#I’m not saying I��ve suffered a ridiculous amount

[bard-llama]

Phillipa, again in Vergen, learns that Saskia wants to marry for love (and maybe a little as a political statement) Iorveth: "Well, we have to find a way to gain some political benefit out of it. At least he is not Stennis, though..."

OH GOD NOT STENNIS!!! I mean, I usually kill the fucker anyway, even though I don't think Geralt would let him die, canonically. BUT knowing that he never faces ANY punishment in canon, I let the fucker die.

But for canon, I do have a WiP where, post-Witcher 3, Iorveth recruits Roche to help him murder war criminals (sans themselves) who profitted off of others' suffering. He figures they need to work their way up to King Stennis of Aedirn. I know that's not what this ask is about, but I love this part, so I'm gonna include a snip under the cut.

Anyway, Philippa - she would 100% find a way to bilk their marriage for all its worth.

So I’m gonna include 2 snips from the WiP whose working title is “Becoming Terrorists Together” 

You know what? Fuck it. Here’s 90% of the whole WiP lmao Seriously, there’s only like, half a page after this.

When Nilfgaard dictated terms that actually favored you after they literally tore a swath across the continent, a reasonable person would listen.

Vernon Roche was not a reasonable person. In point of fact, he typically enjoyed spitting on reasonable people. Especially if they were Nilfgaardian.

Unfortunately, no one asked him his opinion. In fact, there was very little asking going on at all.

“What do you mean, ‘congratulations, you’re in charge now’!?” Roche bellowed. He had a very good bellow, developed from years and years of yelling orders over the battlefield. 

Emhyr var Emreis, Emperor of the Nilfgaardian Empire, King of Cintra, Lord of Metinna, Ebbing, and Gemmera, Sovereign of Nazair, Temeria, and Vicovaro, and Overlord of Aedirn, Redania, and Toussaint was not impressed. “I mean, congratulations. You’ve successfully managed a Free Temeria. Now you have to rule it.”

Roche sputtered. First off, ‘Free Temeria’ was a helluva way to say ‘Temeria, Protectorate of Nilfgaard’. Secondly, “I’m not a ruler.”

“Aren’t you? Shame,” Emhyr said tonelessly. He didn’t look up from the report he was reviewing. “What’s the problem? Isn’t this everything you’ve been fighting for?”

Roche gnashed his teeth together. Unlike a certain former intelligence operative, Roche’s goal had never been to rule. Why the fuck would he want to do that!? Roche was a behind the scenes kind of guy. He most certainly was not the guy to wear the crown.

Also, he’d seen firsthand how much paperwork the guy with the crown had to do. No thank you.

“I don’t know how to run a country,” he growled.

“Then you’re in for a sharp learning curve,” Emhyr shrugged. “I’d get started if I were you. Your swearing in ceremony is in an hour.”

“My fucking what?”

“Your swearing in as the Imperial High Commissioner of Temeria, Administrator of Mahakam, Governor of Ellander, and Presiding Overseer of the Northern Imperial Capital of Vizima, of course.”

Roche gaped in horror. “There’s no way in fuck that I’m becoming – that.”

“Oh?” Emhyr raised a single eyebrow. “Would you prefer that I assign a Nilfgaardian administrator?”

Roche grit his teeth. If Temeria were ruled by a Nilfgaardian still sore about the war efforts, then Temeria’s people would be subjected to harsh treatment, and that was the opposite of everything he’d worked for, dammit.

Still… ruling Temeria? Him!? And that fucking title – no way was he keeping that.

Ah hell, he was going to agree, wasn’t he? Emhyr played him too damn well, knew that Roche wouldn’t be able to say no.

He pursed his lips, frowning deeply. “What exactly would I have to do?”

Emhyr smirked, eyes still focused on the report in front of him. Roche had never wanted to stab anyone quite so badly in his life.

Forty-five minutes later, he was dressed in absurdly expensive Temerian blue robes and three maids were attempting to remove his chaperon.

“Sir, you are to be sworn in as the ruler of an Imperial protectorate! You must look dignified.” Emhyr’s chamberlain insisted.

“I shaved, didn’t I?” Roche shrugged. What was it with Nilfgaardians and beards, anyway? Who really cared if he had a five o’clock shadow?

“You did, sir. But I am afraid they absolutely cannot place your crown over a chaperon. So if you would remove it–”

“Wait, wait, I don’t need a fucking crown!”

“It is Nilfgaardian tradition, sir. Every Imperial Representative has been sworn in with a crown. The people expect a crown. You simply must wear it, I’m afraid.” Mereid, the chamberlain, somehow managed to look innocent and helpful, even as he nodded for the maids to grab at his chaperon again. 

“The people expect an actual fucking ruler,” Roche muttered, dodging the maids. “Chaperons are traditional headwear amongst Temerian nobility. If anything, it’s more dignified to wear it!”

Mereid’s eyes narrowed and Roche felt a prickle of fear at the base of his spine. This was a man who even the Emperor deferred to. He was not to be messed with.

But dammit, did it have to be the chaperon?

“Sir,” Mereid began, his tone icy. “I must ask that you refrain from further struggling and remove the hat.” His eyes looked exactly like Ves’s three seconds before she knifed someone.

Roche removed the chaperon. 

As casually as if he hadn’t just won a protracted battle, Mereid snapped his fingers. “Tend to his hair,” he ordered, and the maids immediately launched themselves at Roche again.

It took every bit of control he had not to bolt. 

Ten minutes later, his hair was slicked back with a truly ridiculous amount of oil to tame his curls. Combined with his undercut, it looked absolutely ridiculous, but apparently Mereid was pleased.

“Now,” Mereid clapped, “we must proceed to the throne room.”

Roche blinked. “There’s not like, actually going to be an audience for this, is there?”

Mereid gave him a look. “The purpose of a coronation is for it to be witnessed, sir.”

“Ah fuck, Ves is never gonna let me forget this,” he groaned. 

“It shall be forever memorialized, of course,” Mereid said casually. “The court painter is already working on your portrait.”

“Oh my gods, I hate everything.”

“Shall we depart, sir?” Mereid gestured to the door in a way that clearly suggested that it was not a question.

Roche glanced at his reflection in the mirror and thought of this being how he was remembered. “Fuck,” he grunted. Nonetheless, he followed Mereid when the chamberlain started out of the room.

Ves laughed at him, of course. She didn’t even have the courtesy to hold it in until after the ceremony. Instead, Roche had to listen to her cackle as Emhyr fucking var Emreis slowly lowered the crown of the King of Temeria onto his head.

Despite what Ves later claimed, he did not tear up at all when Foltest’s crown came to rest on his brow.

“People of Temeria,” Emhyr proclaimed grandly, “I present to you, the Imperial High Commissioner of Temeria, Administrator of Mahakam, Governor of Ellander, and Presiding Overseer of the Northern Imperial Capital of Vizima, Commander Vernon Roche!”

Roche felt vaguely like throwing up even as he stood and faced the scattered applause.

––

A month later, Roche did not want to set everything on fire any less than he had from the start. If anything, the urge had only gotten stronger with each paper he signed. 

He was also, somewhat disappointingly, actually pretty decent at ruling a country. Temeria was doing better than it had since the war had started, and the economy was projected to be back at the level King Foltest had achieved by the end of the year.

Roche still hated it.

With a heavy sigh, he took off the crown and reverently placed it on a cushion. He would love to just be able to toss it aside when it got too heavy on his head, but it was Foltest’s crown. He couldn’t treat it with anything but the appropriate amount of solemnity and respect.

His robes, on the other hand. 

Roche tore off the ridiculously heavy clothing as quickly as possible, leaving his hair a rat’s nest above his head. Then he headed for the one luxury he actually appreciated – the huge opulent bathtub. It was truly ridiculous – made from polished copper, it was inlaid with mother of pearl edging and was everything he hated about rich people – and also really, really nice to soak in.

Once the tub was steaming, Roche slid down until the surface of the water tickled his ears. The tub was deep and he let himself relax into the heat, tilting his head back and letting out a long sigh. The stresses of a life he’d never wanted began to sluice off of him with the water and he rolled his shoulders back against the side of the tub, stretching his neck with a yawn.

When he opened his eyes, he encountered dark red fabric and an olive green eye about three inches from his nose. It took his brain a half-second to process what he was seeing and then Roche found himself screaming, high pitched and shrill, as he grasped frantically at his chaperon to cover himself with.

Jerking back at his scream, the elf wanted in every northern kingdom and Nilfgaard blinked at him. Iorveth, somehow hanging from the ceiling, just stuck a finger in one ear and grimaced at the noise.

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Iorveth said, offering him a bar of soap as if the leader of the Scoia’tael interrupting his bath wasn’t reason enough to yell.

“What the fuck!?” Roche yelped. “How the fuck did you even get in here!?”

Iorveth shrugged, still hanging upside down. “Your security needs work.”

Roche sputtered. “Why the fuck are you here!?”

“Why, to pay respects to the new Imperial High Commissioner, Administrator, Governor, Overseer, and Commander, of course” Iorveth smirked, mischief sparkling in the eye that was still far too close to him. 

Roche poked Iorveth’s forehead with his pointer finger and pushed him away. “Ever heard of space? Privacy? Not being a shithead?”

Iorveth snorted, and did some sort of complicated flip through the air that left him standing next to Roche’s bathtub. Roche frowned. On the one hand, he didn’t particularly want to be naked and unarmed with Iorveth in the vicinity. On the other hand, he literally just got in, and it would be such a shame to waste the hot water.

Decided, he crossed his arms and glared at Iorveth. “What the fuck, Squirrel?”

Iorveth ignored his glare, poking around his room instead. “There’s no way you aren’t hating every minute of playing king.” The elf flicked the tip of Foltest’s crown.

Roche scowled. “Why are you here? And why aren’t you – you know – killing me?”

“Even death isn’t enough to escape Nilfgaard,” Iorveth said.

Roche’s forehead wrinkled and he squinted at Iorveth. Iorveth continued to search through his room, though the elf considerately stayed within Roche’s sightline.

Roche was suspicious.

“There were rumors you’d died,” he finally said.

Iorveth shrugged. “Not the first time. What, did you believe them this time?”

“No,” he found himself admitting. “Only I’m allowed to kill you.”

Iorveth glanced back at him with a smirk. “Don’t seem to be trying at the moment.”

“Water’s still hot,” Roche grumbled. Iorveth muffled a laugh and Roche was hit by the utter strangeness of chatting casually with fucking Iorveth while sitting in a ridiculously fancy bathtub that he only had because he was currently ruling Temeria.

What the fuck was his life?

Gods, the bathtub really was fantastic, though. He slumped back against the tub and let himself enjoy it, muscles slowly unwinding. If Iorveth killed him, the elf would be doing him a favor. But Iorveth was right – even in death, he probably wouldn’t be able to avoid fucking Nilfgaard.

Roche hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them to see Iorveth staring at him again, though fortunately from much further away this time. “What?”

“This ruler thing isn’t allowed to kill you before I do,” Iorveth said eventually, turning back to poke at the shit decorating Roche’s room. “Fucking shit, your shoulders look tight enough to chop wood on.”

Roche snorted, shrugging shoulders that really were painfully tense. “What, are you offering a massage?”

Iorveth dropped the trinket he’d picked up and fumbled catching it, graceless in a way Roche had never seen an elf be before. Then Iorveth turned to him with a wide eye and what Roche almost thought was a blush. Roche’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“Actually,” Iorveth cleared his throat, “I was thinking of a more violent type of stress relief.”

“What?”

“Nilfgaard wants to quell all unrest in their lands, so they’re not going to prosecute any war criminals. Which means they’re fair game.”

Roche blinked at him. “Iorveth,” he said slowly, “you do realize that technically we are both war criminals?”

Iorveth just shrugged. “‘Least we haven’t gotten rich off of other people’s suffering.”

That was true. At least he and Iorveth had fought for a cause, even if what they did was monstrous. People driven by pure greed disgusted Roche, and he knew there was no shortage of greedy predators preying on those devastated by the war.

“Are you… inviting me to go murder assholes with you?” Roche asked in disbelief.

Iorveth tilted his head, shrugging again. “Essentially.”

Roche sucked on his lower lip. It was a terrible idea. He was leader of a country now, he couldn’t just swan off and do whatever he wanted. And what would they do, run around like vigilantes, punishing the cruel?

That actually sounded really fun. When was the last time he’d had fun? Definitely before fucking Emhyr’s grand fucking idea.

He pursed his lips. It really would be an awful decision, but gods, for the first time in ages, he actually felt interested in something. Excited about something.

“Huh,” Roche huffed, “I don’t think I’ve killed anyone in at least two months.”

Iorveth looked mildly impressed. “We could fix that.”

“It is definitely wrong to long to murder people,” he pointed out.

“Moralize later, dress now,” Iorveth said, picking through his wardrobe. “Where’s your armor? There’s no way you let them take it away in favor of these ridiculous things.” Iorveth held up a velvet brocade robe to support his point.

Roche laughed. Iorveth wasn’t wrong, after all. “Under the bed. Had to hide it from the chamberlain.”

Iorveth turned to the bed, an absurdy lavish four poster bed with chiffon draped ever so precisely around the bedframe. Laying on it felt like laying on a cloud.

Roche hated it. He usually slept on the floor instead. 

“We’re waiting until my bath is done to leave, though,” he said and Iorveth shot him a disbelieving look. “I can’t just waste the hot water,” Roche justified, flushing slightly. A lifetime of little money had taught him that nothing should be wasted. Baths didn’t cost him coin now, but old habits died hard.

“What, and I’m just supposed to wait for you?” Iorveth grumbled.

“Hey, no one invited you here,” Roche pointed out. “I don’t care what you do, but I’d recommend not getting caught at it. You’re still wanted… pretty much everywhere.”

Iorveth smirked proudly, “I know.”

Roche rolled his eyes, yawning and leaning back in the bath, stretching his neck from side to side. 

“That’s a gigantic bathtub,” Iorveth said, something contemplative in his tone.

“Uh huh,” Roche grunted.

“If you’re enjoying the hot water, I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Iorveth said nonsensically, and Roche opened his eyes to stare.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Iorveth just arched an eyebrow and reached for the straps holding his weapons. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Roche asked in disbelief. It wasn’t that he objected, necessarily – years and years of military life had removed any shame he might’ve felt at being naked in front of his enemy. But naked and sharing a bath? “You know this is weird, right?”

Iorveth just snorted, now setting about removing his numerous weapons. Roche was a little impressed by how many the elf managed to fit on his body. “You, Vernon Roche, are currently ruler of Temeria. Is there any part of your life that isn’t weird nowadays?”

Roche opened his mouth to respond – and then closed it. Iorveth wasn’t wrong, after all. “Claiming to be part of my life?” he finally asked.

“Of course I am,” Iorveth said confidently, “I’m your nemesis and you’re mine.” 

Roche swallowed at that, watching as Iorveth removed his belt, gloves, and all the various straps that held his hodgepodge armor together. Apparently he was really doing this, really planning to join Roche in the bath.

Seriously, what was his life now???

Instead of thinking too hard about that, Roche cleared his throat, jerking his gaze away as Iorveth pulled his chainmail over his head. “So, this murder thing…”

“Mm?” 

“You have a hit list or something? Or were you just planning to run around until you found an appropriately irritating war criminal?”

“Wouldn’t be that hard,” Iorveth muttered. “Stennis of Aedirn is top of my hit list, but not necessarily the best place to start.”

Roche blinked. “Stennis… as in King Stennis?”

Iorveth shrugged, and in Roche’s memory, he could hear that brash voice easily declaring, king or beggar, what’s the difference?

Back then, Roche had had many opinions on the difference. The likes of King Foltest could hardly be compared to some beggar on the streets. Or even some whoreson who had somehow found his way into power.

Now? Now Roche had the blood of two kings on his hands, and really, what was a third?

“That will require careful planning. He’s probably got good security.”

Iorveth was silent for long enough for Roche to look at him again, and he flushed when faced with the sight of Iorveth’s bare chest, ribs visible and skin a handful of shades darker than Roche’s. Iorveth’s gambeson lay in a pile next to him, and the elf was currently working to remove his hose – only at Roche’s words, he’d apparently stopped to stare at Roche instead.

“What?” Roche asked, hoping the heat from the bath hid his blush. Why was he suddenly feeling awkward about nudity? It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen the worst of each other before. Who cared if there was a bit of skin on display?

His eyes caught on the peaks of Iorveth’s nipples, darker than Roche’s – almost the color of polished cedar. Roche bit his lip, feeling oddly fixated as Iorveth’s nipple hardened in the cool air under his gaze.

“I’d heard you killed kings now,” Iorveth said eventually, shifting enough to break Roche’s gaze and when Iorveth bent to remove his hose, Roche quickly turned away. His face and ears felt hot and he sank lower into the tub.

“Gods, I hope people aren’t going around gossiping about that,” he groaned. “Both were supposed to be fucking secret, dammit.”

Iorveth pursed his lips, staring at Roche. “You really did it,” he said slowly, and there was something in his voice that made Roche look at him. Standing naked with absolutely no shame, Iorveth frowned at Roche. “Radovid I get. You got a Free Temeria out of it, and even most dh’oine agree he was insane. But Henselt? Really?”

Roche cleared his throat, determinedly keeping his eyes trained on Iorveth’s face and not the miles of bare skin that lay in front of him. “He deserved it,” Roche grunted.

“He was a king,” Iorveth said, as if that explained everything. Roche frowned at him. “What did he do to drive you that far?”

Iorveth sounded genuinely curious and Roche swallowed. He didn’t really want to talk about this, didn’t really want to remember the way the Kaedweni king had stolen his family from him. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, trying not to go back there. 

A touch on his shoulder startled him and Roche jerked around, blinking wildly as he realized that the touch had been Iorveth – what, comforting him? That was fucking weird. Still, Iorveth’s touch was cool against his slightly-overheated skin, and the look on the elf’s face was more akin to understanding than pity.

Roche supposed that was acceptable. He swallowed harshly and forced himself to answer, “he murdered my men.”

Iorveth inhaled sharply, clearly not having expected that. “Oh,” the elf murmured, obviously lost for words. 

Roche cleared his throat. “So, King Stennis…” he changed the subject, shifting in the tub to allow Iorveth room to climb in.

Iorveth was silent as he took the invitation and stepped into the bath, sighing softly at the touch of hot water. They sat facing away from each other, and the press of Iorveth’s back against his was oddly hypnotic. Roche found himself only able to focus on the places they touched – and the places they didn’t.

“I’m… sorry,” Iorveth eventually said.

Roche blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. “Why?”

Iorveth tapped his fingers against the side of the tub. “Enemies deserve respect,” he said. “The Blue Stripes were uncommon enemies – efficient and ruthless and well-led. I may not feel anything at their deaths – but they were your unit.”

Were. Roche swallowed roughly, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Let’s talk about Stennis,” he grunted forcefully. 

Iorveth sighed, and for a moment, Roche almost thought that Iorveth’s shoulders pressed against his more intentionally. Offering comfort again? What a strange thing for his nemesis to do.

“Why did you come to me?” he asked, not sure if he expected Iorveth to answer truthfully or not. 

Iorveth hummed. “We are remnants of a past age,” Iorveth said slowly. “Our skills are no longer needed nor wanted. Instead, we’re supposed to fit into nicer, less controversial boxes.” Roche could feel Iorveth shrug against him, “I’ve never been one to conform to societal expectations.”

Roche snorted, “yeah, no shit.”

Iorveth huffed in amusement. “I figured you probably hated all this as much as I do.”

Roche grunted in agreement. “The bathtub is nice, at least.”

Iorveth actually laughed, twisting around to face him. “It is. And yet, you still look tense enough to string a bow.”

Roche grumbled. He hadn’t really thought about how he’d left his back exposed to his nemesis, not until cool fingers hesitantly touched his shoulders. Inexplicably, he didn’t tense further, even though touch typically meant violence, especially coming from Iorveth.

Only Iorveth didn’t hurt him. Actually, Iorveth’s touch was gentle as he traced the line of the tattoo that spanned Roche’s shoulders. Roche shivered at the light scratch of Iorveth’s bow calluses, unsure why he was allowing this.

Except that it had been so very long since anyone had touched him in kindness and Roche couldn’t make himself pull away. If he was lucky, this wasn’t some sort of ruse to get him to let his guard down before Iorveth slit his throat.

Though really, Iorveth could kill him right here and now with little resistance – and yet, he continued to live and breathe. Instead, he felt Iorveth’s fingers dip under the surface of the water, continuing to trace the tree tattooed across his back, each branch a tribute to the men he’d lost. 

Roche swallowed, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. He pinched his index finger and thumb together tightly, letting the pressure ground him. 

“So,” he coughed. “King Stennis? Why do you want to kill him?”

“He poisoned the Dragonslayer and faced no consequences,” Iorveth said, a growl in his voice. His fingers traced back up the trunk of the tree on Roche’s back and then he dug his thumbs into Roche’s traps.

Roche gasped sharply, the pressure a painful ache until his muscles slowly unwound under Iorveth’s touch. 

“Seriously,” Iorveth said casually, as if he weren’t apparently giving Roche a shoulder massage. “How are you even able to move right now? You feel like a brick shithouse.”

“Gee, thanks,” Roche snorted, wincing slightly as the heels of Iorveth’s palms kneaded between his shoulder blades.

Then he felt the moment his tension released, and he practically melted into Iorveth’s touch, feeling looser and more relaxed than he had in… fuck, who even knew how long?

Iorveth continued massaging his shoulders, moving up to circle his thumbs against Roche’s neck and dipping down to work at his back on occasion. But Roche wore his stress in his shoulders and Iorveth spent the most time there, fingers strong and agile, pushing and pulling at his muscles with surprising ease.

Roche sighed deeply, closing his eyes and trying to remember the thread of the conversation. Right. Stennis. And the Dragonslayer. He poisoned her? Really?

“I thought the Dragonslayer was alive and well and running the only country that hasn’t succumbed to Nilfgaard?”

“She is,” Iorveth responded, voice low. It added a sense of privacy to their conversation that made Roche feel oddly special. “Geralt and the fucking sorceress healed her. The peasants wanted to make Stennis pay, but apparently Gwynbleidd’s morality won’t allow for a lynching. The nobles, of course, don’t care if Stennis is a poisoner, because he’s royal, so…”

“So now it’s left to you to get revenge?”

“Some might call it justice.”

Roche turned his head to look at Iorveth over his shoulder. “Somehow I doubt anyone would picture either of us as agents of justice.”

“Who cares what others think?” Iorveth shrugged, sliding his thumbs up the nape of Roche’s neck. 

Roche turned back around and let him. “Most people,” Roche answered, leaning into Iorveth’s hands. 

“You don’t,” Iorveth said, voice utterly assured. “As long as it’s for Temeria.”

Roche huffed. He wasn’t wrong, but still. “I think I’m supposed to care now. The whole ruling thing and all?”

“You hate it.”

“Of course I fucking hate it. That’s probably why fucking Emhyr forced it on me.”

Iorveth hummed in agreement, massaging Roche’s neck and the base of his skull. It felt ridiculously good and Roche felt his body melting into Iorveth’s touch, putty in the elf’s hands.

Iorveth could have done anything and Roche wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He could slit Roche’s throat, could drown him in the bath, could break his neck, hell, Iorveth could even suffocate him in a chokehold.

The elf did none of that. Instead, when the water began to cool, Iorveth slid his hands down Roche’s neck and across his shoulders, squeezing them briefly. Then, cool lips pressed against the curve where Roche’s neck met his shoulder. By the time his gasp found voice, Iorveth was already pulling away, rising gracefully to his feet and stepping out of the tub, stealing Roche’s towel.

“There’s a Redanian,” Iorveth said casually, as if he hadn’t just kissed Roche. Roche gaped at him, but Iorveth didn’t appear to notice as he began dressing. “Former general, hoarded medical supplies and food and charged exorbitant prices for them. Located in the Outskirts of Vizima, so figured we could start with that.”

Roche swallowed, belatedly pulling himself out of the tub. Iorveth helpfully passed him the already-wet towel and Roche took it with a grumble. “What’s the target’s name?”

“Arnold of Denesle,” Iorveth answered, still acting like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He’d even pulled Roche’s armor from under the bed and laid it out for him.

Roche sucked on his lip as he dried off quickly, reaching for his armor. Technically, he supposed, a kiss wasn’t that much stranger than the rest of this situation – i.e. Iorveth having snuck into the royal palace, joined him in the bath, and even given him a massage. Maybe Iorveth was playing some sort of mind game with him?

If that was the case, Roche should really push it from his thoughts. As he got dressed, he tried to do so – but there was something about the way Iorveth’s chapped lips had brushed against his skin that had him shivering, the spot still tingling.

Sometimes, he felt he knew his nemesis well enough to know how Iorveth thought. Other times, it was very clear that as much as he’d studied Iorveth, he had no idea what went through Iorveth’s head.

If Roche’s tattoo sounds familiar, it’s ‘cause I used the same concept in How to Fluster an Elf. This WiP was actually written first, though.

[milanosbitch]

rec list for zolu gems

They’re comfortable around each other, they respect, admire, and even fight for each other’s dreams. If they were in such a relationship, they wouldn‘t selfishly hold each other back. Rather, they’d push each other onward until they became the best they could be. That’s why whenever I think of Zoro and Luffy, this quote comes to mind:

“You lift me, and I’ll lift you, and we’ll ascend together.”

 – Quatrina Raberba on LiveJournal, 2007

pheww, this quarantine thing is going to be the end of me and my poor nerves. while locked up inside my room, i spent an unhealthy amount of time on ao3 and went through every single zolu fic in the end, and thought, why not gather up a rec list?? just a heads up, all of them are free of problematic themes and mature content.

  starred ones are my personal favorites, and i'm adding to this list as i go,, so look out for updates!! you can also find a better formatted version of this list right here on google docs.

  here are the gems i found on my holy quest:

I’m on a highway full of red lights by KaneNogami*

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: Luffy is joy and bloody knuckles, stupid straw hat on in Summer—holes are starting to form more and more, but it's a sentimental kind of thing—the boy who lives everywhere and nowhere at once, home long abandoned, shadows having invaded it in the form of ghosts. He likes when Luffy tugs on his arm, chatting about eating together—and can you pay, I'm broke again Zoro—how the other always smells like sweat and whatever sauce he got on his shirt this time around. His band-aids are always ridiculous, straight from kid shows, covering broken nose or a gash on his cheek.

  perhaps the first zolu fic i came across on ao3 and it still has a special place in my heart. modern setting, but i must say it probably has more accurate characterisation than most canon-divergence fics. the writing style is slightly poetic and throws you right into the story.

&&.

Romance Dawn by marimoes

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: “Does Zoro feel that?” Luffy asks, voice a whisper, like if he speaks louder he’ll scare whatever it is off, “In your chest?”

  Zoro’s gaze softens on him then, almost like he’s falling back to sleep and Luffy nearly pinches him to wake him, but stops when Zoro says, “Yeah, I do.”

&&.

first mate’s birthday by nakayuz*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: the straw hats weren’t normally all asleep at the same time. there was always someone awake- on watch or suffering another case of insomnia. but just a little too much to drink due to their first mate’s birthday, and said mate’s consistent memories of his past managed to make the impossible happen.

  this one here doesn't focus on zolu specially but more of a flashlight to zoro’s mind in general. they’re a big chaotic family, everyone is drunk and zoro is looking after his nakama and his captain even on his birthday. makes you all mushy inside.

&&.

last year i abstained by Augment*

  Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Luffy's beginning to suspect he's going to have to die like this, either hollow and miserable, or bloated with empty calories, every time Zoro laughs or fights, and Luffy cannot touch the way he wants to, cannot speak the words he needs to.

  i’ve reread this one for ten times or something and i’d still would even after i memorize every single line. it has great characterisation and a clean writing style and the cherry on the top is the mess of a pining luffy. most of the zolu fics on ao3 are written from zoro’s point of view or heavily leaned on his thoughts, so it was surprising to see this.

&&.

this year i devour by Augment

  Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Luffy turns, to see Zoro caught up in the sight of him, and grins. The sun haloes him perfectly, bright noon-day glare, and Zoro is temporarily blinded. When his vision clears, Luffy is still smiling, sharing the joy of his first ship with his first crewmate, and it feels like liquid sunlight's been injected into Zoro's veins, lighting his blood on fire and burning it up, burning him dry.

  this gem is a much more recent one and the continuation of ‘last year i abstained’, the story told from zoro’s point of view this time. again, you will fall in love. head’s up for really mild mature content.

&&.

The stillness of the night isn't great for horrible dreams by baduntilitsgood

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Luffy wakes up feeling cut raw.

  your classic post nightmare hurt comfort fic. i really liked how tender their relationship was here and how zoro easily offered comfort when his captain needed it. the other characters' reactions were on spot too.

&&.

unspeakable love by gadgetronic

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 8.2K

Summary: There’s blood pouring out of his chest in a disgusting and unstoppable way. His breathing is ragged and stuttered and he just got slashed open with all of his guts and dreams spilling out by Dracule Mihawk, and Zoro doesn’t even have the decency to thank God he’s alive. He can only narrow in on one thought, the end of the laundry list – his captain and his crew. A straw hat.

  He raises his sword.

--

  A character study with a focus on Zoro that explores promises, sacrifices, beginnings, and devotion.

wrapped around meaningful lyrics, it’s exactly what it says on the tin, a character study, snippets of zoro’s memories and more. the fic jumpstarts right from the very first episode and till their reunion in sabaody and beautifully explains zoro’s devotion to his captain.

&&.

and i will learn for you by blueacorn*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Zoro will begin to realise that there are other ways to protect.

  you know how much of a badass mf zoro is in canon? well, this fic focuses on his softer side, more precisely about him seeing himself as a person unable to deliver that tenderness and love in a relationship and luffy proving him wrong. this is probably one of my favorites in terms of zoro’s characterisation, just, chef kiss

  here’s an extract from the fic itself and you’ll see what i mean,

  “The soft touches he sees - hand cupping a cheek, tears being brushed away, a gentle bump of hip against hip - would never be his to give, or to take.

  He’d made his peace with that.”

&&.

Red and Green by TJ_Writes

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Before the Strawhat captain gets really close though, Zoro turns his gaze to lazily consider his approach and it takes less than two seconds for the other to go from bored to suddenly regarding him with suspicion.

  It's rare but sometimes Luffy doesn't appreciate the fact that his first crewmate reads him that easily.

  luffy brings zoro flowers!! and may i tell you that it’s cute, like really really cute with the way zoro reacts and luffy’s goofiness. i just love it. 

&&.

Bleed Like an Idiot by Augment

  Rating: Mature

Word Count: 14k

Summary: Not that Luffy wouldn’t die for each and every one of his crew, and he knows, though he will make sure it never ever happens, that they would die for him. But to supersede Zoro’s dream like this, that makes Luffy feel so hideously guilty it locks up his lungs, and his jaw, and he can’t speak, touch Zoro, anything.

  tw for torture and pretty dark stuff right here. zoro is forced to eat a devil fruit and luffy thinks that it was his orders that got his first mate nearly killed and they suck at communication. most of the time you’ll die from the unresolved tension between them but it’s so worth reading for it’s interesting plot and well-built dynamic between zoro and luffy, it was also inspired by this fic.

&&.

Two Boys by LocalVodkaAunt

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1K

Summary: It makes him feel weird. Like the moment is fragile and precious, something to be tucked away and only taken out in the quietest of nights to be marveled at.

  (or: two boys, one night, lots and lots of stars)

&&.

some call it foolish (guess i'll call it art)

by youreanovelidea

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: “With Buggy. How did you know to use the cannon?” she clarifies. 

“Luffy told me,” Zoro says, returning his attention to the sky. 

Nami frowns and shakes her head. “What? No, he didn’t.” 

“Yeah, he did. You just weren’t listening.”

  (or, Nami sees but doesn't understand, Zoro tries to explain, and Luffy sleeps)

&&.

there goes my heart beating (cause

you are the reason) by youreanovelidea

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Zoro breaks through a pile of broken wood and glares at them. “What are you guys doing?”

“What do you mean? We’re here to get Nami,” Luffy says, dusting himself off.

Sanji sits on a crate and tries to remember why he left the safety of the Baratie to follow a crazy kid in a straw hat.

  (Or, Sanji questions his life decisions, Luffy takes a nap, and Zoro should probably sit down)

&&.

turn off the lights (come and lay with me)

by youreanovelidea

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: He can feel Luffy’s breath against his throat—slow and steady—and he automatically wraps an arm around the other’s waist, hand curling over his hip.

“Go to sleep, Captain,” he says softly. “You need rest just as much as I do.”

  (Or, Zoro would do anything for his captain and Luffy just wants his swordsman to be safe)

  focuses on the fact that zoro is a self sacrificial idiot and luffy worries. you can also check out this author’s other zolu fics too since they have a series going on i wrote down  and it’s beautiful!!

&&.

ouroboros by pyknicGinger

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1K

Summary: Zoro is too many things at once, some stitched-together mess of a human being, but then again Luffy isn't much better.

&&.

Climb This Mountain Inside by stiley

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 720

Summary: Luffy can't fall asleep, so he finds comfort in the one person he needs.

&&.

Scattered (three ways to make a heart ache) by

Leoporidae_Lagomorpha*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: The swordsman's love is a wayward one. You lose, you gain and you lose again.

  (Sabaody tore you down, Kuraigana trapped you in and Marineford broke him.)

&&.

Not The Same by LupusAmator*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: Luffy takes a bath with Zoro for the first time since the two year separation, and finally has the chance to inspect his first mate's body for any changes, some more unpleasant and unwelcome than others.

  not your typical steamy sharing a bath fic, just talking and gentle touches. they’re so soft that i want to cry.

&&.

Stand By Me by thricepiercedpirate

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 600

Summary: Even the strongest captains sometimes need a comforting hand.

&&.

a Losing game by Ceia*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Surely it couldn't hurt to at least give Zoro a try.

  a bed sharing fic and pre-relationship, or can be viewed as platonic. this one is a good one though. zoro is awkward as hell but means well, luffy just wants to get warm (and possibly a hug).

&&.

Forged By Fire by demonsLOver

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1K

Summary: Zoro was being forged. In and out the fire by reckless hands. Grinded into a new shape, hot and cold, steel became unique. And the clay pattern is gone, he was marked. He was reborn.

  He didn't believe in God, but he believed his all in one man. He'll count that as the blessing itself.

&&.

Your words keep me awake and sing me to sleep

by Mellifluous Nebulous (Gastrodon)*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2K

Summary: He always makes sure to remind Zoro of how he feels, so why is Zoro getting doubts over some stupid dream?

&&.

Little Pink Flowers by StrawhatsAndDelibirds

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.1K

  this one doesn't have a summary so let me help, luffy braids flowers into zoro’s hair, what more can you want?

&&.

Those Who Sink, Swim by whimsical_ramblings*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Let it never be said that something as trivial as a broken arm could stop Zoro from saving his captain from drowning.

  this one is nakamaship focused but awesome nonetheless. like, you’re on the brink of collapsing from blood loss and a broken arm? nah, jumping after your drowning captain should be fine.

&&.

fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat

by Mellifluous Nebulous (Gastrodon)

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Despite his loud personality, Luffy appreciated the quiet moments the most.

&&.

Precipice of a Change by xpiester333x

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Zoro stood there. He was on the precipice of something. One wrong move would send him over the edge into an unknown. He needed to step back, but his feet were locked and frozen on spot.

  a modern au!! zoro is a bartender and luffy is luffy with a spot on personality, zora falls facedown for the boy, i mean, who wouldn’t? it has a clever way of fitting luffy into our modern world and i really like the author’s style.

&&.

Milky Way by Ceia

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 7.2K

Summary: Several nights of stargazing, spread over several adventures, bring the first mate and his captain closer and closer together.

&&.

When Daylight Comes by

MelodramaticCoffeeAddict*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Most days, it's business as usual. Wake up, train, chase Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper around for disturbing him (because those smiles amid laughs make the whole day better), argue with the cook, occasionally explore an island, pretend not to see Robin and Franky flirting, go to bed. Then do it all once again. Most days he's done. Smiles and laughs. Grumbles and snark. Most days, Zoro feels fine.

  But some days, some days he wonders if they really like him.

  Or

  Zoro has some doubts and some pretty great nakama.

  tw for graphic descriptions of depression. unlike what people think of luffy he actually is aware of a lot of things and understand zoro’s struggles better than anyone. the crew worries, it ends on a sweet note and leaves you warm and bittersweet.

&&.

zephyr by nevermordo

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: “I think I could beat you with one hand and blindfolded,” Zoro adds which makes Luffy laugh again. It doesn’t really take that much to make Luffy laugh but Zoro likes when he’s the cause of it anyway. He likes the way Luffy throws his head all the way back, the way his whole face crinkles up, the way that he laughs like he’s not afraid of anything. It’s probably weird, noticing these things about Luffy. Which doesn’t mean that Zoro doesn’t do it — notice.

  In which Luffy kisses Zoro twice, and Zoro still fails to take a hint.

&&.

dormant by kurgaya*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 10K

Summary: Cannonballs begin to obliterate the hull. Zoro smells smoke, tastes fire in the back of his throat. The odd sensation releases him and he gasps, heaving it, and untangles himself from the robe. Sunny is burning. The ship lurches as Franky seizes the helm, and Zoro scrambles to catch his katana with two tiny, almost skeletal hands.

  “What the fuck,” he breathes, his voice panicked and high - too high, a child-like high.

    [A Film Z canon-divergence au in which Ain's Devil Fruit hits Zoro instead of Robin. Please note: aether above details Zoro's backstory. You don't have to read that first, but it may help]

&&.

snowdrops by kurgaya

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 8.9K

Summary: Zoro isn’t some damsel in need of a guard; he’s just a little moody and he’s missing half of his leg, but otherwise he'll be fine.

  [A canon-divergence au whereby Zoro cuts one of his legs off at Little Garden. The crew worry. Chopper is small. Doctor Kureha has questionable bedside manners. Zoro's an idiot and he knows it].

&&.

around the sun by kurgaya*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Luffy wore Roger’s hat like a warning, like a jolly roger woven from golden thread and straw. Now they are without it, and its absence warns of a power that its presence could never suggest.

  They miss it. But Luffy knows it was never theirs to miss.

[Post-canon. A peaceful return to Foosha Village].

this?? is just perfect?? the plot is exactly what it says on the tin and will make you shed happy tears. i’m in love with every single fic kurgaya posts.

&&.

underwater caves; saltwater room by starspecters

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 500

Summary: zoro reflects.

&&.

Chosen right by t_dreams*

  Rating: Not Rated

Word Count: 4K

Summary: At first glance, it looked like this guy was certifiably insane (which, yes, that makes sense). What the swordsman had just done was the closest thing to giving his life and putting his soul into the straw hat’s hands. He was trusting him to never interfere with his dream, to always support it alongside his. It was a promise, an oath. And Sanji understood the importance of promises, and he thought that those two definitely did too.

  the whole story is told from sanji's point of view,  isn't that a reason enough to read it?

&&.

smushy by litrlu

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: “Zoro..?”

There’s a sleepy pause before he gets a response. A quiet, groggy “Mn?”

“I love you.”

  It was a natural reflex, like breathing.

  Inhale, exhale.

  He loves Zoro, he says it.

  It was easy to say, so easy sometimes he didn’t even realize when he did. He’d said it a million times, over and over again. To others, to Usopp and Nami and Sanji, to Ace, to everyone. Zoro’s were just for Zoro, though.

  Zoro freezes, an odd, strangled sound escaping him.

Luffy glances up to look at him and Zoro snaps his head away, seeming to find absolutely Jack Diddly Nothing over on their other side very, very interesting.

  He inches curiously closer. A difficult task, when Zoro is leaning away just as quickly as he can chase him.

Sure, it’s a little dim, maybe it was a trick of the light but Zoro’s face looks… red?

  a perfect piece if you’re looking for soft zoro. unlike how he is portrayed most of the time, this zoro is a frustrated mess here and luffy knows how to push his buttons.

&&.

First Mate, Soulmate by kkuroshii

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: They make short work of the marines, falling into sync as easily as if they were comrades who had been together for years, meeting back up after some time apart. Fighting with Luffy comes as easy as breathing to Zoro, and he can’t help but wonder what accomplishing his dream with this boy would be like

&&.

The Captain by marimoes

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: “It’s simple.” So says the captain.

  His hands set into his sides like immovable objects, certainty held within his clenched fists, and Zoro is led to believe it. There is a light in this man’s eyes. A glimmer of something he hasn’t seen in such a long time; a dream.

  A real one.

  Nothing like wanting all of the world’s riches, to have power, or lust for things made by man. No—what the man in front of him wants can not be held by any mortal in their hands. He desires something much more.

  He desires freedom.

&&.

move forward, forge ahead

by marimoes & shishiswordsman

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: He doesn’t know what happened, just like he doesn’t know what Zoro did. He doesn’t need to know, either. But he knows that before he passed out, his knuckles had been bloody, the skin burst open from punching and punching and punching, and now —

  Luffy looks at Zoro’s hands, or what little of them he can see through the layers of gauze, and he thinks he understands. Not in a way he could put into words or explain, but in a way he can feel in his heart, the weight of the knowledge settling into his bones, into the space between his ears.

  He doesn’t need to know.

&&.

Fate and death are made in pairs

by demonsLOver

  Rating: Not Rated

Word Count: 2K

Summary: "It's not because of his power or skill. He makes enemies and allies fight for his side. Among all the men of the sea, he has the most frightening ability." Mihawk stated to his pupil.

  As Roronoa stood on shaky legs, "I know."

  At the young swordsman's stubbornness, Mihawk drew Yoru. Taking in the surprised expression, Mihawk will match his words to his strikes to get through what he means.

  "No. You do not."

&&.

To the End by marimoes*

  Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Time has made it’s mark on the Strawhats, just as they have made their mark on the world. With Luffy as the new Pirate King, everything should be settled, but there is still one thing that Zoro can’t figure out.

&&.

with this heart of mine that's guilty; (not remorseful)

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 10.4K

Summary: It had been two weeks, four days, and twenty-something odd hours since Zoro died.

  (Luffy is given the opportunity to bring Zoro back. He will stop at nothing to make sure it happens.)

&&.

what I wouldn't do by Asuia_of_the_deep**

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 96K

Summary: for you.

  Monkey D. Ace was born to a mother who would be King and a father with ghosts in his eyes.

  (In which fate is, and will always be, that which is inescapable, inevitable.

  Immortal.)

  oh boy, don’t i have some stuff to say about this. don’t let the trope fool you or think lowly of this fic, even though luffy is a woman in this she is still as scary and powerful as ever and her family never treats their king differently. i started reading this masterpiece at somewhere near 2AM and the last thing i remember was questioning my existence at 5AM long after the fic was finished. seriously, the plot touches on sensitive spots as the author builds zoro’s backstory from scratch and it is written as if you’re actually reading oda’s work with how much care is shown in world-building here. also you will fall in love with their kid, there’s no other way.

 every single detail is well-planned and has its twists and turns never disappoints. considering multi-chapter fics are rare among this fandom, the word count is perfect to finish at one sit but still satisfies you with its length. the crew being a big family? zoro and luffy being awesome parents? awesome plot and fluff and angst and everything in one fic? yes.

&&.

Same Song, Different Verse by

The_Furthest_City_Light*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 158K

Summary: "That's the thing about nakama. It means you never have to say goodbye or be alone."

  In which Monkey D. Lucy, future Pirate King, and Roronoa Zoro, future World's Greatest Swordsman, are dumb and everyone else is long-suffering. Also, there's this crazy adventure and all that.

  Or:

  Things with them are always do or die, and love is just the same.

it turns out there’s a lot of female luffy fics out there and they’re pretty epic since multi-chapter fics are seriously rare. it tooks about five hours to finish this one, and another five to finish its sequel.

 i can assure you it won’t be boring, but you will certainly suffer from how obvious dorks they are just like the rest of the crew does. just like the fic above, this one is full of small details and careful planning, and i found myself often reading every single note written at the end of chapters.

 with spot on characterization, the plot covers the timeline from the very beginning to fishman island, and doesn’t skip a single arc in the progress, showing a blooming but unspoken relationship. for the most part, it’s heavily focused on zoro and luffy but as it nears to an end you can find more plot-focused chapters too.

&&.

New Seas Ahead by

The_Furthest_City_Light*

  Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 117K

Summary: Sequel to Same Song, Different Verse:

  “GODDAMMIT THIS IS JUST LIKE ZORO AND HIS FEET. YOU CAN’T FIGHT IF YOU’VE JUST HACKED OFF AN APPENDAGE YOU MORONS.”—Nami, lamenting all the decisions she has ever made.

  Monkey D. Lucy and Roronoa Zoro are still only halfway to their dreams, but at least they have each other. The New World is hard and dangerous, but like all great things, it's wonderful too. They're the Pirate King and the World's Greatest Swordsman, after all. The rest of the world just hasn't quite caught on yet.

  In which things are still very much do or die, and love is exactly the same.

  i already spoke of my love for the first part of this series, but it’s sequel is maybe even better + now featuring law who practically gets adopted by the straw hats.

 jump-starting right from fishman island to the end of zou, the sequel is much more plot-based and if possible even more detailed than the first, with entirely new fight scenes which feel like oda’s own writing. lucy is a goddamn badass and so is zoro, and they make a hell of a team. it’s still an ongoing work and was last updated on april 2019 but i refuse to give up hope on an update, and i don’t think it will bother anyone’s reading since where it stopped isn’t in the middle of an important scene.

 new seas ahead is a beautiful canon-divergence fic in my opinion and perfect to read during these quarantine days where free time seems like all we’ve got.

under this cut you will find

fics from fanfiction.net:

&&.

Enough for Me by drakyma

  Rating: Fiction T

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: "I never left you," he stated, sitting up straighter, one callused hand coming up to rest on a smaller shoulder—a shoulder that wasn't as bony as it used to be, "I've always been right here, trying to keep up."

&&.

In the Blink of an Eye by InsaneMelon

  Rating: Fiction T

Word Count: 3K

Summary: "...in the blink of an eye, you might reinvent yourself... the person you were yesterday might not be the person you are tomorrow."

  Jodie Picoult

&&.

Final Betrayal by AstroKender

  Rating: Fiction K

Word Count: 114K

Summary: Finding One Piece, the Straw Hats leave the Grand Line and return to the East Blue. But history seems determined to repeat itself, and for the second time in twenty five years Loguetown finds itself hosting the trial of Pirate King. 

&&.

Devil On The Dance Floor

by Tatsumaki-sama

  Rating: Fiction K+

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Normally, one might not attribute the word "dance" to Roronoa Zoro. Luffy begs to differ.

&&.

and that is the end of this list ( for now ) !! it took me about three weeks to go through every single zolu fic on ao3 and another week to put together and format this list, and every single one of them is very dear to me! thanks to all the authors for creating such masterpieces for this fandom.

[blastron01]

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 047

Interlude: The Power of Money

“If I ever pass out from the devouring, Lutz, it’s not your fault at all. It really, really does come without any warning. …And there’s no way I’m gonna lose anytime soon. I haven’t made a single book yet.”

Maine's voice is quiet, right next to my ear, as she tries to reassure me.

I don't want her to see my miserable, crying face, so I'm carrying her on my back. However, since I'm doing so, I don't have a free hand to wipe the tears running down my face. One by one, the teardrops fall onto Maine's sleeve, leaving little wet spots.

I want to help her, but I can't. I can only grit my teeth at how powerless I am.

Maine always keeps saying that she's completely useless, but I don't know what I'd do without her.

When I said I wanted to become a trader, my family disregarded it completely, telling me not to be ridiculous, but Maine just smiled and told me to follow my dream. When I was first introduced to Benno, I was so terrified that I wanted to flee on the spot, but Maine held my hand and helped me through it. When there wasn't anything I could do on my own, Maine stuck with me, helping me think and helping me act so that I could become an apprentice. Even now, when I'm wondering if it's even a good idea for me to become a merchant, Maine's teaching me how to write, how to read numbers, how to do math, how to think about money... everything.

And despite all that, there's nothing I can do to help her when she's suffering from the devouring.

I don't have the kind of money to help her. I've started to earn a little bit of money, but all that was things that she thought of. If I hadn't helped her, if she was stronger, if she'd gotten more help from the adults, I wonder if she'd have been able to make paper a lot faster and earn a lot more money? If that's the case, would she have made enough money to save herself?

I can't think about anything else. I'm so weak that I'm miserable, regretful... shameful.

If I wasn't a kid, if I was an adult, I wonder if I'd be able to help her? If I was a merchant like Master Benno, if I had that kind of money, maybe I...

I swallow everything down, grit my teeth, and keep walking forward, Maine on my back. If there's anyone who can help Maine, anyone who has enough influence and money to help Maine, I'll find them at Benno's.

Master Benno will surely save Maine. He knows just how much the things Maine can make are worth, so I'm positive he'll help.

When we arrive at the store, Mark and Benno are lying in wait for us. Mark has a worried look on his face while Benno is scowling unpleasantly. Since I still haven't been able to wipe away my tears, I hang my head low, not wanting them to see my soggy, miserable face. As I stare down at the ground, the tips of Benno's shoes come into view.

He sighs heavily. "...this kid."

I thought he'd just walked up to sigh at us, but suddenly all the weight disappeared from my back.

"Eeek?!" cries Maine, startled.

I snap my head up to see Benno hold Maine up roughly and then toss her over to Mark. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest when I see Maine hurtling through empty air.

"Wh...?!" "Whoa?!" exclaims Mark.

As soon as I'm sure that Mark's caught her securely, I allow myself a moment of relief before turning to face Benno angrily. The instant before I start to yell "what are you doing to a sick little girl?!", he jerks his chin towards the shop.

"Lutz, let's go. You and me."

I open and close my mouth wordlessly, my fervor suddenly evaporating, then follow Benno into the shop. As I try to convince myself that there's no problem entrusting her to Mark, or at least that it's far better than letting Benno take care of her, I hear the door close behind me and frantically wipe my face clean with my sleeve.

Benno motions to the table we always use. As soon as I sit down, he fixes his glimmering, reddish-brown eyes on me. He studies me from head to toe, then opens his mouth.

"...Was it the devouring?" "How did you..." "Despite the fact that you were carrying her, Maine seemed to be doing pretty well. I thought that her fever must have suddenly spiked and then gone down again just as suddenly. You're together all the time, but is this your first time seeing that?"

I nod, gulping. Even though I've been by Maine's side whenever we went to the forest, went to the store, and worked on making paper, this is my first time actually seeing the symptoms of the devouring manifest.

There wasn't a single sign that her condition was worsening, but suddenly she got a fever so hot that I wondered if her body was going to melt. Something wispy and yellow drifted off from her, like steam rising from her whole body. It was astoundingly terrifying.

"Master Benno, please, help Maine. I can't do anything. I'm just a kid, I don't have any money, I can't do anything..." "I can't."

In a quiet voice, Benno immediately shoots down my request.

"Why?! You're a grown-up, you have money, you do a lot of business with the noblemen..."

As I desperately make my argument, Benno's face twists as if in pain, or regret. Grinding his teeth, he shakes his head.

"I told you my business was rapidly growing. When it comes to trading with the nobility, I'm a newcomer on the scene, relatively speaking. I don't have many connections. I'm still at a point where they see me as someone at their feet, ready to be ripped off. ...I can't do anything, either." "Master Benno... even you can't...?"

I'm left speechless by Benno's completely unexpected words. Benno, who owns this huge shop, who does business with the nobility, is saying that he's powerless to help Maine; is curing the devouring completely impossible? As everything in front of me starts to grow dim, I remember the one person I know of who has been cured.

"But, I thought Frieda was cured... then maybe the guild leader...!" "I already talked with him." "Huh?"

Benno takes a shallow breath, then reaches up to scratch at his head. A wry, sarcastic smile floats over his troubled face, and he shrugs.

"He said that, if you have money, you can temporarily stave it off. Since he's willing to spend any amount of money so that his granddaughter could keep living, he's been working with a disgraced noble family this entire time, constantly paying them to use a broken magical tool. Using it just once costs him two small gold coins." "G... gold?!"

When I got the one small silver coin for selling that paper, I'd been so thrilled at how much money I'd just earned, but it seems like Maine needs gold, not just silver. The thought of such an unattainable amount of money makes my head spin.

"However, even that's only enough to buy about a half year's worth of time. Even if I spent that much money once to keep her alive, I'd have to spend it again before you know it. Maine, especially, is very young. As she grows up, the symptoms of the devouring are only going to get worse, and more and more frequent. You think I have that much money to spend on a single apprentice? It's impossible, for me."

If what Benno's saying is right, then it really is impossible. There's no way he'd be able to spend that kind of money. However, just saying it's impossible and giving up is giving up on Maine's life.

"There's not much I can do," he says. "I can buy the unusual knowledge that she has from her, giving her some gold to make up for it. When it starts to get too bad to deal with, I'll probably hand her over to that old bastard. ...So, what can you do?"

Benno stares at me with sharp, predatory eyes. Without thinking about it, I glare back at him. He's an adult, with power, brains, money, and everything, and he still can't do anything to help Maine. What could I possibly do?

"...I can't do anything at all. I'm just a kid. I'm not strong, I'm not smart, I don't have any money... if there's something I can do, tell me, please." "Don't make her have to look after you. Don't make her worry." "Wh...?!"

His immediate response makes my breath catch in my through. He's hit the target so cleanly that I have no way to respond at all. My eyes grow hot with chagrin. Benno's facial expression softens a just a little bit, but his eyes are still sharp as he opens his mouth to speak.

"Listen up, Lutz. That kid out there is not the little girl she seems to be. At the very least, even when she's suffering, she doesn't want to make you worry, so she puts on a brave smile for you. Make sure you don't let her trick you with that."

I remember that after the devouring fever went back down down, when her breathing was still heavy and ragged, she had a bright, happy smile on her face. Seeing her smiling like that really did make me feel relieved, but it looks like maybe that was a mistake.

"You're a man, so don't give her anything else to worry about. You can't pretend like you don't know anything, so cooperate with her so that she can buy herself a little more time to live. If you're going to say grandiose things like 'I'm going to make whatever Maine comes up with', then take every single one of her ideas, make them, and sell them! If you've got time to cry, then you've got time to think. You've got time to work. Make some money!" "...Alright."

I raise my head, full of determination, and Benno's lips stretch into a broad grin.

"Now that's the right kind of face, hm?"

"Oh, Lutz!" says Maine. "You done with your conversation? Look, look! I finished up getting us paid for the hairpins we brought today."

She's smiling, as usual, as I come out of Benno's office to meet her. She has a very carefree expression on, but when I remember Benno's advice and look more closely I can see that despite her smile there's a hint of worry in her eyes. Feeling like I should be scolding myself for making her worry, I put on a smile, refusing to be defeated.

"That's a lot," I enthuse. "I think we'll be good for about two or three more days with this." "Two or three?!" "Honestly, I have no idea just how far my mother's going to rampage through this project, and Tory's just as fired up as my mother is..."

As we banter back and forth, I can see Maine start to loosen up, bit by bit. I think I probably managed to give her a little bit of peace of mind. Behind me, Benno comes out of his office with his usual stern expression, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't just chit-chat in my shop. If you're done with your business here, then go straight home and, Maine, get right to bed. Lutz says you're not a hundred percent right now."

As Benno waves his hands to shoo us out of his shop, he seems to suddenly think of something and amends his previous statement.

"Mark, go with these two. It's dangerous for kids like these to be walking around with that kind of money." "Certainly, sir."

In order to make it easy to pay Tory and the others, Maine got all of the money in medium copper coins. Since there's thirty-three of them, they'll probably jangle loudly when we walk around. If unbaptized children such as ourselves carry around that kind of money, then, of course, we'd be incredibly conspicuous.

Now that the danger of being robbed or attacked has been pointed out to her, Maine forgoes her usual "no thank you, it's all right" routine and obediently offers the bag of money to Mark. Mark exchanges a brief look with Benno, then reaches down to pick up both the bag and Maine herself.

"I–I can walk on my own!!" "Were you not just carried here by Lutz, Maine? You're such a good girl, so please come along quietly so that the rest of us can rest easily." "Nnngh..."

Maine, having lost any means of resistance, stops struggling and just hangs her head. It seems like she doesn't have any way to fight against Mark's gentle words.

This is a good discovery. I should work quickly to learn how to talk like Mark.

On the way home, Maine and Mark discuss things like how to handle the winter handiwork and how to manage the finished products. I pay close attention, since I'm going to be doing the exact same thing too.

I thought that we were going to go our separate ways when we reached the plaza with our water well, but Mark doesn't put Maine down, saying that he'll bring the money all the way to her home and explain things to her family. I part ways with the two of them, deeply appreciative of how considerate Mark is.

"Lutz, I'll stop by later," says Maine.

I wave goodbye at them as they head into the building, then I turn towards my own home. My feet suddenly feel like lead weights as I drag myself forwards.

"I'm home," I say, as I close the door behind me. "What, empty handed today?"

Zasha, my oldest brother, looks me up and down, raising an eyebrow. For unbaptized kids like me, going to gather things from the forest is effectively a full-time job, but since I've lately been going to Benno's shop a lot, I haven't been able to do enough gathering. My family, I know, doesn't actually care about the circumstances why.

"Seriously. You didn't even go earn any money, huh?"

If I'd come back with some money, things might have been a little better, but only a little. Ralph really doesn't like how much money I've made in such a short period of time, and lately he's been really strict with me.

I put my things in my room, lie down on my bed, and let out a long sigh. Ever since I started saying that I wanted to be a merchant, everyone in my family has been uncomfortably icy towards me. I know that if I just said I was going to give up on that and be a craftsman instead, things would instantly improve, but I also know that I'd regret that forever.

Knock, knock!

"Good afternoon, Miss Carla. Is Lutz here?" "Oh, Maine! It's good to see you. I just heard him come home a little while ago... Lutz, Maine's here!"

At the sound of my mother's voice, all of my older brothers immediately rush forward, dragged by Maine's invisible grip on their stomachs. By the time I manage to make it out of my room, she's already been completely surrounded to the point that I can't even see her anymore.

"What's up? Do you have a new recipe?" "I'll help! What do you need?" "Nuh-uh," she says, "not today. I'm just here to pay Lutz what I owe him." "You owe him?" "Yep! He helped me with my winter handiwork, so I owe him for that."

Maine squeezes her way out of the crowd and walks up to me, with the kind of self-satisfied smirk she gets when she's scheming something. "Lutz, your hand, please," she says, and I stick it out. Then, she exaggeratedly places coins into the palm of my hand, one by one.

"You helped with five pins, so I owe you five medium copper coins. One, two, three, four, five. That's right, right?" "Yeah."

The coins clink against each other as she places them into my hand, and I'm suddenly aware that the gazes of all of my older brothers are firmly fixed to the spot. My palm seems to tingle under the pressure of their stares, and I hear someone gulp nervously.

"Hey, Maine. You said Lutz helped you, was that those sticks he was making yesterday?"

Maine, waiting for Ralph to say those exact words, puts on a sweet, but very, very forced, smile.

"That's right! I'm making hairpins, so I asked him to help with the pin part. One pin is one medium copper coin." "That's worth that much?!"

Zasha's eyes fly wide open, staring again at the coins in my palm. Zeke, his doubts seemingly erased now that he actually sees me holding money, takes a sharp breath and looks over at Maine.

"...Does it have to be Lutz that does it? Can I help too?"

Zeke is the one to ask the question, but it's on all of my brothers' minds. All of them turn to look at her. She looks back at them easily, smiling and nodding.

"No, it doesn't really have to be Lutz. But, they need to be a specific size, and they need to be polished really smooth so that they don't catch in anyone's hair, so it's not really casual work, you know?"

As soon as my brothers hear those words, they all scramble to be the first to talk themselves up.

"Maine, Maine. I'm way better at woodworking and carpentry than Lutz is. I do it every day at my job, you know." "Me, I'm definitely better than Lutz." "If we're talking about experience, then I've got the most of it, right?"

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, guys. Who was it yesterday that told me I should go off and make those boring little sticks all by myself?

"Oh man, I can't believe we were so stupid yesterday!" "Lutz, why didn't you tell us you were getting paid for these?" "Were you going to hog all the money for yourself?"

I'm pretty sure I told them about it, but they probably ignored me, thinking I was making things up. My brothers' memories have been repainted by the power of cold, hard cash, making me into the bad guy here. All of my brothers are staring at me with a dangerous look in their eyes, and I'm suddenly extremely aware of how terrifying money can be. As my brothers start closing in around me, Maine claps her hands together.

"So, would you three make them for me, then? I'd need five from each of you. If you make more than that, I won't be able to use them. I'll be back in three days to get them, okay?"

"Yeah, leave it to me!" "I don't even need three days." "I can do them right away."

Maine holds up a single finger, grinning impishly.

"Precision is more important than speed! If you don't make them exactly, I won't be able to use them and you'll have to redo them. ...Oh, right! You should ask Lutz about how big they need to be and what kind of wood you should be using. Okay then, I'll see you guys in three days to pick these up!"

My brothers, with big smiles on their faces, wave to Maine as she heads out the door. The instant the door shuts behind her, though, their attitudes immediately change. They grab onto me tightly and drag me to our room.

"So, what kind of wood do we need?" "How big are they?" "You're not getting anything this time, heh."

Their tools are already in their hands as they close in around me, demanding an explanation. I'm left dumbfounded by their complete and utter turnaround from yesterday, where they didn't even bother paying attention to what I was doing.

"Don't just stand there!" "Tell us, quickly!" "O... okay!"

I answer all the questions they have about the kinds of wood and how to make them, and they immediately set to work. In the blink of an eye, I've been completely tossed aside. Then, most frustratingly, my brothers start immediately churning out beautiful hairpins, far faster than I could have made them, thanks to their job experience.

Ah. Is this how Maine feels when she's always saying she isn't good for anything?

I, having been forgotten in a corner, get out my slate and calculator. This is something that I should be doing. I can leave the crafting to the craftsmen.

On our way home, Maine had told me to do three things.

First, on a board, I should make a note of the number of pins that we make. Then, I should make sure that I keep that board hidden securely, so that nobody can arbitrarily add more to it. Lastly, I should use my calculator to work out what my total commission on these is, remembering that my commission for each pin is four medium copper coins.

"Aha, done!" "Man, I'm way ahead of you." "Ralph, that looks kinda sloppy. If you don't do it right, Maine can't use it, right?"

From the sounds of it, my brothers have started competing to see who can make them the best.

"Lutz, how's this look?" "...Yeah, that looks great! Good job, Zasha."

Zasha has finished one, so I've made four coins.

"Look, I'm done too!" "That's perfect, Zeke!"

Zeke finished another, so now I'm up to eight.

While I'm sitting here practicing my writing, I'm not actually making anything myself, but when see my commission fees steadily ticking up on my calculator I suddenly understand.

Now this is being a merchant, huh? Now that I've seen the power of money firsthand, my desire to know how to handle it well has only been strengthened.

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Car Insurance, including APR?

Car Insurance, including APR?

So, im looking for car insurance and I found the cheapest one for me. A deposit of 70.00 payable by credit or debit card followed by 10 monthly instalments by Direct Debit of 55.90. Total payable is 629.00 including APR of 29.6%. What does it mean including APR of 29.6% That I will have to pay an extra 29.6%. Its my 3rd year driving and I ve never seen this before.

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :cheap-insure.info

SOURCES:

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[firstpuffin]

Multiple topics: pronouns and creative techniques

So rather than straining to stretch a single topic over roughly 1000 words, I figured I’d write about a few subjects instead. These will all be on a similar topic, that being writing. I’m going to start simply with why I want an English unisex third-person pronoun and my problem with those that have already been proposed.

  Then I’m going to discuss a few techniques, for a lack of a better word, used in writing and other mediums: pastiche, parody and satire. Now I’m sure most people know what parody and satire are, or at least have an idea about them, but I know that I am not alone in that I only recently learned about pastiche in 2018; it’s not as common as the other two.

 So pronouns, you know what these are and if you don’t (no shame in that, I had to recently learn about them from scratch, just in case I missed something), they are him, her, they, me etc. If it interests you then I will be talking predominantly about third-person singular pronouns but there is no need to actually remember that.

  So I’m sure you get that I am talking about he and she here, and you know that we English speakers can use “they” if we don’t want to specify sex or gender (which is a rabbit-hole I don’t want to go down, but as writing is clearer when speaking of biological sex I’m going to refer to that) but that can be clunky given that they is more commonly used as a plural. If, for example, you are speaking of an individual in a group and don’t want to specify sex for reasons such as retaining a certain amount of mystery, then “they” can be either the individual or the entire group and the sentence may require a certain amount of twists that a contortionist would envy.

  For future reference, double brackets such as -(( and ))- denote an excerpt of my own fiction writing; I use it in personal notes to separate notes from, say, dialogue and I’ll use it here for my examples.

((The secret society held secrecy as their greatest tenet as befitted the term secret society. Accordingly, every meeting was attended solely by people in black, face concealing robes and voice changers that worked to hide both identity and sex. Unfortunately, not every member appreciated this and many took liberties such as adding frills to the hood or others exposing their hairy masculine chests lest, heaven forbid, someone confuse them with a lady.

As the Supreme Leader looked over them, they decided quite firmly that they wouldn’t trust them to zip up their own trousers. In fact, they considered ordering the men to wear button-up trousers, just to lower the chance of unfortunate absences. Finally, they were joined on the stage and they called for silence. They were met by innumerable faceless faces and at least nobody knew who anybody else was. Well, they knew of course.

The Supreme Leader looked at those on the stage with them, nodded imperceptibly and reached inside their robe. They stepped forward. Alone at the front of the stage but still supported by those at their back, they addressed their audience.))

  So that’s nearly 200 words of my own writing that I hope gets across how tough it can be not using he or she. Now normally I would give characters names, or at least identify them using their physical traits such as “Frills” or “Hairy Chest” and that would be their nickname until their actual name was revealed. The above piece was meant to be an extreme example but I have struggled with this in the past. A hooded character who I deliberately want to be a mystery was a recent one but I felt that with characters assuming they are male, referring to them as “them” would be too obvious. In the end I just used the male pronouns and whatever happens, happens.

  Need I even bring up the dehumanising issues of calling someone “it”?

  To bring up previous attempts at inventing an appropriate word, there have been quite a lot thrown out there to address this problem, usually by proponents of transgender or sexless acceptance. I’m gonna skim over this controversial topic for a couple of reasons: 1, I don’t wanna distract from what I am talking about and 2, while I am hardly conservative my opinions on this are worth an entry all by themselves. A third reason is also one of the reasons why I think that there has been limited success in spreading these propositions, that is the controversial nature of there being anything other than two sexes and that sex and gender are the same thing. I don’t want to derail what it is that I am actually talking about with these arguments.

  So, people don’t want to think of there being people who are anything other than male or female and so oppose this reason for a unisex pronoun, but what other reasons are there? Well a number of the suggestions are clunky. Ne, ve, xe… how the hell do you even say these? That is immediately going to put people off, but most of the possible pronunciations are uncomfortable to say. Sure, new words often are, but V and X are not super common in the English language anyway and will intimidate readers. If I say “eir” then I’m gonna feel like I’m putting on heirs. “Per”? Perself? Nope. I just don’t like that one.

  It’s tough creating new pronouns and borrowing them may not be any easier. I had no success looking at Latin and then I turned to Greek (as English has a lot of Greek words) and found what I think was “tous”, which seems to their equivalent of our “they”. I could be wrong. I’ve always found it hard to find Greek language learning or dictionaries that don’t use Greek symbols (which I can’t read) so I think that’s how it’s spelt and I suspect it’s pronounced “two”, but I could be wrong. And it’s not exactly intuitive.

  So next I tried looking at French. We English have a loot~ of French words in our vernacular so what’s one more? But the French use masculine and feminine words so which one do we choose? We could use “tu” or “vous”, both of which seem to mean “you” but I would personally say that sounds too much like “you”.

  To lean into a language that interests me personally, Japanese appears to refer to people using gender specific words but can also use “ano hito” which literally means “that person”. Would this one work? My biggest problem with that is that hito sounds like a name to me and would feel weird.

  Finally I tried looking into history. I knew that “thee” and “thou” died out because they were impolite or informal variants and being English, we stuck to the polite “you”, so I looked into the third-person pronouns. Unfortunately they just developed into what we already use today.

  So what should we do? Keep looking at other languages until we find one we like and steal it? That would be very English. Making one up would be difficult as in this age we are less forgiving than in Shakespeare’s time (apparently he invented 2000 new words and people just went with it) and people these days can’t embrace anything until they know the agenda behind it.

 I’m gonna leave you hanging and move onto my next section of satire, parody and pastiche.

  Parody is pretty straightforward. It pokes fun at something but not necessarily with ill-intent. A parody can be completely absent of malice while pointing out issues with the original, or taking it to a comical extreme. An example of this could be Death from the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett. Pratchett is currently my favourite author and anyone will be hard-pressed to take this position from him. He uses parody and satire in a manner completely unique to him. The Discworld series is so full of examples that it practically bursts at the seams and his take on how humanity anthropomorphises everything is a reoccurring theme.

  He frequently directs this at religions but it is Death who captured my heart. The scythe wielding black cloaked skeleton known the world over as Death is a main supporting character in many of the books, appearing as a lovable goofball. He isn’t there to make jabs at people for giving nature human form, he is a comical representation of the fact that people do so. Death isn’t the only anthropomorphic being in the series, the Hogfather is his play on Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairies have an entire organisation backing them.

  Shakespeare makes a number of “appearances” and his Discworld equivalent (a dwarf of all things) has the “Disc theatre” made in his honour. Many of Pratchett’s books are based around famous stories and the only reason why I hesitate to call “The Masquerade” a pastiche is because all of his books are so absurdly witty. I don’t know if that counts.

  Satire on the other hand is absolutely poking fun at what it imitates, although not always humorously. Often ruthless and containing sarcasm and irony in heavy and sometimes cruel doses, satire intends on changing things by ridiculing its target. I hesitate to use Pratchett as an example again, but he can be ruthless in his criticisms of more-or-less anything. Parody and satire are closely related and sometimes it’s not easy to know what the author intends, but my personal rule-of-thumb is that if it’s just funny then it’s parody, if it is making a statement then it is satire.

  And then there is pastiche. Pastiche is a creative types’ get out of jail free card. Yes it can be abused, but it is incredibly reassuring to know about. See, one thing that motivates me to write is seeing good ideas wasted. The webshow (I think it’s a webshow? Not sure of the definition though) RWBY is a key example: as a young adult story (think teens) that has a lot of potential in that it covers things such as entering a new school, making friends and dealing with all the things that comes with being a teenager, plus the low-fantasy excitement of superpowers and monsters. This sort of content can be invaluable to readers, particularly those entering a new school or such-like. Unfortunately, the show suffers from poor dialogue (clichés abound), poor story structure and- let’s kindly call it “distracting” voice acting. This compelled me to write something along the same lines but with my own original ideas.

  Let’s be clear, pastiche is seriously imitating an existing work, style or period. It’s not meant to ridicule the original and honestly I’m not sure where the boundaries are. I watch RWBY and am like “I wanna do this, but better” and go on to create my own world, unique characters and abilities, creatures etc. I watch The Flash tv show and say “I wanna do this, but better” and start writing rules of time-travel, rules that The Flash dearly requires because it doesn’t have any! Me and a friend are working on a pastiche of the Discworld series with a sci-fi element instead of fantasy.

  Naturally there is a limit: my work is completely different to RWBY but if I were to make the lead a cheerful black haired girl who skips years to join her blonde sister in school and joins a team of four to fight monsters then that is straight up copying. It’s plagiarism which is bad (I’m not making that joke, okay?). There is some overlap, but it also coincidentally overlaps with Harry Potter and Twilight and literally any young adult novel if you nit-pick enough.

  Pastiche is done out of respect or out of a compulsion to do better (I used to think I wasn’t competitive, now I’m not so sure) or any number of things, but the main difference is that it isn’t poking fun at anything.

 So that is a brief and hopefully clear overview of a number of items that I had wanted to talk about. This ended up being longer than expected but honestly, I really enjoyed writing it and I do hope someone learns from this or is encouraged to think deeper about the topics I’ve raised.