hand trembles when he thinks you’re not looking. The truth becomes impossible to ignore when, one night, he collapses in front of you, a fever burning through his skin.

“Heeseung!” you cry, rushing to his side. As you help him to the bed, the realization hits you with a brutal clarity—he’s infected.

The weight of the situation crashes down on you like a tidal wave. Everything you’ve come to understand, every unspoken moment between you, is now overshadowed by the one thing you feared most. Heeseung is dying, and you don’t know if there’s any way to save him.

The next few weeks were a blur of research, testing, and increasingly frequent moments of quiet despair. You were relentless, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion as you combed through every piece of data you could find. You reached out to the few remaining scientists who had survived the initial outbreak, sharing your findings and seeking their input. But the virus remained an enigma, its origin rooted in the nightmarish accident that had taken place decades ago. The more you learned, the more you realized how little you knew, and how close you all were to the edge.

As Heeseung’s condition worsened, you felt a growing sense of urgency. The lightheadedness had evolved into dizziness, the tremors into violent shakes that left him bedridden for hours. You continued to document everything, but your fear for him, something you had tried to keep at bay—began to overshadow your scientific detachment.

Then, one night, as Heeseung lay in bed, his breathing labored and his skin pale, he reached for your hand. You took it, feeling the tremor in his grip, and held on tightly.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Don’t be," you replied, your throat tight with unshed tears. "We’re doing everything we can."

He managed a weak smile. "I know. But if this is it...if this is the end...I want you to know that I don’t regret these last few weeks. I’m glad we met, even if it was under these circumstances."

You swallowed hard, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his forehead, your tears finally spilling over, with Heeseung sharing an embrace.

"I’ll keep fighting," you promised. "For you, and everyone else. I won’t let this be in vain."

Heeseung closed his eyes, his hand tightening briefly around hers. "I know you will."

In the early hours of the morning, Lee Heeseung took his final breath. You stayed by his side, holding his hand until it grew cold. When the sun rose, you gently released him and began writing down the final stages of his symptoms, your tears blurring the words on the page.

Two days later, your symptoms began to manifest. You felt the same lightheadedness Heeseung had described, followed by the tremors. But you didn’t stop working. Every moment you had left was dedicated to your research, to the hope that your final notes might contain the key to stopping the virus.

When the end came for you, it was peaceful. You had finished your last entry, detailing the progression of the virus within yourself, and had left instructions for the remaining scientists on where to find your work. You lay down on the bed you had shared with Heeseung and closed your eyes, a sense of calm washing over you.

Your body was discovered a day later by the authorities, just as Heeseung’s had been. The room was quiet, save for the hum of the laptop that still displayed your final research notes.

On the desk, beside the neatly stacked books and papers, laid a single handwritten note:

"To whoever finds this, remember us not just for what we did, but for what we tried to do. The virus may have taken our lives, but it will not take our legacy. The answers are here. Please, finish what we started.”

Signed,

Y/N L/N

And with that, Y/N L/N and Lee Heeseung’s story came to an end, but their fight continued on in the hands of those who followed.

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©2024 ©woniehugs

[gerec]

best long fics? i've only been reading oneshots lately. i like cherik which can be a book too.

To make this list even a tiny bit manageable I'm choosing to define 'long' as over 100k. There are a lot of superb fics on this list, Anon; happy reading!

Nine Eleven Ten by Subtilior (WIP - the definition of a fandom classic with fantastic worldbuilding)

Years later, Charles would remember that day. Sometimes he would wonder if he could have changed anything; other times he would despair over what he had since become. But he would always hold the image in his mind: Raven, laughing, and his thoughts flying alongside her on strong wings, silver-gold through the winter air. Once upon a time.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us by ikeracity, Pangea

Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he's settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive.

A Curious Carriage of Crystal and Cold by Etharei

Charles, a miner from a poor village in the countryside, saves the life of Erik Lehnsherr, scion of a successful business family and the richest man on the planet Eisen. Charles is a telepath and somewhat anxious about it, while Erik abstains from relationships because the lights flicker and doors open and electronics vibrate when he gets too excited.

Also featuring a long-suffering sister, a foul-mouthed bodyguard, and a best friend with a heart that is definitely not gold.

In which there are princes, spaceships, long journeys, and old secrets uncovered. (An AU sci-fi fairytale)

Tessellation by nekosmuse

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Everyday Love in Stockholm by tahariel

Prompt: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

The Proper Care of Actors by afrocurl, Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etharei (series)

Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

The Associates by ikeracity, Pangea (series)

Being a mob boss' associate has its ups and downs. Having sex in the back of a limo on Valentine's Day is definitely one of the ups.

The Sonnet Series by afrocurl, nekosmuse (series)

Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Space Oddity by MonstrousRegiment, Pangea (series)

Prince Charles Xavier is Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and the newest mission they've been assigned starts out less than desirable and quickly goes downhill from there. It's alright, though, he'll cope.

It doesn't help, though, that he's in unrequited love with his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr.

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations by Pookaseraph

With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

Do You Love Me by cgf_kat

Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

Ritual Self-Torture by TurtleTotem

For the following prompt: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

But I Would Walk Five Hundred Miles, And I Would Walk Five Hundred More by luninosity (series)

In which Charles isn't really an escort, Erik thinks he only wants a one-night stand, everybody's got a past, and there's quite a lot of sex on the way to the happy ending.

We Met At The Park by StarRose

AU, no powers, based on McAvoy's performance as Martin in Murder In Mind. Unable to sleep one night Erik takes a midnight walk in the local park. He finds himself being followed and propositioned by a rent boy named Charles, and begins to fall rather rapidly for his charms. Charles however has never known what love is, and doesn't recognise it even when it's staring at him in the face. As for Erik, he doesn't realise a creeping illness is slowly affecting Charles, and his dark past is something he couldn't have imagined.

Strict Machine by euphorbic

When Professor Charles F Xavier accepted a visiting professor position in Arizona, he did so in order to be geographically closer to his sister. What he did not expect to find was the living, breathing specter of the sportbike gang-oriented past he’d been trying to put to rest.

A tale of sport bikes, consequences, and sacrifice.

MAD Dogs by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik (series)

Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Bit of a detective fic? Really just an excuse for us to play around with MAD (Mutant Apprehension Division) that we created in Playing House.

A Doll's House by lachatblanche

Welcome to the Dollhouse, where all your dreams and fantasies come true. At a price. Based on the TV show Dollhouse.

[ifredactedbureau]

Redacted: Ground Zero

IF inspired by Contro (2019), SCP Foundation, X-files

Demo: PROLOGUE

In the aftermath of World War II, a classified mission pulls you into the shadowy remnants of a conflict no one dares to acknowledge. Whispers of rogue Nazi scientists and reality-warping experiments have surfaced, threatening to plunge Europe—and perhaps the world—into chaos once more. As an MI5 field agent, you’re tasked with uncovering the truth buried beneath layers of secrecy, lies, and betrayal.

Every lead points toward Projekt Schwarzfeld and the catastrophic events of Threshold Zero, a forgotten chapter of the war that defies explanation. But some secrets were never meant to be unearthed. As you navigate a labyrinth of conspiracy, forbidden technology, and fractured reality, you’ll confront forces that question the limits of human understanding—and the cost of wielding power beyond comprehension.

Redacted: Ground Zero is a story of espionage, moral dilemmas, and the unraveling of truths hidden in the shadows of history. Will you rise to the challenge, or will the truth consume you?

• Master anomalies and adapt your skills. Harness strange, reality-defying abilities tied to anomalies—whether it’s manipulating probability, stepping through dimensions, or stabilizing reality itself. Unlock and refine these abilities as you uncover their true potential.. • Investigate a fractured world. Explore sites of catastrophic anomalies, from the eerie remnants of Threshold Zero in the Bavarian Alps to the clandestine Red Academy in Siberia. Encounter twisted phenomena, uncover hidden truths, and decide what to do with what you find. • Make critical, world-altering choices. Will you prioritize saving your team, containing anomalies, or acquiring forbidden knowledge for the Bureau? Each decision changes the relationships you build, the missions you undertake, and the fate of Baseline Reality. • Face enemies born of anomaly experimentation. Encounter Die Gebrochenen—the Fractured—twisted results of Nazi experiments with anomalies. Face other rogue forces, like defectors, rival nations, or anomaly-enhanced mercenaries seeking control of forbidden power. • Navigate a morally gray world. Decide where your loyalty lies—with the Bureau, with humanity, or with yourself. Will you uphold the fragile stability of reality or risk everything for greater power and knowledge? • Fall in love—or not. Form deep connections with up to four romantic options, from an idealistic scientist to a cynical spy. Your choices in love will offer new strengths—or dangerous distractions—in the face of looming threats.

Love Interests

Charlie Hayes (he/him or she/her) : The Bold Truth-Seeker “The truth isn’t pretty, it isn’t safe, and it sure as hell isn’t kind—but if I don’t drag it into the light, who will?” • A resourceful American journalist working undercover to investigate Nazi remnants and their experiments. • Bold, witty, and fiercely independent, Charlie thrives on uncovering the truth, often bending the rules to get the story. Their adventurous spirit hides a vulnerability stemming from personal losses during the war.

Theo Adler (he/him): The Haunted Genius “Knowledge doesn’t absolve you of guilt—it sharpens it, until every answer feels like a blade at your throat.” •A German defector and former scientist of Projekt Schwarzfeld. Now a reluctant informant for the Bureau. •Quiet, intelligent, and burdened by guilt, Theo is a man trying to atone for his past. His insights into anomalies are invaluable, but he struggles with his identity and the weight of his actions during the war

Eleanor “Ellie” Blackwood (she/her): The Steadfast Operative “You don’t look back in this line of work—not at the enemy, not at your mistakes, and definitely not at the people you couldn’t save.” • A British SOE operative and expert infiltrator now reassigned to the Bureau’s task force. • Calm, disciplined, and focused, Ellie is a consummate professional. Beneath her composed exterior lies a fierce loyalty to those she trusts and a fear of failure that drives her to overextend herself.

Damien Laurent (he/they): The Enigmatic Opportunist “Morality is a luxury for those who’ve never had to bargain with the devil—and I’ve shaken his hand more times than I care to count.” • A French art dealer with connections to the black market and underground resistance networks. • Charismatic, flirtatious, and morally ambiguous, Damien is a master of navigating high society and shady dealings. They keep their true intentions hidden behind charm and wit

[sforzesco]

listen. listen, there's a kind of intimacy in having a dedicated rivalry, okay. who else is going to know you like this!!! also it's funny

Ascanio Maria Sforza: la parabola politica di un cardinale-principe del Rinascimento, Marco Pellegrini

Julius II: The Warrior Pope, Christine Shaw

and on della rovere’s soldier comment:

Popes, Cardinals and War: The Military Church in Renaissance and Early Modern Europe, D.S. Chambers

and finally! regarding the delightful Mess of political-family relationships, including the marriage comment (altho the montefeltro family that giovanni married into did have sforza family ties, since giovanna's mother was battista sforza, but this is about the more immediate alliance based relationship and della rovere's hand in the rejection of a milanese match for his brother. and. this is not even remotely a serious comic, but now I am once again thinking about insular all these families are. the fucking medicis are here too, if you go half a step to the left on della rovere's family tree)

Julius II: The Warrior Pope, Christine Shaw

Giulio II, Il papa del Rinascimento, Giulio Busi (Bianca Maria Visconti is Ascanio's mom. btw)

panel inserts of the cards they're playing with are all from the Visconti-Sforza tarot deck! (I used public domain scans/photos for the comic itself)

ko-fi!⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: angels

Want some cool fictional angels? Good news! Whether you prefer traditional winged angels, scary eldritch angels, possibly-human-angels, incredibly creative in-name-only-angels, angels separated from or exploring concepts of faith and religion, romance, horror, fantasy, or sci-fi; this list is sure to offer something to chew on!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Historical fantasy angels

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb*

The angel Uriel and the demon Little Ash have been friends for centuries, living and studying together in a small jewish community in Europe. But times are changing, and many of the community have left for a new life across the sea. When one of these emigrants go missing, Uriel and Little Ash decide to leave their peaceful life and go find and, if needed, save her.

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèli Clark

Set in an alternate 1910’s steampunk Cairo, where djinn and other creatures (among other things, creepy steampunk angels) live alongside humans. We get to follow an investigator as she races to catch a criminal using a powerful object to control djinn and stir unrest. Fantastically creative and fresh, and also features a buddy cop dynamic between two female leads as well as a sapphic romance.

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison*

Sherlock Holmes retelling. After having been injured fighting a war against fallen angels, Doyle returns to London to survive on only a veteran's pension. To afford a place to live in the city, Doyle finds a housemate in Crow, and eccentric angel with a great curiosity for humans and a knack for solving crime. And London needs its protector - supernatural beings walk the streets, and a someone going by the name Jack the Ripper terrifies the citizens at night.

Modern day fantasy angels

Bitter by Akwaeke Emezi

Novella, young adult. Bitter is an art student in Lucille, a city on the brink. Injustice plagues the citizens and protests shake the streets, and Bitter doesn't know where her place his - whether to fight or stay safe. When her art calls upon a creature of bloody justice, she must ask herself just how far she’s prepared to go and what price she’s ready to pay for justice.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

Young adult portal fantasy. Young Karou is a student in Prague, but she’s also a mystery. She fills sketchbooks with drawings of monsters, trades in wishes, speaks languages that aren't all human, and has hair that grows out blue. When strange signs start appearing around the world - handprints scorched into doorways by winged strangers - will Karou finally find out who she really is?

Angelfall by Susan Ee*

Young adult post apocalypse. Six months ago, the angels descended on the Earth - and brought the apocalypse with them. Between ruling street gangs and vicious angels, Penryn is just trying to keep her family alive. When angels fly away with her little sister, Penryn does the unthinkable: strikes a deal with an injured and outcast angel to rescue her.

A Madness of Angels by Kate Griffin*

Urban fantasy. Two years ago, sorcerer Matthew Swift was killed. Today, he woke back up. And he isn't alone in his body, but rather in the company of the blue electric angels, who lived in the telephone lines and are now experiencing the world for the first time through him. Now, he seeks vengeance not only against the one who killed him, but also against the one who brought him back.

The Fall that Saved Us by Tamara Jerée*

Cassiel is of angelic heritage, raised to fight and kill demons alongside her family. But Cassiel has left the hunt and her family behind, wanting a normal life. For three years she's built a life for herself, cut off from her family, but now a demon has found her, sent to collect her soul. Except, the demon isn't any more interested in following the orders of her family than Cassiel is. Can they work together to free themselves from the expectations placed on them? Sapphic romance.

Out of the Blue by Sophie Cameron*

Young adult, sapphic main character. When angels started falling from the sky, the world went mad. So far not a single angel has survived the fall, but that doesn't stop teenage Jaya's father from growing an obsession with catching one, going as far as uprooting the entire family to Edinburgh in hopes of finding one. Jaya, busy mourning the recent loss of her mother, finds his obsession pointless - until an angel crashes right at her feet. What’s more, it's alive...

Full on fantasy angels

Tread of Angels by Rebecca Roanhorse

Novella. During Heaven's War, the rebel Abaddon died and fell. Now, long after, what remains of his body is a valuable element called divinity, which is mined by Fallen, descendants of those who fell and the only ones capable of perceiving divinity. Celeste, a Fallen raised among the privileged Elect, is deeply protective of her little sister Mariel. When Mariel is accused of having murdered an Elect, it’s up to Celeste to find out what really happened and save her sister.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

Middle grade. In Lyra's world, every person has a daemon: an animal companion who follows them throughout life. When children begins being stolen off the street, among them Lyra's friend, she must embark on a great journey to save him, taking her to the furthest north - and beyond. A note: the angels do not appear until the second book, however this trilogy is very much worth a read from the start.

Gunmetal Gods by Zamil Akhtar

Dark fantasy inspired by the crusades. Seeking revenge, Micah the Metal leads an army of men baptized i angel's blood against the kingdom that stole his daughter. It’s up to Kevah, legendary fighter, to stop him and save his people. But ever since losing his wife a decade ago, Kevah has lost his fighting spirit. To defeat Micah, he must find it within himself a will to live again. While featuring (scary eldritch) angels, they serve more as a driving background/world-building force than as actual characters.

Horror angels

The Unnoticeables by Robert Brockway

Angels watch over humans, but not to protect us but to solve us, seeking to make the universe more efficient and clean away the undesirable. Carey, a 70s punk, doesn't like the idea of being solved. Watching fellow punks disappear off the streets, he becomes embroiled in a dangerous conspiracy. Decades later, stunt woman Kaitlyn has her own encounter with the angels and their creations - as well an older punk who might have the answers she needs.

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Young adult post apocalypse. The world has ended, and sixteen-year-old trans boy Benji is on the run from the cult that caused armageddon. Infected with the bioweapon they released to bring about the end, Benji is slowly transforming into something not quite human and desperate to find someplace safe. When coming across a group of surviving teens, Benji finds something new to fight for. No traditional angels, but it does play with the concept.

Angel Radio by A.M. Blaushild

Young adult post apocalypse. A week after strange and terrifying angels appeared, humanity is dead. Sole survivor of her town, teenage Erika is left wandering on her own. That is, until she catches an odd broadcast on the radio which lures her into the newly emptied world. There she encounters dangerous creatures, but also fellow survivor Midori, who has a cryptic connection to the angels.

Sci-fi angels

Archangel Protocol (LINK Angel series) by Lyda Morehouse

Cyberpunk. In a future where religion has become the law of the land and people spend as much time in cyberspace as in reality, ex-cop Deirdre has lost everything after having been accused of a crime she didn't commit. When approached by a man calling himself Michael and asked to solve the mystery behind the so called link angels - supposed angels who show themselves in cyberspace - Deirdre is given a chance at redemption and answers.

Archangel by Sharon Shinn

For twenty years, archangel Raphael has ruled over the lands, leading to corruption among both angels and mortals. Now the time has come for the angel Gabriel to become archangel, but first he must find his Angelica, a mortal woman chosen by Jehovah to be by his side. But his chosen partner, Rachel, has lived under oppression and fear, and she has her own ideas of what she wants - ideas that don't include Gabriel.

Terminal World by Alastair Reynolds

On a dying earth, society is separated by zones in which the laws of reality shift, allowing for different levels of technology and life. At the top of Spearpoint, the only surviving city, lies the Celestial zone, in which only angels can survive. Quillon, former angel who's had his wings removed and body changed so he can survive and infiltrate the lower zones, has been in hiding for years when he receives a warning that his former people are hunting him. Forced on the run, Quillon must leave Spearpoint for the dangerous wastes beyond, where he will discover ancient secrets of his world.

Space angels

Dust by Elizabeth Bear

In a dying spaceship, orbiting an equally dying sun, noblewoman Perceval waits for her own gruesome death. Having been captured by an opposing house, her wings severed and life forfeit, Perceval’s execution is imminent - until a young servant charged with her care proves to be Perceval’s long lost sister. To stop a war between houses likely to doom them all, the two flee together across a crumbling, dangerous spaceship. At its core waits Jacob Dust, god and angel, all that remains of what the ship once was. And he wants Perceval. Sapphic and asexual characters, however be prepared for kinda fucked up relationships.

The Outside by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existential crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired sci-fi where reality is warped and artificial gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

The Genesis of Misery by Neon Yang

Space opera inspired by Joan of Arc. Misery Nomaki possesses rare stone-working abilities usually found among only saints and the voidmad. Not believing herself the be former and desperately not wanting to become the latter, Misery is trying to keep a low profile. Her attempt fails when the voice of an angel - or a very convincing delusion - leads her to become the centerpiece of a dangerous battle between two warring factions hoping to use her. Very unique and cool conceptually, but a little all over the place in how it handles its plot.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Dusk in Kalevia by Emily Compton

Toivo Valonen is a secret agent in more ways than one. An angel masquerading as human, he's acted as a source of hope for humanity in wartime throughout history. In 1960, he embarks on an undercover mission to Kalevia, allied with a rebellion against the government. In his way is fellow angel and rival agent Demyan Chernyshev, who’s working for the KGB.

The House of Shattered Wings by Aliette de Bodard

Having just barely survived the Great Houses War, much of Paris lies in ruins. Morningstar, founder of the House Silverspires, has gone missing, and something is stalking the people within the House's walls. Three people, a Fallen, an alchemist, and a man wielding spells from the far east, may be prove to be Silverspire's salvation.

The Worst Perfect Moment by Shivaun Plozza

Young adult. Sixteen-year-old Tegan is dead and i heaven. There, she's supposed to be reliving her happiest memory. Except the moment Tegan has been placed in isn't very happy at all. Guided by an angel, Tegan is brought through her past to understand what most matters to her. If she fails to see the happiness in her assigned memory, the consequences would be dire for both her and the angel.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith, City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick, Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A List of "Beautiful" Yiddish Words & Phrases

for your next poem/story

A mensch tracht un Got lacht - man plans and God laughs

Az der soyne falt, tor men zich nit freyen, ober me heybt im nit oyf! When your enemy falls, you shouldn’t gloat, but you don’t have to pick him up either!

Az Got zol voynen af der erd, voltn im di mentschen di fenster oysgeshlogn! If God lived on earth, people would break His windows!

Az ich vel zayn vi er, ver vet zayn vi ich? If I’m going to be like him, who will be like me?

Choshuv - important; notable

Daven - to pray

Di kats hot lib fish, nor zi vil di fis nit ayn-netsn - the cat loves fish, but doesn’t want to get her feet wet

Di liebe is zees, nor zi iz gut mit broyt - love is good, but it’s good with bread

Fargin - to be glad for another person’s success or happiness

Gezunterheit - with health

Heymish - homey, down to earth

Ich hob dich azoi lib, az ich volt dir mayn toit nit gezshalevit - I love you so much I would not even begrudge you my death

Kholem - dream

Kvell - to swoon with happiness and pride

Mensch - a good person

Mishpocheh - (mishpokhe, mishpucha) family, or someone who is "like family"

Schmaltzy - overly emotional or sentimental

Seichel - common sense

Sheifale - lamb

Shmutz - a little dirt or something messy, generally on your face

Shpilkes - impatience, restlessness

Spiel - a generally long story or speech

Vartn - waiting

Verklempt - feeling overwhelmed with emotions

Zeeskeit - sweetness

Yiddish:

Yiddish is about 1,000 years old, and was once the international language of Ashkenazi Jews (the Diaspora Jews of Central and Eastern Europe and their descendants). 

The language is mostly German, but is fused with words from Hebrew, Aramaic and many other languages from the places where Jews have lived or fled to. It’s sort of a melting pot of languages, in a way. Traditionally, It’s written in the Hebrew alphabet.

At its height less than a century ago, Yiddish was spoken and / or understood by an estimated 13 million of the world's 18 million Jews, with many speaking Yiddish as their primary language. But, due to the Holocaust and other atrocities, most Yiddish speakers didn’t survive, and the language almost died.

Aside from Hasidic and Ultra-Orthodox Jews who often speak Yiddish as their primary language, in insular communities, most people today know only a few Yiddish words. However, many young Jews have recently become interested in getting back in touch with their heritage through Yiddish.

Yiddish is a language full of humor and irony, expressing subtle distinctions of human character that other cultures don’t recognize or put into words. It’s a language that expresses our strengths and weaknesses; our hopes, fears and longings. Many of these terms have found their way into English, because there is no English word that can convey the depth and precision of meaning that many Yiddish words can.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Word Lists

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read them!

[scotianostra]

On February 16th 1954 the writer Iain Banks was born in Dunfermline, Fife

Banks was a son of a professional ice skater and an Admiralty officer. He spent his early years in North Queensferry and later moved to Gourock because of his father’s work requirement. He received his early education from Gourock and Greenock High Schools and at the young age of eleven, he decided to pursue a career in writing. He penned his first novel, titled The Hungarian Lift-Jet, in his adolescence. He was then enrolled at the University of Stirling where he studied English, philosophy and psychology. During his freshman year, he wrote his second novel, TTR.

Subsequent to attaining his bachelor degree, Banks worked a succession of jobs that allowed him some free time to write. The assortment of employments supported him financially throughout his twenties. He even managed to travel through Europe, North America and Scandinavia during which he was employed as an analyzer for IBM, a technician and a costing clerk in a London law firm. At the age of thirty he finally had his big break as he published his debut novel, The Wasp Factory, in 1984, henceforth he embraced full-time writing. It is considered to be one of the most inspiring teenage novels. The instant success of the book restored his confidence as a writer and that’s when he took up science fiction writing.

In 1987, he published his first sci-fi novel, Consider Phlebas which is a space opera. The title is inspired by one of the lines in T.S Eliot’s classic poem, The Waste Land. The novel is set in a fictional interstellar anarchist-socialist utopian society, named the Culture. The focus of the book is the ongoing war between Culture and Idiran Empire which the author manifests through the microcosm conflicts. The protagonist, Bora Horza Gobuchul, unlike other stereotypical heroes is portrayed as a morally ambiguous individual, who appeals to the readers. Additionally, the grand scenery and use of variety of literary devices add up to the extremely well reception of the book. Its sequel, The Player of Games, came out the very next year which paved way for other seven volumes in The Culture series.

Besides the Culture series, Banks wrote several stand-alone novels. Some of them were adapted for television, radio and theatre. BBC television adapted his novel, The Crow Road (1992), and BBC Radio 4 broadcasted Espedair Street. The literary influences on his works include Isaac Asimov, Dan Simmons, Arthur C. Clarke, and M. John Harrison. He was featured in a television documentary, The Strange Worlds of Iain Banks South Bank Show, which discussed his literary writings. In 2003, he published a non-fiction book, Raw Spirit, which is a travelogue of Scotland. Banks last novel, titled The Quarry, appeared posthumously. He also penned a collection of poetry but could not publish it in his lifetime. It is expected to be released in 2015. He was awarded multitude of titles and accolades in honour of his contribution to literature. Some of these accolades include British Science Fiction Association Award, Arthur C. Clarke Award, Locus Poll Award, Prometheus Award and Hugo Award.

Iain Banks was diagnosed with terminal cancer of the gallbladder and died at the age of 59 in the summer of 2013.

[uwmspeccoll]

It’s Feral Friday! 

This week we’re diving into zine history. 

Zines amplify marginalized voices & stories excluded from conventional publishing, challenge authority, and provide egalitarian channels for creative expression and alternative community building.

Though often dated to the sci-fi fanzines of 1930s, some argue that zine history originated in the context of early printing in the 16th century with Martin Luther’s self-published 95 Theses. Given Luther’s use of vernacular, critiques of established ideologies, and use of pamphleteering to spread his message, we tend to agree! Following suit overseas, the cheaply produced broadsides of the 18th century American Revolution were quickly disseminated to influence public opinion.  

In the 1920s artists in Europe produced radical journals and periodicals which spread the ideas of Surrealist and Dada movements and critique of bourgeoise culture. In the 30s sci-fi fanzines provided platforms for fan content and dialogue. The Beat poets produced low-cost mimeographed chapbooks and broadsides in the 40s & 50s, challenging the censorial nature of American society with writing on civil rights, the anti-war movement, environmentalism, and free love.  

During the same period the Soviet Union DIY (aka Samizdat) movement, in which Eastern Bloc activists reproduced and distributed state censored publications by hand (often on typewriters), emerged. Xerography became popularly available in the 60s and low-cost offset printing and the electric typewriter were introduced, spurring the rise of underground comix & alternative newspapers.  

Punk zines appeared in the 70s, followed by the DIY movement and the indie music scene. In the 80s copy machines became ubiquitous, and in the 90s the Riot Grrrl underground punk movement and rise of third wave feminism produced a slew of new publications.     

Because forms of zine production have proliferated in various contexts throughout printing history, even a Western-centric overview was hard to capture succinctly. Stay tuned for more in future posts!  

Images:

Dada germanico. Gabriele Mazzota editore, Milan, 1970. Facsimile edition of 1920 original.

Dada germanico.

from Disputatio D. Martini Luther theologi, pro declaratione virtutis indulgentiarum, a bound edition of Martin Luther's 95 Theses. Adam Petri, Basel, 1517.

How industrial unionism was won : the great Flint sit-down strike against General Motors, 1936-1937. Progressive Labor Party, Brooklyn, NY.

Prose contribution to Cuban revolution. Allen Ginsberg. Artists' Workshop Press, Detroit, 1966.

Russian samizdat and photo negatives of unofficial literature in the USSR. Moscow. Wikimedia Commons.

The Bunch's power pak comics. Aline Kominsky-Crumb. Kitchen Sink Enterprises, Princeton, WI, 1979.

Plunger. Alison. Team Plunge, New York, NY. Dec. 1994.

FAT! SO?. Marilyn Wann. San Francisco, CA. no.4 1995.

Angry black-white girl : reflections on my mixed race identity. Nia Diaspora. Publication year unknown (between 2000-2009).

View more Feral Friday posts.

View more posts with zines.

--Ana, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Open Your Home to the Common House Centipede

A common sight in homes throughout Europe, Asia, the Americas, and Australia the common house centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata) is a medium-sized species of centipede originally from the Mediterranean. In the wild, they prefer grasslands and deciduous forests where they can hide under rocks, logs, or leaf litter. These insects have also adapted well to urban development, and are frequently found in basements, bathrooms, and garages,  as well as gardens and compost piles.

Like other centipedes, the common house centipede has less than 100 legs; in fact, they only have 15 pairs, with the front pair used only for holding prey or fending off threats. All those legs let the common house centipede move up to 0.4 meters per second (1.3 ft/s) over a variety of surfaces, including walls and ceilings. The actual body of S. coleoptrata is only 25 to 35 mm (1.0 to 1.4 in) long, but the antennae are often as long as the body which can give this insect a much larger appearance. However, they can be hard to spot, especially in their natural environments; their tan and dark brown coloration allows them to blend in seamlessly to surrounding vegetation.

Though they pose little threat to humans, house centipedes are predatory. Their primary food source is other arthropods, including cockroaches, silverfish, bed bugs, ticks, ants, and insect larvae. S. coleoptrata is a nocturnal hunter, and uses its long antennae to track scents and tactile information. Their compound eyes, unusual for centipede species, can distinguish daylight and ultraviolet light but is generally used as a secondary sensory organ. When they do find prey, house centipedes inject a venom which can be lethal in smaller organisms, but is largely harmless to larger animals. This makes them important pest controllers. In the wild, house centipedes are the common prey of rodents, amphibians, birds, and other insects.

The mating season for S. coleoptrata begins in the spring, when males and females release pheromones that they can use to find each other. Once located, the male spins a silk pad in which he places his sperm for the female to collect. She then lays fertilized eggs in warm, moist soil in clutches of 60-150. These eggs incubate for about a month, and the young emerge with only four pairs of legs. Over the next three years, juvenile house centipedes molt 7 times, each time gaining new pairs of legs. After they grow their last pair of legs, immature house centipedes molt an additional 3 times, at which time they become sexually mature. If they can avoid predation, individuals can live up to 7 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The common house centipede has not been evaluated by the IUCN, as it is relatively common both in the wild and in urban areas. Although they have been introduced to areas outside their native range, no detrimental environmental effects have been associated with their spread.

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Photos

Joseph Berger

David Paul

Conrad Altman via iNaturalist

[aurum-cat]

your Lithuania alignement chart!

Exhausted People Pleaser - You know the type, mostly seen in Soviet or modern times fanfics

What is a meme? - Grandpa archetype. He has no idea how to work any more modern technology and has no idea what any of the internet slang is

Wild pagan boy - the feral Lithuania. Very rare actually, might be rude, snaps, is sassy. Be careful he bites!

Most breedable man in Europe - "I have a Massive Penis" comic <3 also, never have I ever saw this Lithuania be aware of his magnetic sexual pull he creates. He is always oblivious

And canon Lithuania who is the mix of all of them

you can commission me on ko-fi <3