#and it is passionate but it has a gentleness that matches my other old queers in love shows

[1prodigy1]

All desire for gentleness goes out the window I guarantee it

[writingonjorvik]

The New Gang Pitch

Following my narrative arc pitch, I wanted to outline a pitch for the new central character unit around the MC to go with it, since characters can make or break a story.

The Self-Taught Vessel, Allacia Clair

One of the first characters part of this group I would imagine has a bit of a rivalry with the MC about their powers. While she’s also a Vessel (my name for the Aideen’s champion role from my narrative pitch), she didn’t have anyone like the Keepers to teach her about her powers. She has a strong grasp on the “Avatar State” power/connecting to Aideen, her other powers she can’t really control and doesn’t have a good foundation for using her other core abilities. Her arc with the MC includes them learning to work together, possibly coming to a head at some point when it seems to this character that the MC is having no trouble with learning about the “Aideen State” powers.

She should be reckless, her powers manifesting in bursts, kinda like an unbridled Lightning Circle Alex, to show she never learned basic control over her powers. She’s stubborn and resilient, with a bitter sense of respect for the MC. She should be funny in a dry humor sort of way, but heart of gold trope, all the way. Points for her being in her mid to late 20′s, so a little older than the “about to start college” MC to add to that “how can you do this thing I struggled with” arc. Extra, extra points if she’s a POC, because, you know, cannon POC badasses are great.

The Valley Girl Hacker, Brittany Bellwinter

We need a diva in the party, and there’s nothing I love more than the idea of a full blown, bubble gum popping, gag me with a spoon, Silicon Valley girl for that. None of the “I don’t get people” hacker trope. This girl gets people, but is also Elle Woods smart with computers. “You took down entire network of G.E.D. encrypted asset logs.” “What, like it’s hard?” She takes no shit for being the pretty blonde girl, and she works her ass off to pull off her chic cyberpunk style while she takes down an entire DC facility’s security system from the Stablebucks down the street.

She’s open, honest, and direct. Her self-confidence is through the roof, to the point of initial conflict. Her being a vigilante when she meets the MC is a great arc to have them working together, and also establishing people outside the Keepers having an issue with Dark Core. She’s hungry for knowledge though, and her handiness with gadgets can provide SSO with a lot of tools for having ruins being destroyed in story beats without losing the information. But also a problem as she risks her life to get those pictures.

The Heart, Kadin Fairwind

This is the one character I think whose gender is most important to be kept the same. Kadin needs to be masc-presenting, either as an enby person who uses he/him pronouns, or just simply as a male presenting person. This is first and foremost because of the message Kadin can send. If SSO wants to be a story about gender equality, then it needs to also talk about how men relate to “feminine” topics, in particular, being the heart of the group. The Heart of the 5 man band is exclusively reserved for a female in the party, which is why it’s important to have a character like Kadin, who is masc-presenting, be the heart, to subvert that and show other masc-presenting players that you can be masculine and also be an empathetic person that tries to keep your friends together.

Kadin is a big sweetie, possibly physically, who just has a soft-spot for people. But when I say he’s big, I don’t mean Kadin is this doofy gentle giant or some himbo. No, he’s physically built, like a quarterback built, but he’s also very intelligent. Kadin needs to be outwardly very masculine, with an awareness of his strength and how it impacts people around him. He’s smart and observant and is really good on picking up on people’s emotions. He wants to help people, with a passion for being either a counselor or a nurse (specifically a nurse, not a doctor). Possibly with friends who were assholes when they were in school who bullied people, until Kadin decided he didn’t want to do that and wanted to be better aware of how he hurt people and how to make things better.

As much as I’m an advocate for queer & POC rep, I think the best way to do Kadin is just have him as this straight, white guy. I think him just being a hetero-cis dude and becoming aware of his privilege can be such an impactful message, even if the why isn’t ever explicitly said.

The Magic Enthusiast, Nakai “Xen” Seiko

If Kadin is cis, then Xen is one hundred percent they/them non-binary. But also, if Brittany is the tech wiz, then Xen simply wants to be an actual wizard. And not just wishes magic was real kinda wants to be a wizard, legit knows magic is real and can’t figure it out/can’t use it wants to be a wizard. Xen consumes all things magic, which makes them an amazing outside asset to the MC and Allacia, who both can use magic, but don’t always understand magic. Xen gets magic fundamentally as a study, but not always as a practice, which is why they struggle to actually use it. And while I do think they should learn how to use magic, they should by the kind of character who wants to multi-class wizard over and over so they can get every school of magic, not so they can actually get better. It’s Xen’s craving for understanding magic that will be a great tool in learning more about other planes of reality and how they relate to magic.

Xen’s personality is fundamentally at odds. While they come from a very traditional Japanese immigrant family and have a high respect for their culture, they obviously struggle with who they are and how that fits into what they want to do with their life. This is import in particular to me because so many cultures gender magic, with feminine and masculine sources of magic. Xen as a non-binary magic user, like myself, has to struggle with figuring out where those legends come from and breaking down how to feel about that in their own practice, particularly when Aideen is shown has being a very feminine entity. Much like the points before, I don’t think this has to be explicit, but I do think it can be very clearly coded to say that gendering things is often forced. While there are gendered things in nature, like things surrounding baby-making, most things aren’t and just because something is gendered, like Aideen, it doesn’t designate that all things need to be. I think the best way to balance this message is to have Xen has a very comedic person, always telling jokes, even when the timing isn’t always right. They should have an issue with hyperfixating, and I think having them being someone with ADD/ADHD is a great match for their other struggles, getting consumed in their pursuit of magic to the point of it being a hazard too.

The Gentle Giant, Bogga Norsdóttir

If anyone is going to be the brute of this party, it’s going to be Bogga. Bogga is a “I’m going to deadlift a Shire” kinda girl, but she won’t, cause it’s a horse, and why would she scare a horse like that? She’s honestly the simplest concept I have. She’s a gentle giant, though I don’t think she should be “stupid.” I think she should have a simple code of ethics, a very black and white version of right and wrong. It’s simple, you hurt her friends, she fucks you up. I would love too if she’s part Kalter. But yeah, Bogga is kinda the constant rock of the party, and that’s not just cause she’s a solid unit. She’s just reliable, and for that she’s kinda a sounding board for everyone else’s more complicated arcs. The point is that Bogga will always be there to support the party, and she doesn’t really need to grow. She’s got her life figured out, and so she’s just there to help everyone else figure out theirs.

The Returning Soul Rider

If there’s any of these members I’m ok with dropping, it’s this one. Not just cause I can’t decide which one, but also the whole point of the above group is establishing a friend group that the MC chooses through the story and actively recruits, not an existing friend group like the Soul Riders are. Even with the new intro to the Soul Riders they added, there’s never going to be a point where the MC isn’t a fifth wheel to their group, at least for me and I know for a lot of you, particularly as SSL gets more and more removed. The only reason they could even effectively establish their friend group before was because only two of them were friends when Lisa got to Jorvik, and it was Lisa that brought the four of them together. And honestly, I think staying on their story makes if feel more and more to me like we’re cleaning up their mess and undermines the Soul Riders defeating Garnok in SSL. Which ruins their abilities, and it’s just yet another reason we need to move away from them narratively.

Still, that doesn’t mean I think the Soul Riders need to be cut out entirely, but I think we need to relook at the angle that the MC is relating to the Soul Riders. And that means the Soul Riders relooking at themselves, particularly post Garnok, which is also why I think this arc needs to end.

In any case, I’m tied between Alex and Anne. On the one hand, Alex is a fighter and suddenly having no big bad to fight is a hell of a good arc to pitch. I also think her in contrast to Bogga is a great square off. Alex not being ready to be done fighting is a good arc, because she’s always been a fighter. What is she without something to go after now? I think her being afraid of falling back into her old ways now that she doesn’t have a target to hunt down is such an interesting arc to follow.

Anne is another interesting one, because I think with everyone expecting Anne to be consumed with vengeance before Garnok is defeated and her to come out of that, people would expect that after he’s gone, she would be ready to be done and just go back to being a normal girl. But I think that even if Anne gets over her vengeance, she’s the Soul Rider of the Sun Circle. Her powers are to open portals, she’s destined to travel. Anne isn’t going to want to go back. Whether it’s being a dressage master or traveling between planes of reality, Anne is the portal master of the druids. Worse, she was an imprisoned portal master. She’s shouldn’t want to be still ever again.

I’m honestly up in the air on them, and I’m not opposed to both, but I think it should just be one in the main group and another with a side arc we touch in on when we touch base with the other Soul Riders.

And yeah, that’s the pitch.

[ajfanfic]

TITLE: Are We Forgiven

AUTHOR: AJfanfic

PROMPT DAY #3: Protection

SUMMARY: Geralt's a butch factory worker and Jaskier is a singer who does what she needs to to make ends meet, and they were build to fit together.

WORD COUNT: 1,718

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix Show

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Attempted Rape/Assualt

RATING: Teen

ADDITIONAL NOTES: This is the first part of a series, so stay tuned for more! The song Jaskier sings is by Mr. Batey’s band, called “New York Torch Song.”

Read it below the cut, or on my AO3

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

- Richard Siken, "Snow and Dirty Rain"

She sings on Friday nights, and Geralt makes a point of being there ten minutes before she goes on every week. Long enough to get a beer and settle down at her table in the corner, long enough she doesn't look like she was waiting. Buttercup. It's her stage name, and Geralt pretends to not know it's what they call her on the street, too. She's as femme as they come, but there's a don't fuck with me rasp to her voice and an I'll gut you if you try anything glint in her eyes.

She walks on stage, like she does every Friday night, with her long chestnut hair pulled up, dress shimmering, heels high enough to make her taller than Geralt. She's got an old guitar in her hands, flowered strap over her shoulder. Its colors are faded and there are pulls in the embroidery. It doesn't match her outfit at all, and yet it belongs perfectly in her hands, like it's been there for ages and will be for ages more. Their eyes meet, and Buttercup smiles, sweet and a little bit tired. Geralt raises her glass in salute. They're friends, if few shared drinks and mostly one-sided conversations were enough to call them that.

"I wrote this a few nights ago, I'm sure you'll let me know what you think," she says, flirtatious to hide the uncertainty Geralt can just barely see in her eyes. She's never played her own work before, always covers.

Buttercup's voice is milk and honey and the beauty of it isn't enough to hide the bitterness of her words. There's a power to it, a strength her thin body conceals revealed in the assurance with which she plays.

"I cannot find the words to keep you, I cannot find the words to keep you." Geralt finds she's leaning forward in her seat, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel the heat of that passion.

"Can’t we just talk about this tomorrow?" Buttercup's voice breaks on the last word. It's just her on stage, a woman who's barely old enough to drink at the bars she performs in, but Geralt can hear the whole band. She wants to hear her with a whole band, a whole album of her words.

The sirens are right but so very wrong as she trails off, "New York torch," on her lips.

Then Buttercup’s gone, fleeing offstage and Geralt is heading for the back door, and there are cops outside. She’s glad she parked Roach across the street. Geralt slips outside and pulls her jacket tight against the rain. Wind roars in her ears as the storm breaks around her. It almost covers the shout from the alley next to where she parked her bike. Geralt hesitates at the edge of the light of a street lamp. The skin of her knuckles has only just scabbed over, and the last thing she needs is another night in jail. The cry comes again, and she knows that voice. Geralt steps out of the light.

There’s a man, blue shirt and billy club on his belt. He’s pressing a woman against the wall, her face against it, chestnut hair catching on the rough brick as she struggles. Buttercup snaps her head back, catching the man in the nose. Geralt takes the opening she’s made before either of them know she’s there. She wraps her arm around his neck and drags him off Buttercup. Geralt catches the back of his head with her other hand, pressing him into the hold. The man struggles for a moment, nails digging into her arm. He throws an elbow back at her head. They’re of a height, and it catches her cheek glancingly. Geralt grits her teeth and tightens her hold. After a moment, he stops struggling and falls limp. She drops him quickly, not needing to add “inflicting permanent brain damage to a cop” to her list of infractions.

Buttercup is still standing against the wall, her eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” Geralt asks gruffly. Are you terrified of me now?

“I should be asking you that.” She tilts her head. “How did you learn to do that so elegantly?”

Geralt’s not sure what to say to that. Elegant? Her?

“Sorry, I should be thanking you.” Buttercup looks down at her feet.

“No, I—Do you need a ride?”

She smiles. “Sure.”

Geralt spins on her heel and peers out of the alley. It seems the cops are busy arresting queers back at the club, so she steps back into the light. Roach groans to life under her. Buttercup presses tight against her back as she pulls out, arms wrapped around her waist. Geralt can feel how warm she is through the leather of her jacket, little puffs of breath against her neck. They’re headed to the center of town, almost by default, before Geralt realizes she doesn’t know where she lives.

“Buttercup—”

“No!” She shouts back over the wind and the rumble of the engine.

“No?”

“It’s not my name.”

“What should I call you?”

“Jaskier.” The word only just makes it to Geralt, and it feels like a gift that it does. “My place is just down there.”

Jaskier leads her around the back of an old white-sided building, up rickety steps and into a second-floor apartment. It’s simply furnished, a small table in the center of the room and a couch that looks like it’s from goodwill pushed under the only window. Doors on either side of it lead, presumably, to a bedroom and a bathroom. A little kitchenette claims the open corner. It feels almost like a hotel room, even fewer personal touches than Geralt herself has. It feels like Jaskier doesn’t plan on staying long. She steps out of her heels as soon as she’s inside, leaving them where they fall. Jaskier pushes Geralt into a chair.

“Wait right there, I’m going to find you an ice pack.” Geralt wants to protest that she doesn’t need it, she didn’t mean to impose, but Jaskier vanishes through the door on the left before she can. She’s back in a heartbeat, a towel and a tube of vaseline in her hands. She leaves it on the table, humming to herself as she pulls a bag of ice from the fridge and wraps it in the towel. Geralt doesn’t recognize the song.

“Here,” Jaskier drags a chair around to sit opposite her. She runs her thumb lightly over the purpling bruise under Geralt’s eye. When she replaces it with the ice, Geralt sighs. Jaskier takes her hand, saying “Hold this for me?” as she pressed it to take her place on the ice. Geralt isn’t sure how long she’s supposed to sit here. How long can you sit in someone’s kitchen without making small talk before it gets rude?

Jaskier squeezes some vaseline on her fingers and holds out her hand.

“What?” She does know that won’t help a bruise, doesn’t she?

“You knuckles. I noticed on the ride.”

Geralt gives her her hand. She barely feels her touch as she spreads it across the scabs, one finger at a time. It’s just vaseline, but it feels like more as her gentle touch eases the ache in her bruised knuckles. Geralt really needs to say something.

"I feel like I’ve known you all my life."

Not that. Why did I say that?

"Maybe it's destiny." She kisses her cheek, light and sweet. "Stay the night?" Jaskier smiles at Geralt's hesitance. "Just to sleep."

"Okay."

She pulls her up and leads her through the door at the back of the kitchen. The bedroom isn’t much more elaborate, but Geralt feels like she left the world behind when she crossed the threshold. Things are softer here, in the pink light of a scarf covered lamp, rounding her hard edges. Geralt keeps her eyes on the walls while Jaskier changes. Silk sliding against skin sounds like vulnerability, and Geralt feels too big, too harsh, too much of the factory floor clinging to her skin to bring it into this place. There's a crack in the paint. It starts in the corner by the window and spiders across the wall.

"Come here." Jaskier is wearing a t-shirt that falls to her knees. Geralt goes. She sits beside her on the bed, and Jaskier hands her a hair tie. "Braid it for me?"

"Okay." She is so very careful as she divides her hair into three. It catches on her calloused fingers and she wants to apologize, but Jaskier hums in quiet pleasure and she doesn't want to break the moment. Her hair is so very soft. One, two, three. Geralt lets the rhythm, the smell of rose, the trust, settle her. She ties it off and runs her hand along the braid, from Jaskier's nape to between her shoulder blades.

"Thank you," Jaskier says, smile gentle. Thank you, Geralt feels she should reply, but the words stick in her throat. Jaskier curls up beneath the blankets and pats the spot beside her expectantly. Geralt unties her boots. She hesitates before undoing her belt and stepping from her pants as well. They're rough and dirty, she doesn't want to scratch Jaskier. She lays down next to her, inches endless between them. Jaskier rolls onto her side and pressed back against her. She catches her hand and interlaces their fingers across his stomach. Geralt a tension she hadn't known she was carrying falls away from her. Geralt's body shelters hers, and now laying between her and the door like she's done it a million times, she can believe that Jaskier sees her as protection.

Geralt wakes to brilliantly blue eyes and their hands still interwoven between them.

"Good morning." Jaskier's hair has come loose and wispy strands frame her face. There's a scrape across her nose and her eyes still look tired, but pleased and soft in the morning light creeping in around the drapes.

Geralt asks quickly before she can lose her nerve. "Can I take you dancing?"

"I'd love that, baby."