#So once more with feeling - ignoring prejudices in your fictional work does not make them disappear

[invested-in-your-future]

I've seen people argue that "well it makes sense that Remnant has no prejudice or discrimination since they constantly face a threat to their very existence! It would be counter-productive."

And each time I can't help but feel dumbfounded when people say that - like, sweet summer child, have you LOOKED at our very real world?

[mimicofmodes]

“The Ladies Waldegrave” by Joshua Reynolds, 1780 (NGS NG2171)

I’ve complained before about two very big pet peeves of mine - corset stuff and Regency women being dressed in 1770s-1780s clothes - but one that may dwarf them because of how frequently it comes up in historical and fantasy fiction is the oppression of embroidery.

That’s probably putting it a bit too strongly. It’s more like ... the annoyance of embroidery. Every character worth reading about knows instinctively that sewing is a) boring, b) difficult, c) mindless, and d) pointless. The author doesn’t have to say anything more than “Belinda threw down her needlework and looked out the window, sighing,” to signal that this is an independent woman whose values align with the modern reader, who’s probably not really understood by her mother or mother figure, and who probably will find an extraordinary man to “match” her rather than settling for someone ordinary. To look at an example from fantasy, GRRM uses embroidery in the very beginning of A Game of Thrones to show that the Stark sister who dislikes it is sympathetic and interesting, while the Stark sister who is competent at it is boring and conventional and obviously not deserving of a PoV (until later books, when her attention gets turned to higher matters); further into the book, of course, the pro-needlework sister proves to be weak-willed and naïve.

Rozsika Parker, in the groundbreaking 1996 work The Subversive Stitch, noted that “embroidery has become indelibly associated with stereotypes of femininity,” which is the core of the issue. "Instead embroidery and a stereotype of femininity have become collapsed into one another, characterised as mindless, decorative and delicate; like the icing on the cake, good to look at, adding taste and status, but devoid of significant content.” 

Parker also points out that the stereotype isn’t just one that was invented in the present day by feminists who hated the idea of being forced to do a certain craft. “The association between women and embroidery, craft and femininity, has meant that writers concerned with the status of women have often turned their attention towards this tangled, puzzling relationship. Feminists who have scorned embroidery tend to blame it for whatever constraint on women's lives they are committed to combat. Thus, for example, eighteenth-century critical commentators held embroidery responsible for the ill health which was claimed as evidence of women's natural weakness and inferiority.”

There are two basic problems I have with the trope, beyond the issue of it being incredibly cliché:

First: needlework was not just busywork

A big part of what drives the stereotype is the impression that what women were embroidering was either a sampler:

sampler embroidered by Jane Wilson, 14, in 1791 (MMA 2010.47)

or a picture:

unfinished embroidery of David and Abigail, British, 1640s-50s (MMA 64.101.1325)

That is, something meant to hang on the wall for no real purpose.

These are forms of schoolwork, basically. Samplers were made by young girls up to their early teens, and needlework pictures were usually something done while at school or under a governess as a showpiece of what was being learned - not just the stitching itself, but also often watercolors (which could be worked into the design), artistic sensibility, and the literature, history, or art that might be alluded to. And many needlework pictures made in schools were also done as mourning pieces, sometimes blank, for future use, and sometimes to commemorate a recent death in the family. A lot of them are awkward, clearly just done to pass the class, but others are really artwork.

Many schools for middle- and upper-class girls taught the making of these objects (and other “ornamental” subjects) alongside a more rigorous curriculum - geography, Latin, chemistry, etc. At some, sewing was also always accompanied by serious reading and discussion. (And it would often be done while someone read aloud or made conversation later in life, too.)

Once done with their education, women generally didn’t bother with purely decorative work. Some things that fabric could be embroidered for included:

Jackets 

Bed coverings and bedcurtains

Collars and undersleeves 

Pelerines 

Neck handkerchiefs and sleeve ruffles 

Screens

Upholstery

Handkerchiefs

Purses, wallets, and reticules

Boxes

Book covers

Plus other articles of clothing like waistcoats, caps, slippers, gown hems, chemises, etc. Women’s magazines of the nineteenth century often gave patterns and alphabets for personal use.

(Not to mention late nineteenth century female artists who worked in embroidery, but that’s something else.)

You could purchase all of these pre-embroidered, but many, many women chose to do it themselves. There are a number of reasons why: maybe they wanted something to do, maybe they felt like they should be doing needlework for moral/gender reasons, maybe they couldn’t afford to buy anything - and maybe they enjoyed it or wanted to give something they made to a person they loved. That firescreen above was embroidered by Marie Antoinette, someone who had any number of other activities to choose from. It’s no different than people today who like to knit their own hats and gloves or bake their own bread, except that it was way more mainstream.

embroidery patterns from Ackermann’s Repository in 1827 - they could be used on dresses, collars, handkerchiefs, etc.

Second: needlework wasn’t the only “useless” thing women were expected to do

Ignoring the bulk of point one for now and the value of embroidery - I mentioned “ornamental subjects” above. As many people know, young women of the upper and middle classes were expected to be “accomplished” in order to be seen as marriageable. This could include skills like embroidery, drawing, painting, singing, playing the piano (as well as other instruments, like the harp or the mandolin), speaking French (if not also Italian and/or German), as well as broader knowledge and abilities like being well-versed in music, literature, and poetry, dancing and walking gracefully, writing good letters in an elegant hand, and being able to read out loud expressively and smoothly.

This wasn’t a checklist. As the famous discussion in Pride and Prejudice shows, individuals could have different views on what actually made a woman accomplished:

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

Mr. Bingley feels that a woman is accomplished if she has the ability to do a number of different arts and crafts. Miss Bingley feels (or says she feels) that it goes beyond specific skills and into branches of artistic attainment, plus broader personal qualities that could be imparted by well-bred governesses or mothers. And Mr. Darcy, of course, agrees with that but adds an academic angle as well.

But what ties all of these accomplishments together is their lack of value on the labor market. A woman could earn a living with any one accomplishment, if she worked hard enough at it to become a professional, but young ladies weren’t supposed to be professional-level good because they by definition weren’t going to earn a living. All together, they trained a woman for the social and domestic role of a married woman of the upper middle or upper class, or, if she couldn’t get married, a governess or teacher who would share her accomplishments with the next generation.

(To be fair, almost none of the trappings of an upper-middle/upper class male education had anything to do with the kind of career training that college frequently is today, either. Men were educated to know the cultural touchpoints of their class and fit in with their peers.)

There are reasons that an individual person/character might specifically object to embroidery, but it was far from the only “useless” thing that an unconventional heroine would be required to do against her inclination by her conventional mother/grandmother/aunt/chaperone. Embroidery stands out to modern audiences because most of the other accomplishments are now valued as gender-neutral arts and skills.

“The Embroidery Frame”, by Mathilde Weil, ca. 1900 (LOC 98501309)

So, some thoughts for writers of historical fiction (or fantasy that’s supposed to be just like the 19th/18th/17th/etc century):

- If your heroine doesn’t like embroidery, she probably doesn’t like a number of other things she’s expected to do. Don’t pull out embroidery as either more expected or more onerous than them. Does she hate to sit still? I’d imagine she also dislikes drawing and practicing the piano. Would she prefer to do academic subjects? She probably also resents learning French instead of Latin, and music and dancing. Does she hate enforced femininity? Then she’d most likely have a problem with all of the accomplishments.

- If your heroine just and specifically doesn’t like embroidery, try to show in the narrative that that’s not because it’s objectively bad, and only able to be liked by the boring. Have another sympathetic character do it while talking to the heroine. Note that the hero carries a flame-stitched wallet that’s his sister’s work. Emphasize the heroine’s emotional connection to her deceased or absent mother through her affection for clothing or upholstery that her mother embroidered - or through a mourning picture commemorating her. There are all kinds of things you can do to show that it’s a personal preference rather than a stupid craft that doesn’t take talent and skill!

mourning picture for Daniel Goodman, probably embroidered by a Miss Goodman, 1803 (MMA 56.66)

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 2

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I'm outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I've missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly.  -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I'm using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what's said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn't matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 3, The Runaway Room!

Episode 3: The Runaway Room.

We're skipping the first two cases, as they have no relevance to Barok van Zieks, and starting off here.

So Ryu is tossed into the deep. The Lord Chief Justice tells him that he’s basically the defendant’s only hope; if he doesn’t at least try to fight in court, McGilded will lose the trial and die for sure. (HAH… Good one, Stronghart.) So Ryu falls for this would-be motivational speech and heads for the courthouse where he finds out why McGilded doesn’t have a defense attorney to begin with; it’s because of the prosecution. No one dares to go up against Lord Barok van Zieks, also known as the Reaper of the Old Bailey, because all who he prosecutes are damned. This should sound familiar to anyone who’s played an Ace Attorney game before. ‘The prosecution has never been defeated before’ is the implication, which would initially lead us to believe Van Zieks is another one of those prodigies. Sure enough, Susato points out he must be very talented, to which McGilded replies that Van Zieks is not talented, rather, he’s cursed. This sets the mood even further. With words like “Reaper” and “curse” being tossed around, we’re sooner reminded of a prosecutor like Simon Blackquill, who was a convicted murderer wielding psychological manipulation techniques. Either way, with the grim atmosphere set, Ryu is ushered into the courtroom before he can ask any more questions.

As a sidenote, McGilded really scored some negative points with this remark:

Feels a bit softened compared to how fan translations tackled that line, but a nasty jab all the same.

So anyway, entering the courtroom we get our first look at Van Zieks and if the foreshadowing in the Defendant Antechamber wasn’t already bad enough, he honors his eerie reputation.

So far, he’s meeting the requirements then. He’s intimidating and as a wealthy white man, he’s perfectly juxtaposed to Ryu, the rookie from another country. Meanwhile, the first micro-aggression of this trial is actually uttered by the judge:

Which also makes narrative sense. Ryu’s more practical goal isn’t to win the prosecution’s trust. Heck, he could get through any trial just fine with Van Zieks’s dislike. No, what he needs is to win over the judge and the members of the jury. For them to also hold prejudice but put that aside in order to side with the truth is another important end-game here. So let’s continue. Van Zieks also has something to say here:

Initially, the remark about Ryu’s eyes might read as a typical racist jab towards someone from the East, but he is in fact referring to the way Ryu’s eyes are ‘swimming’ when he’s nervous, as evidenced by the next lines. “They shroud your fear, your doubt, your trepidation… They run wild, clinging to some phantom notion of courage.” Van Zieks is saying that while Ryu puts up a brave front, his swimming eyes betray just how nervous and unsure of his cause he really is. So really, he’s targeting the fact that Ryu is new to the courts. He did, however, make a point of tossing the word “Nipponese” in there when he didn’t need to, drawing attention to Ryu’s race in a derogatory fashion.

After the jurors are introduced, something else of interest happens. The judge points out that Van Zieks hasn’t been seen in the courtroom in a number of years. The judge had assumed that Van Zieks had renounced his fame, to which he replies with the following:

This is a very telling line. We learn several things. Firstly, Van Zieks had retired, and secondly, he doesn’t seem to think too highly of his title of Reaper. If he did, he would have gloated. To describe his reputation as infamy implies negative associations with this ‘curse’ that McGilded spoke of. Putting these two things together, one might conclude he retired because of this curse. When asked why he’s returned to the courts, he says that he’ll leave that to the judge’s imagination. So there’s hints of a backstory already being tossed in before the trial’s even properly kicked off.

Which it does now. So the opening statement happens as always and witnesses are brought in, but once it’s done Ryu interjects to say that he doesn’t understand the circumstances. ‘How could the witnesses have seen the inside of a moving carriage’? It shocks the entire courtroom and Van Zieks is the one to speak:

“-But you’re here in London yourself. Are you really so ignorant about our omnibuses? Tell me, my Nipponese friend… Have you even travelled in an omnibus?”

I have to be honest, I struggled to pinpoint just how I felt about these remarks. Sure, I can overanalyze this, looking at how the words “I’d read-” imply he doesn’t know the following sentiment to be true and therefore doesn’t feel confident enough to say something like “I knew-”... But it doesn’t change that he’s being scummy here. In a roundabout way, he’s still saying Japan is far less civilised than Britain and that Ryu is extra ignorant for not knowing about omnibuses when he’s in London. So basically, he gets scumbag points for this. But then there’s…:

Which is just a basic jab at Ryu’s intelligence. It’s the sort of remark we’d get from every single prosecutor. I think even Klavier would say this sort of line with a smile on his face.

But definitely more scumbag points here, because this was a direct attack in more ways than one. Particularly the word “stray” was uncalled for. CEO of Racism, indeed. Something very interesting happens when the knife gets pulled into the story halfway into the first cross-examination, though. When Ryu asks about it, Van Zieks replies with this:

He’s… actually being civil? (I doublechecked with Scarlet Study, and they are in agreement on the timid nature of this line, translating “yes, Counsel” as “Quite so”.) Instead, Van Zieks turns his attention to the fact that there’s an M on the sheath, directing all his offensive attitude towards McGilded. It gets even more curious when the last juror refuses to cast a guilty verdict, instead talking about what a good man she believes McGilded to be. Van Zieks says:

So he’s not only frustrated with McGilded now, he’s frustrated with the people of London for not knowing what sort of person McGilded really is. Van Zieks reveals he’s a dirty money lender who gained his fortune through corrupt means. He even takes the time to inform Ryu of this with the words “Your client is a shylock, sir!” Edit: I feel a need to address this: shylock is a word with antisemitic roots. It originally came from a Shakespeare play involving a very bad stereotype. It later evolved to have a more broad meaning basically synonymous to loan shark and I think that’s the context the localization means to use it in. There’s absolutely no indication of McGilded’s religious beliefs and even if there were, I highly doubt the localization would use that sort of slur. Still, it’s a very unfortunate choice of words and is sure to accidentally sour Van Zieks even more with some players.

With that, the last juror votes, the scale tips towards Guilty and Van Zieks assumes the trial to be over. He thanks the jurors for their work. Unfortunately, once Susato brings up the Summation Examination, Van Zieks gets very frustrated again. This happens:

IIII don’t know what to do with this line. On first glance, I didn’t think much of it and was even willing to consider it was a compliment. Then I thought it must’ve been passive aggressive somehow; that it’s the sort of thing he wouldn’t believe until he’d seen it with his own eyes. A friend directed me to the notion that it might be referencing a stereotype that ‘Eastern women are fierce’ because they were associated with, well, certain ‘paid services’. I don’t think I need to explain, I’m sure you understand what I mean. And if indeed that’s what Barok is insinuating, that’s a new low I never thought he’d reach. However, when you’ve finished the games and know that Barok was friends with a married Japanese man, it’s entirely possible that he’s remembering a story once told to him by Genshin Asogi. So this is either a bittersweet reminiscence or the most scumbag association he ever could’ve made, but I’m not sure we can ever prove which it is. Edit: As another option, it’s possible he’s referring to the Yamato Nadeshiko stereotype, if indeed it already held the ‘touch of iron’ aspect to it back in 1900. He proceeds to toast his hallowed chalice to “the enigmatic East” and to be honest, I’ve once again got nothing. All I know is that he once again drew attention to the defense’s race when he didn’t need to, so… Scumbag point. As a sidenote, in regards to the wine… I don’t count this as a humanizing trait. The same applies to the leg slam. These are animations meant to add some more lighthearted air and breathe more life into Van Zieks, so he doesn’t just stand there like a statue. They’re just quirks meant to have him stand out from other characters. So yeah, fun as the wine and leg slam animations are, they don’t count in the redemption requirements. Anyway, Van Zieks mocks the age of Susato’s book, saying that judging by its bindings it must be fifty years old. Considering the context of the conversation, this isn’t out of bounds. The defense is using ‘outdated’ information on the law, so he points that out. Any prosecutor would’ve done it like this. Simon Blackquill likely would’ve offered to shred that outdated tome to bits for Susato. Van Zieks does toss in a “Hmph, typical Nipponese” later though, which earns him one more scumbag point. Van Zieks continues to dismiss the Summation Examination, but the judge overrules him and allows it. Law is law, after all! And this is what I meant in my previous post when I said it’s satisfying to see Ryu use actual British law against Van Zieks. Ryu is using a perfectly legitimate technique to win the jurors over, and as Susato tells him, he can only do it by turning the jurors against one another with facts. He can’t appeal to them, he can only have them see sense. Which is difficult, because some jurors are more prejudiced than others:

… Yeah. Uh. Calling Ryu a “Dark Jinx” is pretty awful. Scumbag points for Juror No. 1! Meanwhile, Juror No. 4 keeps us updated on Barok’s actions throughout this trial:

Wow. Typical prosecutor behavior, though. Regardless, Ryu manages to win them all over in the end. With enough of the scales set back to not-guilty, the trial is allowed to continue, which leads to this:

Bye, hallowed chalice. A fun animation to keep things fresh and show us that the trial is about to take a turn. Once again, nothing new. We’ve seen prosecutors lose their patience before. What does interest me, though, is that Barok doesn’t direct physical frustration towards the defense. Remember: Franziska snaps a whip at Phoenix, Godot throws coffee at his head, Blackquill sends a hawk to attack the defense or uses that aijutsu slicing move, Nahyuta throws restricting beads… These were all direct physical attacks. Van Zieks, much like Edgeworth and Klavier, directs his frustration more inward and as a result he destroys his own property.

He succeeds in intimidating Ryu, though. Van Zieks explains that he kept silent, as is the norm during Examination Summation, but makes it clear that he considers it a charade all the same.

Van Zieks has been a pretty good gentleman towards the jury up until now, speaking to them politely despite that one remark about having their head in the clouds. Now that he’s seeing them ‘buy into Ryu’s stories’, as one might describe it, he’s getting frustrated with them. Maybe he’s even frustrated they’re choosing the defense’s side over his own.

He removes his cloak, entering what he says to be the next round of their ‘battle’. More typical prosecutor behavior, this. I’m not sure there’s an underlying thought to this, other than to indicate to the audience that ‘things have gotten serious’. When the next bit of testimony is going on, I noticed something odd. Both Fairplay and Furst testify to having seen blood on McGilded’s hands, to which Van Zieks says:

“... Reported that there was no trace of blood on Mr. McGilded’s gloved hands.” So in a way, by establishing this fact, he’s helping the defense and going against what the witnesses are saying. It doesn’t help the prosecution in any way at all.

The trial continues on, with Van Zieks uttering things like “My Nipponese friend” and “my learned friend from the East” and lord knows what else… I suppose to soften the harshness of the original wording a bit and make Van Zieks just a bit less dislikable? Edit: Tumblr user @beevean​ has pointed out that “my learned friend” is an actual term used in courts of law. There’s a tradition (also employed in British courts of law) that when addressing either the court or the judge, a barrister refers to the opposing counsel using the respectful term, "my learned friend". Of course, it can be said with an air of passive aggression and pretending to be respectful to the court while shamelessly disrespecting it is something Barok has always done, so the addition of “my learned friend” to the localization text is amazingly in-character. Then of course we have:

This is both a scumbag remark and foreshadowing. Naturally, those playing the game for the first time won’t recognize it as the latter and therefore take it as nothing more than a harsh blow. Things spiral even further out of control when he starts talking about how people who claim the island nations of the Far East have a learning and culture of their own use those terms ill-advisedly. He also uses the words “artless backwater” and really, this is the low point of the trial right here when it comes to prejudice. Van Zieks is just plain lashing out with these sort of jabs.

Eventually, McGilded is dragged onto the witness stand to testify about whether or not there was another passenger aboard the omnibus. McGilded admits that there was, and Van Zieks snaps at him some more for using convenient excuses. Ryu is forgotten here for a moment. The whole smoke bomb thing happens, Van Zieks confers with McGilded and Gina in his own chambers, then the trial resumes. McGilded testifies, then Gina testifies… The jury votes not-guilty, buying into McGilded’s story about protecting a poor young pickpocket and Van Zieks loses it. He slams his heel down on the bench, pointing out that this is why he doesn’t like the jury system; because emotions are ruling where evidence and facts ought to be paramount. He points out while the cubbyhole Gina had been hiding in was empty now, it had been full of the coachman’s belongings during the police investigation. Someone tampered with the omnibus. This is where things get interesting, because Van Zieks addresses Ryu:

He’s giving Ryu the benefit of the doubt here. He’s offering an option for Ryu to be truthful about this matter. And that’s curious, because any defense attorney would naturally say what’s best for his client- or so it’s assumed. It puts Ryu in a difficult position for sure, but for some reason Van Zieks put the question forward anyway. The game responds as follows:

For the sake of argument, I attempted all three options. So when Ryu says he didn’t look, Van Zieks says: “Hm… Perhaps I credited you with too much intelligence.”

So when feigning ignorance, Van Zieks is kind of a scumbag about it. He is correct in his expectation that any attorney worth his badge would thoroughly examine the details of the evidence, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. Now, when outright lying and saying it was empty, Van Zieks instead says:

The lines are very similar, which is an interesting note. It adds a feel of these responses being 'rehearsed', in a way. Just a default for him to fall back to. But the real kicker comes when Ryu tells the truth and says it wasn’t empty. Van Zieks is actually speechless at first with no more than a “...!” Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Ryu to respond like this. Everyone in court is baffled, McGilded gets angry… Van Zieks is a bit rattled now.

“Your task is to defend the man in the stand. Why would you say something to compromise his position?”

So really, it seems as if Van Zieks had only ever offered the question to Ryu with pessimistic intentions. He too had assumed there was only one answer the defense could give and was prepared for just that with his silly little wine analogies, only to be shocked when Ryu defies his expectations. Ryu confesses that he’s not entirely sure on where he stands in the matter, to which Van Zieks replies with “... Interesting.” 

So now the jury members are doubting themselves again, with some offering guilty verdicts. Van Zieks decides to honor the ‘Scales of Justice’ once more now that they’re back in his favor, like the hypocrite he is. Gina testifies, Ryu points out an inconsistency, Van Zieks takes that opportunity to turn the tables back in his favor by implying Gina is a liar… He passive aggressively thanks Ryu for saving him considerable trouble and whatnot with some more “my learned Nipponese friend” remarks in there… Ryu turns the tables once more by insisting the victim came into the omnibus through the skylight, Van Zieks demands evidence and points out that furthermore, if indeed such a thing had happened, the witnesses on the roof would’ve seen it. McGilded hops into the conversation to imply that the witnesses themselves were the killers, which sends the court into a frenzy. Both Van Zieks and the judge shift the responsibility of the accusation towards Ryu, even though he never said a word to directly accuse the witnesses. Kind of a douchey move. Barok even states that Ryu’s ‘command of the English tongue must be wanting’, since

Yeahhh, that's pretty unfair. McGilded was the one who dropped that implication. However, since the judge basically accuses Ryu of the same thing, it’s a narrative choice to warn Ryu he needs to anticipate where his reasoning will lead him. Fairplay and Furst testify, pandemonium ensues. McGilded eventually gets what he wants when it’s revealed the skylight can open and there’s blood in there. Van Zieks once again turns his attention to McGilded:

He knows McGilded is at the root of all this tomfoolery and evidence manipulation. McGilded is the real enemy here, in Van Zieks’s eyes. The conversation shows this by having Van Zieks point out that he’s well aware of McGilded’s involvement in dubious matters and that evidence is often ‘adapted’ to suit this guy’s stories. And now, once again, he turns his attention to Ryu. Once again, he’s giving the defense the benefit of the doubt:

The game gives you the illusion of choice here. If you choose to say it’s ‘out of the question’ that the evidence was tampered with, Ryu will refuse to say it out loud. If you say it’s entirely possible, Ryu will admit to that.

This is probably baffling to Van Zieks. It would’ve been so easy for Ryu to insist the tampering couldn’t have happened, but he doesn’t. The game won’t even let him. No matter what you choose, Van Zieks is clued in on the fact that Ryu doesn’t condone the deceit that McGilded is resorting to. But it gets even better, because a short time later, we get:

Another option to either draw attention to forgery, or to feign ignorance. Once again, I chose both options for argument’s sake, but having Ryu say he has no idea doesn’t get us anywhere. Susato will instead object to say it for him. With “I have an inkling”, Ryu says it himself. Van Zieks once again confesses, in his own words, that he’s caught off guard.

Ryu clarifies that he thinks the blood stain inside the omnibus is decisive evidence, but he can’t say for certain whether it’s genuine. McGilded loses it and by this point, is outright branding Van Zieks an enemy. Since the player at this point doesn't know whether McGilded is guilty or not, it leaves Van Zieks in a bit of narrative limbo. One might think: 'if the prosecutor is so intent on taking down a murderer, shouldn't we be on his side? Is he perhaps not as bad as he seems?' Unfortunately, McGilded points out that recollection and memories don’t matter, only evidence does. And… Well.

Which means they can’t rule on a guilty verdict and will have to let McGilded go. Van Zieks admits that he has no more witnesses or evidence to present. He’s out of options. As a formality, the judge asks the defense’s closing statement and we get one last option. Do we believe him to be guilty or not-guilty? When claiming he’s innocent, Van Zieks says:

It seems he means “abject” in the sense of “without pride/respect/dignity for oneself”, which… You know, is fair. By this point it’s very clear that McGilded is guilty, and since Ryu has already admitted that the evidence may be forged, insisting otherwise is indeed pretty spineless. Scumbag points to Van Zieks for continuing to draw attention to the fact that Ryu is from Japan, though.

Let’s instead just admit that we can’t say for certain McGilded is innocent. Unfortunately, we don’t see Van Zieks react to this, which is a bummer because this could’ve been very telling. The judge questions Ryu’s sanity (no joke) and McGilded laughs because it doesn’t matter; it was just a formality anyway. The judge scolds Van Zieks, saying that his case was flawed and it was his job to keep the evidence secure. Instead of objecting, Van Zieks just outright takes the blame for this and apologizes. Very interesting reaction, here. He stops pointing the finger to McGilded, he doesn’t attempt to accuse anyone else… He just admits his performance was flawed. Ryu tries to interject here:

(A badly-timed screenshot if I’ve ever seen one.) Ryu is making an attempt here to defend Van Zieks, the guy who has built up like 20 scumbag points by now. Ryu sincerely doesn’t hold a grudge against him. That’s very interesting. It doesn’t matter, though. The judge won’t hear of it, Ryu thinks it’s unfair, Van Zieks warns McGilded that this isn’t over and then we get the not-guilty verdict.

Hurray??? Profit??? It’s a victory that’s bound to leave the player feeling conflicted and jarred.

But after all’s said and done, we get one last cutscene to establish just how ominous Van Zieks really is. The omnibus is on fire, someone is inside and we know McGilded went into the courtroom earlier to investigate the omnibus in question. So really, by putting two and two together we can already guess what’s going on here. Van Zieks approaches the scene and watches silently.

It’s a good reminder to us that every defendant he prosecutes is ‘damned’ and he’s called the Reaper for a reason. Really puts the finishing touch on the eerie undertones of his character.

All in all, a pretty typical first time against a new prosecutor. Now I just want to draw attention to the fact that the first time we face Van Zieks in court… he’s actually on the right side of the courtroom and Ryu is not. Van Zieks presumably specifically returned to the court after those five years to target McGilded, as he knows about this guy’s shady reputation when it comes to ‘adapting’ evidence. Barok is 'cursed' in such a way that every defendant he faces is damned. So long as he stands as the prosecutor, McGilded can’t get away with his crimes. No matter how much forgery is done, the Reaper will go after McGilded and it seems Van Zieks was banking on this happening.

He likely also expected Ryu to have been bought off by McGilded; to say whatever’s convenient for his case. Turns out, Ryu is actually a man of integrity who’s invested in the truth and near the end of the trial, Barok has seen evidence of this. So what will happen next? We’ll have to play The Clouded Kokoro and find out! Stay tuned!

[weapingweasley]

sore loser ~pt. 2~ (george weasley x narrator smut)

Description: Enemies to lovers (kinda). A Slytherin seeker has a minor bragging problem and manages to just get under every single cell of skin George has. After the biggest game of the year George decides he’s had enough.

Note: I am aware Umbridge banned Harry and the twins from quidditch and Draco is typically the seeker but we are going to ignore her and injure him for the sake of fiction.

Also, I am sure the narrator will piss a lot of people off, however I like her attitude a lot. She definitely receives the back lash for being a Slytherin, but is never the instigator. She just knows how to end any confrontation. I gave the boys a bit of a temper. Since the narrator is a Slytherin, I though I could use some of that prejudice to fuel some of the “hatred” between characters.

Disclaimer: NSFW, 18+, cursing, sex, and a lot of words.

I feel meh about the sore loser posts, but I am just trying to learn to write.

“Oh, I look forward to seeing you after the match. With my money.”

~ morning of the match ~

In the changing rooms I made sure to get all my gear on in the corner to avoid any benchwarmer jokes. I focus my mind on the game and how much fun it will be to even watch. Matches against Gryffindor are so much more enjoyable to watch just because of the clear rivalry. Nothing like beating down egos with Bludgers. Draco takes charge of the warm up and not so encouraging pep talk.

“If we lose to those incompetent freaks, practice will be hell for each and every one of you. I have worked too bloody hard to see them win and you should feel just the same. I want to see blood and not ours. So go out there and kill some Gryffindors!”  Such a poetic man, really knows how to control his feelings. 

We approach our tent and everyone gets into their positions, and I take mine right by the water. I swear if I hear one water girl joke I will indeed throw my broom through the commenter’s eye. 

The head referee signals the match to begin and without hesitation Slytherin ambushes the balls. Vaisey is able to get ahold of the Quaffle and pass it back and forth with Montague avoiding the Bludgers coming from the Wealsey twins. It only takes about five minutes for us to score. Lee confirms the goal and I jump up screaming, “Too fast for you, Cowards? Huh?”.

Twenty minutes into the match and the Snitch finally enters. Both teams continue to score back and forth, while Draco and Harry fight to get a hold of the speedy golden flyer. I watch as Draco reaches closer and closer to the Snitch with Harry close behind him. They are approaching a quick dive when Draco lets go of his broom to snatch it. He is so close when I spot Harry suddenly pulling his broom quickly up and out of the race. 

If I had blinked, I would have missed the Bludger hitting the very back of Draco’s broom. It sends him off his broom and down fifty metres where he lands on his wrist. The head referee calls a brief time out and I watch as Draco Malfoy is carried off the field. Panic erupts in my stomach. Yes, Malfoy was a coward when it came to everyday incidents, but not once has he ever allowed himself to be removed from a match. Never one was I expected to ever play seeker. 

I can hear Montague in the distance calling me in, so I hesitantly grab my broom and fly onto the field. Before even getting into position, sweat droplets start forming on my forehead and my hands are pulsing. The noises coming from my gut sounded like I had left Fang in the dark for too long. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for, but now I actually have to prove myself. 

As soon as the referee signals us to resume, I take my place above the action. I refuse to allow Fred and George the satisfaction of being responsible for getting me out of the game. If I keep moving while also keeping an eye out for Potter and the Snitch, I should survive. He stays close to his defense while I stray above the middle. Harry over the years has switched from staying above to being closer to the plays with the protection of the Twins. Too bad I do not have the guaranteed protection of my team.

The cashers on both teams were moving incredibly fast and it had turned into a game of catch me if you can. Each team was making goals and just quickly recovering. After about four goals each, the Snitch is set free again. It is dashing through the air and I can see Harry moving quickly to follow it’s every move. The twins react fast enough to hit any Slytherin that seems to be trying to get in his way. I sneak closer to the Snitch watching as Harry flips around trying to catch it. If he moved right, it moved left. 

I can hear the stands yelling at me to move faster and to get more involved, but I am aware of my strengths and hell I am fast. I just need to figure out where the Snitch is moving to next. Suddenly, Harry dives following it close to the ground and towards the side of the arena. I push down on my broom to get there as fast as possible. As I approach, I can see Harry’s hand millimetres from the Snitch. Then it does exactly as I expected and flies straight up. I add more pressure onto my broom and propel faster than I ever had. If I keep on this path the Snitch will change. So before it could, I grip my legs tighter and flip below my broom. Embarrassingly enough, but I squeeze my eyes shut and reach for it as fast as I physically can. 

I can feel resistance in my hand, but I am just too afraid to look. Lee Jordan’s voice screams out “THE SNITCH HAS BEEN CAUGHT! Slytherin wins (without cheating for once)!” The last part definitely earned him a slap in the back of the head from McGonagall. 

I fucking did it. Holy shit. I actually fucking did it. A wide grin stretches across my face as I fly laps around the arena with the Snitch in my hand and still upside down on my broom. I’m arrogant, I know. As soon as I land a mosh of Slytherins surrounds me and I receive enthusiasm left and right from my teammates. 

I hate to admit this, but all I can think about is look on George’s face when he gives me my 5 galleons.

Once the changing rooms settle, I sneak to the Gryffindor’s rooms. Without knocking I walk right in and up to the tall red head.

“I told you not to bet against me!” George’s facial expression resembles a child approaching their temper tantrum. Not only by the loss, but also from my inappropriate presence. His stare holds my eyes and with every step he takes towards me, I take one step back. We keep moving until the back of my legs meet a bench. 

“You really had to come in here, after everyone left just to brag.” His steps continue closer to me and my heart pumps at a rate I’ve never experienced before.

“Five galleons, please.” My voice is barely audible with the lump that has grown in my throat. Our faces are so close that he can probably feel the irregular rhythm of my breaths. I need to break this eye contact. So my dumbass takes a quick glance at his lips just before he speaks.

“You only came here for your money?” George’s voice is huskier than usual. Most likely due to the intense game and frustration from the loss. He must have noticed my glance because suddenly his hands latch to the side of my neck and face. He connects our lips. Like an instinct, my eyes flutter shut and I follow his hungry movements. I curl my fingers into his shirt to keep myself from falling back onto the bench. There is something sloppy and greedy about the kiss, like every insult we have inside is coming out. 

George leans deeper into me, forcing my grip on him to tighten. One side of my face becomes bare and he snakes his hand around the small of my back. The thumb still resting on my cheek moves in one small stroke and I melt. Before it can get any more affectionate his hand remaining on my face moves to the back of my thigh and grips my leg up to his hip. The gasp that exits my lips earns a grin from George and he shifts his lips from mine to the sensitive spot on my neck. His lips suck and nibble on the spot resulting in my rigid breathing. I grip his neck and his hungry attack encourages a light moan to leave me. My stomach fills with this light feeling and I cannot help but to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck causing a grin to form on George.

I nudge George to move his head from my neck, desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. He immediately takes the hint and reconnects our lips in a frenzy. His tongue parts my lips so he can bite and pull on my bottom lip. A whimper opens my mouth fully and George takes the opportunity to indulge his tongue. The make-out is scrappy with hands everywhere and hair being pulled. Our breathing became intense and wild. The pressure of the moment and George’s weight start paying a toll on my legs and I fall back onto the bench. The thud of my fall paints my cheeks pink and makes George chuckle. With the disconnect of our bodies, I slip off my quidditch robe slowly making sure his attention remains on me the entire time. The new exposure stops his chuckles quickly and the fire in his eyes that he had throughout the last few days returns.

“Five galleons, please?” My voice comes off quiet with a rasp due to our greedy actions. 

George takes advantage of me being seated and dives right into my body with one knee between my legs and an elbow resting on the bench next to my head. The contact of his pelvis with my pulsing lower half makes me moan his name. The tightening of his pants tells me that’s what he likes to hear. My fingers move to pull at his robe as he continues to grind into my body. 

George stands back up to take off his top robe and I took the opportunity to assist him with his pants. Once the button is undone, I look up and hold his eye contact as I pull his zipper down and drag the waistband down his legs. I cannot help but bite my lip as I see the tent in his boxers and his stare fixated on my face and eyes. I reach for the band of his boxers, but George grabs my bum and pulls me into a standing position. I wanted to taste him.

“I need you to keep me warm,” A shiver ripples through my body. I can feel his breath on my ear and the vibrations of his voice on my neck. He rips off the remainder of my clothing and plants wet kisses all over my shoulder and collar bone. 

George’s large hand picks me up from my arse and holds my body up against the lockers with his tense hips. His free hand creeps onto my back and unclasps my bra. The cold air hardens my nipples and makes them sensitive to touch. The mix of our body heats keeps the frost from biting. His lips attach to my nipple and his tongue rolls over the sensitivity causing my back to arch into him.

“S-shit, George!” My shaky voice only encourages his feasting and he pushes our bodies deeper into the locker. My hand grips onto his back while the other strangles his upper arm. The more he works my body the deeper my nails dig into his triceps. His arm moves from under my bum into my panties. While his pointer finger makes circles around my clit, he strokes my folds with his middle finger. I could feel him glide through my moisture and my hips buckle into him.

George’s lips left my chest and he aligns our eyes, “I didn’t know you wanted me so bad, Princess.” The way George said Princess it felt like a dare. 

I grab the sides of his face and hold his eye contact before speaking. “George. You need to fuck me right now,” Without a hesitation, George drops his boxers down just far enough to release his cock. My legs tangle around his waist. The force of the lockers are the only thing truly holding me up. George’s hands are now free and one keeps me by the back of my thigh and the other tears my panties right at the crotch. 

George nuzzles his head into the side of my neck as he inserts himself. The size of him stretches my walls so much I let out a gasp. His hot breath on my neck is sending chills down my spine while each thrust sends them up. I cannot help but let my eyes and head fall back. He feels so sensational inside me.

“Merlin, you’re so tight around my cock.” His voice is deep like a moan and I flex inside. 

George must have liked my response because my arm from behind his back is being pinned up above my head. His thrusts become deeper and harsher. Each movement he makes makes me want to scream in pleasure. My only available hand pulls his lips back to mine. The kisses are sporadic with our shaky breaths and harsh thrusts. I move a hand to the nape of his neck and pull on his hair again. His raspy moan causes my walls clench and legs to shake.

“G-George. F-fuck, I am gonna c-cum!” I grip tightly into his hair and dig my face into the crook of his neck. With his last thrust I plant a wet open-mouth kiss and tighten my legs around him. 

My walls strangle him as I scream out his name one last time. It is enough to send him over the edge with a deep groan leaving him. His warmth fills my core. 

Once we both come down from our orgasms, George sits us down on the bench with me straddling him. An exhausted smile appears on his soft face.

“You’re a sore winner,” he lets out in a baritone chuckle. I have a wide grin growing on my features. Our lips collide in a long soft kiss. I pull away to take in all of his features.

“And you, George Weasley, are a sore loser.”

[silverducks]

Game of Thrones - Jaime Lannister

A rambling character study of Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones.

Part 1a – Jaime’s Character Arc

This post is going to look at my thoughts on exactly how I see Jaime’s character arc in Game of Thrones, based on just the show. But it’s also to set up my future posts where I explain why I find it so darn hard to understand why he had the ending they gave him. At least beside the obvious - because the writers wanted to.

Yeah I know; I’m late to the GoT train wreck of a final series. But I have a lot of thoughts and hence why I’m here typing away.

(And this is where I start to really go all English Lit exam analysis on you, so a warning for anyone who actually might be reading this post, LOL!)

My Intro to this series of posts btw, is here.

So, spoilers be below.

Ok, so to help explain why Jaime’s ending makes no sense, I firstly need to explain what exactly his character arc is in the show, or at least how I perceive it. As mentioned in a previous post on honour vs loyalty, for Jaime I see his character arc being about two, interconnected things – redemption and identity.

In series 1 and 2, he’s not a nice character – he’s a self-righteous, proud, full of himself, snob. He’s arrogant and cocky and says pretty cruel, snide things to characters we do like. And as we see him through the PoV of characters like *Mr Honourable Eddard Stark, Jaime is pretty despicable to say the least. And that is before we even get started on the whole pushing a boy out of a window because he caught Jaime having sex with his own twin sister. Oh and just as an FYI, Jaime is also called the Kingslayer because he killed the King he was sworn to protect. So yeah, most people watching the show don’t like him at the start, and neither do most of the other show characters we do like.

And from a story telling perspective, Jaime’s character can either get worse, better or stay the same as the show goes on. And in this story, he gets better, with a few slip ups along the way, and it’s fascinating and glorious!!

Like, I can think of nothing that even comes close to the amazing way Jaime Lannister’s character develops in Game of Thrones and how we as a viewer change in our perception of him.

But that only makes his ending so much more frustrating and disappointing…

Before I start rambling away though, just as a point to note; I���m using terms like good and better person and right and wrong quite loosely here. Obviously the world, even in a fictional world, isn’t all that simple. As that would be a whole other massive thematic and philosophical thesis, and it’s not really that relevant, just take the “general” meaning of the ideas, but with the understanding I know it’s a bit more complicated. Where I think it does become more relevant, I’ll expand on the ideas in that particular context. If I sound a bit flippant at times, it’s because of the whole black vs white vs grey, and how there are “rules” in storytelling that wouldn’t necessary apply to our own, real life reality. There are things that we need to take into account when we analyse characters in stories vs actual, real people. And on a side note, this is one of my favourite things about Game of Thrones, the complexity and moral ambiguity of both its characters and its story themes. But yeah, that’s a whole thesis in its own right.)

Redemption Arc

So, redemption. In order for us to start to like this character, and see him as a good guy, he has to go through a redemption arc. Like pretty much rule number 1 of storytelling. That means we have to watch him and believe in him becoming a better person. Conversations like the whole oath vs oath issue, or his chat with his father about his nicknames in series 1 makes us take notice of a character, maybe even be more invested in a character and their shades of grey, but it’s not really redemption. And considering how far in debt he is in the good vs bad guy department, he has a lot of work to do.

And my goodness, he does it. Like, I mean, this guys’ redemption arc is astonishing! He goes through so much, rethinks and challenges everything he once thought/knew about himself and his world, faces all his past wrongs and bad character traits and becomes not even a better person, but a hero! He goes from a bad villain who kills kings and pushes kids from windows, to becoming one of the main heroes we’re rooting for by the end of the story.

(A quick disclaimer here, like I’m not saying Jaime is ever, or ever will be perfect, heck, he’s human and this is Game of Thrones and Jaime’s more messed up than most. But when you think back from where he started and where he’s been, it sure is impressive – if we ignore his actual ending that is, LOL!)

And his glorious redemption arc all pretty much starts around the time he starts his fun road trip with Brienne in series 3.

So, just to give a few of his finer redemption points (and just remember his series 1 and 2 actions and our opinion of him in contrast):

He stops Brienne from being raped and gets his hand cut off for the trouble (Ouch! But suffering, especially from doing something good, gives lots of redemption points.)

He risks his life to save Brienne from being mauled to death by a bear. Like, he’s recently lost his sword fighting hand and has no weapon, but he jumps in the bear pit anyway and puts himself between the bear and Brienne. He then helps Brienne out of the bear pit first and then only just makes it out alive himself. Oh and if that wasn’t enough, he basically tells the bad guys that he’s leaving with Brienne, or they will have to kill him. Like he says this to the guy who not so long ago chopped his hand off. (Just think on that one a minute ok.)

He keeps to his promise/oath to Catelyn Stark and continues to help her daughters by giving Brienne a priceless sword and some stunning armour so she can find and help them. (This also helps Brienne, because he knows she’s not safe in Kings Landing, and gives her a purpose, because he knows that’s what she needs.)

Firstly offers to sacrifice his own life needs and goals and those vows he’s now starting to hold more dear to save his brother. When said brother then screws up that opportunity, Jaime then also helps said brother escape from being killed, going against his sister and father, who want his brother dead. (Yeah, the Lannisters are an interesting family… And you wonder why Jaime is a little messed up?)

Takes RiverRun without any bloodshed. (Like pulls off the perfect bluff in GoT siege history so that he can make sure his army succeeds, but no one is killed. (I don’t count the Blackfish, who chose to fight to the death rather than escape/get taken prisoner.)

Joins the fight for the battle against the dead, even if it also means renouncing his entire house and lineage and putting himself at the mercy and judgement of pretty much all his enemies and all he has wronged. (One of which has a habit of roasting her enemies alive with Dragon fire)

Oh and also risks his life in above mentioned battle against the dead.

A pretty impressive list imho, lots of redemption points there and that’s not even including everything else he does. Following the general storytelling themes of forgiveness and redemption, Jaime basically ticks all the boxes by all the good deeds he’s now done. And that’s one of the major reasons why we as viewers now love him so much as a character.

But that’s not all, of course. As we discover also in series 3 (a pretty important series for our Jaime), it’s not even just about him doing good things, but we realise as an audience we’ve (intentionally by the show) completely misunderstood him! Yes, he did kill the King he was sworn to protect, but only because said King was mad and was about to blow up the entire capital city where hundreds of thousands of innocent people live. And not only did he do this incredible honourable thing, but because it did go against his vow as a Kings Guard, he’s ever since been derided as the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Man without honour. A horrible set of nicknames that he’s borne, because he doesn’t think people would care or understand anyway. (Of course, I want to add in here that it’s partly the negative trait of pride too, thinking himself as the Lannister Lion, above having to explain himself to the sheep.)

Anyway, all this has worn him down a lot over the years and it’s messed him up good and proper. It kinda makes your own initial dislike of Jaime through *Mr Honourable Eddard Stark’s eyes seem a little unfair. Especially when the guy was barely more than a kid at the time (16 or 17 I think). And his defence mechanism to deal with this is one of the reason’s he is so cocky and arrogant – he uses his dry, often cruel humour, to mask that he does actually still care. In fact, it’s worked so well, I think at the start of the show, Jaime believes it himself; that he is a horrible, hateful person. But he did have that honour inside of him once; he did care and try to do what was right. And when you think back to his scenes in series 1 and 2, they take on new meaning now. He’s no longer such an evil arrogant, cocky knight we all pretty much immediately hated.

And as this revelation happens around the same time as he starts doing all those good deeds, it all helps work together to make us re-evaluate Jaime and grow to love him and become invested in his redemption arc even more.

(*I feel the need to add a disclaimer here, I do like Ned Stark a lot as a character. But it is interesting that as the show goes on, he almost does the opposite to Jaime – we see he actually isn’t always as good as we thought, that perhaps honour tripped into bitterness and prejudice a few times. That perhaps Ned, as much as we like him, is less full white and more speckled in shades of grey after all...(which makes him a more interesting and nuanced character imho, so rather than undermine him, it makes him more human.))

And when I rethink Jaime’s scene with Robb Stark when he’s captured, where he gives Robb the choice of ending the war if Robb can beat him in single combat, well, it adds even more depth to his character. Of course, Jaime knew he would likely win, as did Robb, so Robb refused. And as a viewer who was all Stark=Good, Lannister=Evil (except Tyrion) at the time, I was glad Robb wasn’t stupid or arrogant enough, like the Kingslayer Mr Jaime Lannister, to fall for that.

But then I remember the parallel in series 6, when Jon Snow (Stark=Good) gives exactly the same choice to Ramsay Bolton (Bolton=Spawn of Satan). Ramsay can either fight Jon in single combat, or they can all send their troops to die in their war. And as a viewer now, NOW! I think Ramsay is weak and awful for not agreeing (because he knows he can’t win too) and so sending all these soldiers to an early grave. Which is like 100% opposite for pretty much the same scenario of its series 2 counterpart. Of course, we HATE Ramsay and he has no, I mean literary NO! redeeming qualities, unlike Jaime, who we never, ever hated in the same way. But it does make you think about the whole idea of perception as well as actual deeds here. And that actually Jaime, you could argue, was doing the honourable thing by asking Robb for single combat, to spare the lives of both of their armies… I mean, obviously he wants to win the war, but maybe, he also wanted to spare as many lives as he could, too – like Jon in the series 6 equivalent. Maybe not so arrogant a request from our Jaime after all…

And another point to add in here, which further adds up to Jaime’s redemption arc, is Lady Brienne of Tarth. Yes, I’ve saved her to last for a reason, as she is, imho, THE catalyst for this amazing change we see in Jaime. If you’ll notice, a lot of Jaime’s good deeds involve Brienne and start happening around the time the two characters meet. And that very fact further proves that Jaime was and can be a better person.

He does not like her at first and she’s not quite your typical maiden. Not only is she a “beast” (to quote Jaime), but she’s a fighter, full of honour, self-sacrifice and steadfast in her purpose, and more than a match for him. Oh and she’s also his captor, dragging him to Kings Landing with a rope around his hands so they can trade him for the Stark girls.

So yeah, not the most cordial of first meetings. He pokes fun at her, trying to get her to snap, to prove she’s not as good as she seems. But she doesn’t, because she is that person, she is true to herself and not pretending. Unlike so many people Jaime knows, she is genuine.  

And he’s impressed by her skill and courage as a fighter as well. She is able to best him in the sword fight (granted when his hands are tied and he’s been sat in a cage for over a year, but he is like renowned for being one of the best sword fighters in the entire realm). Also when she fought the men who had murdered the women they found hung along the road – both as justice and to give the murdered woman a proper burial. She isn’t all talk, she can, and does fight. I bet Jaime wasn’t expecting that! And as sword fights are his thing, what he pretty much defines himself by and is most proud of, that’s a pretty big for tick from Jaime for Brienne right there.

Basically, she is a) an honourable person b) sticks to her oaths c) also able to fight (and therefore protect people) and d) refuses to let him get the better of her. The perfect, chivalrous embodiment of a brave, honourable Knight. A true Knight in all but name, whilst Jaime is now a Knight in nothing but name.

Now, I’ll discuss this more in the identity arc bit, but basically all this challenges Jaime, makes him rethink his own bitter images of himself and his world. She reminds him of his younger self, when he wanted to be that honourable Knight. And seeing this reflection of his younger, naïve and less world weary version of himself in Brienne, it helps to trigger this change in Jaime. It makes him remember who he once was, what he once stood for and believed in; that ideal that Jaime once believed is actually possible - of the brave, worthy Knight people sing songs about. And it started to make him want to be that person again. And this in turn, makes him want to start to do the right thing, to start to put honour first, which paves the way for his redemption arc very nicely.

I won’t talk too much more about Brienne here, because I think her relationship with and influence on Jaime deserves its own post. But I do think it is the specific personality of Brienne, together with the very fact that she is an ugly, “beast” of a woman, that triggers Jaime’s arc in just the right way and enables it to be so profound.

One last note on his redemption – I’ve said before it was partly his Lannister Lion pride that caused some of his suffering in relation to his nicknames. And indeed part of his arrogance is because he does think he’s better than everyone else (although not to the extent we first thought). He is the Lannister’s golden son after all and the Lannisters are basically the most powerful and wealthiest House in Westeros. It is a bad trait, yeah. But even this, even this! gets sorted out in series 8. From my list of redemption points, see the second to last point above – he faces judgement. Like a guy who had too much pride to admit he actually killed a King to help save hundreds of thousands of lives, actually, of his own volition, faces his enemies to be judged and to atone for what he has done wrong. Yeah, he also offers excuses at said trail, but if I’m honest, they do sound quite genuine to me. Is it any worse than what your typical soldier would do in a time of war? Fight in a battle and kill people? Try to capture the person (Ned) who’s wife captured your brother to avert a war? And we already know now he was justified in his killing of the mad King.

So, all in all, with this new insight into Jaime’s character, especially also seeing him through the increasingly positive eyes of Brienne (more on that later), who we know really is good and honourable, we have both a better understanding of his past actions, see his ongoing internal struggles and conflicts as he strives to do what is right and along with all his good deeds as the show goes on, we see him slowly (with lots of unfortunate set backs as well) become a better person. So come series 8, his redemption arc up to THAT scene, is glorious and basically complete.

And then there’s his identity arc. The other side of his character development, which is just as important for me and very much interconnected with his redemption.

(Like, seriously, there’s so much going on with this character that I could write essays, no a whole thesis I bet! I seriously can’t wait until I get to read him and Brienne’s chapters in the books and discover even more sides and shades to this character.)

But I’ve rambled on for far longer than I intended on his redemption arc, so I’ll save his identity arc for another day. (And hopefully it won’t be as long). Then we can get into the fun stuff like that hand he lost, that famous bath scene and his, how to put this, interesting relationship with his sister…

#If you were brave enough to get this far #Thanks for reading #And hope this made sense #Just my rambling thoughts #Yeah, I have a lot

[opbackgrounds]

As many of you noticed, the other day I posted Part 1 in what has become a series on my thoughts on sexism in One Piece. If you are somehow seeing this post first, I would recommend clicking the link as I’ll be adding to the foundation I built there. 

I already had some pretty strong thoughts on this topic before receiving the original ask, but in the spirit of not wanting to sound like a douche academic integrity I decided to do a little cursory research into what other people meant when they said that One Piece is sexist. Here’s a collage of some of my favorite hot takes

As much as I’m...confused? Unsurprised yet somehow disappointed?...I don’t want to mock or belittle the people who feel this way. I think one of the most dangerous things in our modern internet age is that discussions only get surface deep before they devolve into shouting matches, and when the other side is vilified as ignorant or immoral or whatever it only serves to divide people into groups that grow evermore hostile to one another as the shouting matches get louder. It’s a short jump from your opinions are stupid and bad to you are stupid and bad for having them and I really don’t want to go there. 

Tl; dr: I don’t care if you disagree with anything I’m about to say, but if you send me harassing messages please know that I will laugh at you for presuming to think that I care.

Dropping the S Bomb

So first things first, a couple definitions. Sexism is prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination against a certain gender, in this case women. Chauvinism is excessive or prejudiced support for one's own cause, group, or sex. Misogyny is dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.

I start with definitions, because there are an astounding number of people who misuse these terms when making arguments. When talking about things like character design, Oda’s typical hour-glass figure is leaning into a stereotype that leads to the objectification of (fictional) women. An argument could be made that One Piece is sexist in that way. 

But it’s not that cut and dry, and I am always of the opinion that context matters. I argued in my previous post that there would be a wider variety of female character designs if there were more women, and the exaggerated aesthetic of the series lends itself to the exaggerated busts and butts typical of One Piece ladies. 

There’s an interview that came out around the time Strong World was released that I think is helpful when talking about this sort of thing. 

I approached it thinking that since I’m drawing for a boys’ comic magazine, then it’s my job to make sure they enjoy what they’re reading. When you actually do become a professional you’ll start getting fan letters and other things and you’ll soon find that the overwhelming majority of them are from girls. Boys just aren’t the type to pick up a pen. (laughs) They don’t have things like stationary or stamps and they don’t think about going through the ‘grueling task’ of writing someone just to say, “That was cool.” Boys are a life form that enjoy something but won’t bother to tell you that they actually do.

So I learned that girls will flood you with their opinions and when I took at step back and looked at the world of manga, I realized that there are a lot of people out there that made me think, “This [author] is really just going along with the girls’ opinions.” And ultimately, if you’re considering those opinions as the ‘needs of the customer’ when you write the story, you’re just left with a girl’s manga. (laughs) It’s like, if you do that, you’re only writing to entertain girls, and that’s just wrong.

Oda writes for his target demographic, pre-teen and teenage boys. He doesn’t seem to care much for the opinions of his female audience, which again could be perceived as sexist.

And to an extent maybe it is, but I also think it’s smart. You only have to look at the mess that is the new Star Wars trilogy to see what happens when a storyteller tries to appease a fan base. The end result is that everyone goes home from the theatre miserable. 

Humanity has been telling stories since time immemorial. They’re so ingrained into into the collective psyche that we have developed certain metanarriatives, types, and archetypes that have in turn been refined and distilled and applied to certain types of stories meant for certain types of people. The “rules” for telling a “boy’s story” are different than the “rules” for telling a “girl’s story”, just like I would not expect a romance to be told in the same way as one of Shonen Jump’s battle manga.

Incidentally, this is part of the reason why I think many romances in shonen fall flat. Stories best suited for fighting, camaraderie, coming of age, and growing into the best version of yourself are forced to try to include tropes and story beats that just don’t fit, and the end result is often just...bad.  

And, yes, these rules are arbitrary. They can and do change. Just look at shonen battle manga of the 80s vs the titles that were popular when One Piece started in the 90s vs what’s running today. The fact that Oda maintained an audience for over two decades while writing for a demographic that ages out every few years is nothing short of incredible. He clearly has a pulse on what his audience wants while maintaining a clear vision for the direction he wants One Piece to go.

Nor is this an individual effort. Oda works with his assistants and editors when it comes to making these decisions. It’s impossible to say how much he’s been influenced by these other voices, both in the past and now, even if he is ultimately the person responsible for what does and does not get put to paper.

What’s more, society changes. What is considered sexist now would not be thought of as such a generation ago. Our descendants will shake their heads at all the crazy, backward, terrible things we think are normative, and that’s not even taking into consideration differences in culture that not only exist between generations, but nations. America is going to have different ideas of what is and isn’t appropriate behavior than Japan, which undoubtably influences Oda’s sense of humor, which in turn influences the sorts of gags he puts into his comic.

I want to walk a fine line here, because I think there are objective standards that people should be held to regarding sexism while also acknowledging that getting people to agree to those standards are is impossible. If people truly feel as strongly about Oda’s character design and fan service as they make it seem online, then by all means comment on it. It’s not going to change Oda’s mind, but maybe with increased awareness the next generation of storytellers will be better. 

At the same time, I think that the indignant masses need to take a deep, hard look at what they’re calling sexism. Are you really going to claim, as I’ve seen, that all fan service is sexist? Are you really going to say that Robin and Nami are weak characters because they don’t get fights? Are you really going to say that Oda’s the most sexist mangaka out there, using, Fairy Tale as an example of female characters done right?

Because if you are, you’re setting yourself up to be thought as just as vapid and uniformed as those who are only reading for tits and ass. There are legitimate criticisms to be had, but just because you don’t like a thing doesn’t mean it’s bad storytelling. Just because Oda puts something out there that you don’t approve of doesn’t make it sexist. Audiences need to be better at thinking critically about the media they consume and learn to look past the sensationalism of click bait articles to truly explore the issues at hand. 

This is getting long again, so I think I’m going to split this into another post where I’ll dive into some specific examples within the series itself. Once again, thank you for your time. I promise I’ll wrap this up soon and move onto other, hopefully more positive, things.    

[kyloren]

Why Reylos Are A Bright Spot In The STAR WARS Fandom

It’s impossible to parse all of this out or to really say who’s “right” or “wrong” or what “right” and “wrong” even mean in fandom spaces. From my vantage point, the Reylo community is one of the more forgiving and accepting out there. It’s comprised of not only women, but plenty of men and non-binary Star Wars fans, from different races and orientations and experiences. And that’s true of any shipping community. In a fandom as large as Star Wars, there should be room for all of us to express joy or grief or surprise or disinterest in our cultivated spaces. It’s how we all choose to cross-pollinate that could use some work.

But Reylos aren’t deserving of the intense condemnation that comes from larger voices in the fandom. The ridicule feels specific and exclusionary, and rooted in gatekeeping sexism. Comparing them to the Fandom Menace is ridiculous. That group created blogs dedicated to roasting journalists, creators, and fans. Meanwhile, the Reylo community (along with Ben Solo fans) poured much of their frustration and sadness over The Rise of Skywalker into an act of good, by raising money for Adam Driver’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces. How much money? As of this writing, over $76,000, more than double the charity’s fundraising goal for an entire fiscal year.

full article below the cut:

Why is romantic love such a controversial thing in fandom? It’s something I ask myself a lot, as a person who writes about shipping and who desires the kind of love that stories tell me might exist. I’ve spent most of my life in fandom spaces—participating in conversations or observing and examining them—and have witnessed firsthand how objectionable fictional romance can be, especially in fandoms that appeal to and target men. Why is this the case, and why is romance a thing we use to punish women looking for escapism in genre stories?

It’s hard to say, but it remains an endemic and undeniable strain. Shipping, which is fandom code for wanting two characters to be together, is often snickered at or seen as some frivolous element of appreciation. It can lead to shaming that feels personal and accusatory, as if your interest in a fictional relationship is a roadmap to your own intentions and experience. This attitude towards shippers is especially present in the Star Wars fandom, where the relationship between Rey and Kylo Ren is steeped in a seemingly never-ending controversy. There are fervent supporters of the romance between these characters, a plentiful contingent of opposers, and those who don’t really care one way or another but still seem fit to criticize.

Why has the “Reylo” ship created such a stir? Let’s dig into this subset of the Star Wars fandom: where it started, why it’s accumulated so much negativity, and why the Reylos don’t deserve the bad reputation they’ve acquired, especially in the wake of The Rise of Skywalker.

THE ORIGINS OF REYLO

The release of The Last Jedi was a rough time for a lot Star Wars fans. The film—the eighth in the Skywalker saga and the second in the Disney-era sequel trilogy—made a lot of bold storytelling choices, which divided the fandom into camps. Those who loved the meditations on the Force, Luke Skywalker’s troubled hero’s journey, the complicated characterization of Poe Dameron, Finn and Rose’s failed mission, and the strange developing bond between Rey and Kylo felt at odds with anyone who saw otherwise. Many disliked Luke’s arc, or the apparent sidelining of Poe and Finn, or the democratization of the Force. The disagreements spiraled into something bordering collective mania. It’s a debate that still rages today, and that seeped into the conversations we’re currently having about The Rise of Skywalker.

I loved the movie, but found the discourse numbing. Positive Twitter conversations were instantly marred by detractors, and every passionate argument was upended by accusatory nitpicks. I felt discouraged from participating in any of it, and I felt bitter towards the Star Wars community in general. Until I found the Reylos.

After stumbling on podcasts like What The Force?, Skytalkers, and Scavenger’s Hoard—all female-hosted programs—I realized there were plenty of encouraging conversations about The Last Jedi happening in fandom. I also realized most of them were Reylo-oriented. Suddenly, I was exposed to the exact conversations I always wanted to have about Star Wars: deep dives into mythology, redemption arcs, symbolism and dualism, religion, poetry. And all of that was encompassed in Reylo. All of these larger stories, focused through these characters joined by fate and purpose, who represented opposing ideologies of the Force.

There was so much to dig into. Rey and Kylo have a classic enemies-to-lovers storyline, a romantic trope seen in fairytales like Beauty and the Beast, classic literature like Pride and Prejudice, mythological stories like that of Hades and Persephone, even modern genre television like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s typically used in women-oriented storytelling, as it affords duality and compassion to both parties; a distribution of power that makes the women as complicated, compromised, and interesting as their male counterparts. Rey’s interest in Kylo adds a layered intrigue to a character otherwise patently “good” and “pure,” words commonly associated with women, forcing them into palatable, antiquated gender roles.

Their relationship feeds a part of the fanbase who craves that kind of female protagonist. One who represents their own burgeoning lust, complicated compassion for the men they chose to care about, and temptation towards things we’re told to fear. Through the Reylo relationship, Rey took on another angle, one that finally made Star Wars feel like a story for me.

THE BACKLASH

I also learned right away what it meant to be a Reylo in the Star Wars fandom. The relationship between the light-sided Rey and dark-sided Kylo was riddled in turmoil. In The Force Awakens, a scene where he straps her down and interrogates her is considered by many to be abusive. The language Kylo uses to seduce Rey to his side in The Last Jedi is also seen as manipulative and problematic. He tells her that no one knows her like he does. In their opinion, he’s attempting to groom her to his standards, to turn her into what he wants against her own will. Those against the relationship will tell you that it’s a dangerous and negative message to send to young girls.

And here’s where I’ll say something potentially controversial amongst my fellow Reylos: I don’t think these people are “wrong.” Because everyone’s experience and perspective is their own thing to interrogate, and it’s not up to me to tell people how to feel about something–even if I disagree entirely. What I do take issue with, however, is the need to interrogate someone else’s preferences or fantasies. There is an infantilizing element to the backlash, as if those opposed think that Reylos haven’t reconciled with the themes presented to them, and are merely choosing to ignore them because they think Adam Driver is hot.

The way I see it, relationships like Reylo—power fantasies oriented on the feminine psyche, with an antagonistic male—fulfill two things I love in storytelling. They are pure escapism; the happy ending those of us drawn to the incurable are never afforded. And they are instructive, as they exemplify the patriarchal schism between men and women: that we are not equal, but that women love men anyway because of the compassion that comes naturally to balance that division. It shows how we can mend those gaps through patience and understanding. It’s archetypical and fantastical, sure, but that’s what Star Wars is: a fairy tale that wrestles with society and humanity in broad strokes.

That said, there are other reasons for dissent. Some fans ship Rey and Finn, and see their romance as a better avenue for a healthy relationship. Some have experienced personal trauma and can’t abide a romance that mimics and negates their pain. Others just don’t see the Reylo thing at all. Absolutely all of that is valid. Shipping should never be a competition or an authoritative moral stance on any side. Rey/Finn shippers are just as valid as Reylos because it speaks to what someone personally craves and desires. The shaming shouldn’t exist on any side—but because it does, the passionate defense comes in.

REYLOS DON’T DESERVE THE HATE

That knee-jerk self defense has drawn a lot of ire to the Reylo community in the aftermath of The Rise of Skywalker, the final film in the Star Wars sequel trilogy. On paper, the Reylos were given a lot of what they desire: Kylo Ren is redeemed and turns back into Ben Solo. Rey and Ben fight side by side and even share a kiss. But then Ben dies and Rey ends the movie alone, something that irked the shippers. They saw the ending as a grim conclusion for Ben and a way of punishing Rey for expressing her desires. To many, the ending feels hopeless and feeds into this stereotypical notion that for a woman to be strong, she must be single — as if romantic love weakens us.

There are other ways to read the ending, and many fans found power in it. That’s the beauty of film: that it’s entirely subjective. But in their profession of disappointment, the Reylos once again became a punching bag for the fandom at large. A recent BuzzFeed article compared the way Reylos reacted to The Rise of Skywalker to the way the Fandom Menace—a trolling, abusive, anti-Disney hate group—reacted to The Last Jedi. (Never mind that their “source” for this reaction was a tweet from a prominent member of the Fandom Menace, and that many of the complaints in question were either fabricated or from non-Reylo accounts.)

It’s impossible to parse all of this out or to really say who’s “right” or “wrong” or what “right” and “wrong” even mean in fandom spaces. From my vantage point, the Reylo community is one of the more forgiving and accepting out there. It’s comprised of not only women, but plenty of men and non-binary Star Wars fans, from different races and orientations and experiences. And that’s true of any shipping community. In a fandom as large as Star Wars, there should be room for all of us to express joy or grief or surprise or disinterest in our cultivated spaces. It’s how we all choose to cross-pollinate that could use some work.

But Reylos aren’t deserving of the intense condemnation that comes from larger voices in the fandom. The ridicule feels specific and exclusionary, and rooted in gatekeeping sexism. Comparing them to the Fandom Menace is ridiculous. That group created blogs dedicated to roasting journalists, creators, and fans. Meanwhile, the Reylo community (along with Ben Solo fans) poured much of their frustration and sadness over The Rise of Skywalker into an act of good, by raising money for Adam Driver’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces. How much money? As of this writing, over $76,000, more than double the charity’s fundraising goal for an entire fiscal year.

I also know that the Reylos helped me find my way back to loving Star Wars, gave me endless professional and creative inspiration for the last two years, and deepened my interest and love of storytelling and mythology. I know I’m not alone, and I know that the Reylo shipping community has made Star Wars finally feel like a fandom they were allowed to love. That’s something I hope fans with different access points to the world of Star Wars might think about before they wag a finger or call Reylos fake fans or mock their interests and experience. Star Wars can and should be for everyone, and how we find our way into the galaxy far, far away is a unique, personal, and beautiful thing. Love is what it’s all about at the end of the day. Even romantic love.

by Lindsey Romain for Nerdist [find article HERE]

[bard-llama]

The Witcher Fic Masterlist

Masterlist of all of my Witcher fics, updated as of June 5, 2021.

If you like my writing, consider donating to my ko-fi! I am writing gift fics for all donors.

Here is a masterlist of all completed multi-chapter fics.

Series:

Families of Choice

Geraskefer Canon Divergent AU

Summary: The best families are those you choose. Jaskier realized that early in life, but his family continues to expand over the years.

Series Masterlist

Cintra Happily Ever After Series:

AU from the Families of Choice Series (as of the end of 5 Dinners with the Lioness chapter 5)

Summary: A series in which I pretend everything is fine and nobody dies, and Geralt makes Cintra his home base after the feast in episode 4.

Series Masterlist

Chronic Pain Series

Summary: Unconnected shorts in which I vent my pain onto fictional characters.

At Her Back

Summary:  Yennefer was born with a twisted spine. Her transformation had cured her, but she still felt the pain as if nothing had changed. Geralt offers Jaskier's services as a masseuse.

Coming to a Head

Summary: During a confrontation gone wrong, Jaskier gets hit with a spell that is supposed to cause unimaginable pain. So why does Jaskier seems mostly unaffected?

When Pigs Talk

Summary: When seeking pain relief, Yennefer takes something that makes the pigs in her pig pen start talking. It’s the start of an interesting evening.

Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep

Rated E

Summary: Geralt’s eyes burn and ache like he’s undergoing the trials again, so Jaskier does his best to help distract from the pain.

Don’t Cry for Me, Temeria

Iorveth/Roche Witcher 2 Different First Meeting AU

Summary: A Witcher 2 Canon AU in which Iorveth and Roche meet before either of them know who the other is. Somehow, this changes absolutely everything.

Series Masterlist

Fish Out of Water

Iorveth/Roche MerMay AU

Summary: Once upon a time, all elves lived in the sea and had mer forms. Now, Iorveth is something of a novelty, one of the last true elves.

Series Masterlist

For You, My Love, I Bleed

Iorveth/Roche angsty AU

Summary: Iorveth and Roche had been happy, or so Iorveth had thought. Then King Foltest recalls Roche to the capital, and suddenly Iorveth is left alone as Roche returns to Foltest. Roche made his choice, clearly, and Iorveth just has to deal with that. But all is not as it seems, and Roche considers everything worth sacrificing if it protects the man he loves.

Series Masterlist

A Hard Day’s Night

Iorveth/Roche interrogation AU

Summary: Iorveth ends up imprisoned, with Vernon Roche as his interrogator. From there it only gets worse - or better, depending on your point of view.

Series Masterlist

If You’re Good to Mama

Iorveth/Roche Outsider POV

Summary: The Clarabelle is the finest brothel in town and its located in the shittiest part of town. Follow the adventures of the Madame, Eliza, and the brothel workers as they start working to supply food to the terrorist elves in the Scoia'tael.

Series Masterlist

Keep Me

Iorveth/Roche fanart AU

Summary: All Vernon Roche wants in life is someone to keep him and appreciate him. Surprisingly, he may find exactly that - in the form of his enemy, no less. Based on this art.

Series Masterlist

King and Country

Iorveth/Roche divergent AU

Summary: When Foltest rejects Vernon Roche, he sets into motion a series of events that have consequences he never could've expected. A universe in which Roche's anger and hurt at Foltest remove the rose colored glasses.

Series Masterlist (NEW ADDITIONS!)

Love Shack

Iorveth/Roche Secret Relationship AU

Summary: The Love Shack: a ramshackle cabin in the forest that happens to be Iorveth and Roche's only respite from a reality full of violence, war, and hate. In the Love Shack, all that matters is each other.

Series Masterlist

The Lovestruck Fox

Iorveth/Roche Schoolgirl Crush AU

Summary: It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the Scoia’tael Commander holds his opposite in the highest esteem. 

Series Masterlist

Petals and Stripes

Iorveth/Roche Hanahaki AU

Summary: Those that felt the deepest of deep loves could develop a condition known as the wasting disease. Those afflicted slowly suffocate as their lungs fill with fruit representing the one they love. Well, it's supposed to be fruit. So why is Commander Roche coughing up flowers?

Series Masterlist

With A Look I May Not Meet

Iorveth/Roche capture AU

Summary: When Iorveth is captured using his relationship with Vernon Roche, Roche is forced to make a decision. Stand with King Foltest and Temeria as he has always done - or choose Iorveth and go on the run.

Series Masterlist

The Woodland Fox and The Temerian Hound

Iorveth/Roche animal transformation AU

Summary: Roche usually didn’t mind Triss’s magic much. Sure, she poked at him with it all the time, but it was always playful, inviting him in on the fun. This time, however, something had gone very, very wrong and he was quite sure that it would take him a long time to trust her magic again. Because somehow a rebound spell had hit him, and now he had a tail. A dog’s tail. Well, he was always getting called Foltest’s attack dog. Now it was just a bit more literal.

Series Masterlist

Under the cut:

New! Gen fics (22)

Yennefer fics (4)

Geraskier/Geraskefer fics (25)

Geralt getting railed fics (4)

Cintra fics (Calanthe/Eist and others) (9)

Lambert/Aiden fics (6)

Lambert/Jaskier fic (1)

Wolf Witcher fics (2)

New! Iorveth/Roche fics (45)

New! Saskia fics (3)

Gen Fics:

(They came after me) With Masterful Deceit

Summary: When Jaskier discovers that Yennefer has Elven blood, he is forced to confront his prejudices.

Beauty and Imperfections

Summary: Jaskier signs up to be a nude model. He's expecting it to be a fun, sexy time. It goes a lot differently than he expected.

The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker Than the Water of the Womb 

Summary:  Found Family prompt fills, focusing mostly on Iorveth and Roche. Chapter 1: Geralt invited all of his family to join him in Corvo Bianco, which is great, but has the downside that finding a moment alone is near impossible.

Cards Out For Your Country

WiP

Summary: In which a great number of people are convinced or coerced into posing for a Gwent Pinup Calendar.

Greg the Demon Horse

Summary: Jaskier tries to make a stuffed toy for Ciri. If only he knew how to sew properly.

Gwent, The Good Old Game (NEW!)

WiP

Summary: Zoltan, Dandelion, and Priscilla decide to go all in on a new money-making scheme involving gwent. This time, they are going to sell stories and dolls of the characters that appear on gwent cards. It's guaranteed to make a killing.

History is Written by the Victors

Summary: “Dara said grandmother’s men laughed as they raped women and killed babies by - by swinging them by their legs, bashing their heads in.” Fuck. Tentatively, Jaskier wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug when she didn’t flinch away. In his head, he could hear Filavandrel’s voice, the humans proudly watch these very fields grow... our babies fertilizer for their grain. He swallowed against rising bile. Against his neck, he could feel Ciri finally succumb to tears. “How could grandmother order that? I know her, that wasn’t what she was like! But Dara wouldn’t have lied.”

Wherein our characters struggle with knowing that good people can do awful things, and that everything you think you know is probably wrong.

How to Train Your Roach

Summary: The story of how Jaskier's stupid ditties on the road accidentally trained Roach.

Inspired by Her Fire

Warning: Spoilers for Witcher 2, specifically something from the end of Iorveth’s Path.

Summary:  Saskia's POV during the Council Meeting where Saskia introduces Iorveth.

It’s the Little Things

Summary: A collection of fills for various prompts! Chapter 1: “You. Rest. Now.”

jaws that crack the bones the lion leaves

Summary: Jaskier writes a song about the Slaughter of Cintra.

Life is a Cabaret

Witcher 3 Canon/Spoilers

Summary: Set during the Cabaret quest, after Geralt helps Dandelion with his staged fight, he decides that Dandelion's big comfy bed at the Rosemary & Thyme is perfect for a bit of rest. Dandelion doesn't exactly mind.

The Lion That Haunts My Dreams

Rated M

Summary: Calanthe does what is needed to protect her kingdom. Dara just wants to forget. Two perspectives on a genocide.

Marilka

Summary: Geralt knew he couldn’t claim his Child of Surprise. Destiny had punished him harshly the one time he’d thought about raising a child. He could not risk its wrath again.

Power

Summary: Yennefer had been forced to fight for every bit of power she had. So why does the power to make people see her seem so unattainable? An introspective look at Yenn during the Dragon Hunt (but ignoring the break up because I can)

Sentenced to Write

Summary: A collection of fics from 1 sentence prompts. Chapter One: Thief!Ciri Chapter Two: Kid!Calanthe

Soft Words and Kind Hearts

Summary: A collection of fills for Geralt Fluff Week 2020. Day 1: First times. Geralt gets a tattoo and becomes part of the Blue Stripes Commandos

Sweat and Blood and Tears: A Geralt Whump Collection

Summary: Collected shorts for Geralt Whump Week

What Makes a Family

Summary: Ciri spends her first birthday since the Fall of Cintra at Kaer Morhen.

What You Meme to Me

Summary: A collection of Witcher fics inspired by memes. Just because. Second chapter: Jaskier doesn't understand why people are so obsessed with gender. Why would what's in their pants matter?

The White Wolf

Summary: Geralt always gets named the White Wolf in fight clubs, even before Jaskier gave him the name. Sometimes he even hid his medallion and gave a fake name, and still, he was always called the White Wolf.

Your Voice is Your Life

Summary: “Your voice is your life.” His old teacher used to tell him. Jaskier largely disagreed, but then a djinn steals his voice. Bottled Appetites from Jaskier's point of view

Yennefer Fics

To Be...

Summary: Collection of shorts for Yennefer Appreciation Week on Tumblr!

A Tribute to the Fae

Rated E

Summary: When Yennefer accidentally trespasses on fae land, she must pay the price.

Viscount Pankratz and Wife

WiP

Summary: When Jaskier receives an invitation to a fancy party addressed to him and his wife, he decided he deserved a night of fun causing problems for people. Who better to help than Yennefer of Vengerberg?

Yenn & Djinn

WiP

Summary: Bottled Appetites AU Jaskier’s last wish is for Geralt to appear. This manages to change everything.

Geraskier/Geraskefer Fics: 

(I would not wish) Any Companion But You

Summary: I’m not your friend, Geralt always insists whenever Jaskier calls them such.

100 Ways to Love You

Rated E

Summary: A drabble collection for Witcher OT3 sex Okay, it might be more double drabbles than drabbles, but shhh

Awaken in Pleasure

Rated E

Summary: Geralt dreams of having Jaskier waking him up with sex. He finally manages to ask for it.

Bounce a Coin Off Your Witcher

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier has lots of thoughts about Geralt's arse in leather pants. And then they get stuck in a small room together.

Butter That Biscuit

Rated E

Summary: Bottled Appetites Ep 5 AU – When Jaskier awakes in Yennefer’s room, he does, in fact, butter that biscuit.

Five Almost Kisses and One Happily Ever After 

WiP

Rated E

Summary: What it says on the tin. Geralt knows he wants Jaskier, but why would the bard ever be interested in a witcher? Five times Geralt ALMOST figures it out and one time he actually makes a move.

Five Times Geralt Frotted Against Jaskier’s Ass and One Time He Fucked It

Rated E

Summary: Based on this tumblr post about Geralt frotting against Jaskier's ass in his sleep.

Fulfilling a Need

Rated E

Summary: Geralt has been twitchy and restless lately. When Jaskier confronts him, he discovers that what Geralt needs is for Jaskier to take control and fuck his face. So he does.

Gestures of Affection

Rated M

Summary:  A collection of shorts featuring any configuration of the relationship between Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer and the ways they show affection to each other. With bonus Ciri, because she’s their family.

Hit Me Baby (One More Time)

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier desperately wants physical evidence of Geralt’s love for him.

How to Spoil Your Pet

Rated E

Summary: Yennefer and Jaskier team up to give Geralt everything he wants. He wants a lot. Good thing they're amenable.

Howling Swirling Storm

Summary: Jaskier is a winter spirit who has always been shit at hiding his powers. But somehow Geralt still never figured it out?

Jaskier’s Words are Horseshit

Summary: The thing about Jaskier is, he never shuts up. Literally, ever. That was the first thing Geralt noticed about the bard, but he was not prepared for all that entailed. Jaskier was, quite literally, always making noise of some sort. If he wasn’t singing, he was humming, muttering, strumming at his lute. Even in his sleep, the bard hmm’d and sighed and mumbled and snored continuously.

A Kiss With a Lash

Rated E

Summary: Geralt asks Jaskier to punish him for the Break Up (TM)

Making Amends

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier is putting his life back together after the Mountain™. So what is he supposed to do when Geralt arrives at his doorstep?

Pamper Your Witcher

Rated E

Summary: Geralt doesn't let himself have the finer things in life. So Jaskier decides to pamper him.

That Wild Blue Yonder

Summary: Jaskier lives in the modern world as Julian Alfred Pancratz. When his family vacations at an old castle his cousin owns, he discovers an old wardrobe that leads to the Continent. Specifically, it leads to a wardrobe belonging to Madeline de Stael.

The Pleasure of a Good Bath

Rated E

Summary: Geralt had always enjoyed baths. Since Jaskier had joined him, they'd gotten even better - and it was making it difficult to hide that he wanted more.

Porny Prompt Pile

Rated E

Summary: Just porny fics based on prompts. First chapter: Geraskier - blow job while standing Second chapter: Geraskier - Jaskier riles Geralt into rough sex

Relationships Require Communication

Summary: Jaskier liked to joke about him being allergic to the word ‘friends’, but he wasn’t far off. Geralt was aware that he was not good at talking, not good at feelings, and definitely not good about combining the two. After Yennefer and Jaskier leave him on the mountain, Geralt does some thinking about what happened and how exactly he messed up. And how to fix it.

Rushing Thoughts and Pulsing Hearts

Rated E

Summary: Geralt knew he was in love with Jaskier, but what could he do about it? No one believed Witchers could love. Not even him, sometimes.

So hold me, lover, like you used to

Rated E

Summary: When Geralt brings Cirilla to Oxenfurt to search for Jaskier, he was not expecting to walk into a concert the bard and another were giving together. Songfic based on The Amazing Devil.

When Words Act As Phantoms on Horseback

Summary:  Jaskier gets Geralt used to the lack of silence. Without him, the silence creeps up on him and itches at his mind until he must break it. AKA how Netflix!Geralt slowly becomes more like Game!Geralt.

With Knot But A Look

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier asks tamed werewolf!Geralt to fuck him in the forest under the full moon.

Worth 100 Words

Summary: This is a Witcher drabble collection, using prompts. Mostly OT3 and family fics with Ciri.

Geralt getting railed fics:

A Cintran Welcome

Rated E

Summary: Geralt’s Witcher stamina is too much for Jaskier to handle alone, but he wants Geralt to experience being fucked to exhaustion. So he arranges a gangbang in Cintra. Featuring Geralt’s self–loathing getting overwhelmed with pleasure.

Forest of Plenty

Rated E

Summary: Geralt goes to visit his friend Mousesack for some fun and discovers that Mousesack and Jaskier have already anticipated his arrival and prepared quite a surprise for him.

I’m Yours to Claim

Rated E

Summary: Geralt knew he would eventually agree to go to Cintra. It was Jaskier asking, after all. He hadn't expected to run into his old friend and fuckbuddy, Mousesack, but it was nice to see him again.

Size Matters: The Geralt Size Queen Chronicles

Rated E

Summary: Just porn about Geralt being a size queen.

Cintra Fics: 

5 Gifts from Family, 1 Vision of the Future, and 1 New Start

Summary: Pavetta gets to know her family after the banquet.

Artistic Endeavors

Rated M

Summary: Calanthe discovers that her daughter has a habit of drawing rather explicit art. For the Banned Together Bingo prompt "Porn". Set before Episode 4: Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials

Falling Into the Lion’s Den

Rated E

Summary: Calanthe and Eist have slept together many times, but it was never about feelings. So why does Eist propose to her and insist on changing everything?

Her Mother’s Legacy

Summary: Ciri had always had trouble with schooling. So if Geralt wants to train her in monster lore, he's going to have to do some things for her. Featuring ways Pavetta helped Ciri figure out how to manage her ADHD.

Like a Punch to the Face

Summary: “Oh sweet Cintra, you were so promising, from your spoiled princess to your stupid old king! But when I arrived, the royals were dead! Tossed out a window or shot in the head!” Ciri forced herself to keep walking past the puppet show, feeling like a fist had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart.

The Lion in the Woods

Summary: Mousesack teaches Ciri about the importance of balance.

The Lioness and the Seahound

Rated E

Summary: A collection of Calanthe/Eist porn fics. Chapter One: Calanthe positions Eist so that she can ride him while giving the illusion that she was taking him. Eist loves it.

Mousesack’s Educational Retreat for Proper Young Nobles

WiP

Summary: 13 year old Calanthe gets sent to a “whip-your-heirs-into-shape” 6 weeks and she is not happy about it. She’s also not delighted by this kid Eist, who is determined to become her friend, and sharing her room with 2 other noblewomen was not fun. Featuring 13 year olds’ interpretations of cultures, some significant cultural misunderstandings, and some slow but sure developing friendships.

O war! Thou son of hell

Summary: In the aftermath of war, Calanthe waits to feel the way everyone said she was supposed to.

Lambert/Aiden Fics:

An Evening of Frippery

Rated E

Summary: When Lambert and Aiden get invited to a fancy party, it’s the perfect excuse to dress up, dance, and have some fun.

Fuck Me Properly (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Aiden stumbles upon Lambert getting fucked by a plant. With tentacles. Then his brain kind of shorts out.

One Way to Skin a Cat (NEW!)

Summary: A reflection on Aiden's thoughts in the aftermath of his near death, and a realization of what Lambert must be thinking.

pretty witcher (walking down the street)

Rated E

Summary: Lambert decides to finally make his move, dressing up in his prettiest dress to encourage Aiden to give in to temptation. Before he has a chance, though, bandits force them into an unexpected position.

Silk and Lace

Rated E

Summary: When Aiden and Lambert split up on the road to tackle separate contracts before meeting again, Lambert takes the opportunity to spoil himself with pretty clothes and slow, drawn out pleasure.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This (NEW!)

Rated M

Summary: Lambert wakes up when Aiden has a bad dream. Fortunately, he knows a good way to get Aiden's mind off of it.

Lambert/Jaskier Fics:

Desperate Affection

Rated E

Summary: Lambert didn't know when he'd fallen in love with the bard, but he could no longer imagine life at Kaer Morhen without him.

Wolf Witcher Fics:

Ensnared

Rated E

Summary: Lambert, Geralt, and Eskel have a long tradition where Eskel ties them up. This time, they've invited Aiden and Jaskier in on the fun.

The School of the Wolf

Summary: Vesemir is old, the oldest Witcher alive. Witchers don’t retire, they get slow and they die. He knows he's slowing down, but all he has left in this world is the boys he trained, and the legacy of the School of the Wolf.

Iorveth/Roche Fics: 

A Kiss Can Mean A Thousand Things 

Summary: Fills for kissing prompts based on the 50 Types of Kisses Writing Prompts

And Ghosts Did Shriek and Shrill

WiP

Rated M for violence/gore

Summary: After the unjust murder of his team, Vernon Roche is willing to do anything to get them back. Even if it means drawing on unspoken-of beliefs from a childhood in Velen.

Before All Else, Be Armed (NEW!)

Summary: Iorveth and Vernon Roche are finally getting together. But when it comes time to disrobe, they run into a few problems. Namely, the sheer number of concealed weapons each of them carry.

Brewing Romance and Dissent 

WiP

Summary: When a spear to the eye means that Iorveth needs to take at least a year to recover, he decides to spend it undercover in a coffeeshop in Vizima's Royal Quarter. He's also not expecting his favorite customer to be a human.

Can’t We All Just Get Oolong? 

WiP

Summary: In which Iorveth and Roche discover that Roche's mom Eliza works for both of them, drink lots of tea, and slowly get to know one another.

The Chase

WiP

Rated M

Summary: Iorveth likes making Roche chase him when the Blue Stripes and the Scoia'tael clash. When Roche manages to catch him one day, something entirely unexpected happens. And then it keeps happening.

Commander Roche’s Secret Lover (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Commander Roche is very clearly hiding a lover. His team tries to figure out who it could be.

Deep Inside Me (NEW!)

Rated E

WiP

Summary: Iorveth longs for things he shouldn't want and his attempt to ignore that ends up making everything worse.

Devour What’s Truly Yours

Rated E

Summary: When Roche discovers Iorveth inside a magical circle of flowers with pollen that makes you feel good, he was not at all prepared to find out what they had to do before they could leave.

A Dh’oine’s Only Use (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth arranges for his Scoia'tael to make use of his new whore, Vernon Roche. After all, a dh'oine's only use is as a hole to be fucked.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Rated E

Summary: It totally doesn’t mean anything that Roche dreams of Iorveth.

‘Ere Our Souls Are Ground To Dust 

Summary: After Nilfgaard conquered the continent and deigned to let Temeria be self-governed, Roche finds himself drowning in work trying to build a new government and keep an economy afloat (well, more get it back there for some parts of Temeria). Meanwhile, he and Iorveth were managing to live a fairly domestic life together. It had only been a few months, but it was going well. Then they have their first fight. Over coffee, of all things.

Every Kiss Begins With Kayran (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Every once in a while, there was a local brave enough to seek out the Kayran for a pleasant distraction. The Kayran was delighted to oblige. And sometimes, sometimes there were people who wanted a more regular experience. People like Iorveth, who had scheduled monthly fuck dates to work off the stresses of command. Neither of them expected to get discovered during one such session.

Explore That Which Sets Your Soul Aflame (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth very much was not expecting Vernon to ask about his ears. But if he's going to satisfy Vernon's curiosity, it's only right that Vernon satisfy his in return.

Eye on You 

WiP

Rated E

Summary: 5 Times Iorveth Accidentally Watched Roche Come and 1 Time Roche Watched Him

False Positive (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: When Iorveth sneaks into Lobinden in disguise to enjoy the Imbolc festival, the last thing he expects is to deal with Vernon Roche - especially because Vernon doesn't know it's him.

The First Seeds of Trust 

WiP

Rated E

Summary: As soon as Iorveth had started fighting vines rather than fighting him, Roche knew something was up. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Great Eggspectations (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: In the aftermath of Temeria's fall, Vernon Roche is feeling unmoored. So it only makes sense to track down his once-enemy. Iorveth has always encouraged his mind to bring its best and right now, he dearly needs that. He's in for a slight surprise when he actually finds Iorveth, though.

A Heart’s Fire (NEW!)

Summary: Skellige is the only kingdom without a price on Iorveth's head, so it only makes sense to seek shelter there after the Scoia'tael are disbanded. The isles are nice, but what had been pleasantly cool in summer now turns freezing in winter and elves were not made for temperature extremes. So of course Iorveth manages to get caught in a blizzard.

How to Fluster an Elf 

WiP

Summary: When Geralt, Dandelion, and Zoltan make a casual remark about never having seen Iorveth flustered, Roche decides to take it as a challenge. Featuring Nilfgaardian feasts, cultural differences, really fancy beds and baths, and a witcher, a dwarf, and a bard who are having the time of their lives watching Roche try to catch Iorveth off guard.

It’s the Little Things

Summary:  A collection of fills for various prompts! Chapter 1: “You. Rest. Now.”

The language of friendship is not words but meanings 

WiP

Summary: When Geralt is hired by the Blue Stripes and the Scoia'tael to find their missing commanders, he discovers that not only have said commanders somehow turned into children, but that the two groups managed to scare them away before introductions could be made. Fortunately, Roche and Iorveth both have their own ways of making themselves understood.

Leap of Faith

WiP

Summary: When Roche changes the rules of engagement in a skirmish with the Scoia'tael, Iorveth ends up captured.

Needs More Dragons

Summary:  Frankly, 2 dragons in all the Witcher stories? Not enough. So have some fics with random dragons! Chapter 1: Honey, I Adopted A Dragon: Iorveth may have acquired a baby dragon while Roche was traveling. Roche is about to find out.

Never Have I Ever

Summary: The Blue Stripes have an evening off. What better way to spend it than by playing drinking games?

On Knife’s Edge 

Rated E

Summary: After they assist in the Battle of Kaer Morhen, Iorveth and Roche end up traveling back to Temeria together. An injury to Roche’s arm leaves him unable to shave himself, so it’s only polite for Iorveth to offer his assistance… right?

Olfucktory Senses (NEW!)

Rated E

WiP

Summary: Iorveth typically found the smell of human exertion to be nauseating. But when it's Vernon Roche's sweat, somehow he finds himself responding entirely differently.

Orificial Business

Rated E

WiP

Summary: When Roche hears a rumor that the Scoia’tael might be frequenting a brothel on the edge of town, he decides it’s worth going undercover to see.

Pining and Poignards (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth may spend a lot of time thinking about Vernon Roche, but it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. Doesn't stop him from contemplating the possibilities, though. Meanwhile, Roche attempts to teach himself Elder Speech to translate the carvings on a knife Iorveth stabbed him with.

The Portrait of Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon (NEW UPDATE!)

WiP

Summary: Ciri hates the portrait from her childhood that Geralt displays openly and proudly and loudly. He shows it off to everyone he can and she wants to destroy it. Lucky for her, two fighting enemies present a prime opportunity to make the portrait's destruction look like an accident.

The Pride of Temeria

The Blue Stripes are Temeria's elite Special Forces Unit. Their mission is to hunt down the Scoia'tael, but in between fighting and drilling, they get up to an awful lot of shenanigans. “He looks like he’s dead,” Shorty said, poking the sleeping form of their commanding officer with a stick. “Shorty!” Silas hissed shrilly. The newbie was still scared of breaking rules and he fidgeted nervously. “What?” Shorty shrugged, “He sleeps like the dead, it’s fine. As long as he’s not actually dead, anyway.” “He’s not,” Ves, their erstwhile second in command, rolled her eyes. “He’s just fucking weird.” “Are you sure he’s okay? How can he possibly breathe like that?” Igo frowned in worry, which wasn’t surprising for the man who had accidentally become their de facto team therapist. “What he needs,” Thirteen pointed in what would have been a dramatic gesture if not for the drunken stumble, “is a goo’ pair o’ tits to bury his face in.”

Red is the Rose (Complete!)

When Roche gives Iorveth a rose of remembrance, Iorveth doesn't know what to think. Legend has it that if you give a rose to someone you love, then it’ll live forever, but surely that can't be true. After all, Roche is his enemy.

Run Away With Me

Summary: Iorveth and Roche spend a starlit night together. “Run away with me,” he murmured, only half aware of the words he was saying. But when Iorveth froze, they truly processed and suddenly cold fear gripped him. He stuttered a correction, “I mean – I know, obviously, you can’t just leave your people. It’s – I–” Iorveth cupped his face, cutting off the stream of words. “Vernon,” Iorveth said, voice soft and wondrous. “Vernon,” he said again, tugging Roche forward into a desperate kiss, full of wanting and longing and regret. Even though Roche already knew the answer – of course they couldn’t just run away together – he still had to close his eyes and brace himself against the words he knew were coming when Iorveth drew back again. “Cariad,” Iorveth whispered, stroking his face. “Were my life my own, I would go anywhere with you.”

Scenes from Another World

Summary: Standalone scenes based on different trope AUs, but set in the canon Witcher universe.

Sentiment and Condescension

Summary:  Roche hadn’t been planning to go to the Vengelbud party, but as soon as Emhyr told him not to... Now if he could just get Iorveth to leave him alone, he could get wasted in peace.

Seven Seconds in Holding 

Summary: Iorveth is very, very unclear on how his last fight with the Blue Stripes led to him here, spooning Roche in the Blue Stripes’ holding cell, both their wrists cuffed together.

Spousal Privilege

Summary: Stuck at a diplomatic conference, Roche is frustrated that none of the elves in the room will even acknowledge he exists. Then Iorveth enters and it's like seeing an old friend. And then somehow they end up pretending to be married.

A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Roche wakes up in a different world, one where he and Iorveth are raising Foltest's children in the dwarven city of Vergen.

These Boots (are gonna walk all over you)

Rated E

Summary: Neither Iorveth nor Roche had expected their fight to go like this. Inspired by this gorgeous art.

Time is Cruel, To Rob Us from Ourselves 

WiP

Summary: An AU of Don’t Cry for Me, Temeria/(Im)Perfect Strangers where a magical artifact sends everyone back through events of Iorveth’s past. Iorveth is less than pleased, but the insights into his character may be invaluable for more than one person present.

Under Pressure 

WiP

Rated E

Summary: When Iorveth defeats Vernon Roche, he intends to take his time interrogating his enemy. Fortunately, an abandoned mage’s house nearby provides him with the perfect toys to make this fun.

The Value of a Man

WiP

Summary: When Iorveth finally defeats Roche, he decides that such a valuable prisoner is worth ransoming back to the King. After all, surely the King's Enforcer is worth a few concessions to elven rights. Right?

To Weave The Strands of Fate (NEW!)

WiP

Summary: There is a tradition in Velen. Whenever a child is born within Velen, a lock of their hair is cut off and gifted to the Ladies of the Wood. According to whispered legends, the Lady Weavess could add the hair to her loom and thereby change their Fate.

What Happens in the Cave-In Stays in the Cave-In

WiP

Summary: When Iorveth and Roche’s fight ends abruptly because of a cave in, they find themselves trapped together as they wait to be unburied. In the meantime, Roche is injured and Iorveth has herbs that could help - but all he knows about humans is “they need more”.

Wolves and Squirrels and Stripes

Rated E

Geralt/Iorveth/Roche

Summary:  A collection of Witcher 2 short fics featuring Geralt, Iorveth, and Roche. Chapter 1: Iorveth had never expected this to happen when Geralt invited him to visit Kaer Morhen.

Saskia Fics:

Damned Be The Thoughts That Refuse To Leave (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Iorveth/Roche

Summary: When Saskia gifted him a toy shaped like a large human penis, Iorveth had sworn he would never use it. After all, it wasn't as if there were any humans he desired... right?

Shared Custody (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Iorveth/Roche

Summary: Iorveth wasn't sure how walking into Saskia's office to see her talking with Vernon Roche of all people led to the three of them jammed into a closet with him in the middle, but he supposed it could be worse.

What Goes Around Comes Around (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Philippa

Summary: Philippa decides to give Saskia a little treat to wake up to. Saskia repays her in full.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 29 of 26

Title: The House in the Cerulean Sea (2020)

Author: TJ Klune

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Comedy, Romance, Found Family, LGBT Protagonist, Third-Person 

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 10/13/2020

Date Finished: 10/18/2020

Linus Baker, a forty-year-old caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth (DICOMY), lives a solitary and mundane life. But when he’s summoned by Extremely Upper Management and given a top-secret case, everything changes. Linus is sent to the classified Marsyas Island and tasked with investigating an orphanage housing six dangerous magical children-- including the Antichrist. He is to live among the residents for one month, record his observations, and report back to the organization. No more, no less. 

The master of the house, Arthur Parnassus, is a mysterious and enigmatic man. But Linus soon learns that Arthur will do anything to protect his wards. As Linus grows closer to Arthur and the children, a secret from the past and prejudice of the present threaten to destroy the orphanage and their way of life. Linus must decide if he can abandon the world he knows in order to help the ones that need it the most. 

"Fire and ash!” Lucy bellowed as he paced back and forth. “Death and destruction! I, the harbinger of calamity will bring pestilence and plague to the people of this world. The blood of the innocents will sustain me, and you will all fall to your knees in benediction as I am your god.” 

He bowed. 

The children and Mr. Parnassus clapped politely. Theodore chirped and spun in a circle. 

Linus gaped. 

“That was a lovely story, Lucy,” Mr. Parnassus said. “I especially liked your use of metaphors. Keep in mind that pestilence and plague are technically the same thing, so it did get a little repetitious at the end, but other than that, quite impressive. Well done.” 

Minor spoilers and content warning(s) under the cut. 

Content warnings for the book: Semi-detailed discussions of child abuse and trauma. Internalized fatphobia (challenged). Structural discrimination, and hatred/prejudice associated with that, some of it internalized. 

I'm going to have a hard time reviewing this book, because it was so goddamn good I don’t think I’ll do it justice in a few short paragraphs. So here’s the fast version: The House in the Cerulean Sea was a fucking delight to read from the first page. It’s full of genuine humor, magic, and charm, while being just this side of heart-wrenching. Though geared toward adults, it’s the first novel I’ve read in a long time that captures that childlike enthusiasm I used to have when reading a good fantasy book. It takes place in a world with magic (obviously), but it’s 98% character-driven. Both the main plot and the (queer!) romantic subplot are woven together so well that neither feel tacked on or lacking. The found family hit me in the emotions again and again and again. I read books out loud, and I spent the last third of this book struggling because I kept fucking crying and having to take regular breaks before continuing. And then I went through the whole book to find a good quote for this review and ended up fucking crying again. So yeah. 

Ok. Got that off my chest. Usually in these reviews I talk about what I liked and then what didn't work for me or confused me. The good news (?) is I have zero complaints or critiques on this one. So you just get to hear me gushing about it for a while.  

Since this is a character-driven book that’s where I’ll start. Linus Baker, the protagonist, is great. Let me just say I love speculative fiction books starring older characters. At forty, Linus isn’t old, but it feels like the majority of spec fic stars people under thirty. Linus is also a conspicuously ordinary guy; prim and proper to a fault, no magic, oblivious in many ways (including to his own loneliness), but with a hidden sense of justice and protectiveness for people that comes out more and more. His development over the course of the novel and how much he grows to love and care for the other characters is just so good. The writing draws attention to this through repeated phrases and jokes one doesn’t expect to make a comeback (more on that later). Seeing him come out of his shell and stand up for what’s right is cathartic as hell. As a side note, it’s also nice to have a fat protagonist who struggles with his self-image but gets warm affirmation and support from his family and love interest. 

Arthur Parnassus, the deuteragonist and said love interest, is more of an enigma. A lot of his motivation and behavior makes sense once you get his Tragic Backstory (TM), and I think this will be a fun book to reread based on that. I picked up on some of it before the reveal, but not everything. But without spoiling it, I do love seeing an older (mid-forties) father figure who would do literally anything to make sure the children on the island have the care and love they need. Seeing his patient love and acceptance of them tugs my heartstrings. Maybe I’m a bit of a sap. Linus and Arthur’s obvious mutual crush on each other is also really cute, okay. There’s something about older queer people finding love that makes me smile. 

And the children are great too, of course. I really liked each of them and thought they were all unique and interesting. My favorites are probably Lucy the six-year-old Antichrist, Sal the were-Pomeranian (his arc just really hit home for me), and Talia the gnome. They all have such distinct and fun personalities, and seeing them interact is great and often hilarious. I’m not very paternal, but I love seeing children with sad/abusive pasts blossom into their best selves with love, guidance, and support. It’s uh, a little personal. I’d be remiss not to mention Zoe, the resident island sprite, who brings a whole lot of personality and rounds off the group. 

When I say the story is character-driven, I mean it. While a fantasy novel, there’s not any significant violence or action in the story (except for maybe one scene if you squint). The House in the Cerulean Sea is carried by its characters, interactions, and worldbuilding. The humor and inherent charm helps too -- and manages to do so without ever feeling trite. I can’t help but admire that. I was never bored; I honestly enjoyed every page because I liked the characters so much. Not to say there isn’t an overarching conflict with the whole DICOMY thing, but most of the focus is Linus struggling and coming to terms with his discoveries-- about the others and himself, and how he can make a difference on a grand scale. To me that kind of stuff is captivating. And boy does seeing someone find the place they belong get me. As I said, found family is a big thing in this book. 

Aside from that, the writing is just super; it literally had me laughing from the first page. I can’t believe the fucking lemur joke came back at the end, too. But on that subject, I love that this book utilizes recurring jokes and phrases to show Linus’ character development. In particular, “see something, say something” and “don’t you wish you were here?” have VERY specific meanings to Linus at the beginning of the story, and over time transform into the polar opposite. I’m  holding myself back because I don’t want to spoil shit, but if you read it you’ll see what I mean. There’s also a lot of meaningful callbacks to certain dialogue earlier in the story and I eat that kind of stuff up. But even small details, like the early quip about Linus forgetting his umbrella, come back to deliver an emotional gutpunch near the end. So thanks for that, Mr. Klune. 

The book really takes a turn in the second half of the story, which is a tad darker. Avoiding the Actual Spoilers, this is where prejudice and hatred of the outside world become a bigger part of the story. We learn what’s really at stake, and that this wonderful found family in the first half is threatened by a world that hates and fears them. Boy does that shit get emotional REAL quick. Yes the allegory is obvious. No, that’s not a bad thing. Ultimately, The House in the Cerulean Sea becomes a story about love, hope, and change; and boy does that shit strike my gay little heart right where it hurts. 

If you’re looking for a (literal) magical pick-me-up (ignore my comment about crying a whole lot) with INTENSE found family vibes and a side helping of queer mlm romance, dear God read The House in the Cerulean Sea. I don’t think I did it justice in this review; just trust me, it’s real good. My only complaint is that it ends; I want more, damn it! 

[best-enemies]

For the fandom ask meme thing can I request the whole damn alphabet or is that not very cash money of me? I’m nosy lmao I wanna know all of them!

AHDKAJSDKJAHSKDA JACK YOU’RE THE BEST

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

I’ve had my current OTP for like almost 8 years and it’s, obviously, Thoschei (Doctor/Master). My other current obsession is the Gallifrey OT4 hehehe

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

It’s funny because I didn’t ship Hannigram at first... I’d thought the idea of a cannibal having a relationship was terrifying because what if they had sex and Hannibal got hungry in the middle of the act? Lmaoooo 

But yeah they’re my endgame now. I watched the show when it first aired and I was about 14/15 years old so now you see why I thought that. Although I’m still afraid I’m gonna be reading a fic and Hannibal will suddendly bite Will’s dick off or smth AKJHSAKJSAHSASKAJ

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will (be nice)

Uhhh Doctor/Clara. Mainly because I don’t like to ship the Doctor with companions (there may be one or two exceptions but I don’t ship them enough to actually say I ship them lol) and I don’t know I just never vibed with it

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

Doctor/River. I mean, I did like it for a while years ago but now it’s just... eh. I think she has a waaay better chemistry with the 12th Doctor, but still don’t ship it. I might give it a try once I listen to the River audios but so far meh. I’m not much of a multishipper anyway.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

God. I’ve written a couple of Academy Era (focused on the Deca) crack fanfics and I still have to translate them to English. They’re pure garbage but I love them. I have a lot of fun writing crack fics because they’re easier and I can ignore whatever piece of canon I want just for the laughs

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom

Guess it’s Doctor Who, been here (in and out of the fandom) for over 8/9 years

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

Uhhhh I think it was Han Solo and Leia, since I was a kid really. I wanted to marry both of them lol

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)

I had to google what a source text is and still don’t know

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

I don’t think so, but Twitter definitively has. I remember a couple years ago I was curious to see what voltron was about and watched a few episodes, it was ok, fun and cute but the fandom was so annoying I stopped watching it for good and don’t care about it enough to pick it up again

J - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr

I had definitively forgotten about supernatural until I saw it all over my dashboard in the year of our lord 2020 lmao like in my wholock days I tried to watch the show because everyone on my dash (is it still called dashboard?) was talking about it and I watched about 8 episodes before dropping it. But seeing it again on the dash was actually a happy surprise because the memes are too funny hahaha

K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms

I’m extremely shy irl and on the internet as well but I wanna say that  @janeturenne is one of the best authors ever and her fanfics are a blessing in my life; also @thebraxiatelcollection who brings awesome content to my dash and is also one of the best authors. And of course, you, Jack, also one of the best authors god I’m so BLESSED

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

Uhhh I guess I’m neutral about the current companions. They’re not my favorites but I don’t really dislike them - they had a lot of potential and chibs came up with some good storylines but did not develop them well in my opinion. I think Graham is a fun grandpa whom I’m going to miss when he leaves; Ryan is cool and could’ve done a lot more if the writers had kept a few things, it’d be awesome if he vlogged all of their adventures. He’s like the one I was curious to see more but sadly didn’t feel a connection; and Yaz, I hope she’ll keep growing and that her friendship with the Doctor will finally be developed to a level we can connect to her.

It sounds weird because with the fam it’s always ‘what I wish could have been’ because I never felt really connected to them :(

M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you)

Ok... I don’t really ship Rey/Finn but I think it’s one of the sweetest ships ever, and if they ended up together I’d be happy. They love each other and are there for each other always so, yeah :D

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

I don’t know if I got the question right but it’s three things I wish I saw more in my main fandom? Well, if it’s that, then, 3 things about the Doctor Who fandom: 1) people having more civilized or light-hearted discussions about things. Like, I genuinely disliked an 8th doctor audio I listened once that my friends loved, and they made fun of me and we joked about it. Also once we were in a live twitch video playing among us and discussing doctor who, and then we got into a ship “discourse” as a joke and nobody really cared and just laughed because everyone knew it’s fictional shit so why get mad over it? 2) Doctor Who has a titanic amount of content, it’s all canon but at the same time it’s not, so who cares? If you want to listen to Big Finish audios and if you can afford it, then lisiten; if you can’t, it’s okay, no one has the right to tell you you’re less of a fan. Just tell them to fuck off; 3) The best way to keep fandom alive is by creating content. Here in my local fandom we have several podcasts dedicated to all areas of the whoniverse (the show, the expanded universe, the audios, etc), those old fandom websites who do serious work to bring news to the fans, people who make subtitles for the classic series (we don’t have it available here so they do their best to make it accessible to other fans), accounts dedicated to promoting dr who fans who create content, and we even have people making their own audiodramas with dw characters and writing book-lenght fanfiction to help explain the show to people who’ve never watched it, and a great variety of things. I’ve seen a few of these things in the international fandom, mostly by older fans, so I wish younger fans about my age who have the means to make this kind of stuff would make it too. Maybe there’d be less twitter drama out there lol

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

“the killing moon” by echo & the bunnymen reminds me of thoschei. yep it was totally random

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

The fact that we don’t have a pride and prejudice AU for brax/romana yet is driving me insane

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

I’ve mentioned it before but doctor/river, don’t really remember why idk I just don’t vibe with it anymore. But also because thoschei has so many different pairings in 1 ship that I don’t really feel the need to ship them with anyone else lol

R - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships

GOD I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT’S SO SPECIFIC ok fellow academy era stans gather around if you have read Divided Loyalties there’s a scene where it SHOWS that Magnus had a crush on Ushas. And NO ONE HAS EVER TALKED ABOUT THEM and the power couple they would’ve made. I write them into all my fanfics in hopes of making other people ship them but I’ve had no success so far

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

The Master is a big fan of musicals and in the 77 years he spent on earth he watched every single one ever. I’m gonna be bold and say that when he was young, still Koschei, he was an artist, and thought about dropping everything to become an actor on Gallifrey. Time Lords do appreciate art, and have their own plays, but it’s just the same old and boring ones the young people don’t care about. The Master then created a shocking performance that was way ahead of its time and the older Time Lords were so appalled they banned him from writing and presenting plays and that’s his villain origin story

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

1) The Doctor and the Master married on Gallifrey and the entire show is just them having the most litigious divorce in the universe (still isn’t final because the Master has killed all the judges); 2) Ushas/The Rani is ace; 3) The Deca was a 10 people polyamorous relationship; 4) Romana and Livia were girlfriends at the Academy and they hate each other now because the break up was baad; 5) Romana writes fanfiction; 6) Romana/Leela had a thing in Davidia I KNOW it; 7) Leela pegs Narvin; 8) Brax has a life-size painting of Romana at his collection or a statue or smth; 9) Brax’s dream in Reborn is actually REAL and he’s married to Romana, Leela and Narvin all at the same time

U - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

I don’t even think I’m in 5 fandoms but

Doctor Who: The Master, The Doctor, Romana, Leela, Sarah Jane, Bill (this was the hardest thing ever)

The X-Files: Mulder, Scully, Monica, and can I add The Lone Gunmen too?

Star Wars: Leia, Obi-Wan, Finn, Poe Dameron and honorable mention to Din Djarin and Grogu

Hannibal: Hannibal, Will, Bev, Alana, Chiyoh

V - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms

That’s hard

Doctor Who: thoschei ofc, gallifrey ot4.......... uuhh as you can see i don’t ship many pairings in the show

The X-Files: Mulder and Scully. And whatever Scully and Monica had going on because they definitively flirted

Star Wars: Poe/Finn, Han/Leia, whatever Han/Lando had going on too

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

WHATVASHAJSKAJSA ok this is a little embarassing but I don’t have a lot of kinks for many ships... I guess I have some for thoschei like, choking, whipping, blindfolds/gagging, bondage, begging, biting, sem-public, phone sex, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, etc. Alright alright I know it’s a lot but in my defense they've shown half of these on the show

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

The Master, Romana, Leela, Brax, Narvin, Bill Potts, Martha Jones, Sarah Jane, Donna Noble, Lucie Miller. No particular order for most of them but the Master is my precious baby and I will die for this mf

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

Not many, usually the people I follow are in the same fandoms as I am but I’ve seen some mutuals reblog some Hadestown stuff which is a play that I’ve never seen but definitively would because the protagonists look hot 

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but encouraged)

I DON’T KNOW WHAT DOES IT MEAN

it took me three hours to do this but it was fun!! thank you bb <3

[bensboynton]

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody. 

Until today. 

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions. 

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone. 

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place. 

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop. 

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her. 

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book. 

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it. 

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman. 

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly. 

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day. 

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it. 

Y/N has never truly been in love. 

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies. 

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.” 

That’s what she said every time. 

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye. 

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life? 

And then he showed up. 

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop. 

Until one day, she didn’t anymore. 

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake. 

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever. 

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose. 

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her. 

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading. 

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her. 

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago. 

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound. 

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.” 

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.” 

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say. 

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation. 

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.” 

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him. 

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

She grinned at his eagerness. 

--

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve. 

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left. 

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number. 

--

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store. 

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu. 

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor. 

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” 

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment. 

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.  

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time. 

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?” 

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand. 

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.” 

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

--

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things. 

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell. 

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much. 

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.” 

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker. 

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was. 

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life. 

--

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration). 

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time. 

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that. 

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day. 

Y/N and Ben got very close. 

Insanely close. 

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts). 

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben. 

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben. 

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more. 

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left. 

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben. 

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news. 

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news. 

He was leaving. 

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.” 

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk. 

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?” 

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.” 

--

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other. 

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose. 

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that. 

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her. 

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving. 

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant. 

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks. 

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something. 

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her. 

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do. 

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up. 

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door. 

Ben. 

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace. 

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain. 

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons. 

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-” 

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months. 

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly. 

It felt like they were made to be together. 

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle. 

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore. 

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep. 

Slowly, then all at once. 

[jeanjauthor]

It's not okay to use slurs, even in a historical context.

It’s not okay to use slurs...but we need to think about more than just the moment.

I think that we should follow Looney Tune’s example, regarding their “Golden Collection” cartoons.  They now give a statement preceding each of these cartoons, saying in essence:

‘... some of the cartoons contain content that is  politically incorrect by today's standards, but will be shown uncut and uncensored for historical reasons, "because removing these inexcusable images and jokes from this collection would be the same as saying [these prejudices] never existed".’

Whitewashing (in the sense of erasing) prejudices found in the past doesn’t help our present at all, in my opinion.  We literally ignored racism as a culture (white culture) in this nation after the Civil Rights movement because we deluded ourselves into thinking “everything’s great now, racism is in the past!”  Yet flamingly obviously it never was, and never will be so long as we cling to the idea of erasing our problems and denying our pains.

The most important difference between Germany and the rest of the world regarding the aftermath of WWII is that they made sure that each successive generation learned, and learned from, the horrors of the Third Reich, the Nazi regime, the Holocaust, and the callous disregard or willful obliviousness of themselves, their parents, their grandparents and great-grandparents, teaching these lessons from generation to generation.

To erase any bigotry or racism that happened once upon a time is to erase the pain the people in that era felt, the struggles that they survived...or did not survive.  Yet to slap it in people’s faces is painful for today’s folks.  So the best solution is to preface with the context, and to be willing to engage in good-faith dialogues about which things have changed, which have not, and what can be done to change our current culture for the better.

Ignoring a problem does not make that problem go away. It allows the garbage to rot and the old wounds to fester.  To address a problem, you have to admit the problem exists, or existed, or will continue to exist if you don’t, y’know, acknowledge and address it.

The thing with writing historical stories is that we need to remember that it wasn’t a case of stark, blanket racism everywhere.  Some people did try to address these problems.  Not nearly enough (duh), but there were individuals, families, businesses, and even communities that chose to be welcoming rather than racist or restrictive.  It’s not ahistorical to have your characters encountering racism (again, duh), but it’s also not ahistorical to have them combatting it, whether through direct confrontation or kindness.

If you’re quoting actual people in a factual historical account, it is wrong to leave out any racist slurs they might have used. But you do need to remind your readers that this was a previous era, and these days demand better behavior.  If you’re writing a fictional story, the protagonists (good guys/gals) should definitely not use the slurs, and get upset when they are being used.  Your story doesn’t have to have slurs of course...but the setting will dictate that far more than anything.

If it does contain slurs, then their use should be placed in both an historical context and a modern-day censuring, aka used only by those who are ignorant but correctable, or by villain characters.  And if they are used, there does need to be a content warning (#cw) between the title page and the start of the story, a mention of what kind of content it is (just as for any other content warning or trigger warning content), and a variation of the Looney Tunes preface should definitely be used.

It’s easy to make the context clear to modern readers that bigoted behavior was not acceptable back then--no matter what the majority might have thought--and that it’s certainly no longer acceptable now, and to do so without erasing & thus denying all the suffering that the targetted folks in the past endured.  If anyone has difficulty in doing so, they’ll simply need to practice, and need to pay sensitivity readers and need to listen to those advisors...or just stick to writing stories set in worlds without our massive widespread racism problems.

(Just be advised that no culture is completely unproblematic. Hell, even Star Trek with its quasi-utopian future of universal basic income, all needs met, etc was, is, and will never be 100% perfect.)

For that matter, no writer is perfect. I’ve written things in my past that stemmed from ignorance & obliviousness that I’m not pleased to admit I wrote.  I won’t deny that I wrote them (especially the crap that got published).  That would be wrong, and rude, and stupid. But I am (and will continue) trying to be a better person and a more conscientious writer.

I won’t erase the slurs of the past.  I’ve been hurt by bigoted slurs (not racist but certainly fatphobic, homophobic, misogynistic, etc), and I don’t want anyone to erase and thus deny the pain I felt when those were inflicted upon me.  How could I deny all those in the past who were discriminated against for those things and more? I’d be betraying my own feelings to deny such things happened.  I’d be covering over an uncleansed wound, making it fester and sicken...and pretending it didn’t hurt me wouldn’t get others to stop doing it obliviously.  (Can’t do anything about those who do it maliciously, but some folks just don’t realize it.)

I will put such things into context, I will quote bigoted assholes factually in non-fiction works...and if I’m writing fiction, I’m going to make it clear contextually to my readers that such behavior is villainous & reprehensible.  It always was, and it always will be.  Covering it up, ignoring it, pretending it never happened...will never fix the problem.

If we see something that is wrong, if we acknowledge its existence, then we have the chance to fix it.

I’m done burying my head in the sand, and I’m certainly not going to go around sticking my fingers in my ears, yelling “lalalalala, caaan’t hear youuuuu, it never haaappennnned!”

I’d rather fix things and move on...but also stay vigilant against old callous habits returning & resuming their unwanted bad behaviors.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 53: Epilogue

Sunday June 29th, 2036 - Talk Story Bookstore, Kauai, Hawaii.

Stepping inside Talk Story after two decades had passed was surreal. It remained essentially the same, right down to the red painted walls. I, too, remained essentially the same, if you ignored the wrinkles that had begun to etch themselves into the flesh of my fifty-eight-year-old face…laugh lines, frown lines, and a downright furrow between my eyebrows from a lifetime of what-the-fuckery. The grey hair that had first appeared when I found myself wrangling three children all under the age of five was now expertly masked with copious amounts of dye applied by the talented folks at Zig-Zag Hair & Body. I still did yoga on a regular basis, more now that the kids were…well, grown, I guess. For the most part. Which was really a mind-blower, as is everything else associated with the passage of time in regard the human condition. Aging, kids, is not for the weak. No one tells you that if you sleep too long, your body parts will hurt. Your tits will sag, you’ll pee your pants when you cough, sneeze, or laugh too hard, your hands will ache if you, you know, use them to do stuff…like hold books. Your knees will creak to the point where you aren’t sure if it’s you making sounds or the stairs you’re descending. After you’ve finished a round of particularly vigorous doggy-style, you’ll find yourself uncertain as to which will be more detrimental…remaining in place or attempting to get off the bed. It’s an unimaginable brutality, standing powerless against the effects of time on your physical being while the inner you, the corporeal you, does not follow suit. This Maude was the same Maude who had married the love of her life in this very place, right down to her limitless desire for Lindor truffles and continued disgust at the idea of pineapples on pizza. I can, however, confirm that time does aid in the healing process, which is how we ended up back on Kauai. Each year that passed put more distance between us and the horror we’d endured, and little by little we were able to work through it, first by being able to actually view our wedding photos and videos, then feel small bits of joy while doing so, until finally, sixteen years out, the fear and anxiety was almost fully overridden by that joy. And here we were, on the day of our 20th wedding anniversary, right where it had all begun.

Some unpleasant memories, though faded and dim, still lingered, and as a result neither Tom nor I could bring ourselves to return to the Coconut Beach Marriott. The kids were all aware of the circumstances surrounding our wedding and the days that followed, as we’d vowed to be open and honest about it if the subject ever came up, because we preferred that they learned the truth from us rather than believing what they might have seen on the internet. Two years ago the need for the ‘the talk’ had arisen, and Henry’s reaction had utterly floored me…he’d leapt up off the couch, pulled me into his arms and whispered that he’d hoped his presence had brought me some comfort and that he wished he’d been able to do more. He’d turned nineteen in February, my firstborn, and even though as a parent you’re not supposed to, like, have a favorite…he was, in fact, my favorite, at least in the sense that there was a depth and level of understanding between us that was akin to psychic connection. Perhaps it was due to our shared trauma, or perhaps it was the trauma that caused me to relate to him differently…though in the end, it didn’t matter because I’d never expressed such a sentiment out loud, nor would I. Besides, I’d always known that he already knew anyway.

 Henry…also known as Our Son the Writer, as well as Indy Gallagher, his chosen pen name. He’d taught himself to read at age four, having grown frustrated with Tom and I not being able to drop whatever we were in the middle of, which was usually dealing with one of his siblings, in order to do it on his behalf. From that point forward, books and the stories they contained were his passion…he was never without reading material, absorbing any and all information he encountered and losing himself completely in imagined realities, always longing for more. It was that longing which set him upon the path to becoming an author when he was thirteen, having found himself unwilling and unable to accept that George R. R. Martin’s ‘A Song of Fire and Ice’ series had gone unfinished and deciding he’d tackle the task on his own. A year and many kudos on AO3 later he’d started to build his own fictional universe, and when he self-published the first book of the series, ‘Times Prior’, in August of 2034 it sold a half-a-million copies inside of sixty days without any marketing whatsoever. The main characters were inter-dimensional entities left stranded on Earth, their memories thought to have been wiped clean, and the story followed their journey as they sought to combine the snippets of their past that remained into a single coherent whole that revealed their history while attempting to covertly integrate with humanity. Book two, ‘Presented Puzzles’ had been released in early December of last year, hitting the million mark within two weeks. Though I already had first edition tucked away at home, I hoped to find one here to purchase so I could secure the receipt to the flyleaf with a notation that this copy had been purchased from the location where Indy Gallagher’s own story had begun.

 When I felt Tom’s hand on my back as he stopped to stand on my left, I turned my head his way, peering upward. Though he had his share of wrinkles and his hair, which he’d taken to wearing long enough to brush his chin, had gone completely grey at the temples with salt and pepper throughout the rest, the fucker did NOT look fifty-five. Not to me, anyway…when you’re young and you imagine being fifty-five it seems so damn old, but when it’s staring you in the face, or especially once you’ve passed it by yourself, not so much. There were still bricks in his stomach, his ass remained quarter-bounce ready, and, now that the Hiddlespawn had matured, I took advantage of the Silver Fox Hotness Level One Billion as often as humanly possible. As you do. He grinned at me, then leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with his own.

 “Well, here we are, my love, at long last. How the ever-loving fuck has it been twenty years? Speaking of…perhaps I can interest you in a waltz down memory lane via a certain out-of-the way restroom?”

 My jaw dropped open. “Oh my god, how dare you? Since when am I the kind of woman who has sex in public places?”

 He laughed, tongue poking out between his teeth. “To the best of my recollection, since…forever.”

 I crossed my arms, eyes rolling skyward. “Your recollection has clearly become unreliable, old man.”

 “Mmm hmm. Meet me there in twenty?”

 "Absofuckingloutely." I uncrossed my arms with the intention of pinching his nipple through the fabric of his white V-neck T-shirt, but was interrupted by the arrival of our entourage as they filed through the door and filtered into the space around us.

 Simon settled in to my right, with Luke at his side, as per usual. Simon’s approach to aging was best described as rage, rage against the dying of the light…his hair remained blonde, though these days, much like Tom, he’d been wearing it longer, so much so that he occasionally sported a ponytail. Just a ponytail, never, ever a man bun. Never. I was, and I quote, to ‘dispatch him quickly and without prejudice’ if I ever witnessed him committing such an unforgivable offense. Fillers and chemical peels were a regular occurrence, as were weekly spa visits and a thorough daily skin cleansing and hydrating regimen. He made use of our gym more than Tom or I did and had taken up running more than a decade ago, which he’d deemed necessary in order to have enough physical stamina to open his own restaurant. It was a joint venture with his son Roland, aptly named Ka-Tet…with permission from Uncle Steve, of course, who was still cranking out wordy goodness at eighty-nine. It was located close to home, near Regent’s Park in the space formerly occupied by Odette’s, with a décor that was best described as dystopian spaghetti western. There was no set menu…Simon decided he’d be preparing whatever the fuck he felt like making on any given day, take it or leave it…and they were only open Friday and Saturday nights, which created an air of exclusivity that resulted in the place being booked almost a year in advance. It was perfect work-life balance for him, and whenever anyone mentioned how youthful he appeared he’d nod and reply that all credit belonged to his favorite preservation method…daily alcohol infusions.

 Luke remained at the helm of Prosper, though he’d pulled back significantly since Ka-Tet had opened and essentially served only in an advisory capacity. He’d begun to lose his hair just prior to turning forty, and he’d opted to just shave it all off and embrace baldness as opposed to undergoing transplants or wearing a toupee. It suited him, honestly, and his penchant for quirky glasses and three-day stubble seemed to transform him into the way he was always meant to look. Scholarly, like a college professor. Which he and Simon had role-played, as I’d been forced to discover even though my hands were covering my ears, because Simon wouldn’t take no for an answer and spoke louder instead when I requested that he keep that shit to himself. I watched as he reached for Simon’s hand without even a glance downward, their fingers twining together in a gesture so often repeated it was automatic, built into the fabric of their muscle memory. They turned to smile at each other, then shifted their gazes in unison to focus on their daughters as they passed by to their right.

 Seph’s light brown hair was wound up in a bun that rested at the base of her neck, dressed in a light blue linen tank dress that matched the frames of her glasses. She resembled Luke a great deal, other than her lips and nose, the former much fuller, the latter more rounded at the tip. Her frame was lithe, almost lanky, and she stood an inch or two taller than me sans heels. In the fall she’d be returning to Cambridge for her second year in pursuit of her BA Tripos Degree in Law, after which she intended to obtain a Masters in Law, then finally a Doctorate in Law. Ez, who was essentially a carbon copy of Simon as far as physicality was concerned, was currently a student at the New York School of Design and would be heading back to the city after our vacation. She’d just finished the Fashion Design certificate program and was scheduled to intern at Manhattan Fashion in the Garment District from July 15th through September 1st, at which point she’d return to NYSD to complete their Couture and Menswear programs back to back.  She’d designed the dress Seph was wearing, as well as her own, a white cotton sleeveless wrap-around that hugged her curves and accentuated her impossibly tiny waist. Which I supposed was made possible, along with exceptional genetics, by running six days a week, an activity she’d often participated in with the other masochists in my life…Simon, Tom and Henry. Now that she was based in New York it was solely Henry, their ability to pair up simplified by the fact that both of them resided in the same building, Henry in my old apartment, Ez in hers two floors below. He was standing next to her, dwarfing her five-foot-six frame with his own, his height topping out at six-foot-one, just an inch shy of Tom’s. His hair, worn shoulder-length, was black like my mother’s but curly like mine, eyes identical to Tom’s in shape and color. He had Tom’s nose as well, but my lips and jaw. Like his father, he was lean but muscular, blessed with a gracefulness that I had never possessed. He’d relocated to New York the previous summer to focus on writing, opting to forgo college in the wake of the success of his debut novel. I agreed that college would be a waste, being a firm believer in the fact that one could either write, or couldn’t, but I’d called bullshit on the ‘going away to focus’ aspect, at least privately when Tom and I discussed it. He and Ez had always been very good friends, nearly inseparable, and I felt it in my bones that the real reason he’d decided to leave London was so they could remain in close proximity to one another. Her desire to live in the same building had been presented as great way for both of them to adjust to new surroundings without feeling isolated, which was true, but again, my bones had whispered that there was something bubbling beneath the surface. There had been no confirmation as yet, and I’d stopped mentioning it when Tom, the most hopeless romantic amongst all hopeless romantics, told me I was turning into an even more hopeless romantic than he’d ever been. But it hadn’t stopped me from, you know, looking for signs.

A flash of flaming red glimpsed out of the corner of my eye caused me to turn and look to my left, basking in the breathtaking sight of the whirling dervish that was our daughter, Mona Diane Hiddleston, born at sunset on Wednesday, June 17th, 2018. Her hair was the color of my father’s and Tom’s paternal grandmother’s, wavy like Tom’s, worn long and loose and hanging halfway down her back. Her eyes were brown like mine, and shaped like them as well, but the rest of her face was all Tom. She was five-foot-nine, and often described as a force of nature, at which point I’d smile and say that I had not the slightest idea who she’d gotten that sort of personality from. She’d be relocating to New York in mid-August to begin her dual-enrollment program at Julliard, studying both Instruments and Composition with the goal of a Doctorate in Musical Arts and a career as a conductor in mind. Unlike me, she could read and write music, and play any instrument she was handed with little to no training. Her singing voice was exceptional, her range higher than mine though not quite as broad, but she’d never expressed any interest in developing it other than participating in the school chorus because she needed an elective to flesh out her schedule. Mona had been our ‘difficult’ child…as a baby she’d been fussy, easily irritated with a sleep schedule that was measured in fifteen-minute increments, and as a toddler we’d dealt with outbursts and tantrums over what we considered to be thoroughly minor issues, such as the lights being too bright, her clothes being too tight, or the seams of her socks being ‘wrong’. Throughout it all, the only consistent way to soothe her had been with music, be it listening to it or creating her own using our piano, pots and pans, or anything else that provided rhythmic sounds. Shortly after she turned five, she was diagnosed with sensory processing disorder, which we learned later on went hand-in-hand with her being highly gifted. All three kids were, which wasn’t exactly a surprise given Tom’s and my placement on the IQ scale, but giftedness manifests differently in each individual with a variety of traits, some more challenging to cope with than others. Once we’d established a methodology for managing her SPD, she was like a different human being…strong, steadfast, boisterous, fully confident in her sense of self and intent on extracting each and every thing she expected from this world without apology. And my god, I was so very, very fucking proud to be her mother. And honored. She’d noticed I was staring at her and had just opened her mouth to ask me why when our youngest bounded out from behind her, paused briefly at her left, then pivoted to park himself directly in front of her.  

 Sean James Hiddleston, born Friday, October 23rd, 2020 five minutes before midnight, named as such due to the fact that the blue hue of the eyes that peered up at me when he opened them for the first time was identical to my father’s. He’d been a complete surprise, so much so that I hadn’t even realized I was pregnant until I was three months in…at 42, I’d figured missed periods meant I was embarking on the journey into menopause, and when Tom suggested that perhaps I should take a pregnancy test I’d laughed and laughed. Henry had just turned three and Mona wasn’t quite two, and when I saw the giant plus sign in the test window the laughter faded damn fucking quick when I realized Tom and I would shortly be outnumbered by a trio of ankle biters all under the age of four. After the initial shock dissipated, we were overjoyed, in awe of how the universe continued to be so generous to us, providing yet another miracle. By the time I’d begun to show Henry was cognizant enough to ask questions, and when I informed him he’d soon have a new brother or sister his face had paled and he’d whispered ‘Mamma, will it be like Mona?’, causing Tom to run out of the room, unable to keep his shit together, while I comforted Henry by explaining that every baby is different, the entire time asking myself the same question he had internally. As it happened any worries about his temperament were for naught, because Sean had been a jovial soul right from the get go. He was the child, however, that we had to keep the closest eye on because if left to his own devices even for a second he’d be into something he shouldn’t have been, and when confronted he’d just grin and simply say ‘But I’m learning things.’ Even still, at fifteen-going-on-thirty, he uttered that same phrase at least once a day. Sometimes more. Like when I’d caught him trying to remotely hack into my brand new Alienware laptop two weeks prior…you know, just to see if he could. And, of course, he could. Of all three children he resembled Tom the most, blond wavy hair, same blue eyes, nose and jaw…the only bit of me in his face were his lips. He’d begun his adolescent growth spurt just after Christmas and had shot up from five-nine to six-two in what seemed like no time whatsoever, and if I did a side-by-side of him and Tom from his Eton days it wasn’t easy to tell who was who. Despite their physical similarities, Sean had been cursed with my lack of grace and had already broken almost every toe and sprained various extremities on the regular. He had been blessed, however, with my engineering and mathematical skills, and his abilities made an accelerated program via online courses the best option for him after he’d finished year six. Once he turned sixteen he’d be permitted entry into Cambridge’s School of Technology, where he planned to focus on Computer Science, but the next round of required classes wouldn’t be available until fall of 2037. Starting in September of this year he’d be officially interning at CodeHex, working both with me and other high-level employees across our departments. I say ‘officially’ because he’d been interning in an unofficial capacity for nearly four years, popping in every weekday as soon as he’d finished his online courses back at our flat. When he was a preschooler he’d spent a good bit of time there as well, at my side or on my lap, as I worked to establish the CodeHex company and brand during my ‘free’ hours while Henry and Mona were at school. On the first day of his own year one he’d frowned as Tom and I hugged and kissed him goodbye outside the school’s entrance, stating that while he was very excited to make all sorts of new friends and learn new things, he’d very much miss his old job and old friends. Then he’d spotted a girl with a Captain Marvel backpack and promptly ditched us in order to run over and introduce himself, turning back to wave and smile at us before returning his attention to her and walking into the building while Tom and I stood on the sidewalk crying our eyes out like a couple of schumucks.

 He’d moved closer to me, though still blocking his sister, arms raised and hands extended, palms toward Tom and I as he spoke.

 “This is it, then, is it Mum? Where you and Dad met? All those years ago? Right here? In this bookshop?”

 I nodded. “Yeppir. Also where we got engaged, and where we got married.”

 Tom elbowed me, and Simon twisted his torso sideways to gawk at me, his head cocked to the right.

 “Woman, have you finally lost your mind? You were married at the Marriot. I was there, looking resplendent in my purple tux while you puked in the bushes, remember?”

 Opting to attempt to make a royal fuck-up appear as if it were a conscious choice, I turned my head towards him, index finger of my right hand raised and pointing toward his chest. “Well, you’re not totally wrong…we were married at the Marriot, but that was actually our second ceremony. The first one happened here, right after midnight so it was officially on the twenty-ninth.”

 Simon gasped, placing his right hand over his heart, finders splayed wide. “Are you telling me right now, twenty fucking years later, that the two of you snuck off and got married without your best friends and spent the entire next day pretending your entirely invalid not at all legally binding apparently just for show wedding ceremony was one-hundred-percent genuine?”

 I bit my lip and glanced skyward briefly, then back at Simon. “Yes. Yes I am.”

 He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Maude Hiddleston, I have never been prouder of you than I am at this moment, you sneaky little MINX. How did you keep it a secret this whole time?”

 I shrugged. “Only four people on the planet knew…me, Tom, the judge and Roger Marshal.” While researching our trip we’d learned that Roger had passed away in 2033, but his daughter Denise had taken over the business. Tom and I planned on seeking her out during our visit, but hadn’t provided any advance notice as we felt that expressing our condolences in person would be most appropriate since Talk Story, and her father, had played such an important role in our lives. I poked Simon’s left pec with my right index finger. “Shouldn’t you be all ragey because you weren’t there or something?”

 He released my shoulders and crossed his arms in front of him, rested his right elbow in his left hand as he tapped his lips with his left index finger, then pointed it at me. “You know what? I fucking should be. But I’m not. Because I’m sure it was all mushy-mushy gushy-gushy and there was probably sniffling and crying and Shakespearean sonnet level verbal exchanges and therefore I’m dropping it in the ‘glad to have missed it’ bucket.” He mock-gagged, and as I swatted at him he pulled back and away, flipping me double birds.

 Mona stepped out from behind Sean, her head tilted to the left. “Well that diminishes both the impact and validity of all those lectures on the critical importance of honesty a bit, doesn’t it?”

 Tom roared with laughter, and I smirked. “I look forward to opening the box that contains my ‘HYPOCRITE’ T-shirt this coming Christmas morning. Men’s 2 XL, please. Black with white lettering. Maybe a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ on the back written in a script font?”

 Henry raised his hand as he joined in. “Oh! Oh! There must be some photographic evidence of the clandestine ceremony hidden away somewhere, I’d imagine? That absolutely needs to be on the T-shirt’s front-side. And Dad’s complicit, so we’ll have to have one made for him as well.”

 Sean grinned. “If such evidence exists, you can count on me to track it down.”

 I glanced over at Tom, who was still chuckling. “This whole kid thing…your idea, wasn’t it? I can’t fathom having done this to myself without being coerced by an insanely hot dude via repeated seductions until I…”

 All three of them screeched in unison. “MUM!”

 Tom pointed at them in turn. “The lesson here, progeny of mine, in case you needed a refresher course…your mother is a master of diversionary tactics and especially enjoys their implementation when the outcome is likely her having…hmm…how shall I phrase this delicately?”

 I snorted. “What your voluble father is attempting to convey without incurring my wrath is…the last word. I like having the last word. He neglected to mention that no topic is off limits in the pursuit of achieving that particular goal. So, shall we move on or would you prefer that I begin my dissertation on our wedding night activities?”

 Again, in unison, with Simon, Luke, Seph and Ez joining in this time around. “MOVE ON.”

 We all split off then, singly for some, in pairs for others, and wandered around the shop. Tom and I paused in the precise spot I’d been standing two decades earlier, narrowing down my reading options for what I’d thought would be hours of alone time on the beach. His arm slipped around my waist, and I circled his in turn, each of us leaning into the other, silent in our contemplation of the Before and the After, which is how we both viewed the stages of our lives prior to and since crossing paths. I could hear Sean exclaiming to Mona that he’d located the music section and that she just had to come see it immediately, Seph and Luke laughing as Simon assured them that yes, he did in fact still enjoy reading the Twilight Series novels and that there was nothing wrong with having a little vampy wolfie sad girl angsty fluff in your life thank you very much, and then, footsteps behind us…a strange echo of the past, and this time I didn’t hesitate to spin around to see who they belonged to. Tom did the same seconds afterward, and before us was a woman wearing a tea-length bright green tank dress, her jet-black hair worn in two braids that hung nearly to her waist. She smiled, and my mouth dropped open when I took note of her name tag. She smiled, realizing I’d recognized her.

 “Aloha, Hiddlestons. Welcome back to Talk Story.”

 I shook my head in disbelief. “Alani. Oh my god. Well, this is a mind fuck of epic proportions. And I’m spewing profanity. Whoops. Sorry.”

 Tom somehow managed to speak like an actual human being. “Alani! What a marvelous thing, seeing you again in this very special place…you’ve been well, I hope?”

 She laughed, then stepped forward to embrace both Tom and I, then pulled back. “I have. I teach at the Waimea High School during the year…9th grade English Literature. Weekends and summers inevitably find me here. This place seems to have a gravitational pull I’m unable…and unwilling…to escape.” Sighing, she glanced around the room, then fixed her gaze back on us. “Have you heard?”

 Nodding, I reached for Tom’s hand and took hold. “About Roger? Yes, but not until we started researching our trip. We wanted to wait to meet Denise to express our condolences. Is she available?”

 Alani shook her head, frowning slightly. “She’s not, I’m afraid. Honestly, we’ve not seen very much of her at all, and she hasn’t been back since she told us she was putting the place up for sale. Of course, I understand that it reminds her of her father and…”

 My grip on Tom’s hand tightened, as did his on mine, so much so that we both let go as if we’d received an electric shock. I took a deep breath, telling myself to be cool, Maude, be fucking cool before giving nonchalance a go.

 “So. Talk Story’s for sale? Huh. Well, we most definitely hadn’t heard that. I don’t recall seeing a sign…”

 Tom cleared his throat. “Neither do I. Does that mean a sale is pending, or is the property still available?”

 She nodded, which was not at all helpful, but the words she spoke afterward were. “It’s still available. The sign’s off to the right of the building, attached to the potted tree so it faces oncoming traffic. The realtor’s been in a few times since it went up in January, but never with any clients. Our revenue isn’t even a quarter of what it was a decade ago, and Denise isn’t very involved so things have gotten worse since Roger passed. At this point, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to remain open, but I’m going to keep hoping that someone sees the value here, the history this place contains…” She cleared her throat, then shook her head back and forth slowly. “Goodness, I’m so terribly sorry. I honestly only meant to say hello…everything else just sort of…happened. I don’t know what came over me.”

 I reached out and patted her upper arm. “Please, no worries. This place seems to foster that sort of thing. Books aplenty with the occasional divine intervention. That’s so going on the marketing materials. You on board with that, Tom?”

 “Oh yes. Yes I am. Alani, do you happen to have the realtor’s number handy?”

 One walk-through, two hours, and countless document signatures later we were officially in contract to purchase Talk Story, with a closing date set for Tuesday, July 1st at 1 PM at the Kauai Coldwell Banker Realty office. Much like I had twenty-one years earlier, we all had to haul ass back to Kapaʻa in order to make our dinner reservation at Kauai Pasta, though this time we were a party of nine instead of three. We’d requested the same booth area, spilling over into the two additional sections in the same row that backed the wall. Tom and I, in an effort to be appropriately extra, ordered the exact same meal we’d ordered the day we met, but sat side-by-side instead of across from each other. Midway through the main course we turned to each other, smiling as our eyes met, and all the noise of friends and family faded into the background as we paused to remember, lost in our thoughts of days gone by, and I felt this monstrous rush of emotions…love, joy, peace, and so many more…and I was so…so…grateful. Granted, I was grateful every day, but this was an all-encompassing gratefulness, and I looked away for a moment to survey our friends, their children, and each of our own children in turn. Life is incredibly strange and unusual, even downright cruel at times, but like the weed-dealing kid in American Beauty said, “sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in”, and that’s where I was at in that moment, in the very same space that had fanned the flames of the spark that had emerged at Talk Story. Which we’d just bought. For nine-hundred and fifty thousand dollars, all contents included. I turned my gaze back to Tom, my head tilting to the right.

 “Did we, like, just actually buy a bookstore? As in, the bookstore we’ve always considered ‘our’ bookstore is now…our bookstore?”

 He nodded, and I felt his hand first on my knee, then creeping up under my shorts. “We did. And while I’m thoroughly delighted with that particular development, I’m also a tad disappointed because we missed out on our restroom rendezvous this go-round. Care to christen this one instead?”

 “Oh, that’s a bold move right there, Thomas. The ladies’ room is literally separated from this table by a single wall. I’ll go first, you get up five minutes later and lurk outside the door…I’ll leave it open a crack so I can keep watch. When the coast is clear I’ll pull you inside.”  I lowered my voice, whispering in his ear. “And then I’ll, you know, pull you inside again. And again.”

 He groaned quietly. “Woman. Cease. And go. Go now.”

 I excused myself, and that five minutes seemed to take a thousand years. There was fire in his eyes when he shut and locked the door behind him, and without a word he turned me around, bent me over the sink, pulled off my shorts and underwear and fucked me so hard I couldn’t help but cry out his name as I came, which he muffled quickly by covering my mouth with his left hand, which made me come again. And again. He soon followed, leaning down and biting my clothed shoulder gently to stifle his own cries. After he pulled out I stood upright, and he leaned in to kiss me, sucking my tongue into his mouth as he zipped himself up, peeked out the door, then exited and darted into the men’s restroom next door. I used the facilities, washed up, and waited for three minutes after I heard him finish up and walk by. A sly grin spread wide across his face awaited me as I returned to the table, and as I sat down Sean asked if we’d be ordering desert. Simon, ever the obnoxious asshat, smirked and commented that he was reasonably sure that some of us had already had their desert, which left Sean puzzled, Mona and Seph disgusted, and Henry and Ez blushing like mad, which really got my Spidey Senses all a-tingle. Luke simply smiled at me, shrugging helplessly, and I sighed, nodding, both of us silently accepting yet again that yes, this was indeed the life we’d chosen.

 As it happened, no desert was ordered…instead, we headed back to the beach house we’d rented on the Coconut Coast, in Anahola Beach Park, which was seven miles or so up from the Coconut Beach Marriott. With only four bedrooms, it meant the kids had to share, so Sean and Henry were in one room and Mona, Seph and Ez in another, but it was literally steps from the beach, totally private, and had a pool and a hot tub. All of that was lovely, but lovelier still was the item tucked away in the fridge…a two-tiered chocolate cake with layers of cheesecake filling, iced with white buttercream and decorated with green and purple fondant orchids. As Tom and I fed each other a slice, Simon smeared icing on the back of my neck. I retaliated by flinging a banana from a bowl on the counter in his direction because bananas are disgusting and there was no way I was wasting cake, and suddenly we were in the middle of an all-out food war that ended with all of us jumping into the pool fully clothed. Fun was had, at least until we clambered out of the water and got a gander at the current state of the formerly pristine kitchen. It was almost midnight by the time we finished cleaning up the mess we’d made, but we’d powered through by taking turns listening to our favorite playlists. Just as we’d begun to discuss our shower schedules, the first few notes of Adventure Of A Lifetime began to play. Without pausing to determine who was responsible for choosing it, Tom and I gravitated toward each other and began to dance, then sang, and as the song progressed we were joined by Simon, Sean, Henry, Ez, Mona, Seph and Luke. By the end we were essentially screaming the lyrics, a troupe of dancing fools bound by love and blood still sharing the same adventure, celebrating where we’d already been, exited for what we’d discover down the road. Everything you want’s a dream away…we are legends, every day.

 Later on, after all the good-nights were said and Tom had passed out after our engaging in some seriously spectacular anniversary shenanigans, I found myself wide awake. I walked to the glass sliders and stared past the pool at the reflection of the moonlight on the waves, the ebb and flow of the ocean that had always, to me, seemed representative of the back and forth, the ups and downs…all the moments of our lives as we pass through them. And then, there they were…Henry and Ez, walking toward the pool, holding hands. They too stood gazing out at the waves, and released each other’s hands to slip their arms around each other’s waists. Without warning, since I wasn’t privy to their conversation, Henry leaned backward, face to the sky, laughing the laugh that I knew sounded so very much like his father’s. I could see them both shaking with mirth, and they quieted slowly, her hand rubbing his back. As I continued to watch, transfixed, she rested her head against him, and he turned to pull her into his arms, then leaned down to kiss her.

 At that point what migh happen next was absofuckinglutely none of my business, so I turned around and headed back toward yet another temporary bed that contained the sleeping form of my personal, perfect, permanence, awash in moonlight. I was now more awake than ever, so I remained in a seated position next to him, my back resting against the headboard. He mumbled in his sleep, rolling over to drape his left arm across my lap. The desire to wake him up and share what I’d seen so I could have a ‘HA, I told you so’ moment was strong, but it was cast aside by a vivid memory from when Henry had been an infant. Tom had just returned from promoting Kong, and I, in my incredibly sleep deprived state, experienced an instance of déjà vu that evolved into a vision of me, at some point in the future, passing the sleeper Henry had been wearing that night to a young man. Back then, the voices I’d heard weren’t familiar, nor recognizable, but now…now they were, because I’d been listening to them all day long. I recalled that when I was still carrying him inside me, each time I’d held Ez, Henry had thrashed about wildly, something that had never occurred in such a fashion with anyone else. The entanglement particle theory came to mind, one that Tom had referenced in Only Lovers Left Alive, which Einstein had dubbed ‘spooky action at a distance’. If entwined particles become separated, even if they wind up at opposite ends of the universe, if one is altered or affected, the other will be identically altered or affected.

 I started down at the ring on Tom’s left hand, and the two on my own, one which had been inscribed with two lines of text at the bequest of the man who’d become my husband twenty years ago. On the first was ‘Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story’, and on the second, ‘My Light in the Mist’. I was, briefly, unable to breathe, feeling that I suddenly, and for certain, temporarily, understood life, the universe and everything.

 Even in the darkest hour of our journey through this life, there’s light. You won’t see it in that moment, you might not see it for a long time afterward…but it’s there, hidden by darkness, and as the darkness begins to fade there will be tiny specks of it in the distance. Chase after them, because those specks – they’re hope. The fading darkness transitions to a thick fog, then a translucent mist…you may find yourself lingering there, in the in-between, reasonably content. Living, but with a sense of incompleteness that you can’t seem to define, are able to suppress, but can’t quite shake. That’s the light, reaching out for you. And one day, it will finally make contact. And if you’ll allow it, the light will take you by the hand and lead you out into the open where the sun can fully shine upon you again…or perhaps for the very first time. And I’m here to say…allow it. Grab that hand. Grab it with everything you have, and never let it go. No matter what, never, ever let it go.

- Maeve Curry, June 2015- July 2019

[parkaiur]

[Real]istic Fiction - Mashiho

❀ Fluff + comedy ft. brother!Junkyu

❀ Word Count: 8.8 K

❀ After getting your first F on a creative writing assignment, and your first F EVER, you start to lose confidence in your writing abilities. Thankfully, your professor gives you one more shot, but this time, you can’t write something you’re comfortable with, leaving you with more and more insecurities about your writing. Soon your brother and best friend launch Operation: [Real]istic Fiction, or also called Operation: Making the boy in your creative writing class fall in love with you... but that’s too long. As the week goes on and you start to become less and less like yourself; you start to wonder if the boy you’re seducing is really the one you like... and why does your heart beat a bit faster when you see your best friend? 

❀ dedicated to all the fanfiction writers out there ♡

❀ A/N: this was written with all the fanfiction writers in mind :) and also this particular character resonates with me a lot since im (obviously) a fanfiction writer myself and there’s lots of prejudice surrounding it & sometimes it can affect me,, not only with the prejudice but with the pressure from the expectations :( and sometimes it’s hard for me to write about something ive never experienced or never felt comfortable with... hmmm /sigh/ i wish i had a mashiho and junkyu and all of the other characters in here hehe,, no spoils :0 

i hope you guys enjoy this one because i really enjoyed writing it! 

-------

“F?!?! I got an F?!” 

I shouted in my seat, feeling anger run through my veins. My professor looked at me with a pitiful, yet stern face. 

“Y/N, I’m open to discussing grades after class. Come meet me if you have the time.” She whipped her head around and ignored me once again, leaving me to feel hopeless and lost at the terrible grade. 

No, it’s not like I was the best student. I got some A’s, but got mostly B’s and C’s, especially in my first quarter at college, but I wasn’t an F student. This was one of the biggest essays of this quarter and I could NOT let this tank my whole grade. 

Creative writing was one of the only classes I felt confident in, and at this grade, I felt like a total loser and jipped of something people always told me I was good at. I was one of the most popular fanfiction writers online and to receive a grade as bad as this was embarrassing!

“Class is over, talk to me if you have questions about the essay or grade.” 

“It’s okay, y/n, Irene is a tough cookie. She is probably just doing this to push you.” My classmate, Byounggon told me. I nodded and tightened the straps on my backpack to release my anger. I tightened them, and loosened them, something I did when I was nervous. 

Byounggon was three years older than me, so I decided to put my trust in him. “I hope you’re right or else I’m going to tear out all my hair.” I said dramatically as he let out a bark of laughter. 

“See you later, kid.” I waved him off as I stormed over to Irene’s desk.

“An F...” I trailed off, wiggling my fingers at her. She scoffed and took a look at my paper. “You told me I was an amazing writer when we did timed writing in class, how could this be? Is this a mistake?” I shot questions at her as she adjusted her glasses calmly.

Even looking at her made me angry.

She sighed and cleaned her desk with a serene face. “Y/n, you’re an amazing writer yes, and to be honest, I was very disappointed with your writing for this short story.” I furrowed my brows and looked at my writing. It wasn’t a big difference from what I wrote in class, how could it be so bad?

“Can I ask how? It has no comments on here.” The professor sighed and didn’t look at me as she talked to me, twiddling a pencil in her hands. 

I grew impatient at her actions as I still had lots of homework to do. “Y/n, this is plagiarism. It was ungradable.” 

My eyes widened at her profound accusation. “Excuse me?” I spat.

She then locked eyes with me and looked at me tiredly. “Y/n, you used characters from a book that was already written. That’s plagiarism-”

“No! That’s not, yes, these characters have names already, but I gave them a new life, a new personality, a new story!” Irene patted me on the shoulder.

“Honey, fanfiction is not professional. I’m sorry, but my word is final.” 

I felt tears threatening to fall from my eyes, but I couldn’t cry in front of her. She noticed my sad mood and sighed. “Ok, here’s the deal. I wouldn’t offer this to lots of people, but I know your potential.”

I nodded quickly, my hair whipping in my face.

“I’ll give you til’ next Monday. A week and a couple of days to write a new story for me. A real one, with your ideas- not fanfiction. Got it?” I nodded furiously. “Ok, I trust you, don’t let me down!” 

I scurried out of her classroom, my tears finally falling in anger. I wiped them away. 

“Woah, woah, woah, why are you crying? Are you okay?” 

At the familiar voice, I sobbed harder and fell onto the boy’s broad chest. “Woah there,” he exclaimed. He rubbed my back and patted my head slowly even though he didn’t know the situation. 

“Mashiho.” I whined softly. He sighed and hugged me tighter. I loved hugging Mashiho, he felt so firm and buff. Even though he was on the shorter side, he felt manly whenever I held him. 

He pulled away and looked at me in the eyes. “Y/n...” He tried not to laugh at my crying face. I slapped him lightly on the cheeks. He gasped and started to laugh. 

“Stop laughing!!” I cried harder at his teasing face. His face turned serious and he wiped my tears. “Ok, ok, tell Mashi what’s wrong.” I sniffled and wiped my tears on his sleeve.

“Professor Bae gave me an F on my short story!” At my announcement, I cried harder onto his shoulder. People in the courtyard stared at us, but I didn’t care at the moment. I had worse things going on in my life. 

“Look, tell me more about it at the dorm, c’mon.” He picked me up and I just held onto him like a baby.

My dorm was a 10 minute walk from campus, but Mashiho got me there in 8. I guess it helped to work out. 

“Y/n, we need to climb the stairs now.” I nodded and ran up the stairs with him, not wanting my dorm mates to see me.

Mashiho and I had been best friends since he moved here from Japan in our sophomore of high school. I was quite the introvert and hated to talk to people on top of that. I was constantly annoyed and hated to converse with my peers. 

Mashiho and I clicked immediately as he was persistent on becoming my friend, the moody girl in his biology class. 

I used to like Mashiho when we first met. He was that nice guy. And a pretty one at that. All the girls talked about him, fawning over his good looks and nice body, and a kind personality on top of all that. I almost felt proud that I was the one he talked to everyday. That I was the one he talked to about his problems, his concerns, and his good days. 

I thought he didn’t take interest in those other girls until he told me he liked a girl in our biology class a few months later. They were dating the next day. 

And I never liked him again. It was one of those fleeting crushes that wasn’t really a real love. 

I’d never been in love. 

“Hello? Y/n?” Mashiho’s hand fluttered over my face. “Open the door?” I sniffled and unlocked it. I immediately ran in and plopped on my bed. 

I let out small cries and sobs into my pillow, feeling the anger and sadness leave my body. The bed shifted and Mashi laid next to me, pulling me close to him. 

“Woah, not too close!” My eyes shot open and I looked to my right. 

“Junkyu!? What are you doing here?!” My older brother laughed and dangled keys in front of me.

“I’m chilling in your dorm, duh. I was getting bored.” He lifted the keys again. “Oh yeah, I stole your keys and made a copy of them.” I groaned and laid back on my bed. Mashiho rubbed my back in soothing patterns.

Junkyu was one year older than me and unfortunately, the only college that accepted me was the one he went to. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but comparing me and him, he was the one everybody loved. I was the one everyone tolerated.

“Hey dude, how was class?” Junkyu asked Mashiho. The younger boy shrugged.

“Alright, much more interesting after y/n came running into my arms sobbing.” I flicked him on the forehead and he scooted down to hug me. “I’m joking.” He said softly, making my heart race. 

“What?? Why are you crying y/n??” Junkyu cried, jumping onto my bed. Oh great, the dorm beds barely fit one person, now there were three. 

“Irene gave me an F on my short story because she said it was plagiarism! How dare she! I’ve been writing fanfiction my entire life, and never once has anyone told me that what I was writing was wrong!” I shouted into my pillow. I felt the both of them pat me on the head, soothing my anger. But it just made me more angry. I shooed their hands away and shot up. 

“y/n, I mean, how did you think writing fanfiction was going to go in your class?” Junkyu said carefully. I could see Mashi shaking his head at him. I pushed Junkyu off my bed and hugged Mashiho tighter.

“Ow, you dick-” Mashiho pushed Junkyu and shooed him away.

“What he means y/n, is that did your professor tell you if you can make up the grade?” Mashiho said while patting my head. I always felt calmer in his hands. 

I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she told me I could rewrite a whole new short story by next Monday, then she would give me the credit on however I wrote that.” The two boy’s shot up.

“Oh my God, y/n, that’s amazing! You can do that, one hundred percent!” Junkyu slapped my back which made me yelp. Mashiho laughed and immediately soothed it. “What he said, without the slap.” I glared at Junkyu and laid back down.

These boys wouldn’t understand, they’ve been in love twice. They didn’t have the same problem as me.

I sighed loudly which didn’t go unnoticed to Mashiho’s ears. “What’s bothering you?” He stared at me with his big doe eyes, and I know I couldn’t lie to him. I leaned against my wall and stared at the two of them.

“I just... I just can’t write ‘real’ stories. It feels weird to me... Like I get writing for characters that already exist because I can see their love.” I sighed loudly. “I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how to write it. It’s hard for me to show my emotions and be so vulnerable.” I whined. 

The two boys were silent at my confession, which made me nervous. The silence was cut by my annoying older brother.

He laughed and stared at me like it was obvious. “What?” I snapped.

He laughed again. “It’s obvious.” Mashiho looked at Junkyu in confusion. 

“What?” Mashiho asked. Junkyu sighed and stood up. He grabbed a whiteboard. 

“It’s easy. You need to fall in love.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Mashiho and I stared at the older boy with bug eyes.

“What the fuck?” 

Junkyu sighed and started to write something down. “Seriously! You just need to fall in love and then you can write your story. You said that you have never been in love so you never have felt vulnerable or weak in that sense, so you need to get yourself to experience it. It’s simple.” 

I exchanged glances with Mashiho who was staring dumbly at the wall. 

I wiggled my nose and stared into my brother’s eyes. “Ok... you know, when you say it that way, it kinda makes sense. I just need more experiences.” Junkyu clapped his hands.

“YES! Experiences, you just need to put yourself out there a little bit. Everyone knows you as that weird writer chick who likes to read and plot everyone’s murder, so you need to try and break out of that! Like go to parties, flirt with boys, I don’t know, wear revealing clothes...” 

Junkyu trailed off and wrote something on the board. “We’ll call it Operation: Realistic Fiction. Brackets over the Real because this will be your fiction novel, and it’ll very much be real. You get to be the protagonist this time!” He said cheerfully. I glanced over to Mashiho who was boredly tossing a ball against my bed. 

“What do you think, Mashi?” I asked with a soft voice, twiddling my fingers round and round. 

His approval meant a lot to me, and I don’t think I could go through with this whacky plan without it. 

The boy locked in my eyes with cold eyes that I almost fell back. But then he smiled, a familiar Mashiho smile. “It sounds crazy, but I think it has good aspects.” Junkyu squealed and hugged the boy. 

“Great! It’s a go, now, let’s think of boys that I think are a good fit for you.” 

He jotted down a name. “Yoonbin?” I cringed and scooted away. “Hell no, too emo and angsty for me.” Mashiho nodded in agreement. Junkyu crossed off the name.

“Ok, um, how about Jihoon?” I shook my head. 

“No, no, he’s a little... too much for me.” Junkyu nodded and crossed his name off. He then thought long and hard and wrote a name down quickly.

“How about Byounggon hyung? He’s charming, nice, sweet, funny, handsome, smart, and easy to talk to.” Junkyu went on and on about him. “He’s a perfect fit for you, he’s like one of those boys in those cheesy books you read!” 

I blushed and twiddled my thumbs. Byounggon was a really nice guy and he was easy to talk to. And him being in my creative writing class would help a lot.

I bit my lip and twirled my hair in my finger. “You’re right, Junkyu. Byounggon would be a perfect guy to fall in love with.” The two boys high-fived, and suddenly I had no choice. 

I saw Mashiho’s happy smile when Byounggon’s name was announced, making me lose hope that maybe Mashiho wouldn’t want me to go through with this plan. 

“Ok, fine, operation, fall in love with Byounggon. And have him fall in love with me?” I questioned.

The two boys nodded. 

“Good, now, the planning. We only have one week to do this, we have to start planning now!

❀ ❀ ❀

Junkyu left my dorm after two hours of planning, which made my head throb in pain. 

“My brother is dumb and smart at the same time.” Mashiho nodded and pulled some apple juice out of my fridge. 

“That he is. But are you sure about this? You’re kind of... shy and uhhh aggressive.” He noted. I rolled my eyes and sipped out of his cup, the apple juice giving me some sugar. 

“I’m sure. I need to put myself out there, plus, Byounggon is nice, even if this doesn’t work out, he’ll still be my friend. But, with Junkyu’s help, I think it could possibly... work.” I said with a hopeful tone. Mashiho snorted at my voice. “What’s so funny?” I glared. 

The boy said nothing and just shrugged. “Nothing. You hungry?” I nodded as he threw me a ham and cheese sandwich that was in my fridge. I caught with ease as he took the tuna. 

“How was your day? You didn’t say much.” I asked him. He shrugged and munched on his sandwich.

“Nothing that exciting. Nothing too bad. I mean, some girls asked me for my numbers, but that’s it.” I rolled my eyes and bit my sandwich angrily.

“Wow, you say that say calmly. If a boy asked me for my number, I would faint.” Mashiho laughed and took a sip of juice.

“No you wouldn’t, it’s not that crazy.” For you, I wanted to say. Mashiho was always being followed by girls and I’ll admit, I liked it when he ignored them for me. Mashiho was still my best friend despite having so many admirers. 

I tossed my napkin away and sat back down. Before I could say anything, I heard my door open, signaling the arrival of my roomie.

She was with her boyfriend who was walking her in. “Hey, y/n, hey, hot boy.” She winked at Mashiho as soon as her boyfriend left. Mashiho gave her an awkward smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey Jessica.” 

Jessica was always trying to get with Mashiho. I somewhat think she’s joking, but sometimes I don’t. 

“Um, I’d better go now, that calculus homework won’t do itself.” Jessica laughed and waved to him.

“Bye, Mashi~” She cooed. I resisted the urge to barf. 

He waved to the girl and then to me. “Later, Mashiho.” 

“Later.” 

Then he left. 

“Ugh, he’s so hot, how haven’t you guys hooked up already?” I choked wildly on my apple juice. “Like forreals, have you seen that boy? Yum.” I rolled my eyes and hid my blush.

“We are just friends, Jessica. Nothing more, nothing less.” I narrowed my eyes at her and she backed away, holding her arms up. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll back down.” 

I bit my lip, wondering to tell her about Byounggon. Jessica wasn’t the smartest person, but she was good at getting boys. This was her third boyfriend since getting into college. And we started school in August. It was January. 

And that was not counting her multiple flings inbetween.

“Um, I actually like this boy named Byounggon.” Her eyes widened and she tossed her lolipop she was fiddling in her mouth.

I cringed at her intense gaze. “Really? I mean, Byounggon is hot, but I always thought you had the hots for Mashiho. Anyways, good for you!” She cheered, patting me on the shoulder.

I shook as she patted me harshly. I cleared my throat, “Um, would it be bad if I started to borrow your clothes too? Like with your permission of course.” 

She paused what she was doing and stared at me with her intense cat eyes. “Dude... of course. What the fuck, take anything you want as long as you give it back. Show him what he needs, rawr!” 

I hoped I wouldn’t regret this.

❀ ��� ❀ 

1. You must talk to him, initiating conversation shows that you’re interested. 

I looked at the notes Junkyu typed in my phone and took a deep breath. You can do this, y/n. I walked into my creative writing class and saw Byounggon already sitting there, playing on his phone with his hood up. 

I carefully took the seat next to him, and smiled at him. He glanced up at his phone and smiled back.

I wiped my palms on my jeans as I prepared myself for the conversation.

“Hey, Byounggon, how was your day today?” I asked kindly. The boy set down his phone and thought about it for a while. “Hmmm, good question. I would probably say pretty good so far. How ‘bout you?”

 I noticed his soft smile and kind eyes as he said those words. Is it working? How will I know if it’s working? 

I bit my lip, searching for a cute answer. “Um, not too shabby. Better now that I’m in this class.” I said honestly. I liked this class a lot, despite my grade falling drastically at the F. I mean, I could improve it by writing my short story, so I tried to stay positive.

Byounggon smiled and twiddled his pencil. “Oh really, what makes you like it so much?” He gave me a taunting smile as I didn’t know what to say. Shit, flirting wasn’t this early.. what do I do? 

Suddenly, I heard a bunch of papers slam on the desk. “Ok class, get ready to write!” 

Phew, saved by Irene. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

“How’d it go?” Mashiho asked. I grumbled as I took a harsh bite of my apple.

“I don’t know! Um, so basically I told him that I liked our creative writing class and then he was like ‘what makes you like it so much’ and I think he wanted me to say he was the reason?? Am I wrong?” I practically yelled at Mashiho.

The boy chuckled and set me down gently. “Yes, that’s what he wanted. That means you’re doing great, y/n. See? Boys like you.” He ruffled my hair, then his phone started to ring.

“Hello?” He answered quickly. “Um, yeah, I’m free, what’s up?” I felt kind of hurt that he said he was free since we were hanging out. But I guess we see each other every single day. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” 

He hung up the phone and gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, um, I have to go now.” He said, slipping on his shoes. 

I bite my apple once more.“What for?” 

He sighed and slipped on his jacket in a frenzy. “Um, this girl I’ve been seeing, she just asked me to have lunch so... yeah.” 

I nodded and gave him a thumbs up.“Cool, cool, have fun! Wear protection.” He rolled his eyes and flicked me on the arm.

“Whatever, weirdo. See you later, prepare for tomorrow!” I nodded forcefully and closed the door, trying not to let my sudden aching heart get in the way of Operation: [Real]istic Fiction. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

2. You must compliment him. Guys LOVE to be complimented and it also shows that you’re interested. Make sure you seem really interested in what you’re complimenting so that he knows it’s not just you being nice. Be deliberate.

I sat down, earlier than Byounggon today and prepared a compliment. He walked in with a black hoodie and black jeans. His earrings were in today, and I had to admit, he looked good. 

Really good. 

“Hey, I really like your earrings, they look cool.” I complimented as sincerely as I could. The boy fiddled with his earrings and smiled. “Thanks, dude. I just got these.” 

They dangled down and wiggled as he kept moving his face. I’ll admit it, I like guys with piercings. “Nice pick.” 

He nodded and gave me another dimpled smile.

The professor walked in, cutting our conversation short. “I like your earrings too, they’re cute.” He whispered in my ear. 

I blushed at the proximity but smiled back. 

Score. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

“Uh, I complimented his earrings today. I mean, he did look really good today. Like, really good. Like, I was about to drool in my seat dude.” I babbled to Mashiho. 

We were in the courtyard today, away from all the people. It was a slow Tuesday thing. He picked at his fries, not really paying attention to me. 

“Um, hello? Mashiho? Mashi?” I waved my hands in front of his face. He peered up at me with bored eyes. I sighed and took a bite of my salad. “What? Did I not compliment him, right?” I said in a small voice. I was terrified of messing this up, terrified! 

Mashiho then pushed his fries away and stood up. “You’re doing just fine, y/n. He’ll be in love before you know it.” I furrowed my brows as he started to put on his shoes and jacket.

“W-where are you going?” I asked quickly. 

Mashiho sighed. “Another date, sorry. See you tomorrow?” I nodded furiously, trying not to feeling emotional at his departure. 

As he turned away, I let them fall freely. I rubbed them, wondering why he was leaving me for other girls all the time.

 Did he not care for me anymore? 

I sighed and picked up my lunch to throw it away. 

Whatever, it’s not like I like him anyways.

❀ ❀ ❀ 

3. Openly state how single you are: dropping your single state will definitely be a BIG hint that you’re interested. It’ll show that you’re available and I already know Byounggon is available, so you don’t have to worry about that part. 

I walked into class and saw Byounggon playing on his phone like usual. 

As I walked towards him, he looked up at me and smiled. “Hey, y/n, what’s up?” He said first. He initiated conversation, that’s a good sign. 

I sat down and pulled out my journals, casually of course. “Nothing much, umm...” I thought of what to say that would make me seem single. “Oh, well kind of in a bad mood.” He furrowed his brows together in concern.

“Aw, why?”I gulped and bit my lip. “Um, because last night my room mate Jessica and her boyfriend were being super lovey dovey in my living room and it was just disgusting. I cannot handle couples, especially when I’m single.” I lied. 

Byounggon then gave me a confused look, making me nervous. “Huh.” He finally said. 

That doesn’t sound too good.

“Huh what?” I asked to further understand his concerns.

Byounggon shrugged and tilted his head like he was unsure of himself. “Oh, it’s just I thought you were dating Mashiho.” 

I stopped moving for a couple of seconds until I burst out into nervous laughter.

“What? Mashiho and I? No!! Never, we’re just friends, pfft.” I said quickly, rambling off random words. 

Byounggon raised a brow and leaned back in his chair. “Mashiho is also dating someone right now so... yeah that would be awkward if we were dating as well.” I joked, hoping he got the point.

Byounggon gave me a sad look. “Well, I’m sorry.” 

“S-sorry for what?”

 Byounggon looked at me with a serious stare. “Uh, because you like Mashiho, right?” 

I froze at his words, stopping every movement I was making. 

My mind went numb at his accusation and I didn’t know what to say. 

“What? No! I don’t like Mashiho, that would be so weird. He’s my best friend, only my best friend. Just friends, you know? Buddies, bros, best buds...” I trailed off, realizing how stupid I was sounding. 

I looked over to Byounggon who was giving me a tight smile.

“One more synonym and I’ll believe you.”

 ❀ ❀ ❀ 

“So, what did you guys talk today?” Mashiho stuffed his faced with a bunch of chips as we were chilling in my dorm room again. 

This time, Junkyu was with us. “Yeah, how was the whole announcing of the single thing? Tell us everything!” I bit my lip as they waited in anticipation. 

“U-um…” I trailed off. “Basically I told him that I was annoyed of Jessica and her boyfriend canoolding on the couch and how it was even grosser since I was single.” I noted quickly, not mentioning the whole Mashiho thing.

Junkyu clapped his hands together. “Good! He got the message then, now, tomorrow and the day after, it’s your turn to make him notice you!” 

Junkyu brought out the clipboard again and pointed to trick number 4. 

“Number four: wear revealing clothes. Guys are dogs, they obviously like seeing some skin, especially when a girl rarely shows it.” 

Junkyu looked at me who was wearing a flannel over one of my t-shirts and blue jeans. I frowned. 

“How much skin are we talking about? Y/n can’t just stroll in half naked to school.” Mashiho argued, finally saying something this entire day. 

Junkyu smiled which made me worry. “But she can.” Junkyu pulled out random outfits that came out of nowhere. 

“Where did you get those?” I snapped.

“Jessica. She gave these to me before she went to class, telling me you were asking for some new clothes.” Junkyu wiggled his eyebrows as I blushed beet red. 

I looked over to Mashiho who was staring at the pile of clothes.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”I brought the pile of clothes into the bathroom, staring at the crop top and high-waisted skirt that would barely cover my butt. I was a bit taller than Jessica, meaning it would probably skim my upper thighs. 

I gulped when I slipped on the shirt first, which showed lots of my stomach and cleavage. The skirt wasn’t as short as I imagined, but if I walked too far, I might be in trouble.

“Are you done yet?! Hurry up, we don’t have all day!” Junkyu shouted.

 I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

The boys both stared at me in silence, wondering if I had put something on wrong. 

“Bro… you’re going to steal Byounggon’s heart, he’s going to have a heart attack.” Junkyu said hugging me. I looked over to Mashiho who was watching me with a strong gaze. It was a way he had never looked at me before, which made me nervous.

“What? You think it’s too much, Mashi?” I asked, twirling for him to see. He stared at me, lowering his eyes to examine my full body. I blushed at his intense stare.

“Woah, there, that’s a lil’ much.” Junkyu said, patting Mashiho on the back. The younger boy grunted and lightly shoved the older boy away, only locking eyes with me. “Well, I gotta go right now, Yoonbin just told me that he lost his suit pants for the wedding he’s going to this weekend. Bye, have fun kids.” 

Junkyu got up and left right away, leaving me alone with Mashiho. 

It was awkward... and we didn’t ever get awkward.

“What? You don’t like the outfits?” I mumbled, staring down at chest that was widely shown in the shirt. Mashiho licked his lips, which sent chills down my spine.

He didn’t respond, showing he was irritated by something else. I bit my lip, thinking of what to say. “How’s it going with that girl? Anything new?”

Mashihho ran this fingers through his curly hair and shrugged. “Not really, it wasn’t really going anywhere. Turns out she only liked me for who she thought I was and not who I really am.” 

I frowned and patted him on the back, trying to ignore how happy I felt at that situation.

Why do I feel happy? I should be feeling bad for him right now. You idiot, y/n.

“Aw, that’s sucks, hopefully, the next girl will see you for who you really are.” 

Mashiho shrugged and looked to me with an intense stare, like he was trying to tell me something. He then stood up and paced around the room.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you right now. This whole Byounggon thing is sort of freaking me out. He’s only starting to like you because all of these things you’re doing. This whole caked on makeup thing and flirting thing and bubbly, giggly thing and now this revealing outfit? This isn’t you, y/n.” 

He wasn’t yelling yet, Mashiho didn’t yell when he was angry, but this was the most passionate I’ve seen him. 

But it got me angry. 

The plan has been going smoothly ‘til now. Just when Byoungon is starting to flirt with me, Mashiho backs out.

“Why are you telling me this now? It’s already too late, I’m committed. And so what? I mean, this plan is helping me get the guy since no other guys seemed to like me before this!” I yelled angrily, fiddling with the top that seemed so out of place right now.

“Bullshit, you don’t need to change yourself because of a guy, this isn’t some cheesy teen girl book where the guy starts to fall in love with your real personality, Byounggon is only falling for the girl he thinks you are! You're going get to get hurt!” 

Mashiho cried out, clenching his fists to control his anger. 

“So what if I get hurt? Isn’t that what happens when you’re in love? Pain? Jealousy? All those ugly emotions? I need those emotions for my story, Mashiho! I need to experience these things like a normal college student!” 

His broad chest was moving up and down as he tried to pull himself together. Usually I would start to calm him down, but I had no time for it. I wanted my answers. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He whispered. 

I plucked a stray hair off my shirt, trying to hide my tears. “Well, too late.” 

Mashiho didn’t respond, leaving my dorm room, and leaving me with my distorted thoughts.

❀ ❀ ❀

4.  Wear revealing clothes, show some skin sister ;) Guys are dogs, they obviously like seeing some skin, especially when a girl rarely shows it. Make him go crazy.

I felt uncomfortable in every way possible.

I’d gotten whistled at about 10 times and I’ve only been on campus for 2 hours. Disgusting. 

I poked my head into my creative writing class and saw Byounggon already sitting there. I stuck my head back out and took deep breaths. 

You can do this, you can do this, prove to Mashiho that you can do this.

I walked in the class, trying not to fiddle with my crop top or pull down my skirt. Byounggon glanced up at me, and then did a double take. He looked up at my face and I felt awkward as he examined the makeup Jessica put on my face.

“Woah.” Byounggon said with an unsure voice. That gave me some confidence. 

“Woah what?” I teased, making my voice higher than it already was. I felt gross.

The boy raised a brow and scanned me up and down. “Woah this. New wardrobe? Did you win the lottery or something?” I chuckled and brushed my curled hair over my shoulder, hoping he could smell my perfume.

This isn’t you, y/n.

I pushed Mashiho’s voice out of my mind. 

“Hah, no, I just wanted to switch it up I guess. Why? You like it?” I leaned in closer to him as he stared at me with dark eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

He was about to say something else until Irene walked in. 

Damn, I really wanted to hear more compliments.

❀ ❀ ❀

After class, I stood to leave first, but Byounggon grabbed ahold of my hand. I tried not to look surprised. 

“Hey, uh, my friend is hosting a party this Friday night, wanna come?” I hid my surprise with a gasp and chuckled, girly like how Junkyu told me. 

“Oh sure, that’ll be so fun! Who’s hosting?” 

“Kim Seunghun, his parties are always wild. It’s off campus, I’ll come pick you up at ten.” As he finished those words, he walked out of class, leaving my mind in jumbles.

I followed shortly after him, but was stopped.

I paused and saw Mashiho staring at me with sad eyes.

“Got what you wanted?” He spat. I felt my earlier happiness turn into anger at his words. 

“Yes.”

“Ok, good.”

“Good.” 

I walked past him, deliberately not looking back to see his expression. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

5. Ignore him. Let him want you. Guys like the push and the pull. 

note: since you’re going to a party with him later, that’s when you get to be all over him. 

It was the last day of the project.

I was wearing tight jeans and a low-cut blouse. I felt awkward as my shirt kept slipping down, but I had to power through. It was the last day of Operation: [Real]istic Fiction.

I took a seat next Byounggon, not even sparing a glance as I sat down.

Be cold, be pretty, make him want you. 

I heard Junkyu’s voice echoing in my mind, egging me on. 

“Hey, y/n.” I heard the boy say. It took every ounce of self-control I had to not reply with a cheery answer.

“Hi.” I responded coldly. I could tell Byoungon was confused. I guess that should be a good sign?

The boy shifted in his chair, already uncomfortable at my behavior. “Um, how’s that story going? It’s due on Monday, right?” 

I thought about how to respond to his question. I simply shrugged and dragged my hair over to one side. “It’s ok.” 

I hated myself right now. 

I tried not to let Mashiho’s voice of doubt run through my mind.

Byounggon sighed and leaned back in his chair. I could hear him tapping his pen on the table rapidly. “Ok, you still on for tonight?” 

I finally looked back at him and nodded with a light smile. “Definitely.”

He gave me a dimpled one back.

“Cool.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“What do you wear to a party?! Should I wear a dress?! Pants and a t-shirt?! WHAT?!” I screamed, looking at my bland closet. 

Junkyu groaned and got up from his chair. As I got done with classes, I immediately called Junkyu to help with my fashion dilemma. 

“Ugh, Mashiho is better with fashion, why didn’t you call him?” Junkyu sassed. 

No, I did not tell Junkyu I was fighting with Mashiho. Was I going to tell him? Probably not. 

He always took Mashiho’s side when we were arguing anyways. And he wouldn’t understand this argument.

“Because you’re my brother, anyways--”

Before I could finish, Junkyu pulled out an outfit and threw it at me. “Try this on.” 

About 10 outfits later, I told Junkyu to sit down and I would do this myself. 

“I told you, call Mashi, he’s better.” Junkyu whined while laying on my bed. I bit my lip and ignored him, not wanting to let down my pride and call him. Mashiho would probably just tell me to go in a t-shirt and put on a leather jacket with some skinnies or something. No matter how hot that would be, I had to dress a bit girly tonight to impress Byounggon.

Mashiho wouldn’t understand, he looks good in everything he wore. 

“I’ll just wear this, and be done with this.” I grumbled, slipping on some leather type pants Jessica owned with a crop top. It was cool and funky as well as sexy.

“OOF, I should not let my baby sister walk out like that... but I’m going to... because I’m a good brother who wants her to have love.” 

Junkyu pretended to wipe a tear away and pretend-sobbed on my bed, leaving me to roll my eyes at him and do my makeup. I wasn’t an expert, but I had the basics down. I decided to leave my hair straight as it fit with the outfit. 

“Y/n, it’s almost ten, Byounggon is gonna be here soon~” My older brother wiggled his brows at me as I pushed him aside. “And yes, you’ll be gone when he comes.”

After I said those words, I ushered Junkyu out of the door while he protested. 

“Text me when you leave, when you get to the party, when you leave the party, and when you get home! I’m still your big bro you know.” He gave me a serious stare, one he reserved to try and intimidate me. It never worked.

I sighed and patted him on the back. “Ok, ok, just go, he’ll be here any minute now.” I said nervously. My palms were sweaty and I applied extra perfume to make sure I wouldn’t smell bad.

Just as Junkyu left, I heard a knock on my door. I shot out of my seat and gave myself a glance over before I opened the door. 

Byounggon was standing there, looking spiffy in a tight, black, long-sleeve and black skinnies, but adorned with a couple necklaces and rings. 

He gave me a quick smile when he saw me.

“Hey, you look good.” He said immediately. I blushed and tried my best to act girly. 

“Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.” I teased while stepping out of the door.

We walked downstairs together and that’s when I realized:

I had never gone to a party before. 

❀ ❀ ❀

The party was rowdier than I expected.

I had always listened to music about parties and having fun, but it was nowhere as crazy as I imagined. The loud music was attacking my senses and the weed and alcohol upset my stomach. I tried not to make a face when Byounggon looked over at me.

“You good?” I nodded vigorously, trying not to let my disgust and anxiety show. I took tiny steps with him as we made our way through the huge crowd of people. There was strobe lights everywhere and alcohol on the floor. 

It was a mess.

I felt my heart beat pick up as I felt myself being shoved through the crowd. I wasn’t used to being around so many people and now that I was experiencing it, I just wanted to be alone. 

Soon, we got out of the big crowd and to the makeshift bar area, aka, Seunghun’s kitchen.

“Hey, Seunghun!” Byounggon yelled over to the tall brunette who was taking a body shot off a girl. Disgusting. 

Seunghun popped his head up and immediately did that bro shake with Byounggon. “Hey, dude! Didn’t know you were bringing a date!” Seunghun turned his attention over to me and pulled me in for a hug. I felt uncomfortable with the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“Yah, it was sorta last minute.” Seunghun wiggled his eyebrows and pointed over to the alcohol. 

“Cool, well she’s hot so it’s all good. A little nerdy but that’s your type right?” I felt my cheeks burn at his words. I had been trying to shed the image of my nerdy self this whole week and yet it still was like I had “bookworm” tattooed across my forehead. 

Byounggon wrapped an arm around me. “Hey, dude, don’t be an ass.” He lightly reprimanded. I tried not to let Seunghun’s words affect me, I mean he was super drunk.

Seunghun’s eyes widened. “Oh no no, that wasn’t an insult. It’s a compliment, refreshing I would say. Like a refreshment LOL.” I tried not to cringe as he said the acronym out loud. Then, he tilted his head, “It’s just weird that you brought a date though. I thought you had a thing with-” 

Byounggon’s body stiffened but I didn’t get to hear the rest of the statement when Seunghun was dragged away by someone else, probably going to take another body shot. 

“Sorry about that, Seunghun is an absolute dumbass when he’s drunk. He’s only a little bit of a dumbass when he’s sober.” I let out soft laughter, but I could barely hear Byounggon over the loud music and intense yelling. I hated every second I was here. 

My tenseness didn’t go unnoticed by Byounggon. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok?” He asked, concern laced in his voice.

I nodded rushedly, before I could lose my confidence. “I’m fine!” I replied lamely. I couldn’t flirt with him, I couldn’t do anything with this obnoxious atmosphere.

Byounggon gave me a tight smile and held out his hand. “Let’s dance!”

❀ ❀ ❀

I hated dancing. And being on the dancefloor. And feeling other people’s bodies on mine.

It was awful. I felt so cramped and I couldn’t even relax to have a good time. 

Byounggon on the other hand was an amazing dancer, I couldn’t even compare to him. The only time I liked dancing was when I was having impromptu dance parties with Mashiho. Mashiho was the only person besides my brother that I could let down my guard with. 

Byounggon grabbed my hands, trying to get me to dance and to have fun. But I couldn’t focus on anything besides the people around me and how cramped and dirty I felt. 

I could see Byounggon stop losing interest in me.

“He’s only starting to like you because all of these things you’re doing. This whole caked on makeup thing and flirting thing and bubbly, giggly thing and now this revealing outfit? This isn’t you, y/n”

I was wrong. Mashiho was right. 

I can’t do this, this isn’t me. 

I looked up from the dancefloor and saw something I never wanted to see. Mashiho was there, dancing with another girl, totally into her. His eyes were bright and happy, I knew he was having a good time. I could always tell what his emotions were. He spun the girl around as she laughed, her skirt twirling in the sea of people. 

I was jealous. 

Really jealous.

Jealous of the time they were having.

Jealous I couldn’t be as carefree as that girl. 

Jealous that I wasn’t that girl. 

“Y/n, y/n?” Byounggon’s shout snapped me out of a trance. I looked up at him with blurry eyes. “Are you ok?” 

I stood still for a moment, confusing those around me.

I took one more glance at Mashiho who was still dancing with that girl and as he leaned in closer to her, I looked away.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

Then, I ran.

I ran out of the house as soon as possible, running at a pace I didn’t know I was capable of. I ignored Byounggon’s shout for me to stay, but I had to leave--I had to get out of there. 

Only barfers were outside as I dashed past them, careful not to step on anything gross. I made my way down the block and crouched down, feeling the worst I’ve ever felt in my life.

This was the pain everyone talked about. 

The pain you get when you try so hard to fit in and you just don’t. The pain you get when you’re not somebody you want to be. 

The pain you get when you love someone so much and they don’t love you back.

And that pain wasn’t from Byounggon, but from someone I didn’t know I’ve loved for most of my life. 

I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

“Jessica? I need a ride.”

❀ ❀ ❀

I knew Jessica wouldn’t ask questions. If another girl calls you to run away from her date, there’s only bad news involved. 

Seunghun’s house wasn’t that far from campus, so we got home pretty quickly.

“I brought home fried chicken, I know that’s your favorite.” Jessica noted in a high voice, her tone more delicate than usual. I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I just need sleep.”

I looked at my phone once and saw floods of messages. Mostly from Byounggon, asking where I went and that he was sorry. 

And then five from Junkyu, messaging me about how bored he was.

None from Mashiho.

I laid in my bed, looking at the time. It was only 11:10. I hadn’t even been in that place for an hour. 

“Are you going to sleep?” Jessica asked, about to turn off the lights. 

I looked up at my ceiling. 

Then, I said the most y/n sentence I’ve said this week.

“No... I’m going to write.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Here, I finished over the weekend.” 

I handed the paper to Professor Bae, all 20 pages of my short story. She raised a brow and skimmed through it.

“Good, all normal names. Now, run along, class starts in 10 minutes.” 

I nodded and turned to walk out the door before I turned back around. The professor caught my eye and gave me a tight smile.

“Why did you become a creative writing teacher? Not a research paper teacher or a lit teacher or something, why creative writing?” I asked abruptly. I don’t know why I asked the question, but I anticipated her answer.

Irene set down a pen and gave me a soft smile, contrary to her intense ones.

“Y/n, I think we’re more alike than you think.” She started. “I love to write-not just like-but I love it. I love losing myself in a story, I love the reading my stories when they’re done and imaging me as the main character.”

I nodded, knowing how she felt.

“I write because I feel alive when I write, I feel happy.” She said, pointing to her heart. “It comes naturally to me, like breathing or walking; it’s a part of me.” 

“How do you write about things you’ve never experienced before? Like if I’ve never broken an arm, but wanted to write about a broken arm, how would I write about that?” 

Irene gave me a sad smile and took one step closer to me. She patted my head gently and spoke to me with soft eyes. 

“Imagination my friend. Imagination and reality are vital to any writer; only the best ones can combine both.” 

She then picked up a stack of papers and started to head down the hall.

“Take a day off, y/n, you need one.”

❀ ❀ ❀

I sat in the courtyard, reading a book as I munched on pretzels. 

Yes, I had been avoiding Byounggon, Junkyu, and especially Mashiho the entire weekend. I texted Byounggon, telling him I was alright and got home safely and that I was sorry, he responded that he was glad and that I didn’t have to explain if I didn’t want to.

He was so easy to fall for.

Why couldn’t I have fallen for him?

“Hey.” 

I looked up from my book and saw the familiar face. 

“Hi.” I said awkwardly, setting down my book.

Byounggon sat next to me, looking at me like he wanted to say something. 

“What?” I barked harshly. 

I thought he was going to be seriously offended, but he simply just started to laugh. “Damn, I missed the old you. I’m glad she’s back.” 

I scoffed and took a harsh bite of my pretzel.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone else did too.” I mumbled. 

“Look, I just wanted to come and apologize about Friday night, I didn’t know it would overwhelm you so bad and you were obviously uncomfortable. I should have brought you home.” The boy then took a deep breath like he was hiding something.

I was annoyed by that. “Well, just spit it out.” I spat.

The boy held in his laughter and leaned back to let the sun shine on his face. “Um well, I was sorta, I mean I didn’t realize it, but I was sorta using you to get over this other girl. Um, it’s complicated and I don’t really know my true feelings for her yet, but yeah I’m sorry, that was mean of me to do.”

I paused, soaking in his words.

Then I laughed. 

“Oh gosh, that’s so funny.” Byounggon proceeded to look at me like I was crazy.

I shook my head and held my hands up, “Oh not that part, I mean that I was sorta using you too. To deflect my feelings for this other guy that I thought I had lost feelings for, but in reality, it was just hiding all this time. Or more of I was burying them.” 

Byounggon smiled and took a pretzel from me. 

“Well, maybe you should go talk to this guy. And I’ll talk to that girl. Sound cool?” 

I nodded, shaking on it. 

“The coolest.”

“Also, welcome back to being a nerd, I knew you would come through with that paper.” 

I slapped him on the shoulder, but I couldn’t help but be proud of my title.

❀ ❀ ❀ 

“Well, maybe you should go talk to this guy. And I’ll talk to that girl. Sound cool?” I read aloud. 

The lamp was shining bright on my face as Mashiho laid on my lap. His big eyes were closed as I held the stapled pieces of paper over him. 

I sighed, slapping him with the pages. He gasped and cringed, but made no movement to sit up. 

“Ouch! What was that for?!” The boy rubbed his nose in furious motions as I rolled my eyes. 

“I’m tired, let me go to bed! It’s already 3am you meanie.” I pouted while taking a sip of water. At least it was a Friday night, I did not want to attend my 9:30 class with raccoon eyes. 

Mashiho pouted, huffing like the baby he is.

“You have to finish it! Does y/n get with the boy? Does Byounggon talk to that girl he was interested in? Tell me!!” 

I flicked the boy on the neck as he flinched in pain.

“You imbecile, this story is about us! You know how it ends!” I poked him on the neck as he giggled like a kid.

“I know, I know! I just like to hear listen to it again. It is nice reflecting on all our actions and you make our story feel so... dramatic.” 

“It was dramatic.”

“Yeah but you make it dramatic dramatic.” He countered.

I held in my groan as I stared down at the paper that was already blurring together. 

“Ok, fine, I’ll continue.” 

That seemed to please him as he relaxed his body once more. 

“Blah blah, blah blah, kiss, blah, mashiho and y/n, blah, junkyu-”

At my incoherent rambling, Mashiho shot up from my lap and pulled me down to lay next to him.

“Mashi! Oh my god, let go of me!” I whisper-shouted as it was too late for this. I dropped the paper on the ground as he held down my hands. 

“I was joking.” He said abruptly. I leaned back so I could examine his face, which was drooping and sad.

“Joking about what?” 

“I don’t like listening to your story just because it’s amazingly written and dramatic, I like listening to it reminds me of how bad I hurt you and reminds me of how I should treat you from here on,” he said confidently. I noticed how his face pinched together in pain and regret and instinctively, I reached out my hand to soften his face. 

“I like reading this story because it reminds me of how powerful I can become and it’s sort of fun being the heroine for once.” I admit with a smile. 

The boy looked at me with a tilted head. “Y/n, this is your life, you’re always the the main character of your life.”

I sighed and softly kissed him on the lips.

“You’re right, Mashi. And you’re my hunky male lead.” 

[cottonpadenthusiast]

The Cafe Upstairs

This is kind of a second part to my other drarry fic here but it takes place before the events of that story. You don’t have to read the first one for this to make sense.

Remus paused by the door of the cafe, breathing slowly and allowing whatever anger that he had built up when he had pounded up the staircase to dissipate. Screaming at the manager of the new cafe that was upstairs from Remus’ bookshop was not what he planned to do, but the frustration that had built up over the past few weeks burned in his veins.

His anger remained, despite his efforts to reduce it. The images of masses of people entering his shop, each asking for coffee, each being directed outside and to the door on the right played on a loop on his mind. The stupid cafe didn’t even have a proper sign, meaning the peace and quiet of Remus’ bookshop was disrupted every twenty minutes by some hipstery looking guy who wanted a green tea.

The possibility of Remus losing his shit was increasing by the second.

Remus pushed open the wooden door and the likelihood of his losing of shit decreased, just a little. The cafe was busy, but had a strangely calm atmosphere despite the crowd. Large window seats allowed the warm afternoon light to flood into the room and the white walls were covered in beautiful paintings and minimalistic art. Plants hung low from the ceiling and the smell of coffee and pastries filled the room.

Remus wondered why he had never come up here as he moved slowly towards the counter, eyes still wandering around the room. It was perfect.

“Hey, what can I get you?” 

Remus whipped his head around, quickly putting in place his angry expression. It disappeared as soon as he saw the man before him.

Long dark hair in a bun and chiselled cheekbones filled Remus’ vision and he felt his heart stutter. The man was gorgeous in a way Remus had only ever seen described in books, his slow easy smile reminding Remus of the countless fictional love interests he had pined over.

Losing his shit was firmly in the realm of impossible now.

“I-I was just looking for the manager,” Remus managed to stutter. 

The man, whose name was Sirius by the looks of his name tag, smirked. “Luckily enough, you’re looking right at him.”

“Oh. Well, I own the bookshop downstairs and quite a few of your customers have been coming in and asking for coffee, and I’ve had to send them your way. I was hoping you might make your sign a little clearer.”

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, “ Sirius said a guilty expression on his face. “I’ll get that fixed as soon as possible. And as a peace offering, would you like a coffee? I’m Sirius Black by the way.”

Sirius offered his hand and Remus took it, ignoring how Sirius’ long fingers wrapped around his. The intensity of Sirius’ gaze and his bright smile had Remus’ cheeks flushing a light red.

“That would be lovely. And I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you, Remus. Let me guess; your preferred coffee type is a mocha.”

“What? How did you know that?”

Sirius turned and began to make the coffee, offering Remus a wonderful view of his toned shoulders through his white shirt. Remus tried not to stare, but when Sirius reached up for a mug and exposed his tan back, Remus could do nothing but allow himself to gape.

“I just guessed. One of my many, many talents is guessing people’s coffee order.” 

“Is one of your other talents modesty?” 

Sirius turned and shot Remus a smirk. All the romance novels and all the love stories and all the hot fictional guys had not prepared him for this, for Sirius Black with gorgeous grey eyes and a gentle voice and a smile that seemed to ruin and make Remus all at once.

“Here you go,” Sirius said, planting the coffee onto the counter. 

Remus lifted it to his lips and took a sip. The coffee tasted like heaven in a mug, the taste of chocolate swirling in Remus’ mouth and making him sigh. 

Remus hated insta-love, but it was becoming a more and more realistic plot device with every second.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing. Thank you.”

Sirius smiled. “You’re welcome. Now take a seat anywhere. I’ll be here if you need anything else.”

As Remus turned, a cold hard dread settled in his stomach. 

It grew as he walked towards his seat, and it grew as he sat and looked at the sinking sun. It grew and grew as he watched Sirius, watched how his confident smile never faded and how he seemed to glow more than the sun outside.

The dread grew because Remus knew that this wasn’t a love story, this wasn’t fiction. This was real life. And in real life, the nerdy boys don’t end up with the hot guys. In real life, the crushes are always unrequited. In real life, the pain is the realisation that you never had a chance.

In real life, Sirius Black would never dream of wanting someone like Remus Lupin.

So, as is real life, Remus quietly begged for his feelings to be fleeting and temporary.

What Remus didn’t realise is that the heart is a very, very stubborn thing.

--------

“Hey, Remus!”

Remus’ head snapped up as he watched Sirius saunter through the door, black leather jacket and ripped jeans completely out of place in Remus’ quiet bookshop.

Remus hadn’t stop thinking about Sirius over the past few weeks and despite his surprise visits becoming a regular thing, Remus’ heart still leapt with joy everytime Sirius sauntered through the door.

Which was stupid, he knew. Sirius was so out of Remus’ league it hurt him to even think about it.

“Hello, Sirius. Oh, thank you.” Remus said as Sirius dropped a drink onto the counter. He lifted to his lips and moaned softly when the taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows hit his tongue.

Sirius stared. Remus presumed he was probably trying to gauge his reaction. “No problem,” he replied, his voice more croaky than before.

“Well, what can I help you with?” 

“I just finished Pride and Prejudice.” Sirius took out the book Remus had given him the week before, his hands holding it like it was the most precious thing he owned.

Remus wondered what it would be like to be held like that.

“Did you like it?”

Sirius exclaimed a “yes!” before barging into a long rant about his favourite parts of the story, yet Remus couldn’t seem to hear anything he was saying, the words almost muffled and distant.

All he could think about was Sirius’ hands on that book, Sirius’ excited expression, Sirius’ low voice as it stumbled over his words and how his eyes seemed to glint with something that Remus had never seen before as he spoke.

All Remus could think about was Sirius.

Remus Lupin considered himself to be a man of simple taste. All he needed in life were three things: a good book, a cup of tea, and a bar of chocolate. With these three things, Remus would consider himself to be one of the luckiest men alive and utter happiness was not far away if one owned a bookshop and had a secret stash of chocolate in the third drawer.

Yet, as Remus stared at Sirius and noticed the slow, growing feeling in his chest, he knew that his number of needs had now increased by one.

And that particular need was of the completely and utterly unattainable sort.

“...and Mr Collins was awful but not as bad as Wickham. That man was the devil incarnate. How could he hurt Mr Darcy like that?”

Remus’ drew his focus back to Sirius. “Oh, yeah. I don’t know.”

Sirius’  eyes filled with worry. “You ok, Rem?” 

Rem. If Sirius knew what these nicknames and surprise hot chocolates were doing to Remus, then he was one sadistic arsehole because Remus didn’t know if he could survive this any longer.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Anyway, you can take a browse for a new book. It’s on the house since I owe you after all these free drinks.”

“Well, actually...” Sirius started, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I was sort of hoping that you would help me choose?”

The statement was more of a question and Remus knew that he should say no, he needed to work, needed to anything other than to be in the presence of Sirius Black.

But he didn’t. Instead, he agreed to help because he was stupid and an idiot and Sirius looked like some sort of cover model for a book that Remus’ would secretly adore and Remus could never, ever say no to him.

The only way to survive around Sirius Black was to get caught in the whirlwind and just hope you wouldn’t spiral out of control.

So Remus spent the next forty-five minutes helping Sirius choose a book. They wandered through each section, Remus’ head spinning whenever their hands would brush or when Sirius would whisper a joke into his ear. By the time they arrived at the historical fiction section, Remus wondered how he was still standing.

“What’s your favourite book, Remus?” Sirius asked, hands trailing across book spines and hair falling softly into his face.

Remus studied Sirius as he thought about his answer. Multiple books popped into his mind, but none seemed to top the other.

“I don’t really have one,” he eventually answered. “There are a few books I love, but I don’t have a favourite out of them. I don’t see the point in defining my love for books by one story when each is different in its own way. But my favourite type of books are the ones that teach me something, that make me discover something about myself that I never knew before.”

Sirius hummed in response before casting Remus an intense glance over his shoulder. “And what have you learned about yourself recently?”

“That instead of guarding my heart, I should be guarding my brain. The heart starts the process, but the brain does all the damage.”

Sirius suddenly spun around and grabbed Remus’ hand in both his own. The swiftness of his actions startled Remus, but the sincere expression on Sirius’ face startled him more.

“Can I ask you something?” Sirius asked, words loaded with something Remus couldn’t decipher.

Hope bloomed like a flood in his chest.

“Yes.”

Sirius breathed deeply and with thier close proximity, Remus felt his warm breath fan over his face.

“I was hoping-well, I was wondering if...”

“Yes?” Remus prompted, curiosity and excitement stirring within him.

“I was wondering if you would like to become business partners with me.”

Disappointment flooded Remus’ body. He didn’t know what he had been expecting but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Oh. Right.” Remus slowly retracted his hands from Sirius’ grip and turned to the bookshelf, hoping Sirius wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not like the idea?” Sirius’ voice was laced with guilt and worry and it almost hurt Remus more than the disappointment. Almost.

“Oh no. That’s not it. Just explain what you mean by business partners.”

“Well, we could join the cafe and bookshop into one so that customer could buy a book then go upstairs and read it in my cafe. There is a staircase at the back of this place that leads up to mine, so they wouldn’t even have to go outside. I think it would be beneficial for us both.”

Remus agreed. It would probably mean more profits for both him and Sirius and he wouldn’t have to direct customers outside every five minutes. It could work.

But it would also mean working with Sirius more often and Remus really didn’t think his heart could handle that type of torture.

Remus met Sirius’ gaze. “I think it’s a great idea, Sirius. I just need to think about it for a while, if that’s alright with you.”

Sirius smiled. “Take as long as you need.”

Remus turned back to the books, running his fingers along the glossy covers. He wanted nothing more than to become one of the characters in these books, in a totally different time, where long black hair and cheeky smiles weren’t the things haunting Remus’ dreams, where soft hands weren’t the destroyers of Remus’ heart.

Where Sirius Black wasn’t Remus’ living hell and gorgeous nightmare.

“I actually have another question, Remus.”

“Oh?” Remus tried to feign interest but he didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Hazel eyes snapped up to grey. Remus' heart stopped.

“What?” He whispered.

“Do you want to go on a date? With me?” Sirius swallowed, his nerves clear yet he didn’t hide them.

Remus Lupin had known that three out of his four requirements for happiness were simple, attainable things. The fourth, however, was not. It was heaven and hell and everything in between squeezed into a person. It was stories untold and tales to be discovered wrapped and hidden within the most beautiful person Remus had ever seen. It was the one need that was all that Remus needed.

And he had deemed it impossible to ever obtain.

It seemed he had been wrong.

“Yes,” he replied, bewilderment and joy exploding in his chest while he wondered if Sirius only needed Remus to be happy too.

Sirius smiled, a slow gorgeous smile, and Remus saw joy and safety and love within it. He saw the world.

Remus smiled back.

The worlds collided.

[bethkerring]

10 Tips on Writing Asexuality

It’s been a long, long twelve years since I first realized I was asexual.

I’m one of the fortunate ones that realized my lesser-known orientation without having to go through years of confusion, uncertainty, and experimentation (because while some might enjoy that, I can pretty much guarantee I wouldn’t have). I was fourteen when I first came across the term and thought it might apply to me, and shortly before I turned fifteen, I officially claimed it as my own.

A lot has changed since then. When I first came out, there was almost nothing out there for asexuals. There was the AVEN website, a few blog posts, and even fewer YouTube videos, but the word basically didn’t exist in common knowledge, even among people who identified as LGBTQ+. Any fiction that included ace characters was almost exclusively unconfirmed, and left up to fans to compile lists of evidence that a certain character was probably asexual—which was usually ignored by the majority of fans, who wanted to see the character in sexual situations, and often later brushed aside by the creators.

Now, asexuality is more and more recognized by the popular media and the general public. Visibility is still lacking, but we’re recognized by major LGBTQ+ organizations, represented (to a small extent) in Pride events, and increasingly represented as characters in TV shows, books, movies, etc. I’ve even found random strangers recognizing the asexual pride button on my purse—and I live in the Bible Belt.

And it’s a great feeling. Every time I see another ace character in popular media, I get a little burst of joy to see someone like me—at least in this one way, if not in others. I’m especially glad to see good representation, especially after years of representation that was questionable at best (Sherlock still comes to mind) and harmful at worst (does anyone remember that episode of House?). I’m also thrilled to see that non-asexual people are really interested in doing ace representation right and are reaching out to asexuals to get their take on what they want to see.

So I thought I would include my perspective on writing asexual characters, because frankly, everyone’s experience and viewpoint is a little difference, and I hope this conversation continues with as many diverse voices as possible.

I hope these tips are helpful and make you at least a little more confident about including ace characters in your own work!

1. Watch out for stereotypes, but don’t throw them out the window. This is almost certainly confusing, so let me explain: I often see people try so hard to avoid stereotypical traits in asexual characters that they forget that aces are incredibly diverse. Yes, not all asexuals are aromantic, but some are. Yes, not all asexuals hate close physical contact, but some do. Yes, not all asexuals are shy or socially awkward, but some are. Yes, not all asexuals have seventeen cats, but some do. Yes, not all asexuals are repulsed by sex, but some are. And the list goes on. You should absolutely be aware if a character trait you’ve chosen is stereotypical, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you should avoid it, especially if you have more than one asexual character. Be aware of it, but focus on writing a well-rounded, realistic character over avoiding every stereotype in the book. No matter what trait it is, if you’re writing it well, chances are good there’s an asexual out there who will empathize with it.

2. Keep intersectionality in mind. Though, as I said, I’m absolutely thrilled to see more ace characters in media, I know there’s still a desperate need for more diverse examples of asexuality, especially those that take into account how people of different races, genders, abilities, national origins, religions, and ages—among other things—experience their asexuality. A man does not experience asexuality the same as a woman. A white person does not experience asexuality the same as people of other races—I can’t list them all here, but from what I’ve seen, every racial identity comes with stereotypes and prejudices that interact with asexuality differently. Someone’s religion might affect how they view their asexuality or how they’re viewed by their religious community, and someone’s asexuality might be brushed aside if they’re “too young,” “too old,” or have a disability. Personally, I am an able-bodied American white woman, so I can’t say a lot about this specifically, but please do your research on this aspect of their experience just like you would any other. It might not be what you’re expecting.

3. Don’t make asexuality their defining trait. Unless someone is an asexual activist (and these are valid characters!), and even if they are, they’ve probably got quite a few aspects of their life that have nothing to do with their orientation. An asexual doesn’t spend all day every day thinking about the fact that they don’t experience sexual attraction. It is, after all, the lack of an experience rather than the presence of one, and is therefore less likely to draw their attention at any given moment. Contrary to some people’s belief, asexuals don’t necessarily have “oodles of free time” since they don’t spend it thinking about sex—but they do have other things that interest them. They are full human beings, just as complex as anyone of any other orientation, and as a certain lesbian character from a TV show I’m fond of once said, “My sexuality is not the most interesting thing about me.”

4. Remember that there are many ways to “humanize” a character without giving them a love interest. This is one of those topics that isn’t exclusive to stories with asexual characters, but is still relevant to them. All too often, I’ve seen characters who seem cold, inhuman, or heartless made more “human” by falling in love, as if the ability to feel romantic and/or sexual attraction is what makes them “not a machine.” This idea goes back at least a century, to Arthur Conan Doyle stating that Sherlock Holmes was “as human as a Babbage’s calculating machine, and just as likely to fall in love.”

Let me make this very clear: a character is not inhuman because they don’t feel romantic or sexual love, and a character is not especially human simply because they do feel these things. Even if your character is not asexual, please don’t make the one thing that “humanizes” them be romantic/sexual attraction—and in the case of asexual characters, please don’t try to “humanize” them by giving them a romantic interest. Yes, asexuals can be romantic, aromantic, or anything in between, but romantic asexuals are no more human than aromantics. There are so many other ways to humanize someone: strong platonic attachment, caring for animals, passion for a social cause, love for the environment, and countless other possibilities. Obviously it’s completely okay for romantic or sexual attraction to be one of these things: but please don’t make it the only one.

5. Think about how they discovered their orientation. Even if your character has known they’re asexual for 50+ years, unless your story takes place in some great fictional society where non-straight orientations are openly welcomed and accepted as normal, how they figured out their asexuality is probably going to affect them—as well as when they figured it out. I discovered my own asexuality in my early teens, but I’ve seen people who didn’t discover the term until they were senior citizens, having felt alone and out of place their entire lives with no idea why. If they discovered it recently, especially after a long time of not understanding themself, they might still be figuring out exactly how they define their own identity.

6. Consider asexuality in the context of your character’s environment. Small-scale and large-scale. Where your character grows up and what environment they live in during the story makes a huge difference on how their asexuality is expressed, and this is true whether you’re writing historical fiction (where views of and experiences in asexuality are obviously very different) or whether you’re deciding if your character’s family is supportive. There’s an enormous spectrum of variation in this, so I won’t even try to go into the details, but keep in mind that whether your character is out, what sort of prejudice they face, and how they feel about their own orientation will all be greatly affected by the world they live in and the people they know.

7. Asexuality is not an illness—but that doesn’t mean life experiences can’t affect it. Remember the House episode I mentioned? For those that never saw it, the patient-of-the-day was an apparently ace woman, married to an apparently ace man, who goes to see Dr. House. House is convinced that no human could possibly be asexual, despite another character, Wilson, mentioning research validating the orientation. In the end, House discovers that the man has a brain tumor suppressing his sex drive and the woman has been faking her orientation to stay with her husband.

This is … extremely problematic for what I hope are obvious reasons. This led to a lot of families and friends of asexuals, who had previously been supportive, suddenly worrying that their loved ones had brain tumors. Obviously, if there is a genuine reason to suspect a medical issue (such as a sudden disappearance of sexual interest when it existed before), one should consult a doctor, but this episode presented only two cases of asexuality, one of which was “just an illness” and another of which was a lie. This led viewers to the same conclusion that House himself reached: that no healthy human being could possibly be asexual.

This is a very bad example of asexual representation, but it’s also worth mentioning that there are asexuals who view their asexuality as being affected by their life experiences, a specific diagnosis, or even a chronic illness, and as long as you do research beforehand into what sorts of experiences can contribute to someone’s identity, and don’t try to “cure” that character’s asexuality as part of your story, this is okay. Ideally, include more than one ace character as a way to make it clear to your readers that experiences differ, and that all roads to finding one’s identity are valid. Sexual orientation is unlikely to change and can never be “cured”—since it’s not an illness in itself—but that doesn’t mean the environment can’t affect it.

8. Exploration and questioning is okay. I also want to emphasize that it is completely okay to have a character that is questioning their sexuality, and either later decides that they are ace or decides that they are not ace. As long as asexuality is treated as a genuine orientation and not just a “symptom”—and again, ideally, more than one ace character is included at least briefly—a character realizing that asexuality isn’t the right identity for them, or only realizing such after exploring other identities, is fine. As mentioned above, the House episode did this very wrong, but as long as you are not “disproving” the asexuality of the only two ace characters in the show—especially when it’s disproved by a guy who believes asexuality is impossible/inhuman—and you are sensitive and respectful, I think this can be done without causing offense.

9. Remember that ace views of attraction can be different than non-ace views. Much of society (at least Western society) seems to lump all attraction into one form: sexual and romantic combined. As asexuality gained more visibility, the idea of romantic and sexual attraction existing independently became more popular. On top of this, other types of attraction got more recognition: for instance, strong platonic attraction (like a non-romantic crush), sensual attraction (the desire for non-sexual physical contact), and aesthetic attraction (the attraction to the physical appearance of a person or object, but no desire for interaction). Note that this isn’t an asexual-exclusive experience, and a story definitely doesn’t need ace characters to explore these topics: many non-aces do experience these varied types of attraction, but haven’t had as much context to recognize or explore them. Asexuality, in recognizing that there are human beings with no sexual attraction, helped open the door to these ideas, but they have always existed. And even though this doesn’t necessarily relate to ace characters, I think it will go a long way to helping asexual experiences of attraction be better accepted.

10. Asexuality is a spectrum, and it’s more than okay to write all along it! I’ve been referring to the most general idea of “asexuality” in this post—probably because I fall completely in that category—but asexuality isn’t as simple as that, and the line between “ace” and “non-ace” isn’t so cut and dry. “Grey-asexuals” are a big part of the ace community, and their experience is both similar to and different from people who just identify as “asexual.” There are also demi-sexuals, who feel sexually attracted only once a strong emotional connection has been formed—and yes, these people deal with a lot of the same issues as asexuals, though of course, many parts of their experience are also unique. Keep this spectrum in mind as you’re writing your characters, even if you do end up writing someone who just identifies as “asexual.” It’s important to remember that the spectrum exists, if only because it’s a reminder that all of us, ace, non-ace, or anywhere in between, are part of the same immensely diverse gradient, instead of simply black and white.

Original post on my website.