#and those two things are academic papers and romance novels

[possamble]

Question to a fanfic writer: do you think that, in Marcille’s research ways *And* her love for romance novels… would result in her writing some in-universe fanfics of her own? Like, maybe she hypes herself up on something and get disappointed, or maybe she finds some character decision isn’t as ideal as she thinks it could be? Or it’s as simple as she wants to play around with the characters and see what happens?

I can’t help but imagine a scenario where she’s struggling with some romantic trouble irl and she’s struggling with deciding on what to do, but then the answer slaps itself upside her head when she rediscovers her fanfics and how she LITERALLY made a character or two do the exact romantic decision she needs to do? It would so silly but yet I can’t help but find it so charming. Hell, just the imagery of her writing romance fanfics of her own At All is just… delightful to me hehehe.

you know I've been rotating this in my head since I saw it this morning and. I went through a wild journey of opinions before I realized... Marcille wouldn't think about fanfiction like we think about it. In the modern age, yeah, she'd be a complete tumblrina -- but we're talking about a 17th century-ish fantasy setting.

Writing before the digital age was a physical commitment to investing ink and paper into your thoughts -- and this is even before mass production can make pens and notebooks kind of whatever to buy and use on a regular basis. I'm sure the situation wasn't dire, but I really can't see Marcille, perfect honor student, using her allotted supply of stationery at the academy on super frivolous things.

Fanfiction has been normalized incredibly fast in the past few decades. Think about now normal and popular D&D is nowadays compared to how much people looked down on it 20-30 years ago. Fanfiction was a freakass nerd thing to do until relatively recent history, something that was even considered offensive to the original creators.

Remember, we've already seen Marcille react to adaptations with disgust. She's kind of a hater and an elitist fan. She also considers herself a Reputable Academic. In a setting where a digitized culture hasn't reframed fanfiction as an act of appreciation and creativity, she would absoluuuuuuuutely think that fanfiction was complete loser shit.

If she did write anything about her favourite books... She'd. She'd be one of those assholes who writes huge scathing reviews of Dal Clan translations into Common. She'd be the fantasy equivalent of those Weebs/Japanese elitists on twitter tearing through every single localization choice in anime and JRPGs and being so so annoying about it.

If we're being charitable, we could say she'd be able to appreciate non-faithful translation choices that still do a good job of carrying over the original spirit of what was said. But I think we also have to acknowledge the possibility that, at her worst, she'd really really be like those guys who were malding about the Unicorn Overlord localizations so hard the (correction: Final Fantasy Tactics Creator, not the Unicorn Overlord devs) had to step forward and ratio them. (The silver lining is that she'd never get published in the arts review newspapers/journals that she submits her essays to. those poor editors just have to deal with her being persistent.)

[trashcritter]

Writer Interview Tag!

Ngl kind of chuckled to myself when @lolliputian tagged me in this, because I hardly consider myself a writer. I’ve written two full stories, only published one of them on ao3, that doesn’t feel like it counts. BUT. The questions were intriguing and I liked filling them out and thinking about this stuff. I’m tagging @boobcratchit and @el-inle and @poetryvampire and also anyone else who wants to steal this.

When did you start writing?

I mean as a kid I thought of myself as something of a creative writer through middle school, but something changed in high school where I suddenly decided I couldn’t do it anymore (probably just being an anxious perfectionistic teenager, honestly), and I transitioned to solely academic writing. I went to law school and became strictly a legal writer—and a damn good one. But I left my last writing-heavy job in 2020 and basically didn’t write anything until a couple of months ago, where for some reason I finally was able to rip the bandaid off.

Are there any specific themes or genres that you enjoy reading other than what you write?

Sci fi, horror, and I’m also a sucker for brain candy romance novels.

Is there a writer that you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Lol almost nobody is reading anything I’m writing yet, so no one is making any comparisons. I’m really just in a fact finding and developing phase of my writing as a creative pursuit—everything I’m reading I’m trying to think of what I like about it and how those things are being accomplished. So I guess I’m trying to emulate everyone right now as I work to find my own preferences.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I’ve been doing a lot of writing on my phone of all places. For whatever reason, it’s the cheat code to bypass the “writing = SERIOUS BUSINESS” panic moment in my brain that has kept me from transitioning from legal writing to writing as a creative pursuit. Occasionally I’ll hop on my desktop computer, and that is where I do most editing.

What is your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don’t know yet! I’m mostly a visual artist, and I know that in that realm the best thing I can do for an idea is get it down on paper or in clay ASAP. I’ve been doing the same thing with my writing. Have an idea? A few lines? Throw it down in a new note. I find the ones I keep coming back to, whether it’s a project or a story, are the ones that are ready to have something made of them.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I’ve been really interested in grief and loss as of late. My first piece that I shared with the world earlier this summer is on its surface a really sweet happy little story, but it’s driving point for me was one of grief, and I’m not sure it reads as super bittersweet (it wasn’t intended to), but I know that it’s a very bittersweet story at least for me personally. I keep coming back to a piece lately that is more obviously about immediate loss as well as the consequences of old loss that has gone ungrieved.

Something that is less of a theme and more stylistic is I’m very interested in the flow and musicality of my words. All of my best physical art has a certain movement and musicality to it, and I feel like I’m constantly trying to bring that into my writing as well.

What is your reason for writing?

When I wrote as a large part of my career, I loved the power behind my words. I am a really good legal writer. I’m persuasive as fuck and I am excellent at evoking the emotion and the viewpoint I want my reader to have. I loved that feeling and found that I missed it once I stopped. So I write to recapture the feeling of command and control over language, for one. But also I write because it gives a voice to the words that I would say naturally if I could, but don’t really seem like they belong in every day speech. And I’m finding that I enjoy putting my blorbos in situations and seeing what they do. It’s imaginative in a way that is very different from visual art. Finally, it’s giving me a place to process things in a new way. And I really love being able to share those thoughts and feelings with others; we both discover we aren’t so alone when we connect over writing.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment that you find particularly motivating?

When people call out individual snippets of writing that they particularly thought were beautiful, that brings me such joy. But otherwise just getting encouraging notes has been great. I’m so new to this art form, I know I’m still very much a developing writer, and that things are rough around the edges. But being able to be welcomed by others and have fun with them is really wonderful.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I have no idea. Somebody called my writing very introspective, and I really felt proud of that comment. I think it *is* quite introspective, and I like that. I like taking the inner world and giving it voice.

What do you think is your greatest strength as a writer?

I have no idea what I’m doing. No really—there’s a freedom to being a beginner that you can’t get back. I don’t think my writing is always very effective yet, but I do think it’s honest and unconstrained. In time I’ll learn to build guardrails and give it more shape, but the key I think is maintaining that honesty. And that’s hard to do once you know what you’ve been doing “wrong” the whole time. I’m in no hurry to learn lol.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Oh this is all purely self indulgent bullshit.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I’m pretty self conscious of it right now because I can tell it’s not where I want it to be. And of course it isn’t—I’ve been practicing this skill for a few months, tops? I think it’s better than average for that timeline, but it’s by no means great. I’m trying to be okay with not being great though—it’s good practice for me (or so my therapist says ;) ). I think I’ve got some good ideas, and occasionally lightning strikes and I can create a really solid few sentences. But I can’t yet do it consistently. I just don’t know enough yet. But I’m having *fun* and nobody is paying me for it, and it’s nice to just be able to let something be.

[writeblrcafe]

Digital interview with @thewritersplace

Our editor & barista Kendra (@thewritersplace) puts the kettle on and makes herself a cup of tea, then pulls a chair up behind the counter. She is currently writing a book and is still writing fanfiction. Her favourite genres include fiction, romance, fantasy, mystery, historical fiction, and paranormal/supernatural.

What got you into writing?

It's been a long time since I started writing, so I don't recollect the first instance very well, but the most likely thing that got me into writing would probably be Nanowrimo's Young Writers Program that my 6th grade homeroom teacher suggested I look into, since I wrote a lot of what she thought were interesting stories for the English class writing prompts she gave us at the beginning of every class.

What inspires you to write?

Beyond the pettiness of I see something and think "I could do this better"? Probably just the excitement of exploring various ideas from various pieces of media that I like, or age-old tropes and concepts that I've seen in favorite books/movies.

Which are recurring themes in your writing?

You know, honestly, I'm not sure. You're probably better off asking my best friend that, since she's read pretty much everything I've ever written. I don't necessarily focus on themes when I write. So, I'd probably have to read all my stuff over again with 'themes' in mind and get back to you with an updated answer.

How would you describe your writing style?

Not to repeat myself, but what I said to the previous question also applies here. I don't know what the writing style would be since I don't really know what types/options there are. I guess I'd say mine is hopefully elegant but straight-forward and clear. I've never been a fan of flowery writing, because while it's very pretty, it's a total pain to read through. I'd have to ask my best friend what she thinks the style is because like I said in my answer to the previous question, she's read all my stuff and could probably figure out what the style is.

How do you deal with writer's block?

I don't really get writer's block, so this might be more like tips on how I avoid getting it, rather than how do I deal with it. I usually listen to music related to my WIP(s), or work on another story or fanfic, or talk with my best friend about whatever ideas and stuff I have, and where I might be getting a bit stuck. She's probably the real reason I don't get writer's block, honestly.

Do you have a wip? Tell us about it:

I do! Technically, I have six, but the main one I'm trying to focus on right now is my Dracula-inspired one, called The Road To Eternity Is Paved With Blood. I'm more or less pulling from the novel, with some other stuff being pulled from the movie Dracula Untold, and some inspiration from the anime Hellsing. The latter was actually the biggest inspiration for my novel, and I've written fanfic for it, but my story obviously is different not just for reasons like copyright, but also for the fact that I've always wanted to do a Dracula/vampire story and put my own spin on it.

Have you already published your writing? Include a link to your published work so we can share it.

When I did the Nanowrimo Young Writers Program in middle school, they published the two novels I did for the event (one for each year I did it), but I've never been able to find either version online at this point. I have hard copies of the second book, though they are lost to the abyss that is my parents' house at this point. The other two things I've published are an academic paper that was my senior thesis, and a poem to a lit magazine. Unfortunately, the lit magazine's website is currently protected by a WordPress login, so I don't have the ability to get that link to the poem, but for those interested in viewing it, here is the tumblr link (this is my main blog). You can find the academic paper here.

You can tell us more interesting stuff about you here:

I don't really have much that I deem 'interesting', but a few facts about me are that I have been writing for over a decade, and while most of that has been fanfic, I've worked on a few original works here and there, including my six current ones. Outside of writing, I'm a graduate student in her last term, and work as a part-time studio manager for a small yoga studio. For those interested in her because of the mentions I made in some of my answers, here is my best friend's tumblr @bwaldorf

Get interviewed by Writeblr Café!

Any writer can participate. Just fill in this form by clicking on the link below. Maybe we will host interviews in an audio format if you are more interested in listening to an interview than reading it.

[stylishanachronism]

Could I request either dialogue prompt 3 or 11 for whichever characters you feel like make them work?

lmao like a month later, here you go babe, thank you so much for the prompt. 3 was “I can’t see anything.” “Hold on I’ll set something on fire.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Hold on, I’ll set something on fire.”

Alys sighs at him, but doesn’t protest, hiking Vela higher on her hip. She, he squints, just puts her thumb in her mouth, her other arm tight around Alys’ neck, wide-eyed and clingy to the point her mother can’t put her down, though she’s not looking so steady herself. 

From the half sunk rowboat moored at the end of the rotting dock, this place hasn’t been occupied in years, but a little groping at a likely shadow gets him a crude torch, a replacement for the one mounted at the wall that never got used, better than the broken crate he was expecting.

“It seems awfully empty. Do you think he even came this way?”

“Nowhere else for him to go.” He clicks his sparker together, lucky that was still in his pocket, cursing under his breath as the damp rag won’t catch. She frowns, but not at his language; she’s squinting out into the dark herself, turning so Vela’s away from the stream, closer to the cave mouth.

“See something?”

“Mm. It might be nothing, but- Beodul?” She calls, to no response.

“Maybe it’s the locals.”

“I’m fairly certain the pirates left, dear.”

He clicks his sparker again, pressing it up against the resin this time, and the resulting bloom of light catches on steel, a skeleton wobbling towards them, still dressed in rags and rust.

“Looks like at least one of them didn’t.”

It’s a nasty little surprise, Alys accepting the torch as she backs away, but it comes apart at the barest swing of his sword, which is somewhat alarming, but better it be extra fragile than the other way around. Alys frowns at it, eyes going hazy in a way he doesn’t like for a moment, and then she’s ignoring it again, lifting the torch higher and peering down the passageway. 

The sand’s too mussed to give any hint of which way Beodul went; there’s at least two more bodies, so to speak, in here, from the tracks on the floor, though if he had to put money on it the right fork looks like it’s seen more movement recently.

“Which way, do you think?”

He takes the torch back from her, not the smartest idea, given he’s the one with the sword, but he’s also taller, and it’s awful dark in here, and the extra reach shows what might very well be a boot print in the spill of sand ahead of them.

“Right.”

She lets him take the lead, murmuring to Vela in low tones, trying to coax her sweet again, at a guess, she’d never much liked the dark before all this shit happened, but she screamed when they tried to leave her behind, and Alys is just as clingy, considering, so it wasn’t like she resisted too hard, and he follows the bootprints as best he can, pausing at another fork. This place must be a misery when the tide comes in, given the rotting bridges everywhere, light from some distant crack in the roof enough for him to know they aren’t setting foot that way, that particular bridge well out, but there’s a passage ahead, and another squeezed between that one and the water, and nothing in the sand to say which one’s a better bet.

“Beodul?” Alys calls again, coming up to his elbow, free hand cupped around her mouth, and it’s hard to tell, what with the echoes, but he thinks the answering cry comes from ahead of them. It sounds pained, or at the least terrified, so with a quick glance at Alys, whose mouth has set in a grim line, clearly they’re thinking the same thing, he presses forwards, passing the torch back to her as he goes.

The skeleton that comes careening out of the dark is not Beodul, but it is wearing boots. A boot. Its friend has the other, its breastplate buckled in in a way that makes a frankly horrible noise every time it moves, the same noise that brought them this direction, he realizes, so at least if Beodul isn’t dead, he wasn’t screaming either. 

It’s a trickier fight than the last, there’s two of them this time, and he can’t back up, or see much of anything, so it’s luck more than anything else that lets him shoulder one of them into the wall hard enough it crumbles before it can get past him. He catches a glimpse of Alys stomping its skull in from the corner of his eye, something about the way she moves unsettling and strange, but he doesn’t get a good look, and can’t spare the attention anyway, as the one in the breastplate, the one still standing, claws at his face. At least it doesn’t have a sword, like the other one did.

One of them is a simpler proposition, even though he still can’t see shit; he feints for its knees and then smashes its skull askew, ducks as it doesn’t give up and grabs at him again, and settles for doing some grabbing himself, hooking his fingers under its jawbone and yanking until it comes to pieces. Alys stumbles in his peripheral, Vela sliding off her hip with a wail, but they’ve both got their feet under them by the time the skeleton collapses into itself and he’s able to turn around.

Alys is chalky, what little color she’d regained well gone, the graze on her temple dark and sticky again, and she’s ice cold when he catches her chin to get a better look, but the torch is still steady in her hand, and it looks like she just moved too fast or something, since the graze is already clotting up again, so that’s something, at least. 

“You’re alright?”

“Should be asking you that, Nineteen.”

Her smile’s more like a grimace, but it counts.

“I’m fine.” 

She pulls away then, ducking to check on Vela, whose eyes are wet and whose lip is wobbling, but otherwise looks unharmed.

“Sweetheart?”

Vela bursts into tears, flinging her arms around her mother’s shoulders again and smearing her snotty face into her neck, Alys rocking back on her heels to catch her.

“Oh, my heart.”

He takes the torch back so she can gather the girl close, stroking her hair and murmuring to her as she cries, keeping watch.

“Do you want to go back to the beach? We have to stay and find Master Beodul, but I’d feel much better if you were safe outside.” She asks, cupping her cheek as her sniffles peter out. Safe… isn’t the word he’d use, between the wildlife and the fact she’d probably be the healthiest person at their little camp, for all she’s six years old, but it’s a tossup, considering what they’ve found in here so far.

“No!” She shakes her head vehemently, braids flying, and Alys gives him a helpless look. 

“Vela—“

“No!!!”

She’s back near tears again, probably also on the verge of screaming her head off again, which is really the last thing they need, and Alys pulls her back against her shoulder, listening intently as her daughter sobs her way through her fears. He can’t actually understand what she’s saying, for the most part, though Alys is looking distinctly alarmed as it goes on, but he’s had the ‘what if Mama doesn’t wake up?’ discussion with her enough times over the last month he can guess the gist of it.

“Oh, Vela.” She sighs, when she starts crying too hard to speak. “Oh, my girl.” She cradles her head, stroking her thumb along the line of her skull. “Not even the gods know what might happen tomorrow, but I promise I will always do my best to come home to you.”

She gives him another look, cutting her eyes away behind him as she lifts her again, and yeah, if they have to settle Vela he doesn’t really like this spot to do it.

The skeletons came out of a sharp turn in the wall, opening into a small chamber, the main passage veering away to join the other one, he thinks, lining up the space in his head. If they died here, the evidence is long gone; from the waterline on the posts holding up the platform that covers most of the room, this place floods most every day, at least. It’s rotting like everything else in here, but it holds his weight when he tries it, and he’s half again as heavy as Alys and Vela together so that should be fine. This was where the previous occupants slept, if he had to make a guess, or maybe where whoever was in charge did their work, since there’s a table, mildewed papers strewn across it, and a rickety chair that amazingly doesn’t look like it’ll collapse into dust if he drops them in it, though he leans on it himself just to be sure, but it might have been something else, given the piles, probably once neatly organized, around the edges of the thing. 

Vela has progressed into hiccuping by the time Alys sits down, looking highly dubious about the state of the platform and everything on it, settling Vela into her lap and holding her close as she starts to hum, and he leaves her to it, kicking through the mouldering treasures stacked along the wall of the platform instead. Most of it’s beyond salvaging; blackened paintings that tear at a breath, bolts of fine fabrics rotted into a single mass, sacks of what was probably grain gone to dirt, but there’s a little coin, a handful of jewelry, some deeply tarnished silver candlesticks, and the candles themselves are fine, poured beeswax tapers that were probably tied neatly into bundles at some point, but no longer, and at the back, half buried under the rest of it, a pile of something wrapped in sturdy oilcloth, miraculously preserved against the elements. 

“Something interesting?” Alys comes to lean on him, Vela clearly feeling better, looking over his shoulder as he drags it out, and then her fingers tighten into his shirt as she gets a good look at it.

“You know what it is?”

She leans further forward, Vela, quiet again, squeezing between them to cling to his shirt too, and he can hear the smile in her voice as she starts listing it off.

“Three, no, four bolts of dyed wyrwool broadcloth from the Pearl Coast, out of a lot of two hundred, two bolts of violet from the Pales, out of a lot of ten, a special order for…. someone from the Republics, I don’t recognize the name, and a bolt each of samite and cloth-of-silver, from a Master Caligari’s workshop in Old Valia, from the same order.”

“How do you figure that?” She’s a Watcher, sure, but no mind hunter, and this is a bit of a stretch.

“Aelere’s always been thorough. And you ought to recognize Aloth’s spellwork, honestly.”

He leans forward, careful, and yeah, now that he’s looking it’s familiar, not that he could have placed it, but she seems certain, except-

“Aelere?”

“My cousin. I’ve not gone mad, stop fretting.” She stands up again, tugging Vela away so he can get to his feet as well.

“How’d Aloth get involved, then?”

“He had a very expensive education, and he’s good at this sort of thing; she probably bullied him into it on one of his visits.”

“Like you bullied him about the rations?”

“That was just common sense. He needed to eat too, so he might as well have gone to the effort.”

The second he’s standing, Vela’s back to clinging, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other tight in her mother’s skirts, like the minute she couldn’t see him’s convinced her he’ll up and vanish on her, which is not going to be doable once they’re out of this nook. Which. On the off hand, he’d really like to find Beodul and get the Hel out of here before anything else happens, but Alys sitting down for a longer spell is probably a better idea, she’s still an icon of Berath, but breathing, and they really ought to see if there’s anything left in those papers, maybe get an idea of what the Hel even happened in here before they run headlong into it. Given her luck he wouldn’t even be surprised by a dragon somewhere in this mess.

“I don’t think a dragon could get in here, Edér.” She sighs, letting him shuffle them back to the table, clearly having read the look on his face. Vela’s brows draw together, but her eyes aren’t wet, good, so she’s probably thinking about her little friends, who won’t be too big to fit anywhere until the rest of them were all long dead and gone.

“Not the kittens, my heart.” Alys agrees, dropping back into the chair and peeling open the logbook set pride of place in front of her, wafting a dirty, vegetablely scent that makes Vela scrunch her nose and press closer to him. He snags a scrap of parchment for himself, pinned to the desk with a pitted, rusty eating knife; wasteful, that, the point would’ve never been the same even before whatever the Hel went down happened. The handwriting’s atrocious, even without the bleed, and the mildew’s not helping any neither, but the gist of it seems to be somebody was pissed and proper worried about something the headman, whatever they called him, had bought as added security, plus the fact that they apparently don’t have an Aloth to hand to keep the tides from wrecking everything.

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“Well, if we’re lucky, the construct our friend from the storm picked up somewhere will have rusted to pieces.”

So this was that asshole’s stomping grounds. Whatever guilt he might have felt over making off with what wasn’t already destroyed dissolves instantly.

“I don’t know why he picked it up, he was already behind on his taxes and those aren’t cheap to maintain, or easy to control, for that matter.” She wrinkles her nose, probably thinking about the little animat they’d picked up all those years ago, probably still kicking under the rubble of the house. That thing was tough as nails, but clearly this is a different beast.

“Pirates don’t pay taxes.” At least, he’s pretty sure they don’t pay taxes, given the whole ‘outside of the law’ bit.

“Tithes to the Principi council, who mostly use it to maintain their little fort as I understand it. Same thing really. In any case he was well behind on them.” She frowns at his accounting, the wet really hasn’t improved the state of that asshole’s books, then closes it again and pushes it away.

It might just be the torchlight, but it looks like she’s got a little color back when she glances up at him, eyes flickering between the parchment in his hand and his face, and he drops it back on the table.

“Construct probably killed everyone in here, somebody was complaining about it ‘giving them the eye’, best as I can guess. If we see crystals, keep an eye out, apparently it liked them.”

“Adra, not crystals, if I had to guess. I’m no animancer, but I’ve never encountered a construct with a particularly stable or well anchored soul.“

She accepts his hand back up, leaning into his shoulder when she sways on her feet, and honestly he doesn’t know how she’s still standing. She was asleep for a long time, and then the fight, and then the storm, and then they all escaped drowning by the skin of their teeth, and now this shit. She gives him a dry look as she steps away, mouth twisting, but doesn’t say anything, taking the torch back again and tugging Vela to follow, though she scowls and doesn’t let go of his shirt.

“I’m fine, Edér.” She says eventually, leading them back into the tunnel.

“You aren’t, but nothing we can do about that now.”

They make a funny little parade, Alys leading though she ought to be behind him, Vela clutching at them both with a grim determination that would be cute in any other circumstance, and he never liked any of this to begin with but he likes it less now. Hopefully they’ll find Beodul and get the Hel out of here before anything else happens, they’ve got to be running out of cavern if the map he’s put together in his head’s any good.

It’s a little drier, as they get further in, the tunnel sloping up just enough to let things dry out a smidge, which only serves to make the sand slippery, exactly what they needed right now.

The gleam of adra gets him by surprise, knocking him out of his grumbly thoughts as they come around another corner, this time into a proper cavern, and this must be where those assholes lived, not the little one, he can see the remains of a couple of hammocks tangled up with a pile of bones that’s not trying to kill them, heaped up near the dull, dead stone. It’s somehow creepier than the live stuff, sort of empty and shadowed, and really, he hasn’t liked any of this, but this is the last straw. A quick glance says Beodul’s not in here either, and even if there might be information they can come back for it, it’s not like it can end up in worse condition, so he chivvies them towards the tunnel leading out again; it should loop around to meet up with that broken bridge they saw earlier, which now that he thinks about it seems like it might have been Beodul’s doing, so if he’s anywhere, he’ll be there.

They almost make it out. They’re steps from the exit when Alys slips, windmilling back as her legs go out from under her, and what he’d taken for a particularly salty pile of rocks scrapes itself to its feet, lumbering at them faster than they can get past it.

Alys scrambles backwards, the torch flying out of her hand as she grabs Vela and drags her away, and its all he can do not to trip over her himself, doing an awkward little hop that just means when the thing swings at him it’s all he can do to duck, a broken edge on its arm drawing a line of fire across his shoulder, but his shirt doesn’t tear so it can’t be that bad, and he spares a thought for that old door, probably still leaning up against the wall in his cottage, where it does them all a fuck lot of good, as he dodges away from the girls, trying to keep its attention.

It’s limping, for lack of a better word, something wrecked in one of its legs, what he’d taken for salt more like mold, great holes eaten away in its shell, and despite that it’s still faster than he’d like, with more reach, and a sword is not the thing to be fighting it with, but it’s all he’s got so it’ll have to suffice.

The first swing just clatters off it, getting its attention well enough but not actually doing anything, and he has to dodge again as it swings its other arm at him, but the second catches one of those moldy patches and punches straight through, overbalancing him, and it, fortunately, though it nearly takes the sword right out of his hand, and then Alys is singing, whipping the memory of this place into something tangible, and the bones huddled near the adra pull themselves into the semblance of whoever they were before they died.

They, whoever they were, had a gun in life, which is also less than ideal, but it lets him swing around behind the thing and kick another of the moldy patches in, the machinery inside grinding out little sparks where bits of it have rusted nearly together, and the delicate little lattice of adra and copper looks important, so he swings at that, misses, has to back away as it decides he’s a better target than the person it already killed, and Alys makes a horrible, breathless noise and the lattice explodes in a flash of light that leaves purple-green-gold spots in his vision.

There’s a finality to the way the thing crashes back to the floor, solidified when it doesn’t try to get up again, but he doesn’t have time to do more than kick it’s innards away, because Vela is screaming, for real this time. Alys is crumpled on the ground, and for a long, heart-stopping second he thinks this is it, whatever it was she did finally killed her, gods, why did they even come in here, and then she’s scrabbling at the floor, trying to heave herself back up as Vela shrieks in denial, patting at her shoulder as the closest thing to hand.

He has no memory of crossing the cavern back to them, it happens so fast, going to his knees and hauling her to hers, Vela darting under her mother’s arm as soon as she properly reaches for her. She’s lost all color, for true this time, the blood in the whites of her eyes not helping that impression any, staring out into the dark in a way that’d make all his hair stand on end if it wasn’t doing that already. The soft, greenish glow of the adra isn’t helping any, painting everything in sickly shades of grey with the help of the still guttering torch, the blood in her eyes and on her face, nose and temple and her lip is split, to boot, black in the dimness, pupils blown to pits, and she’s breathing like she can’t get any air in her lungs.

“Alys? Alys?”

“Mama!!”

Alys chokes, gasping, and then gives up on talking and flings her arm around his shoulders, fisting her hand in his shirt with an unpleasant squish, dragging Vela to her breast, and starts to cry.

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

do you have an example of a post where an academic theory is rephrased as a hot take? most of the dracula content ive seen is just memes, so that sounds fun to read. (also, thanks for teaching me the word "acafan", ive been one for a few years now but didnt realize there was a term for it)

@ckret2 talks here about takes being bantered around on Tumblr that show deep academic knowledge of Dracula!

I'm not actually in Dracula fandom. I've got the world's biggest case of sour grapes about Dracula. My Canadian university had a campus in Italy where you could take a course on like, Dracula and the Origins of the Vampire Mythos, that included its own two-week trip through the Balkans and Central Europe, and I wanted to go SO badly, but there was no way I could afford it, so I decided that I Didn't Care, Dracula was Probably a Stupid Book Anyway. (I know it's not, but it was that or have more money angst, you know?)

ANYWAY. ACAFANDOM.

The rest of this is not Dracula related at all, but this is my blog and I'll rant if I want to. What I'm really fascinated by is the academic study of fandom, treating fannish culture and the works we create as legitimate objects of the academic gaze.

Did you know: The Organization for Transformative works, which runs the AO3, also has its own open-access peer-reviewed scholarly journal?

Transformative Works and Cultures

Their current Call for Papers is for a special issue on Centering Blackness in Fan Studies; the most recent issue is about Fandom Histories, which is to say, how fandoms tend to preserve, remember, and represent our past.

(dreamily) One day I'll get my shit together and write an essay for the Symposium section of TWC, which is the space they've set aside for voices from fandom who aren't part of the Academic Establishment.

Two of its founding editors, Kristina Busse and Karen Hellekson, also edited the 2006 book Fan Fiction and Fan Communities in the Age of the Internet: New Essays. Which has an essay that blew my mind and changed the way I think about relationships forever.

Specifically, it was Elizabeth Woledge's "Intimatopia: genre intersections between slash and the mainstream", where she took a conversation that was happening in academic discussions of romance novels and brought slash into it.

Basically, romance scholars were talking about what the difference is between a romance novel, pornography, erotica, or any book that features a love story, because readers sure as hell know that those are all different things. And one of the theories was that the romance genre has this ethos it called the romantopia, an overriding sensibility that what this story is about is the main characters coming together to form a strong marriage. (This is compared to the erotopia of pornography, where the story is "about" the main characters coming together to reach sexual climax.)

And what Woledge said she found quite frequently in m/m slash written by women was a focus on intimacy, on the experience of being deeply seen and known and loved by someone, deeply seeing and knowing and loving them in return, and building a relationship based on that mutual intimacy. Her "Intimatopia" theory says that what these fics were trying to get at was not just a relationship where the participants had agreed to fulfill certain societal expectations together, like "husband", but to deeply interrogate the needs and desires of everyone involved, and define the relationship based on those.

(This theory explains some parts of why slash fandom is perpetually enamored of tropes like fake dating and forced intimacy. You can have characters who achieve both marriage and orgasm, but don't really know each other('s feelings), so the story isn't over yet.)

Which... as a bi girl in the mid-2000s who longed for sex and romance, but was completely starved for positive queer stories, and also didn't find most mass media depictions of heterosexuality appealing: Yes, that is exactly what slash provided me with. Beyond the queer representation, I found that the occasional het written by slash writers was also way more focused on the female partners as individual people, and didn't push them as much into traditional roles, compared to the times I wandered into primarily het-oriented fandoms and was startled by just how heteronormative everything was.

A lot of the writers I adored were queer women who didn't face as much pushback writing flawed and messy men as they did if they dared write problematic femslash, but they were still writing really authentically about the queer lives, experiences, and sensibilities they lived with. Male characters were just as affected by homophobic laws, attitudes, social forces, and military policies as they were, after all. Their male characters reacted, in real-time, to the events that changed their writers' lives.

(About the femslash, I... look, I tried to like femslash in the 2000s. I tried so hard. But albeit some exceptions like The Devil Wears Prada fandom, it seems that there was huge internal community pressure to represent lesbian relationships as idyllic and friction-free. Everything had to be neat and clean and good and giving. Everyone was automatically good at empathizing and accommodating and compromising and nobody felt like people. Especially not the people from the source material I'd fallen in love with. When I found later that one of the big femslash sites was called "Passion and Perfection" it felt like, of fucking COURSE it was.)

So I mostly got my first experiences of sapphic relationships not from the fanfiction itself, but from the personal lives of the writers. They'd blog about their relationships, about who did the dishes and how to persuade your doctor that no really, you're sexually active but not at risk of being pregnant. They talked freely about how changing legalization about same-sex marriage would affect their lives. And they'd often interact with each other in public; a lot of relationships were between fans who both participated in the community, and would collaborate artistically, or organize each other surprise birthday gifts, or write stories to cheer each other up or comfort the other person during times of separation. They represented the diverse queer quotidian possibilities of relationships where you threw out the gender roles and got to be weird together.

And I think... without acafandom, none of that would have felt important or real. For a long time, I would have said that I didn't have any real connections to the LGBTQ+ community. Early on I got a lot of messages that bisexuals weren't welcome in most of the in-person spaces I found, and nothing that I tried later fit either. I didn't like clubbing, loud music, drinking, or loud parties, so none of the LGBT events in my area felt like they were "for" me. And to be honest, unless they were in slash fandom, the reactions of gay men to fanfiction had pretty much all been somewhere on a scale from "derisive" to "scathing": "This isn't about real men. This is garbage and it doesn't represent us."

Which like, fair, I don't feel "represented" by 1950s pulp novels or 90% of recorded lesbian porn, or frankly, most femslash of the 2000s. I wouldn't recommend that era of slash to your average gay man as comfort reading.

But there was something there, in those stories, in that culture, that nourished my soul in deeper ways than I could even say. There was something in this thing we were doing that was important. And Elizabeth Woledge helped me start to explain why.

And in my life as a student and employee, it didn't matter as much how I got my knowledge, but if I used it and showed up on LGBTQ+ issues. It mattered if the old forms I typed up at work got edited to use gender-neutral language. If I corrected academic or direct-service discussions on relationships and intimate partner violence to include more accurate information about LGBTQ+ people. If I pushed for privacy and data management policies that would allow LGBTQ+ people to be open about their identities in some situations without exposing that information to others. If I could make sure that other LGBTQ+ people in the vicinity could see they were welcome and safe. If I could explain proposed legislation changes to people with the power to vote or agitate in some way about them, to make them more sympathetic.

(And yes it's fucked up that I feel like, as a bi woman, I have to pierce my breast and bleed out for the community before I will really "deserve" to belong there. But I do.)

So... yeah. Acafandom's really close to my heart, the way fanfiction is, because without it, there's a lot of my experience that would just feel too weak and frail to form into any sort of social narrative. By using the incredibly powerful tools of scholarly analysis, and taking fan experiences seriously as objects worthy of study, we can figure out what about these things we're all doing actually works. We have more tools to face the future with.

[media-analysis-blog]

The Gutenberg Press: the Godfather of Western Mass Media

Media today is ubiquitous across the world. It serves many purposes such as to entertain or to educate and it covers many mediums such as audio, visual, and electronic.

Media today owes a lot to a specific invention made in 15th Century Germany by who many would call the Godfather of Mass Media, Johannes Gutenberg. His invention is called the Gutenberg Press.

What makes the Gutenberg press so important for mass media today? Well, for starters, it was the first medium that made use of precast selection of letters and symbols that made printing on paper much easier and quicker than the block printing method that was common for media printing at the time.

Also, Gutenberg patented a special ink that was suited for his machine that worked more efficiently than other inks at the time. And with that, Gutenberg also worked on a system where certain letters and symbols could be printed if a certain trigger on his machine. This process would be the precursor to type writers that would come somewhat later.

The Gutenberg Press also ushered in what would be call the Printing Revolution.

What is the Printing Revolution? The Printing Revolution was a phenomenon in Europe that was triggered by the spread of the Gutenberg Press. The Gutenberg Press made creating mass media more accessible to the people. 

The key event that kicked this off was the creation of the Gutenberg Bible. The Gutenberg Bible, or die Gutenberg-Bibel in its native German, is a bible, hence the name, that was produced by the Gutenberg Press. This bible was printed by Gutenberg himself in partnership with another printer named Johann Fust. Despite what many may believe and the nationality of those two printers, the Gutenberg Bible was not printed in German, but in Latin.

The Gutenberg Bible was made as an experiment to test the viability of the Printing Press, and the experiment was a huge success. The Press printed about 150 copies of the Gutenberg Bible and one of them is in the Library of Congress to preserve as an influential written work.

After the printing of this Bible, many other types of books and other literature began to be published. Some of them, like the Gutenberg Bible, were religious in nature. However, there were some that covered more academic topics. One such example is the Press revitalizing the study of literature from ancient Greece and Rome during the Humanist Movement. Other books were more for entertainment value such as romance novels. In fact, it could be argued that the Gutenberg Press helped boost the very first romance novel boom.

In other words, books became a lot more widespread in Europe than ever before. And this had a net positive on European Society as a whole. Because of this increase in literature, the literacy rate of Europe increased exponentially. And along with it, came the formation of plenty of Public Libraries. 

The Gutenberg Press is also responsible for introducing the method of making money off the writings one produced. The first ever people documented to have done this was the Dutch scholar, philosopher, and Catholic theologian Desiderius Erasmus, a key figure in the development of the Humanist movement.

With all these grand advancements, the Printing Press did encounter some conflicts, one such of them being that since these Presses were nearly everywhere in Europe, there was a problem with quality control and copyright control. In other words, there were many people who made some profits copying other people’s works and then selling them in much lower conditions.

In addition to that, the Press also ran into some issues with the Catholic Church at the time. This was because the Printing Press had a laissez-faire policy to what could printed at the time, and among those things, that included material that was Anti-Church or would be considered promoting teachings that were against the Church’s at that time or just works that were consider crass in general with sexual acts that were considered impure and debauchery by the Church.

This concern brought with it the first ever mass media censorship called the Index Librorum Prohibitorum. This list was list of written material that Catholics were not allowed to read unless they faced excommunication. The purpose of the list was to dissuade what the Church would call “the Flock” to veer away from their spiritual path.

Also, the Press brought with it the first ever information war. This war occurred between the Protestants led by Martin Luther, who is known to have used the press to produce his 99 Theses, and the Catholics. The Catholics, despite their first reservations of the Press, saw the Press as a useful tool of apologetics against the accusations made by the Protestants. The two groups would make a plethora of material against each other, trying to sway the people to believe their own side over the other.

In conclusion, Gutenberg’s invention has changed the landscape of Western Mass Media and Mass Media in general. It’s recognition as a pioneer is well-deserved and cannot be disputed.

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of May 3, 2021

It's great to see so many new books hitting the shelves this week. I know I've been waiting for several of these and am happy to be able to finally read them. 

The Ones We’re Meant to Find by Joan He Roaring Brook

Cee has been trapped on an abandoned island for three years without any recollection of how she arrived, or memories from her life prior. All she knows is that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, she has a sister named Kay. Determined to find her, Cee devotes her days to building a boat from junk parts scavenged inland, doing everything in her power to survive until the day she gets off the island and reunites with her sister.

In a world apart, 16-year-old STEM prodigy Kasey Mizuhara is also living a life of isolation. The eco-city she calls home is one of eight levitating around the world, built for people who protected the planet―and now need protecting from it. With natural disasters on the rise due to climate change, eco-cities provide clean air, water, and shelter. Their residents, in exchange, must spend at least a third of their time in stasis pods, conducting business virtually whenever possible to reduce their environmental footprint. While Kasey, an introvert and loner, doesn’t mind the lifestyle, her sister Celia hated it. Popular and lovable, Celia much preferred the outside world. But no one could have predicted that Celia would take a boat out to sea, never to return.

Now it’s been three months since Celia’s disappearance, and Kasey has given up hope. Logic says that her sister must be dead. But as the public decries her stance, she starts to second guess herself and decides to retrace Celia’s last steps. Where they’ll lead her, she does not know. Her sister was full of secrets. But Kasey has a secret of her own. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books

Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe.

When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page.

In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

They Better Call Me Sugar: My Journey from the Hood to the Hardwood by Sugar Rodgers Black Sheep

Growing up in dire poverty in Suffolk, Virginia, Sugar (born Ta’Shauna) Rodgers never imagined that she would become an all-star player in the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). Both of her siblings were in and out of prison throughout much of her childhood and shootings in her neighborhood were commonplace. For Sugar this was just a fact of life.

While academics wasn’t a high priority for Sugar and many of her friends, athletics always played a prominent role. She mastered her three-point shot on a net her brother put up just outside their home, eventually becoming so good that she could hustle local drug dealers out of money in one-on-one contests.

With the love and support of her family and friends, Sugar’s performance on her high school basketball team led to her recruitment by the Georgetown Hoyas, and her eventual draft into the WNBA in 2013 by the Minnesota Lynx (who won the WNBA Finals in Sugar’s first year). The first of her family to attend college, Sugar speaks of her struggles both academically and as an athlete with raw honesty.

Sugar’s road to a successful career as a professional basketball player is fraught with sadness and death–including her mother’s death when she’s fourteen, which leaves Sugar essentially homeless. Throughout it all, Sugar clings to basketball as a way to keep herself focused and sane.

And now Sugar shares her story as a message of hope and inspiration for young girls and boys everywhere, but especially those growing up in economically challenging conditions. Never sugarcoating her life experiences, she delivers a powerful message of discipline, perseverance, and always believing in oneself. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry by Joya Goffney HarperTeen

Quinn keeps lists of everything—from the days she’s ugly cried, to “Things That I Would Never Admit Out Loud,” to all the boys she’d like to kiss. Her lists keep her sane. By writing her fears on paper, she never has to face them in real life. That is, until her journal goes missing…

An anonymous account posts one of her lists on Instagram for the whole school to see and blackmails her into facing seven of her greatest fears, or else her entire journal will go public. Quinn doesn’t know who to trust. Desperate, she teams up with Carter Bennett—the last known person to have her journal—in a race against time to track down the blackmailer.

Together, they journey through everything Quinn’s been too afraid to face, and along the way, Quinn finds the courage to be honest, to live in the moment, and to fall in love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield Wednesday Books

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Indivisible by Daniel Aleman Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

There is a word Mateo Garcia and his younger sister Sophie have been taught to fear for as long as they can remember: deportation. Over the past few years, however, the fear that their undocumented immigrant parents could be sent back to Mexico has started to fade to the back of their minds. And why wouldn’t it, when their Ma and Pa have been in the United States for so long, they have American-born children, and they’re hard workers and good neighbors?

When two ICE agents come asking for Pa, the Garcia family realizes that the lives they’ve built are about to come crumbling down. And when Mateo returns from school one day to find that his parents have been taken, he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his family’s worst nightmare has become a reality.

With his Ma and Pa being held in separate detention centers, Mateo must learn how to look after his sister and himself. The choices Mateo makes, and the people he turns to for help, might reunite his family… or tear them apart for good. With his parents’ fate and his own future hanging in the balance, Mateo must figure out who he is and what he is capable of, even as he’s forced to question what it means to be an American teenager in a country that rejects his own mom and dad. — Cover art and summary via Goodreads

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

Karina Ahmed has a plan. Keep her head down, get through high school without a fuss, and follow her parents’ rules—even if it means sacrificing her dreams. When her parents go abroad to Bangladesh for four weeks, Karina expects some peace and quiet. Instead, one simple lie unravels everything.

Karina is my girlfriend.

Tutoring the school’s resident bad boy was already crossing a line. Pretending to date him? Out of the question. But Ace Clyde does everything right—he brings her coffee in the mornings, impresses her friends without trying, and even promises to buy her a dozen books (a week) if she goes along with his fake-dating facade. Though Karina agrees, she can’t help but start counting down the days until her parents come back.

T-minus twenty-eight days until everything returns to normal—but what if Karina no longer wants it to? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

All Kinds of Other by James Sie Quill Tree Books

In this tender, nuanced coming-of-age love story, two boys—one who is cis and one who is trans—have been guarding their hearts to protect themselves, until their feelings for each other give them a reason to stand up to their fears.

Two boys are starting at a new school.

Jules is just figuring out what it means to be gay and hasn’t totally decided whether he wants to be out at his new school. His parents and friends have all kinds of opinions, but for his part, Jules just wants to make the basketball team and keep his head down.

Jack is trying to start over after a best friend break-up. He followed his actor father clear across the country to LA, but he’s also totally ready to leave his past behind. Maybe this new school where no one knows him is exactly what he needs.

When the two boys meet, the sparks are undeniable. But then a video surfaces linking Jack to a pair of popular transgender vloggers, and the revelations about Jack’s past thrust both Jack and Jules into the spotlight they’ve been trying to avoid. Suddenly both boys have a choice to make—between lying low where it’s easier or following their hearts. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Southampton, 1912: Seventeen-year-old British-Chinese Valora Luck has quit her job and smuggled herself aboard the Titanic with two goals in mind: to reunite with her twin brother Jamie--her only family now that both their parents are dead--and to convince a part-owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus to take the twins on as acrobats. Quick-thinking Val talks her way into opulent firstclass accommodations and finds Jamie with a group of fellow Chinese laborers in third class. But in the rigidly stratified world of the luxury liner, Val's ruse can only last so long, and after two long years apart, it's unclear if Jamie even wants the life Val proposes. Then, one moonless night in the North Atlantic, the unthinkable happens--the supposedly unsinkable ship is dealt a fatal blow--and Val and her companions suddenly find themselves in a race to survive.

Stacey Lee, master of historical fiction, brings a fresh perspective to an infamous tragedy, loosely inspired by the recently uncovered account of six Titanic survivors of Chinese descent.

[akiwisfics]

Dipping Her Toes In

Summary:  A snapshot of what freedom might look like for Kirari, and the next step of her relationship with Sayaka. Notes: Response to the Hundred Devouring Artist’s Prompt, “Kirari’s first ‘I love you.’” You can find the rest of the collection here. 

---

>> “What does it mean to be in love?”

“... With love being so closely connected to meaning and fulfillment, it's valuable for each of us to define love as an action or series of actions we can take to bring us closer to the people we value...”

A glance through the article doesn’t offer many tidbits. Warnings about not appreciating partners over time, fantasy bonds, things that she never considers. In any case, it’s been some time now, and just as quickly, she clicks the tab close.  She needs something more… concrete.

>> “Scientific studies on love.”

“...During the first love-year, serotonin levels gradually return to normal, and the ‘stupid’ and ‘obsessive’ aspects of the condition moderate. That period is followed by increases in the hormone oxytocin, a neurotransmitter associated with a calmer, more mature form of love…”

The medical benefits might interest Sayaka if she brings it up; they sound like things the girl would use to justify using the word herself, but by now, she knows better: Sayaka gives in to the feeling, surrenders to its irrationality like the true beast that it is. Though it isn’t useful, perse, she does bookmark it for later. Sometimes, Sayaka gets bored with her schoolwork, and something tells her she may appreciate a small abstract like this for bedtime reading.

The girl never learns to relax.

>> “Quotes on love.”

“ At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.”

Plato is a questionable source of advice, maybe. The quotes are saccharine and only fill her mouth a sickenly sour taste. They’re better suited for agonizing romance novels and pop tunes that Yumemi still sings on the radio sometimes. Perhaps a straightforward approach is necessary.

>> “Wiki-How ‘How to Confess Your Love’”

“Take a step back. Be rational for a moment, and take stock of the situation. Consider your relationship to this person, and try to predict how they will receive your words.”

Oh.

Was she supposed to confess before the relationship started? She doesn’t think Sayaka would reject her if she admits to it; not when the other girl had confessed her love… a year ago now? A year and a half? It feels longer, but she tries to block out the shades of things she doesn’t want to think about; it’s easier that way, when now she has something normal that’s hers.

But how would Sayaka react to it? It’s a thought she’s never considered, so she keeps reading.

“Make sure that you mean it. If you have never been in love before, it may be hard to understand the implications of this phrase. There are many types of love…”

What does that mean?

“Sister?”

Kirari pokes her head away from her laptop, and notes the curious look in Ririka’s eyes. She knows she hadn’t started that long ago, but it feels so much later than it is. There’s some cacophony of traffic outside their apartment window, drunk office workers bickering about the latest gossip around the office, her stomach grumbles at the sweet aroma of curry simmering in the kitchen, and Kirari feels at home. Her legs are stretched out in front of her, toes wriggling freely as she balances the laptop on her knees. Her glasses feel a bit crooked, but they have to wait another week or so before she can fix them.

But it doesn’t matter, because tonight, she has a bigger project on her hands, and she can see the way Ririka is already worrying her hands into her white apron.

“What are you doing?” her sister asks and peers over curiously at the laptop screen. Her face blanches just a tad as she scans the article.

Kirari can’t help giggling at the response. “Sayaka is coming next week. I thought

I’d do something nice, but I’m… having a bit of trouble.”

“You two are dating... right…?”

She nods, and keeps scrolling through the page. More social plays. Indirect confessions, gauging the other person. However, it just seems like Kirari skipped a few steps. She never has to worry about Sayaka not being receptive, because she must be. Yet… she keeps pulling up to that second step. The types of love. She doesn’t have many examples. She loves Ririka, for instance. Familial love. But she doesn’t know if the word sits right on her tongue the way it does anyone else.

She doesn’t recall ever saying the word before. At least not like that. She doesn’t recall saying it to her mother, her grandmother, to cousins, to pets, to Sayaka. It isn’t something that…

Ririka is stepping away, but the impulse comes to mind. “Hey, Ririka?” Kirari calls after her, enough to give her older twin some pause.

“Yes?”

Should she look at her when she says it? Would it be more natural? Kirari doesn’t quite make it, instead focusing on the small counter behind her, filled with calendars, homework, bills, and dates. Things to remember for later. The words however, come out easily enough-- even as they feel a bit weird on her tongue.

“I love you,” she says.

Ririka looks slightly disturbed. That didn’t seem right either. Is it really that odd to hear her say it?

“I think you’re supposed to say it back,” Kirari suggests.

Her twin still hesitates, as if testing the word for herself-- seeing how it tasted, if it really fit how she feels. She’s learning how to wear her heart better on her sleeve, and Kirari enjoys seeing it. They are two people now, and though love fitted them before now, it molds itself more naturally in her vocabulary.

Yes. She loves Ririka. She is her twin, her lifeline since she was a child and even now, when sometimes it still feels like the world is ready to swallow her whole and drown her in its murky depths.

“I… I love you too?” Ririka squeaks, though it comes out mostly as a question. It works for now, and truthfully, Kirari finds a bit of comfort in the fact that it’s foreign for them both. They are two people now, but something about their commonalities warm and comfort Kirari all the same. She still plays games, has dumb jokes, and sighs and grumbles whenever Kirari doesn’t think. It’s now that it’s only two of them, they can just be that.

Kirari always loved Ririka, but now especially, it doesn’t hurt to call her sister.

--

She’s known for a while, of course, but perhaps Kirari didn’t have a word for it right away. Fascination was a safer word. It sparked academic interests-- thoughts and feelings more akin to objectivism than the more dangerous realms of subjectivity and the heart. When she puts it like that now though, it feels… sterile-- a dry taste on her tongue, better suited for Terano’s voice, her speeches. Or maybe her midterm paper.

It started and ended with the tower. It always did. She knew the name she wanted for them when she fell, but it was a taste that she was familiar with long before then, a certain sweetness that watered her mouth, like fresh fruit in blistering hot summers. Her eyes had darted and memorized the resume with a rejuvenation she had never known, never felt, and from it, the first loops of a love letter began to form in her mind.

But she hadn’t known how to write a love letter, nor the word for her fascination, so instead, she constructed a tower, and let it loom over the entire school-- a beacon of her obsession and tether to this new humanity that encroached on her heart.

(She still has the deed to that piece of land. She keeps it locked tight in a small safe underneath her bed, along with other traces of the old life she left behind. The only two things she ever needs constantly are the things she has already. Ririka. Sayaka.)

(Sometimes the other things still come back. Sometimes the nightmares don’t stop. But there’s either warm arms around her in the morning, or a welcoming, defrosting smile waiting for her in the kitchen-- Ririka’s breakfast. Soft. Perfect.)

She could’ve told Sayaka after the fall, when she looked so divine in the shimmering moonlight, eyes shining and glistening. In a way, Kirari did? But it wasn’t… it wasn’t the same, was it?

Sayaka never does well with metaphors. Despite the constant reminder of this, Kirari seems to constantly forget. It’s easier to slip into those ideas and actions that she knows well-- a double-speak that was necessary in the clan, at the school. If a truth isn’t at least a half-lie, then its free information-- and information never should be free.

Sayaka is an open book, but the language is one she doesn’t understand just yet. She’s learning though, slowly. She prefers her glasses in the morning, she prefers earthy teas, and she fidgets without anything to do. Waiting is an action to her, but to have nothing planned is permission for her to fiddle. Sometimes that’s organizing and cleaning the apartment (much to Ririka’s chagrin, when it takes weeks afterward to find everything), sometimes it’s studying the big law books-- a few extra copies making a neat stack on the coffee table. Kirari isn’t sure what to do with them now that her entrance exam is done, but Sayaka keeps insisting on keeping them in case she needs the books again.

She puts things to reuse and cherishes what luxuries she can afford. It’s a skill that Kirari is learning, slowly but surely. She recycles, she’s started cooking lessons with Ririka, and though she loathes to do it, she puts more focus on what they need versus the excess and statements that she enthralled herself with growing up.

But Kirari has grown to enjoy parts of it-- beautiful aspects that were easy to forget when she was richer and more pressured. Acts of love, self-sacrifice. Coupled with rarer appearances, even the smallest of actions seem to carry a heavier weight.

It started with a picnic.  Early spring, with the white lilies in full bloom, petals fluttering in the warm breeze. Her nose itched from the pollen as she laid on a dark blanket and observed the open blue sky, cloudless and empty. The looming tower was the solitary object in her vision, the lone door they dove out of just the barest outline from so far below.  On a whim, she outstretched her hands, framing the door between her fingers. What would it have looked like from down below? Two girls in the throes of their own madness, plummeting to their supposed deaths.

“Pres-- Kirari!”

Ah. She hadn’t been used to the name yet. Kirari smiled still, letting her hands drop lazily back on the blanket and patted the empty spot next to her. “The weather really is beautiful.”

“You… you just graduated. Shouldn’t you be--”

“Who’s going to kick me out?”

Sayaka relented and piece by piece, she laid down next to her, shoulders stiff and an uncertain fidget as she observed the clear sky above them. It may have been moments, maybe hours. Kirari counted the breaths shared between them, memorized the warmth that spread where their fingers and hips brushed, and allowed herself to consider what forever would look like just like this. The thought was dizzy, unclear, always is, but it was a thought that was hers . A thought that no one could ever, ever take again.

Not even the girl that held that dream in her hands without even knowing, even as Sayaka had continued to fidget next to her, thoughts elsewhere as they always were. Now? She’s better about it, but some days--

“Are you nervous?” Sayaka had asked, though better for herself than Kirari.

“No,” she spoke evenly, “I know you’ll find me when you need me.”

“And--”

Kirari found her hand, fingers twisting and tangling in the sheet below them and tangled them with her own hand instead. She squeezed firmly, once, and tried to take in the softness along her rough pads, knowing that it would be empty come tomorrow. “I always need you.”

--

And she always does.

So Kirari tries to include her in other ways. They text more frequently now, and sometimes when Sayaka visits, they spend half the time just working on homework and studying. She tells herself it’s normal and that’s okay too. The classes don’t challenge her as much as she would like though, and sometimes her mind drifts. Kirari thinks about fish, thinks about the smaller aquarium she has in the apartment, what her and Ririka will learn how to cook tonight. There’s supposed to be a raid, and she thinks Sayaka is free for once to lend a hand. Thank goodness, but Kirari is a shit healer.

Her mind finds the article when it does wander though, and still, she has to consider everything that’s come before and now. She missed the chance to confess when the election ended, she missed it on her graduation day, and distressingly enough, Kirari missed it when they had their first anniversary just a few months ago.

It was pleasant. She had saved her money through the last couple of weeks before it to take Sayaka to an expensive restaurant downtown-- seafood. Kirari had gifted her a pendant necklace-- a heirloom she had stolen from her clan back when she was leaving it. … Still in the midst of leaving it she supposes.

Though Kirari didn’t have the funds (Sayaka would be terribly upset if she spent the money on her instead of fixing the very minor crook in her glasses of all things), she has to wonder if there is something that could create a moment for them. Not so unlike the picnic between them, a gesture so simple but still stikes at where Kirari needs it.

… Sayaka did just finish her entrance exam. The results wouldn’t be posted yet, but perhaps--

“Igarashi-san?”

It takes her a second, but Kirari is learning to get used to that too. She stands obediently, and feels relieved at the lack of curious, bewildered stares. No one blinks at her name. No one recognizes her face. She is just a classmate, a figure in the crowd. But she wonders, if she had kept the Momobami moniker, would they?

“Could you read the next two paragraphs for us please?”

Kirari speaks loudly and clearly, even as her mind continues to wander. It’s a habit she can’t break from high school, unfortunately. She can’t help it, really. Whatever they read today will be a distant memory, foggy shapes once she’s turned to bed for the evening. Instead, she remembers the way she heard that name the first time.

Sayaka doesn’t know. If she was better about herself, she would admit she’s embarrassed. But she likes the way it sounds next to her name. Kirari Igarashi. It doesn’t remind her of peaches rotting in trees, of drowning. It’s a name that’s hers, and Sayaka’s too.

One day, she’d like it to be legally hers. For now, a few forged papers for her college admissions let her live the fantasy.

--

Kirari knows the man that moved next door to them. He’s smart enough to keep gloves on his hands, hiding the brand permanently etched on his skin, but he doesn’t know enough to keep the weighty recognition out of his eyes as they cross paths in the apartment hallways.

She doesn’t bring it up to Terano when she calls her later, even as she makes plans to meet her. They know Kirari still has a foot in the doorway, just in case the clan tries something again.

The next time she sees him, Kirari waves. He ignores it.

--

They always meet in public. Kirari isn’t sure that’s for her own sake, or more for the sake of Terano’s pride. It’s a routine at this point-- Kirari dangles a particularly juicy carrot, one Terano can’t ignore as she works to repair the damage, and Kirari asks for a favor fitting the price. A public space allows Kirari escape routes, and it allows Terano to have watchers-- in case something goes wrong. Kirari counts the heads that look just slightly out of place, the ones that take a second too long to look away when she sits down.

They never meet at the same restaurant, but Kirari learns that Terano has a habit. She likes coffee, the way the beans reek and leak out of the store out into the open patio. Terano always orders it black, and uses careful sips to disguise her nervous pauses. She’s changed little in the year, now with a weary weight to her eyes that Kirari is all too familiar with.

Kirari settles with a chai tea, because sometimes the thick aroma is enough to distract her from the two very ugly things around her: coffee and bad company.

Today is no different. They’re closer to Shibuya, a dizzying circle of subway stations and commuters that dizzy Kirari some ways and fascinates her in others. Now that her aquarium is more reasonable, she occupies her time observing people like the fish. The commuters and works walk their perfectly etched paths with few variations or changes. If she tries hard enough, she can recognize a few-- those that share the same path she does. If she tries hard enough, she could tell what days they stopped to grab coffee themselves, or which ones had some skeletons in the closet that they weren’t trained as a child to keep secret like Kirari did.

But Kirari is supposed to be normal now, so she doesn’t try that hard most of the time. Terano never thinks she’s trying enough.

She sits down on cold iron chairs, swallows the bile down at the thick smell of coffee beans, souring her mouth, and offers a placid smile to Terano. Something more familiar to both of them. “Good to see you, Terano,” Kirari lies.

“Stop calling me,” Terano snipes. Always straight to the point. “Every time you call me, I keep thinking I was better off just killing you.”

Kirari chuckles and marvels at how her cousin’s eyes trail the white envelope naturally as she pulls it out of her jacket pocket. It’s much plainer than the old calligraphy that was drilled into them both, and she prefers it. “You could never pull the trigger,” she teases in return, naturally. “Do you have it?”

Terano scowls, deeper than usual, but she still digs through her suitcase. What she pulls out is an envelope with sleek black, sealed with clan kanji that she hasn’t seen in months. Something inside her sinks, but Kirari knows that’s the purpose behind it. She wishes she could shake the feeling. Instead she lets herself tread along the surface. Breathing room.

“She passed. That really shouldn’t surprise you.” And yet, Kirari releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Even as Terano continues, uses slim fingers to slide the cruel reminder of things she doesn’t want anymore, Kirari feels relieved. “Top score. The pre-law department has been busy trying to make sure the offer’s good. They’re worried someone might leak the score to other schools.”

And Terano hesitates. “... The name she’s attached to--”

“It’s not real anymore.” She feels the smooth paper against her own rough palms, and feels how her appetite drains with each inch that she feels. It stings, it burns -- a heat Kirari so desperately tries to ignore as she stuffs the envelope in her pocket for safekeeping. Later, she will smooth out the creases and take in each letter of approval. University of Tokyo. With her. The warmth will be better then. Light.

Terano swallows. “... Igarashi?”

Her smile blooms at the word. Terano doesn’t say it with the gravity it deserves, but in a way, Kirari appreciates it. She wants her to be hesitant. Uncertain of something that never belonged to the clan. It is hers. It is her and Sayaka’s.

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes trace upward, to silver hair, no doubt too bright in the open sun. Kirari likes to think that Terano is trying to observe her for the first time. Not with the chains around her neck, of that nightmare of Momobami. She grew so tired of it choking her, and though there’s still bruises, some maybe too deep to heal, she’s free.

Only once, Terano swallows her pride. “The short hair suits you.”

--

“Are you sure about this?”

Sayaka threaded her fingers through as if handling something far more precious. Perhaps like sand through her own hourglass, dreading cutting those seconds and years away with a clean shear. Kirari’s eyes slid closed as Sayaka worshipped. Sometimes she misses those mornings where Sayaka would carefully braided silver tresses, looping them with finesse that Kirari could never perfect on her own.

“I need something new,” and she looked up, offering a smile only shared between them. “I know I can trust you to pick something that suits me.”

Sayaka hummed carefully, and through her reflection in the mirror, she could see how furrowed and frustrated she looked. Eyes dark and frown deep. She knew how deeply she was thinking, and the idea of what Sayaka would come up with thrilled her. With gentle hands, Sayaka brushed her hair back, letting it pool behind the chair.

The glean in her eyes was remarkable. “I won’t disappoint you, Kirari,” Sayaka said with stark conviction, leaving a kiss to the back of her head before she began her work.

It took some time and experimentation, but Kirari loves the freedom. They have time to decide what they want. What Kirari wants. The bob cut took some getting used to, but she loves the way it fans against her cheeks when she hunches over notebooks or her laptop. She loves the way that when her and Sayaka are sleeping, Sayaka’s still finds her hands tangled in her hair.

Kirari is in love. She’s always been in love.

--

There’s an extra pair of shoes. Mary’s here. The relationship between her and Ririka confuses her. Mary is all spitfire, physical brushes and jerks. She’s careless and unapologetic with her touches. Perhaps it appeals to Ririka in some sense, that someone would be so comfortable with themselves after spending so long hiding behind a mask like a tortoise shell.

Mary is stretched out on their couch, blonde hair drawn back in a loose ponytail, tied in silk black ribbon. The hum out of her pursed lips is almost contagious as she scrolls through her phone, completely at ease in a space she would have shied away from before. Kirari likes to think that it’s Ririka’s influence, and she’s grateful too, that they seem to be happy together. She just isn’t sure how it works.

Kirari has seen them together of course. Ririka shies away from more overt affection when Mary first arrives, but she gets used to the affection, she sees her grow more into herself. Back to the agonizing babysitter in many respects. She remembers how openly Mary gaped when Ririka admonished Kirari for the first time in her company, and Kirari thinks that was when she realized how serious they were.

But she doesn’t know how they don’t find that constant dance exhausting. And that’s not even including the love mess. Ririka is just as lost by the terminology. She hardly ever makes the first move.

“Where’s Ririka?” Kirari asks in way of greeting as she crosses the threshold into the living room. Their coffee table is starting to lean in the weight of the big law books. There’s a fern plant that needs watering, and the window is open to the busy streets below. She smells noodles at the shop down the street; salty. Maybe they have the extra cash to grab a bowl this evening.

Mary doesn’t look away from her phone, disinterested as ever. “Grocery shopping. She wanted me to wait for you.”

“That’s nice.”

She puts the phone to sleep and sits up, allowing Kirari the space to sit. As Kirari takes her seat, she realizes Mary is wearing perfume and tries to bite back her smile. “I’d like to ask you something,” Kirari says as she sits there, stiffly.

“I’m gonna regret saying yes, aren’t I?”

“Has Ririka said ‘I love you’ yet?”

The way Mary chokes immediately at the question is fascinating as she lurches back, covering her mouth with her hands. The red of her cheeks fits her blond better than Ririka’s silver, but no less amusing. “ What? ” Mary croaked out.

“Has she?”

“Th-This isn’t any of your business!”

“What would you consider romantic enough for such a confession?” She turned closer to her, legs crossed, and studies the way Mary squirms underneath the questioning. There’s something lovely how uncomfortable both her and Ririka could be. “I was considering a devotion day of sorts. People like Ririka and Sayaka need someone to remind them to relax, don’t you think? Breakfast in bed, a nice walk in the park perhaps, and … how do I bring it up?”

“ Shut up, Kirari!”

“Have you said it to Ririka yet? How did you--”

“SHUT UP,” and Mary latches onto her collar tight with clammy red hands, stretching the fabric and shaking her violently. Kirari’s head thumps with the way it rocks back and forth, but really, she thinks the headache is more internal. She wishes Mary could be more honest, but perhaps they’ll learn to do that in time.

--

Some days, it hurts.

It hurts worse than any word Kirari can describe.

But for the first time in her life, she feels like she doesn’t have to be alone to deal with it.

--

Sayaka gets in late, and as they take the dizzying concrete pathways back to Kirari’s apartment, her eyes are already drooping and Kirari spends more time holding her up than actually walking there. She’s learned how to relax a bit more now that they don’t use secretary or president . It’s just them. Sayaka and Kirari. It’s a thought that bubbles pleasantly. Like champagne simmering below. When Sayaka is here, Kirari never stops smiling.

She’s grown too. Sayaka has never stopped training, and she feels muscle as she holds her weight, the weight of a taser in her pocket. Some habits never die. The same time they settled on a good haircut, Sayaka started wearing her own in a high bun with long dark banks framing her beautiful, perfect face. The scratches never completely faded, and Kirari has to stop herself from counting the scratches as she guides them.

“Did you sleep at all?” Kirari teases gently.

Sayaka stifles a yawn, but she doesn’t pull away to save face. “I wanted to make sure everything went well.”

It doesn’t surprise her, but there’s nothing disappointing about it either. Kirari is learning the language, even as it evolves and starts using words that used to be just hers. Sayaka is a book-- her favorite book. She thinks of it like one bound by old parchment and illustrations painted with beauty and dedication. A marvel of detail that frames each chapter in ways that could never be replicated again.

They collapse in bed together as soon as they make it, and Kirari welcomes the extra weight. She welcomes the warmth molded against her. She welcomes the fingers tangled in her hair and the butterfly kisses against her cheeks and lips.

Sayaka shows her love most here, and it’s moments like this that Kirari cherishes most.

--

The date hits a snag immediately when Kirari wakes up to an empty space next to her and the digital clock reading 11:30. She smells Earl Grey and eggs from the cracked door, enticing her to crawl out of the residual warmth of her bed and further into the reaches of the apartment. If she closes her eyes and concentrate, she can hear a light hum, carefully content.

She wants to listen to the melody longer, but she knows Sayaka doesn’t like the breakfast to get cold. Kirari gets up in starts and pauses, fumbling for her slightly crooked glasses and old sweatshirt and pants. She keeps her feet bare because she likes the feel of her toes against ground that’s hers. She yawns and she looks less than perfect. And that’s okay.

Sayaka’s eyes find hers as Kirari wanders into the kitchen, and something catches her by the warm smile. It curves her eyes, black hair wild and fussed from the way Kirari clings to her in her sleep. She’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, bare legs twitching off and on in a nervous fidget. She pours the tea with a practiced perfection, steam billowing and clouding both of their glasses in the tight space.

“Good morning,” Sayaka says and the smile stretches just a wider, and all too sudden--

“I love you,” Kirari blurts. It’s not perfect, not even close to perfect. They both look like a mess, Sayaka’s dark circles under her eyes after months and months of studying and preparing. Kirari’s hair is tangled and fussed, make-up smeared across her face. But it slips out like a waterfall, one that Kirari can never hope to stop.

She doesn’t realize the tea cup slips out of Sayaka’s fingers until it cracks on the floor, and like a startled rabbit, Sayaka jumps back-- eyes owlishly wide and flabbergasted. Kirari isn’t sure if this is the reaction wants.

“... What?”

Kirari hesitates. “Is… was that a bad time?”

Sayaka cries and Kirari is never, ever sure what to do when it happens. She isn’t sure Sayaka knows what to do when she does either, because rather than responding, she starts bending down to pick up the broken ceramic. By the third piece though, her hands start shaking as the phrase hits her, and almost as if on instinct, her hands start gravitating toward her eyes to cover her tears.

Kirari takes them instead. A quick snatch up and a squeeze tight. She wishes it was to comfort the poor woman, but she wouldn’t-- “Careful. Wouldn’t want you to blind yourself, my dear Sayaka.”

“I’m sorry, I just--”

“Is it weird?”

“No! Never. I…” And her eyes well up again. “... I love you too.”

She kisses once. Forehead. Then along the curvature of one brow. She lets the small touches calm Sayaka down. The ceramic can be picked up later. The tea can be remade, and while the eggs probably couldn’t be salvaged, there’s always another time. She’ll send a better note later, especially after Kirari wakes up one morning to her glasses perfect and the tea cup replaced, but for now, she chooses to cherish the warmth between them.

It’s only one of many first steps in their lives. Kirari doesn’t mind waiting a bit longer for more.

[argyle-s]

Hello,

My name is Molly Bragg. I’m a bi trans gender author who has writing for almost three decades. I’m passionate about creating the kind of content I enjoy, which means stories that center around queer women, I’ve recently completed a original queer genre romance novel and I’m looking for help covering the cost of having it professionally edited.

To give you a preview of what you would be supporting, here’s Chapter 1:

***

Beth watched the buildings pass as the air cab carried her over Los Angeles taking in the changes the last ten years had wrought on the city.  Most of the low-income areas had been bulldozed, and those areas were now filled with alien arcologies.  Massive buildings that stretched kilometers into the sky, each one a city unto itself, and in their shadows, the skyscrapers that had once been incredible achievements of human architecture and engineering.  The buildings which had been hubs of human industry and centers of financial empires were now reduced to little more than playhouses for the backwards primitives who had the misfortune to be born natives of the Galactic Hegemony’s latest colony world. If they’d had another century or two things might have been different.  Humanity had been advancing quickly.  They wouldn’t have been on par with the technology of the Hegemony by any stretch, but they might have been able to dictate better terms.  The Gatekeepers hadn’t cared.  The gate had drifted into a stable orbit in the outer system, and the Gatekeepers had announced that, like it or not, the Sol system was being added to their vast network of space fold gates.  The first ships from the Hegemony had arrived just a month later, and ever since, Earth had been on the road to becoming the galactic equivalent of a banana republic. So far, her job and her savings had let her avoid the worst of what was happening, but unemployment was at a record high as alien automation systems replaced human labor in almost every sector.  The company she worked for had shifted gears from research and development to reverse engineering alien tech and had seen a short windfall in profits, but that was starting to vanish as the inevitable inflation drove prices up and the people they had been selling reverse engineered tech could no longer afford it. Beth wasn’t really that worried for herself.  She’d been poor before, and however much she might hate the idea she could survive being poor again.  What brought her to LA today was Sam.  Sam was getting close to graduation, and she had acceptance letters from every college that could afford postage.  A 4.0 unweighted GPA, high SAT scores, and a couple of impressive summer internships meant that schools were falling all over themselves to offer her full rides.  Ten years ago, that would have all but ensured her a bright future.  These days a PhD from Harvard, Yale, or MIT wasn’t worth the cost of paper to print the degree. People still made noise about human exceptionalism and about taking humanity’s place in the larger galactic community, but Beth had spent a lot of time over the last decade studying the history of colonization on Earth, and it never once ended well for the people being colonized.Regardless of what  happened to the colonized peoples as a whole, there were always individual exceptions...  people who avoided the fate of their brethren.  It was her determination to ensure her daughter’s future that brought her to LA today.   While billionaires had started buying their kids spots in alien schools the moment they were  allowed out of the Sol System, Beth didn’t have that option.  She was well off enough that she and Sam weren’t feeling the effects of the colonization yet, but nowhere near rich enough to buy a ticket off-world for Sam, much less pay for an off-world education.  Instead, she’d spent years looking into other options.  So far, none of her work had paid off, but she hadn’t given up hope.   She was headed to a meeting with a broker who helped place kids into programs that offered grants, scholarships and all expenses paid exchange programs.  She was going to find a way to offer her daughter a better future than most of Earth’s children could look forward to.  No matter what it took. *** “Ms. Murray, it’s so nice to meet you,” the man said as he held out his hand.  Beth took it and gave it a quick shake while trying her best not to let on that he reminded her of a used car salesman.  She needed his help, and it wouldn’t do to offend him. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cooper.” “Please, call me Owen,” he said.  “Right this way.” He led her out of the small, brightly decorated waiting room and into a small, neat office.  He gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he walked around behind it and took his seat. “So, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here Ms. Murray.  You are looking for an opportunity for your daughter to continue her education off-world, is that correct?” “Yes,” Beth said. “Okay.  I just wanted to make sure that we’re both looking for the same outcome.  Now, I’ve gone through Samantha’s records.  Academically, she’s in great shape, and the extra-curriculars are good too.  I’ve been able to find at least twenty different programs that will accept her.” “That’s great,” Beth said, though she didn’t believe it.  She’d heard the exact same thing from more than a dozen other brokers, and she suspected she wasn’t going to hear anything new.  “What are the terms?” “It varies from program to program.  All of them require a period of indenture, but some are as low as eight years.” Beth tried to hide her disappointment.  She wanted to give her daughter a better future, not sell her into virtual slavery for almost a decade. “Owen, I’m looking for a program without any period of indenture.  I know they exist, but you’re the fifteenth broker I’ve talked to and none of them have offered even an application to an indenture free program.” “They do exist, but Ms. Murray, you must understand.  There are a lot of people who want their children to receive an off-world education, and slots which don’t require a period of indentured service are in especially high demand.” “I understand that, but I haven’t gotten high demand, I’ve gotten completely unavailable.  I’d like to know why no one will even consider letting her apply.” Owen looked at her for almost a minute, not saying anything, before he finally leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. “Honestly, Ms. Murray?” “Please.” “Those slots go to the kids of billionaires, presidents, CEO’s, ambassadors, kings and other high level government types.  Each year, a handful will go to some poor kids from the ghetto so that they can parade them around as part of a puff piece about how generous the aliens are, but that’s just window dressing.  The truth is, your daughter is neither rich enough, nor poor enough to ever get one of those slots.” Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from swearing.  She wasn’t surprised at all, but she was angry and frustrated.  She’d half suspected something like that was going on, but hearing it spelled out so clearly was still enough to make her blood boil. “Isn’t there anything, any way that I can get her off-world without selling her into slavery?” “Ms. Murray, Indentured Service is hardly slavery.” “It’s close enough.” Owen stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. “What?” “It’s nothing.” “It’s something,” she said.  “Please.” He sighed.  “It’s not something I would normally offer to someone of your background.” “What does that mean?” “It means that some aliens have cultural practices that people of Western European descent find unpalatable, while those from other cultures would find those practices perfectly normal.” “I’m not sure I follow.” “Ms. Murray, you are aware that, much to the surprise of every biologist on the planet, there are a number of species with whom humanity shares a degree of reproductive compatibility?” “I am,” she said. “Well, there is a species called the Sionnach.  They’re native to a planet called Talamh in the Grian system, and they bear a rather striking resemblance to humans.  There are differences of course, but the basic morphology is the same.  The reason I bring this up is that about eighty years ago, Talamh suffered an environmental catastrophe that wiped out nearly ninety-five percent of their population in the span of a few weeks.  Because of their reproductive practices prior to the incident, the Sionnach found themselves facing a sort of genetic bottleneck, and they decided that the best way to alleviate this was to seek an outside infusion of genetic material.” “They’re looking for breeding stock,” Beth said. “Yes.” “You can’t be serious.” “And this is why I don’t offer this option to white people,” Owen said.  “Ms. Murray, I’m not suggesting you sell your daughter off as some kind of brood mare.  The Sionnach take selection of their mates very, very seriously.  They gather applications from a number of candidates, and the Sionnach in question reviews them, and selects the ones they like.  Then, their family reviews their choices, and select a candidate.  The candidate is then brought to the house of their prospective spouse, and they spend a period of time together.  Roughly five hours.  During that time they talk, get to know each other, and decide if they want to proceed.  If both parties agree, they enter a five year engagement.  During those five years, the candidate is treated as a member of the house.  They are given a stipend, they’re educated, they’re housed, fed, provided with medical care, and they undergo medical procedures which allow them to survive on Talamh without special equipment.” “What sort of medical procedures?” “Talamh is a high gravity world with a higher-than-normal concentration of heavy metals in the environment.  Your daughter would need procedures to be able to stand up to the local gravity, and to be able to filter out metals she would not normally be able to purge from her system.  She would also undergo a type of gene therapy which would make her more resistant to radiation and give her the ability to see parts of the infrared spectrum and hear sounds normally outside of the range of human hearing.” “That sounds dangerous.” “The Sionnach are one of the founding species of the Hegemony.  Their technology is thousands of years more advanced than ours, and they’ve been doing these procedures since before humans built their first cities.” Beth shook her head.  “An arranged marriage…  I don’t know.” “If I’m honest, it’s a long shot.  You would have to take your daughter for a screening.  She’d have to pass the screening for any sort of genetic issues that would eliminate her, then she would have to be selected by one of the Sionnach.  If that happens, you and your family would have to travel to Talamh at the expense of the Sionnach house that selected her, and your daughter would have to get through the initial interview.  But if she does, she would get the education you want for her.” “And what happens at the end of the five years if she decides she doesn’t want to marry the person who selected her.” “Then she’s free to walk away.  She’d be given a small amount of money, and passage to anywhere within the Hegemony, but she’d be free to do what she wants.” “No indenture?  No repayment of expenses?” Beth asked. “No,” Owen said.  “But again, it’s a long shot, and I take my normal fee just to put you through the application process, whether she gets selected or not.” “How many humans get selected?” Beth asked. “She’d be the first,” Owen said. “What’s your fee?” Beth asked. “Five hundred Hegemony credits.” Beth winced.  Given current exchange rates, that was almost ten thousand dollars. “How quickly would we know?” Beth asked. Owen turned and woke up his computer.  She watched as he pulled up a page and scrolled through before clicking on a link. “There’s only one family looking right now.  Applications are due by the end of next week.  You’d know in a month, tops.” Beth thought about it for a moment.  It was a longshot, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, but it was better than an indenture, so she reached for her credit card. *** Sam looked up from her homework at the sound of a light knock on her bedroom door.  The door was wide open, and her mother was standing there looking at her.  Sam couldn’t quite place the expression on her face but given the appointment she had earlier, Sam didn’t have any doubt about what it meant. “No luck, huh?” she asked, trying not to let the relief she felt creep into her voice.  She knew an off-world education would open a lot of doors for her and give her opportunities that she wouldn’t have otherwise, and she really did want to go off-world, travel in space and see other planets someday, but the idea of living on another planet for four or more years was both frightening and overwhelming. “Not much,” her mom said.  “He did have one program you could apply for that doesn’t include an indenture period.  I emailed you the link to the application.  I need you to fill it out today, because I made an appointment for tomorrow for you to go for the physical and psych scan that’s required.” “Tomorrow?  Mom, tomorrow’s Jenny’s birthday party.” “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry.  I know you were looking forward to the party, but you might have to miss it.  I’ve already got us portal tokens, and tomorrow is the only day we can go before the deadline without you missing school.  I made the appointment for as early as I could, so you should get home in time to go.” Sam wanted to argue, but she already knew it was useless.  She hadn’t missed a day of school since halfway through the eighth grade, and she knew her mom wasn’t going to let her start less than a month before graduation.  She also knew her mom wasn’t going to let her pass up a chance at an off-world scholarship just to go to a birthday party.  Even if the birthday girl was her best friend who she’d been crushing on since Kindergarten.  Of course, her mom didn’t exactly know that last part because she hadn’t told her she liked girls.  She’d considered telling her a few times, but she’d always changed her mind at the last minute, because if her mom knew she liked girls, she might decide that Jenny was a distraction that Sam didn’t need in her life and that wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. “Fine,” she said, reaching for her laptop.  “I’ll do the application now.” “Thank you.  And Sam, I love you.” “I love you too, mom,” she said. Her mom left and Sam opened up the email link, which took her to a form that asked her for an invite code.  She checked the email and sure enough, there was a code for her.  She copied it and pasted it into the form, and when she did, it took her to the next page, and a lot of the information was prepopulated, including her latest ID card photo, name and age, along with her school transcripts and medical records.  The stuff that was left for her to fill out read more like a dating profile than a college application. The first section was hobbies and interests and activities.  She thought about it for a minute and decided to just be honest instead of going through all the BS she usually did for the college apps.  She put down soccer, swimming, surfing, electronics, robotics, reading, martial arts, camping and motocross.  She attached pictures of herself in her soccer uniform, along with a couple of video clips from some of the team’s games, then she added a few videos of her swim meets, and a couple of pictures and some videos of her surfing.  She pulled up her YouTube folder and attached a few build videos for some of her robotics projects, along with the parts lists, schematics, models for the 3D printed parts, and the source code for the micro-controllers she’d written.  She added a picture of her holding two trophies from a local Karate tournament where she’d placed second in sparring, and third in bo staff, and added a few videos of her matches.  She also added a few pictures from her camping trips and a picture of her sitting on a dirt bike, along with a video Jenny had taken of her running one of the beginner courses, then pulled up her ebook library and dumped the list of all her books, listed her favorite movies and attached all her playlists from her music library. The next section was a little weird.  It asked about what sort of foods she liked, so she gave a list.  Then is asked whether she enjoyed various activities.  Most of them were fairly common things.  Theater, music, art.  A couple she had to check the cultural database link.  She was surprised and excited when she found out that whoever was sponsoring this program apparently considered dragon racing important enough to put on the questionnaire. All in all, she spent about two hours filling out the application, and once she was done, she hit submit, and then pulled out her cell phone and opened up her text messages with Jenny. Sam:  ‘Bad news.  I might miss your party.’ Jenny:  ‘What?!!!’ Sam:  ‘Mom’s dragging me to New York in the morning for a physical and a psych scan for a scholarship.’ Jenny:  ‘She’s still on that off-world college kick?’ Sam:  ‘Yeah.’ Jenny:  ‘Girl, you don’t want to go to college with ET’s’ Sam:  ‘I’ve got to get accepted before I have to worry about it.’ Jenny:  ‘Come by my place when you’re done.  Even if you miss the party, I want to see you.’ Sam:  ‘Will do.  See you tomorrow.’ Jenny;  ‘Night.’ Sam sat down her phone and looked at her homework.  She’d wanted to finish before dinner, but there was no way that was happening now.  She grabbed it anyway and went back to work, trying to get as much done as possible before her mom called her downstairs. 

***

End Chapter 1

***

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[laurelnose]

the Library at Kaer Morhen

Full disclosure: I am a student of library and information science, not a historian of anything, but I do know a little bit about historical libraries and the general scope of information collection and organizational work, so! here is a brief summary of what might have been in Kaer Morhen’s library, how the library functioned, and what is left of the library as of show timeline.

The closest analogs to Kaer Morhen’s library would have been monastic libraries of medieval Europe and to some extent later medieval university libraries (which existed a little later in history than the years Kaer Morhen was active). On the other hand, Sapkowski likes anachronisms in his worldbuilding, so I don’t feel beholden to perfect historical accuracy on that front and you shouldn’t either. One big difference, for instance, is there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of paper/parchment in the Witcher world like there was in medieval Europe (especially considering the video games), so Kaer Morhen would be totally free to, for instance, keep a lot of ephemera that would never have been created in the first place/been recycled into more ‘important’ texts in an actual medieval library.

This is long, so I’m putting it below the cut.

what was in the library?

Because of the specialized focus of the School of the Wolf (Kaer Morhen’s library is what the LIS field would uncreatively call a “special collection”) most of the materials would probably have been related to the School and its goals, so primarily nonfiction, reference, and archival material.

Kaer Morhen would have two main types of materials: stuff by witchers and stuff not by witchers.

In book and game canon, non-witcher academics study monsters, as well as relevant topics such as alchemy, regular biology, and magic. Subjects like history would also probably mostly be drawn from outside the keep. Witchers might have picked these up in the course of their travels and donated them to the library or have been sent out specifically to retrieve desired volumes. The mages would likely have been able to portal in and out of the keep; this would have allowed the mages to collect texts as well (they may also have potentially had access to mage-only sources for books and materials such as other mages and the mage schools; YMMV on how willing these sources might have been to share with Kaer Morhen’s mages).

Regarding stuff-by-witchers, most of it would have been created by Wolf School witchers and affiliated mages (who I will consider honorary witchers for this purpose). Some of these materials might also have created by witchers from other schools—Kaer Morhen might have traded with other schools for materials, or non-Wolf witchers who needed to shelter at Kaer Morhen might have left materials there. Witcher-created materials might have included some or all of the following:

armor and sword diagrams

treatises and bestiaries by witchers

witchers’ personal/field journals

case/hunt reports

witcher-only alchemy recipes/alchemical research notes

mages’ research notes

important correspondence

saved contract notices

inventory and supply records (this is what the first-ever historical libraries were created to organize!)

personnel records (It’s W3 canon that records were kept of the boys who didn’t survive the Trial of the Grasses; likely similar records were kept of graduating/active witchers and their deaths.) 

The collection itself probably wasn’t that big. Literacy in the Witcher seems somewhat more widespread than it was in actual medieval Europe, but for reference, in 1331 one of the largest libraries in Europe had only 1,850 books in its collection, whereas the second-largest public library system in America today keeps an average of 570 thousand books per location. If Kaer Morhen was keeping ephemera like saved contract notices the total number of individual items would probably have been a lot higher, but by modern standards it would have been pretty a small collection overall.

It also might not have all lived in one place. Smaller collections likely existed in other pockets of the keep: the mages’ tower probably had the bulk of the resources on magic and research on mutagens, for instance, and alchemy texts might have lived in the mutagen/potion labs for ease of access. Individual witchers keeping stashes at Kaer Morhen might also have had small private collections. 

Fictional/artistic materials such as novels or poetry are unlikely to have been a priority of whoever was in charge of acquisitions for the library. If Kaer Morhen had any, they were likely brought to the keep by witchers who personally fancied particular volumes and gave them to the library, or they existed mostly in private collections. Plausibly some witchers might have spent winters writing poetry and such. 

If there was written erotica floating around Kaer Morhen, I would guess most of it existed primarily in witchers’ private collections rather than officially cataloged or kept in the main library. This would make it much more difficult for trainees to sneak around and steal trashy romances, but stealing from specific witchers is also arguably funnier, so do with this what you will.

how did the library work?

There was absolutely at least one person dedicated to the upkeep and maintenance of the collection. More reasonably the head librarian would have had at least one or two assistants (possibly full-time, possibly on-and-off), depending on how dedicated you think Kaer Morhen was to saving and cataloging stuff. Fewer people are needed to keep a collection in order if people aren’t regularly wandering off with stuff. (Fun fact: the librarian of a monastic library was called an armarius or armarian.)

Tasks the librarian and assistants would take care of would include:

helping people find things

repairing, restoring, or copying materials that needed it

acquisitions (requires knowing what gaps of knowledge exist in the collection and figuring out what books to fill them with)

cataloging and keeping inventory (elaborated on further below)

checking out books and tracking where loaned books were

Speaking of checking books out: we have very little information about how specific lending policies worked in medieval libraries, but monastic libraries did lend things out to other monasteries and to individuals. However, witchers probably very rarely wanted to take books out of the keep with them, since books are a pain to carry around all year. Monastery libraries sometimes had written contracts for taking books out, which might have been the case for witchers who just wanted to have books out around the keep. There’s no evidence of card catalogs in medieval libraries but it wouldn’t be implausible for the library to have used something similar to keep track of checkouts if there was paper available. It is unlikely that Kaer Morhen would have enforced a certain time period for check-outs, especially if books remained in the keep; when everyone knows everyone, that becomes sort of unnecessary.

The actual organization of the library would have been…messy, by modern standards. Medieval catalogs were simple lists of items, featuring the title and author, or if neither existed, the first couple of lines of the first page, and perhaps a call number or shelf. They also often described the physical appearance of the book in detail. These lists would have been roughly sorted by either subject or by the physical shelf and shelving order of the items (or both). Some catalogs were sorted by the donor of the items, but this seems unlikely for Kaer Morhen. Sorting by surname or author seems to have been basically nonexistent.

The main purpose of a catalog was to do inventory (usually done at least once a year—probably a spring task at Kaer Morhen, after cataloging any new stuff witchers brought in over the winter), not to locate items.

Materials that existed in smaller collections (if the mages or alchemy labs had their own places to store books) might have been in the catalogs of the main library with notes that they were shelved in other buildings, or they might have had their own catalogs kept up by the people who used those resources most frequently.

When it came to actually finding stuff, the catalog would have been very difficult for people to navigate and someone looking for something specific would have just asked the librarian (or if they were a huge nerd, just been familiar enough with the collection to know where it was and cut out the middleman). Call numbers for books did exist in medieval libraries, but they varied wildly from library to library. Kaer Morhen might also have put numbers on the sides of its bookshelves to help find things, as was done in Roman libraries. (As an aside, it was common for medieval books to be color-coded for subject: red for theology, black for law, green for medicine, etc., which is not really true of books in the video game but would have helped with locating items.)

Notably, Kaer Seren, the Griffin keep, was destroyed by mages for refusing to share its library (presumably the most extensive of any of the witcher libraries); that doesn’t mean Kaer Seren and Kaer Morhen didn’t share materials with each other or the other witcher keeps, but it means outsiders likely were not allowed access to any of the witcher libraries, either directly or indirectly.

what is the library probably like as of the show timeline?

When Kaer Morhen was sacked and the secrets of the Trials were lost, that assault in all likelihood included systematic destruction of most of the library collection.

TW3 shows Ciri has access to bestiaries during her childhood, so either a few things survived in various corners of the keep, the witchers have still been acquiring and bringing back volumes to Kaer Morhen during their travels despite the dissolution of the library, or after she was brought to Kaer Morhen they collected texts specifically for her.

Attempting to properly rebuild the library, even just the non-witcher texts, would be a full-time job for anyone who wanted to pick it up, especially as the catalogs would likely have been destroyed with the books. Probably none of the remaining Wolf School witchers were quite familiar enough with the library’s structure to even begin a project like that, even if they wanted to. The violent destruction of everyone in Kaer Morhen and all of Kaer Morhen’s history would also be an enormous source of pain, so my suspicion is, while they may have a few books that they used for Ciri’s education, none of them have touched the library itself or desire to. Unfortunately? The library is, most likely, currently a room full of ashes.

[nerdy-as-heck]

Bitterly By Your Side

A/N: Me? Posting a fic for the first time in 8 months? I'm just as surprised as you are. Ao3 Link

Summary: Logan is a world-renowned author, but not for his scientific journals. For a romance novel he never intended to publish, and an upcoming movie that would finally get the two it was inspired by together.

Ships: Pre-Prinxiety, background Logicality

Warnings: None

There were a lot of things in this world that didn’t make much sense to Logan. What made someone hate a specific group of people for an unchangeable part of their identity? Why would some people continue to believe a falsehood even after being shown irrefutable evidence? Why the fuck is college so expensive? But this. This went beyond every question that Logan could ask himself. Any amount of logic he tried to apply would shatter into a thousand pieces.

For years, Logan had been a distinguished author. Dozens of academic papers, journals, books, and articles were published under his name, making more breakthroughs in science than one could have ever imagined possible. Some were small advancements, granted, but none were insignificant. But that’s not why the general public knows Logan’s name.

Ten years getting a PhD in Astrophysics and one Nobel prize later, Logan Berry’s name is on the Best-Selling Romance Novel section in every bookstore across the country. And Logan will continue to blame his husband for it every time someone asks.

Not that it was really /entirely/ Patton’s fault. Both of them had been sick of Roman and Virgil’s pining that had been going on since freshman year of college. At least Logan’s infatuation had only lasted a month or so before bluntly asking Patton if he finds him physically attractive; that story always gets a laugh every time they tell it. The four of them had been suitemates during their first year, with Logan and Roman sharing their room while Patton and Virgil had the adjoining one. That was nearly twelve years ago, and yet the two of them still seemed to be clueless as to the other’s emotions, even with all four of them once again living in the same apartment.

All Patton had said was he wished there was a way to see them get together, like a movie or something. Now, Logan couldn't direct or act, but he could write. So, naturally, he did the only thing a sane person would do; he stayed up for three days straight writing a 300 page chaotic mess of the two falling in love. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic, and it definitely ended up being far longer than he had intended. But Logan’s train of thought never seemed to stay quite on track when it came to making his soulmate happy.

Of course, Logan had no interest in simply reading it over and over again himself; he printed out the pages and presented it to Patton as an early birthday present. Logan was under the impression that Patton knew it was a simple gift for his eyes only, nothing more. But Patton hadn’t quite gotten that impression.

Logan hadn’t necessarily made it a ‘fanfiction’. Yes, it was about two hopelessly oblivious in love college roommates that got together in the end. The thing that kept it unique was neither character revealing their actual name until the very ending, instead choosing to use a nom de plume. In this particular case, Roman had called himself “Merlin” and Virgil went by “Storm”. Neither the reader nor the characters within the story would learn their true names until the last chapter.

Apparently Patton did not read to the last chapter. Instead, about halfway through, he had believed it was a good idea to take it straight to a publisher; he couldn’t believe Logan had trusted him with the draft of his first novel!

It wasn’t until Logan got a copy of the book in the mail, fully printed and with his name on the cover, did he realize why Patton hadn’t commented on it after finishing. “Bitterly By Your Side” was already in every store in town and quickly spreading. Logan quickly pulled Patton into their shared room to discuss this with him and show the last page; needless to say, Patton was humiliated that he had done such a thing. It took hours to calm him down. Logan simply believed the book would not be popular and it would be taken down from the shelves in a matter of a few weeks.

He could not have been more wrong.

People slowly began to recognize Logan on the streets, asking for photos or to sign their copy of the book. Stores would reach out to him and schedule book signings, which Logan reluctantly went to as a chance to promote some of his other works. No one was buying any of that.

This was about two years ago. Logan had always scolded Roman and Virgil for not reading as often as they should, but it was unexplainable how grateful he was that they never listened. Not once in those years did the two step foot in a bookstore, see Logan scatter away for a photo when he was found in public, or questions the ‘meeting’ Logan seemed to be going to every other week.

By this point, Logan had gotten used to how things were. It was bringing in money to support the entire group, and no one was hurting for it. Though it still confused him why this was the case, he had accepted it as an unexplainable cosmic phenomenon. Logan didn’t even think twice when allowing a company that approached him to make a movie adaptation, with the promise that Logan could supervise on site, of course.

Months later, and somehow the two’s obliviousness had only gotten worse. It was a true miracle that they never noticed Logan being gone all the time or that Roman didn't pick up on the potential movie acting gig. Though the last wasn’t much of a coincidence; Logan always checked their mail and tossed out any advertisements for it.

Logan had only looked over one important detail; the company picking up the story was Disney. And regardless if they had heard about it before, Virgil and Roman both had a dedication to watching it together day it shows up on Netflix. Patton would always tease Virgil about it being their little “date night”, which would be received by a shove and Virgil’s hood coming up to hide his face.

On the night that this happened, Logan was out late at a midnight book signing, and Patton had agreed to go with to drive him home in case Logan was too exhausted. So for the first time in quite a while, Roman and Virgil had the whole apartment to themselves for movie night. As tradition, Virgil grabbed popcorn, snacks, and drinks, running back to the couch just before Roman clicked play.

“Are you ready for what is sure to be the GREATEST FILM of ALL TIME?”

“You say that every time, Princey. Bitterly By Your Side may be Disney, but its a dumb romance too. It can’t be that good.”

Of course Roman scoffed at that, but before he could continue the argument, Virgil just threw a handful of popcorn at his face and hit play. Storm happened to be the first character that came on screen, and the second Roman saw the actor’s face he gasped and leaned forward.

“That man… Is the love of my life.” Virgil couldn’t help but to laugh at the dramatics of such an early declaration, and for a short time Roman stared at Virgil rather than at the movie.

“You think that guy is good looking? Don’t be ridiculous, he looks like a ten year old that got into his mom’s makeup.” Roman could only glare at Virgil for a few minutes before Merlin came on screen. And then it was Roman’s turn to laugh as Virgil’s jaw literally dropped.

“You can’t be serious! Storm is far more attractive than /that/ over dramatic piece of work!” Virgil didn’t even have the words to argue at the moment, simply shoving a hand over Roman’s mouth as Merlin already had a shirtless scene. It wasn’t more than five seconds later, though, that Virgil realized what he had done and practically shrieked, crawling to the other side of the couch. “S-Sorry… But if that doesn’t prove Merlin is the best, then nothing will.” A simple joke had now turned into a full out war between the two, pointing out each small quality in the other character that made them far superior.

“Look at Storm’s purple eyes! And that long hair, I just want to run my hand through it and kiss that man.”

“They’re probably contacts anyway! Merlin has the swoop in his hair that at least doesn’t block his /actual/ green emerald eyes!”

“But that’s the thing, Storm is so shy yet abrasive at the same time! His hiding just makes his natural beauty all the better!”

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over Merlin’s fifth shirtless scene.”

Of course, it was all joking banter. Despite the insults thrown from time to time, this was a typical thing for the two of them, and tonight wasn’t any different. It only finally died down at a point where the movie was getting ready to end. For some reason, Roman was a moron. Well. Virgil knew that already. A cute moron, but still a moron, one that had decided to run to the bathroom right after the climax of the movie and refused to let Virgil pause it. In the short time, Roman was gone, that was all the movie needed to make Virgil’s fight or flight response kick in.

“Now that we’re dating, shouldn’t I at least get to know your name, angel?”

“...Its Virgil.”

“Roman. A pleasure to finally meet the real you.”

That was. A weird coincidence. But with anxiety, nothing ever felt like things could be so coincidental. So once Roman came back, Virgil was on his phone, googling the book, and every word he read just made his face burn even more.

  Bitterly By Your Side is a romance novel by Logan Berry, published in 2017. In recent interviews, he has confessed to it being inspired by real life events and people he knows, though for now he wishes the details to remain private.

...Oh Logan is so dead when he gets back.

“H e y!” Virgil was next to be assaulted with popcorn as he pulled his hood up to avoid Roman seeing his face right now. “Get off your phone and watch the eye candy! Storm is back on screen!”

...Storm. The character inspired by Virgil. That Roman had been calling hot all night long. And Virgil had done the same to Merlin. Virgil didn’t focus much on the rest of the movie, far too busy trying to hide his ever reddening face and cursing the entire world. Once the movie finally ended, Roman stood up to give the TV a round of applause. But before the credits, there was one more thing…

  And now, an interview with the author of the original book: Logan Berry!

Roman was understandably shocked and sat back down, confused as to when Logan had written a book without telling them. With every word spoken on the show, Virgil’s heart sunk deeper and he made another promise to kill Logan tomorrow.

  Yes, it is true that this novel was inspired on true events. I have two friends that have been obliviously in love with each other for nearly twelve years now, despite mine and my husband’s encouragement for them to confess. Storm and Mer- Well, I suppose I can use their real names now, it's no spoiler since this is shown after the movie. I don't blame either Virgil or Roman for their hopeless pining, it's just something my husband tired of and wished to see come to life in case it never did in person.

After that sentence, Roman was quick to turn off the TV. At least now it made sense why Virgil had curled up into a ball on the couch during the interview. Silence. Silence that lasted far too long for either of them to stand, yet neither had the will to break it.

Surprisingly, Virgil was the one to swallow his pride first. “...so. Eye candy, huh?”

Not even a second later, Virgil felt a pillow hit his head. “Oh shut up! You’re one to talk! Drooling in every shirtless scene in the whole movie!”

There wasn’t a coherent comeback in Virgil’s mind, so instead he just flipped Roman off from his hoodie protection. Roman, being the prick he was, couldn’t let it go so easily though, grabbing Virgil’s hand and ignoring his own pounding heart as he pulled the two closer together. Safe to say, Virgil felt like he was going to explode. “You know the real thing is always better than fiction.”

And then for some unknown reason, one that he would claim to this day as temporary insanity, Virgil’s mind had decided it was time for him to be the moron today. The only thing he could think to do was kiss Roman, so he did. Both were surprised and afraid, but neither pulled away. Not in the first few minutes, not even in the first hour. It was a scene that easily could have rivaled the masterpiece of a movie in itself. By the end of it, they were both out of breath and exhausted, choosing to simply sleep together on the couch.

“...goodnight, Storm…” “Night, Merlin.”

Still. They were going to kill Logan in the morning. But for now, it was just them, and that was enough.

[idanit]

Yuletide 2019 recs

Yuletide 2020 is upon us, so what better way to get into the spirit than to finally finish that rec post I started compiling months and months ago? For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, Yuletide is an annual exchange centred around small fandoms and I love it fiercely. If you have canons you love, but which don’t have much of a fandom, there’s no better way to get some content for them than to participate.

Yuletide 2019 was the first edition I took part in and I read around 60 stories from the collection. These are my favourites, loosely grouped by canons or themes. There’s some experimental stuff, some crack treated seriously, some fluff, some character studies, and lots of excellent writing and cool concepts inside. The fics are mostly very short and most of them are inspired by book canons because I’m me.

Girls from past centuries, now older

A niveous vignette, or a snow story Anne of Green Gables | T (F/F) | 1K Cozy winter fluff you can wrap around yourself like a blanket. Anne and Diana live together and Rachel Lynde makes sure the rest of Avonlea doesn’t whisper a single bad word about it.

A teacher’s work is never done Anne of Green Gables | G (F/F) | 0.3K ...and this is what Anne’s teaching life could be like if she lived with Diana. I loved this little glimpse into how an older queer person might support a stray younger one.

Altogether Too Queenly Anne of Green Gables | T (F/F) | 2K  Katherine Brooke longs for Anne Shirley despite herself. It was a really nice character study and Katherine is sometimes altogether too relatable.

Discipulae A Little Princess | G (F&F) | 6K Sara uses her fortune to learn new things and encourages Becky, who remains faithfully at her side, to also acquire new skills. They make sure that those who might be less fortunate have good lives, as they always did. It was a lovely and a wholly believable extension of the canon.

Secrets You Keep Alice in Wonderland | G | 0.1K And, at last, a little 100-word snack. Alice from Wonderland, grown up. I love the first sentence.

Children

Stretched Too Thin His Dark Materials | G | 1K This was a fic with some of my favourite things from this canon: Lyra’s Oxford years, rulebreaking, rooftopping, shapeshifting, and a focus on the relationship between her and Pan. Very nice.

Free To The People. A Series of Unfortunate Events | G | 1K An excellent Snicket voice. The Baudelaires in a library.

Iconic male duos of classic literature

Ubi sunt gaudia Raffles | G (M/M) | 5K  Raffles and Bunny and Christmas in the countryside, quite atmospheric.

Relics Frankenstein | G (M/M) | 5K Written like the novel is written—serious, heavy, slow and so good. Victor is dead, but Robert can’t move on just yet. The necessary conclusion of this one made something in me want to protest, which just goes to show that the fic made me feel things.

The Vast Unknown Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea | G | 3K Aronnax doesn’t leave and things have to change. It reads like Verne, in a very good way, and contains some linguistic tidbits I really enjoyed.

beautiful meanings in ugly things The Strange Case of Mr. Hyde (Comics), The Picture of Dorian Gray | T (M/M) | 5K What delightful writing and characters. The investigation runs parallel to the romance, one complementing the other.

Full House 221B Baker Towers | NR | 9K A casefic made all the more interesting by the setting and the characterizations of John and Sherlock. I wish there was more of this to read.

beneath closed eyelids I do not cease to guard this  A Study in Emerald | T (M/M) | 2K A character study of Watson. I really liked the loving, desperate arms this fic extends towards the canon, once-removed (the Arthur Conan Doyle’s one) at the end.

Ancient times

New Under Heaven Akkadian Empire RPF | G | 0.3K Enheduanna was the first poet we know the name of. This is an intriguing triple drabble, a glimpse into what she might have been like.

Easy to Love Tanakh | G (M/F, M/M) | 1K This one has an extremely unusual narrative voice for a fic—one of an experienced, loud, oral, old-timey storyteller. It’s short, it’s chilling, it has an interesting idea, it reminds me of what fanfic can do as a piece of transformative writing.

Aliens, magic, ghosts and sentient vehicles

Strange Fandom Strange Planet | T | 0.1K A bite-sized explanation of what fics are, Strange Planet-style. 

Ain Humans Are Space Orcs (meme) | G | 1K Blessed be confusion! Two species meet on a planet that has been saved from a supernova blast. A fascinating glimpse into what feels like a rich world.

The Bargain 19th Century CE German Literature RPF | G | 4K There’s music and magic and deals made with folk creatures. I really enjoyed the main character—rational, but still a child with a childlike imagination—and the place art has in this world.

Rotten Heart Behind You (webcomic) | T | 5K  This one has a very fun protagonist for a ghost story and some enjoyable trope subversions. I called it a student gothic, the giftee called it an academic thriller.

12foot4 11Foot8 Bridge (anthropomorphic) | G | 2K An adorable story (very nicely) written for a cracky prompt. Cars and bridges are sentient and surprisingly relatable.

The Author of the Acacia Seeds

An Orchid Keeps Its Secrets G | 1K Art can sometimes transcend species. Orchids write fanfiction. I loved this so much—a worthy fic to a great canon.

Mother Bonesplitter's Children G | 2K This one is just as worthy. It’s a fictional academic paper related to a paradigm-shifting fictional conference about some fascinating ideas and hyenas.

4′33″

Portable 4′33″ G | 0K For starters: the experience of the piece, presented as an app/game for our modern sensibilities.

273 Moments of Silence. G (F/F, F/M) | 2K Sentences full of silence that IMO could work as guided meditation.

John Cage Collaborates with the Archive's Terms of Service G | 0K Socratic dialogue. Is 4'33" music? Is this a fanfic?

The Sound Of A Yuletide Fic Not Being Written. G | 1K And a fun meta thing to finish it off. If you’ve ever struggled with your Yuletide assignment, you will probably relate.

[shookethbrooketh]

my pointless gatsby essay

a few days ago i mentioned that i was reading the great gatsby for class and that i wrote a paper on nick’s sexuality. some of you expressed interest in reading it, so now that i’ve finished reading the book and added in some feelings about the ending, i’m posting it so you all can read! 

a couple things: i literally wrote this for no reason. we had assignments similar to these for another book we read where i just wrote my opinions about one particularly stupid part of the book, and i wanted to it here so i just...did. if it makes the experience more hysterical for you, you should know that i let my teacher read this, and she read the beginning in the middle of my class (without my knowledge) yesterday and then i do not think she read any more. she agreed with me, though, so it’s a win. 

also, i actually honestly think nick is just gay, but the argument i made here is that he was bisexual because a) i was only about halfway through the book when i wrote the majority of this and at that time he seemed to be quite into jordan, and b) i really did not feel like trying to defend the point that he was not at all into women. you’ll be able to tell when you push ‘read more’ that i definitely had enough to say without that. it’s a solid 1250 words. have fun. 

The day I finished reading Chapter 3 of The Great Gatsby, I took to Google in search of reassurance that other people were asking the same question I was. It became clear to me that I was not alone when I typed in “Is Nick fr,” and there it was: “Is Nick from Gatsby gay?” The answer is...complicated. Although he begins dating Jordan Baker midway through the book, there is still widespread confusion surrounding Nick’s sexuality. Why, you might ask? He’s got a girlfriend--end of story. Right? Wrong. Although life would be a heck of a lot easier if it did, human sexuality doesn’t work like that, so here we are. The fact of the matter is that Nick is a heavily closeted bisexual, and he is being absolutely used by Gatsby for that. 

There are a few non-Gatsby-related clues that Nick is bisexual. For starters, he introduces each new character, male or female, with intricate and often physical detail. He narrates effectively about the physicality of characters regardless of their gender; for example, this description of Tom: 

“Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body--he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage--a cruel body.” 

This quote, quite frankly, made me violently uncomfortable the first time I read it, so clearly either Nick would not mind being taken down by Tom or we need to have a serious talk with F. Scott Fitzgerald. Not to mention the odd scene where Nick disappears for FOUR HOURS between midnight and 4:00 AM with the sole memory of standing beside a bed with a half-naked man who was earlier described as feminine and was holding  a “great portfolio.” Let’s just say that by the end of Chapter 2 some alarm bells were going off in my pea-sized brain. 

Now for the real argument: Nick is clearly infatuated with Jay Gatsby. He wrote two entire paragraphs--one in Chapter 3 and one in Chapter 4--simply about the captivating, caring nature of Gatsby’s smile. He even details later in Chapter 4 how he “held out” against Gatsby’s smile, as if it was some force drawing him into something he refused to be a part of. Overall, the entire situation of Nick and Gatsby’s first meeting screams “21st century fanfiction.” Simple, normal Nick gets invited to a fancy party and chooses to go. He starts talking to another simple, normal man who offers to take him out on the water in the morning, and it feels as if everything is falling together when suddenly he realizes his “date” is actually the party’s affluent host. He is left alone with the female friend he came with, and suddenly he becomes almost obsessed with the man he was speaking with, asking his friend about him with a sudden sense of urgency. I’ll be fair--that is an utterly ridiculous analogy. Still, it checks every box, and it seems as if Gatsby is as aware of it as I am. 

Gatsby has this odd mystery about him--every move he makes is tactfully chosen, and he seems to have a global knowledge of anything related to Daisy. Because of this, it is clear that the only reason Gatsby is friends with Nick and Jordan is because he believes he can use them to get closer to Daisy. He uses his inexplicable charm to draw Nick in and convince him to help Gatsby get the girl he’s been lusting after for years. In his one valid statement in the entire book, Tom told Nick this at the end of the book: “[Gatsby] threw dust into your eyes just like he did in Daisy’s…” This statement, in and of itself, can be taken in a romantic light, but it also shows how Nick has been a bit manipulated by Gatsby. I will acknowledge that Gatsby displays many extremely relatable qualities that come together to create a characteristic I like to call “disaster gay” (literally the entirety of the panic in Chapter 5). However, Nick is the only main character in the novel who displays heavy bisexual tendencies, and Gatsby seems to be using this to his advantage. 

Finally, Chapter 9 is an emotional experience for all of us. Nick is profoundly affected by Gatsby’s death as he is left to grieve almost completely alone. Although he says in Chapter 8 that he never really liked Gatsby, his narration in Chapter 9 tells a different story. Even with Gatsby gone, he feels as if it’s him and Gatsby against the world. He’s found himself suddenly in charge of Gatsby’s funeral, growing more and more distraught with each person that disrespects the dead Gatsby. Most tellingly, he feels as if he had to care for Gatsby, or at least find someone else to be with him. Nick has this inexplicable obligation to Gatsby that screams “unrequited love” forcefully at me until I become emotional. 

All this being said, the most interesting part about it all is that I’m completely and wholly wrong. Anyone who says that F. Scott Fitzgerald would have written a bisexual narrator in the 1920s is utterly kidding themselves. Human sexuality wasn’t even perceived as more than “one or the other” until much later in the 20th century. The truth of Nick’s sexuality lies not in the text but in the reader’s perception of said text. The simplest answer to this difference in perception and reality lies in the identity of the reader, but even that doesn’t wholly explain the situation. If the narrator were a woman, chemistry between her and Gatsby would be clear to many more readers. Of course, that shows that, as is, the perception of the relationship is dependent on the reader’s experiences in life; however, it also shows that some of the misconception lies in the general culture of the 21st century. 

The vast majority of the examples I provided for Nick’s bisexuality were really written to establish mystery surrounding Gatsby’s character (or simply because Fitzgerald’s writing was excessively descriptive). He clearly had no intention of sending the message that we receive today, but in 21st-century culture, mystery and romance are often intertwined. We’re so used to correlating mystery and romance that sometimes one can come off as the other. Regardless, the best part of fiction is that it’s completely fictional. Nick can be whatever readers make him into (aside from blatant, major misinterpretations), and choosing to spend my time after we finish the book reading academic papers about Nick’s sexuality is both well within my rights and perfectly valid. 

Some side notes: 

In my research for this, I ended up on Ao3--not to read anything (spoilers, y’know), but to see how many works there were on this and what specifically was going on there, but, despite my attempts, I still managed to spoil Gatsby’s death for myself. Just so we all know the sacrifices I’ve made here. || Update: Now that we’ve finished the book, I’ve taken to reading here, and I think this is what's going to keep me sane during what I’m choosing to call the coronacation. 

I’d also like to say that I’m very suspicious of Catherine and her tendency to run off to random places across the world with other women, but we never heard anything from here again, so this is all she gets.  

[elowyn-ffxiv]

lfrp - elowyn nollett (crystal data center)

full name.  elowyn nollett. pronunciation. ell-oh-win nol-let height. five fulms, three ilms. age. 21. languages. common, conversational far eastern, faespeak, a solid knowledge of a few dead languages found in her studies.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  palest purple; often appears silver with a lilac shimmer. eye colour.  starlight. skin tone.  fair, with rosy undertones. body type.  petite but curvy and proportionate. ‘slim thick’ pear shape. soft tummy and thighs. accent. a lilting tone, reminiscent of the pixies of lydha lran. just sounds a bit odd to the people in the source, but sweet voiced and intelligent all the same. dominant hand. left. posture. good, like she’s spent some time walking around with books on top of her head, though she has a tendency to slouch over tables when deep in study. scars. nothing noteworthy. tattoos.  none. most noticeable features. large, piercing eyes that seem to glimmer like stars. her two sharp, pointed canines. a lack of tribal tattoos on her face. a general ethereal air about her. 

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  sharlayan. birth weight/height. a normal, healthy keeper of the moon baby! manner of birth. natural home birth. first words. ‘papa.’ siblings.  none. parents:  gwyneth and ninn nollett. parental involvement. gwyneth and ninn are both continuously doting parents. though ninn is just as confused as anyone else as to why the pixies in the first decided to send him to the source, he was happy to stay after meeting gwyneth, a descendant of a long-standing and long-respected sharlayan family. he took her last name after marriage, and in the second year of their marriage, they were surprised with the birth of their first and only child. the eccentric nature of her parents - and of the pixies that have stuck closely by their family - has rubbed off on elowyn. a brilliant scholar, elowyn immersed herself in the world of books to stave off the loneliness of growing up in relative isolation. ninn is an inventor and fervent follower of thaliak, becoming a holy man after leaving sharlayan post garlean invasion. gwyneth is the one who taught elowyn how to heal with her potent aether. they are a closely knit family, and though ninn tends to worry after his daughter’s safety as she strikes out on her own, she is sure to keep in close contact with her parents and visits them often in dravania. ninn’s traveling companion - a ronso named jareck - was also thrust into the source, and is an uncle figure to elowyn. 

ADULT LIFE

Occupation. librarian, adventurer, and healer. Current residence. a large home in the forests of dravania.  Close friends. jareck, all manner of woodland creatures. relationship status. single. financial status. wealthy. 

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.  heterosexual. romantic orientation.   heterosexual. preferred emotional role.  submissive | dominant | switch  / unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive  |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed / unsure libido. elowyn is relatively inexperienced in this aspect of her life, but curious after devouring many less than ladylike romance novels.  turn on’s. intelligence, men that are taller than her, deep voices, athletic, empathy, feather light touches, turn off’s. meatheads, unwanted roughness, brashness, drunks.

MISCELLANEOUS.

hobbies to pass the time.  playing the harp and the piano, singing, dancing, tending to her garden (mostly especially her flowers), floral arrangement, studying everything and anything. mental illnesses. depression and minor anxiety, but she has learned to cope with them. physical illnesses. can become very ill if exposed to too much foreign aether. left or right brained. an even split. fears. large spiders, losing her family, thunderstorms, voidsent.  self confidence level. while elowyn may seem confident due to her insatiable curiosity and willingness to approach just about any stranger, she often struggles with feeling like she is ‘enough.’ she’s confident in her intelligence, but that’s about it. 

RP HOOKS.

- open to discussion.

- elowyn is a healer that is always eager to offer her services as she travels around eorzea, and a skilled apothecary. if your character has an ailment, then elowyn wants to help!

- calling all adventurers! elowyn will often hire willing and able-bodied adventurers to join in her escapades to dangerous areas to find rare or unheard of books, tomes, or other academic papers. she pays handsomely... if you can deal with her stubbornness and eccentric nature. 

- strange aether from being fae-touched at birth might raise some eyebrows, especially to those in the source. elowyn isn’t exactly aware of the involvement of pixies in her life, believing her encounters with them to most often be very vivid dreams. maybe your character can suss out the strange aether that surrounds her and has questions.

- fellow sharlayans! elowyn is from a family of keepers that decided, many generations ago, to leave their life in the forest to go to sharlayan. her great grandmother was a well-respected sorceress and scholar, alongside her husband. the name ‘nollett’ may ring a bell to those deeply studying sharlayan history or findings on aetheric healing capabilities.

- please note that while i do have a warrior of light verse with elowyn, it’s not something i’m looking to RP with others, but is more of just an excuse to write certain things involving NPCs!

- this is a pretty new character for me, and i am open to hear any and all hooks someone may have if they’d like to interact with elowyn. helping me get this character off of the ground would be rad, and i would be very appreciative!

- darker themes of RP are a-okay with me, including violence, gore, obsession, stalking, horror, as well as sexual themes. please know, though, that i am not going to ERP with you for the sake of ERP, and i do not do permanent death, injury, or disfigurement for my characters unless it is a specific plot point originally planned by me.

OOC.

- i am over the age of 21!

- i am very friendly, but am not willing to immediately hand out my discord. however, if we RP and click, chances are that i’ll offer it to you. the best way to communicate with me is either by sending me a DM here on tumblr or whispering me in-game on Audrey Wells or Elowyn Nollett.

- i am on the Crystal Data Center, and elowyn is currently located on the Goblin server. 

- thank you for reading!!! <3

[luninosity]

2019 writing round-up post!

It's been an interesting year!

Once again, I suspect I wrote more overall than last year - but much more heavily original, and even less fanfic (but still some!) again. But a couple of those have been stories people really love, or seem to, from the AO3 comments etc. I didn't finish one thing I'd really meant to finish, but I did write a 254k novel, which, what even.

So...let's see what all those things are!

Academic (just to get this out of the way first) ~A book chapter on Disney's Robin Hood for an edited collection on Disney & pop culture (my chapter's around 5,000 words) ~The intro/my chapter/overall editorial work/bibliography for the Terry Pratchett book, coming 2020 (collectively, probably around 15k words of my own writing, plus comments on contributor essays) ~The book proposal for the Star Trek book (~3,000 words) ~The in-progress Neil Gaiman and Batman book chapter - currently around 2k, needs to be around 6k including references ~Plus one more successful grant application! Not listing all the conference/unpublished papers, but those too. Fanfic Stucky straight from your heart, E, 10,516 words - ah, yes, my contribution to the Bottom Bucky Fest! It was such a marvelous prompt, about Steve guiltily having a kinky fantasy about essentially rescuing and caring for the Winter Soldier (which also includes teaching him all about pleasure), and Bucky finding out about this, and them then negotiating ways to make this fantasy come true. I hadn't been writing as much Stucky, but this one flowed really well and felt really good, and people seem to like it! Evanstan (hmm - way less Evanstan this year! still some, at least...) Evanstan Round Robin 2019, T, 12,497 words overall, but my chapters total 2,528 words. The annual holiday collaborative masterpiece! So soft and fluffy this year - such a delight sharing this love and creation and fandom with everyone! Extra Sugar - My Evanstan epic fic-baby! I added chapters 30 & 31 in 2019, which brings the total to 107,533 words - which means, doing some math, that's + 4,000 words exactly, apparently! There'll be one more chapter. I know what it is, I just haven't had the time to write it. 2020 goal: finish off this series, completely, entirely, at the end. I'm still so amazed by this whole universe that I somehow made, and by the fandom response to it. *hugs you all* Cherik When It's Time, T, 2852 words - this one's not up on AO3 yet, though I think I can do that now, if it's okay with the @cherikzine  people! This was my story for the Bookends Cherik 'zine, and it's an AU with magicians in a sort of present-day fantasy setting version of the ending of Dark Phoenix, and it was fun to get back to one of my first real fandom loves, and I'm glad I wrote it. we are electric hearts, T,  2,732 words - fluffy little fun universe-crossover in which Erik and Charles meet Kris and Justin, my original Demon for Midwinter characters, written for @kernezelda <3 Original Fic (written and published in 2019) Gingerbread Dreams, M, 23,662 words - holiday m/m gingerbread competition baking fluff! A cranky judge! A cheerful ugly-sweater-wearing baker! The Grumpy One Is Soft For The Adorable One! The story I looked up medieval gingerbread recipes for, for a contestant challenge! Also contains a couple of familiar characters from "October Spice" in supporting roles... This story is also available as part of the Most Wonderful Time of the Year Trio Collection from JMS Books - three novellas bundled together, at a discount! October Spice, E, 3,130 words - the story that briefly made it to #1 Best Seller on Amazon in the LGBTQ Short Reads category! My super-short flash fiction romance for JMS Books, priced at only 99 cents! (Or even less, when on sale!) A first meeting, instant attraction (and some orgasms!), a Halloween-loving baker, and an adorable firefighter. (Evan and Matt (well, Matt in baked-goods artistic tribute) get a supporting role in Gingerbread Dreams, as mentioned above, if you want to know what they're up to...) (Also, Evan's last name is 100% an Ace of Cakes reference.) Bisclavret, T, 11,756 words - technically I had about 5k of this written YEARS ago, back when I first read Marie de France's 12th-century lai in grad school and immediately had to write an adaptation of it. But this version has extensive revisions, and ended up over twice as long. If you like stories about a medieval bisexual werewolf and the demisexual king he falls in love with, and a love of books and cuddling...well, that's basically what this one is! A Leather and Tea Morning, E,6,993 words - the first of the Leather and Tea sequels! (There'll be at least one more, about which more below.) Ben and Simon, a lazy morning, and some emotional comfort sex in the wake of Simon having been in a car accident. He's all recovered and everything - but there're some emotions that need to be dealt with, about Ben and protectiveness and tenderness and care and getting back to a very cautious-but-satisfying kinky scene. Sound the Fairy-Call, E, 5,545 words - the heavily rewritten (like, nearly twice as long, new original characters, world-building, all of that) original-fic version of my old Evanstan fic Glow, and it's basically the medieval fantasy healing-sex-in-a-forest story, with a fairy and a tired mercenary and Eastern European folklore references! Plus I've managed to quote Robert Graves in the epigraph! (To be precise, I wrote the first draft of this at the very very end of 2018 - I had literally just signed the contract before last year's writing round-up post. But then there was editing, revisions, etc, in 2019. So it counts!) This story is also available as part of the JMS Books 2019 Top Ten Gay Romance collection! Come pick up a copy and discover all the bestselling gay romance authors! The Ninepenny Element, M, 12,274 words - my first published lesbian romance! With a lawyer, a witch, some hexed earrings, a psychic younger brother, and a ghost puppy! This is essentially the sequel to Elemental (m/m, E, 12,776 words), since Verity's the older sister of Sterling from that story, but you don't necessarily have to've read that one first. There'll likely be one more - I have a vague idea about weather magic, and there's more to explore in this universe. The Pooka's Share, E, 20,205 words - a weary magical cop, an unruly faerie horse shapeshifter, and some creative punishments for apple-theft! More fun with folklore and sex and two people finding each other and turning out to be exactly what they both need, full of magic and compassion. This story is also available as part of the Legendary Loves Trio collection from JMS Books - three novellas bundled together, at a discount! Original Fic (written in 2019, publication contracts signed but stories not yet published) A Demon for Forever, E, 13,752 words - surprise! I thought I was done with the Demon for Midwinter universe - but JMS did a submissions call for stories celebrating LGBTQ marriage, and, well - I'd written the proposal story for Kris and Justin, so...we should get to see the wedding, right? This one'll be out in February. Justin may or may not wear a wedding dress. A sparkly one. :D Leather and Tea in London, E, 20,909 words - the third of the Leather and Tea stories! Written for the JMS Books BDSM collection call. Simon's brother needs a favor. So Ben and Simon head to London, bringing Ben's retired-spy skill set and also some fun toys for enjoying themselves... Original Fic (written in 2019, not yet under contract or published other than on AO3) Character Bleed, E, 254,099 words. Which means...since last year I had 40,371 words done...that's +213,728 words. In a year. Not even counting the Bonus Scenes (see below) or the sequel-in-progress. THIS STORY, YOU GUYS. I love it and these characters so much. It's the most ambitious thing I've ever tried to write, that whole story-within-a-story, being about actors filming a Regency-era gay love story, and falling in love themselves. I'm just looking at it all...and I'm in awe...and the response to this, oh wow. I've been so amazed and so grateful and so thrilled - the art, the trailer, the comments, the people thinking about these characters and loving them along with me - I'm so lucky to have all of you. *hugs everyone* And now I have to figure out what to do with it, and how and where one even publishes this behemoth, and how to cut it into manageable book-length divisions...! Character Bleed Bonus Scenes, E, 25,697 words currently - there'll be one more chapter, of which I have about a sentence written. I know exactly what that is, too - Colby getting to top, albeit still with Jason giving some directions. :D The untitled Character Bleed sequel, which is Leo's story - not up on AO3 yet, though I might start that with at least the prologue, later today or tomorrow. But it's already up to 15,511 words, plus my outline... Ember and Serenity, E, 20,752 words currently - I added chapter 4 in 2019, so about +5k words in 2019, I think? I do have plans for this one. Oh yes. My librarian-magician and his book-thief...yes. And if you're wondering who hired Serenity, well, there already has been a clue... :D

A few little scenes, odds and ends, plot bunnies like that necromancer/prince opening...not sure what the word count is there, probably a couple thousand. ~~ Okay, I THINK that's everything! Which is...a lot of words. Character Bleed alone...wow. Just...wow. It's definitely tilted even more toward original fic this year, and I didn't finish 'rain on tin,' which means it's been over a year since I've touched that one, so I'll have to get back to it!

But I did get to go back and write a couple things for my old Cherik loves, plus at least some Stucky & Evanstan, so that felt good, and I'm super-excited about lots of those original fic accomplishments - Amazon sales rank, sheer length, fun with medievalism, Top Ten achievements, my first lesbian romance, and of course everything about Character Bleed, which is, I think, my favorite thing I've written - it's so real in my head, and it was so weirdly easy to write, despite the length! Thanks for reading! I hope your year is starting off splendidly. <3

[the-irish-mayhem]

Happy Fosterson Week Day 2: Outside POV! This fic stemmed from my love of fake academia, but also my absolute desire to never write an academic paper ever again. So I found a bit of a middle ground. Fair warning: Both Jane and Thor have passed away in this. But never fear, their life together was long and happy.

A generation later, a budding social scientist tries to figure out Jane and Thor.

Read on AO3.

Legacy.

Post Thread Created: 1/23/01 Originally Posted: 1/23/01 Post Edited: 10/30/04

Edit 10/30/04: WOW, I did not anticipate that this post series would blow up the way it did! Thank you to all who shared this and supported me in this journey, and if you’re wondering, yes, my book is now out! You can get your copy of The Dynasty That Never Was: A Biography at your local retailer, the Bionic Press cloudstore, or at your local library.

Just a little bit of context: this was very early in my thesis writing process, back when Jane and Thor were only planned to encompass a single chapter of my book (ha!) and I was planning on writing a straight cultural analysis rather than the cultural analysis-slash-biography it became.

Okay, now on with the original post!

Good morning, fellow New Asgard Anthropologists. For any newcomers, my name is (future Dr.) Melanie LaComb, and the purpose of this blog has been to share my research on a little more of a ground level, record my process of writing my thesis, and talk/write through some problems and put them up for community collaboration. It’s also nice to be able to shed the academic discourse for just a few minutes and write informally. So much freedom! So many exclamations and I statements! Anyway, I’m writing this new post to talk my way through a bit of a new thorn in my research. The late Thor Odinson and Jane Foster.

A lot of academics have kind of scoffed at this problem of mine—they were two extremely famous individuals! Integral to so many galactically significant events! Of course there is absolute mega loads of information on them! There must be dozens of biographies and at least two definitive autobiographies for beings of such impressive historical stature!

This may shock you, but NO there actually isn’t. Or, I suppose in some ways there is but not in the ways that would be most useful for me. For Odinson, who grew up on Old Asgard, the destruction of the planet meant the destruction of many records kept from his years before the Greatest War Against Thanos. His years afterwards are better trackable, but hardly centralized and hardly the more personalized records I am (now trying to get at. Foster, known on Midgard as Dr. Jane Foster and colloquially throughout the galaxy as “Jane the Thinker” or “Jane the Brilliant,” is surprisingly easier to get a handle on. Her fame wasn’t contingent upon her marital status, and she was well-known in scientific circles even before the first battle of the War in the year 2012.

So the root of my problem is this: fitting this pair into my New Asgard diaspora research. Because they are….. how do I say this…. not fitting? With my methodology? (I went to the school of redundancy school, but F*ck I’ve been writing and writing and writing for like 8 hours today already and I’m not changing it so THERE.)

So most of my research deals with the formation of a New Asgardian identity, and it relies heavily upon the shared cultural experiences of the Dark Elf Invasion of Old Asgard and the death of Queen Frigga (an aside, but one of my classmates, Korla Majer, wrote a really stellar article on why the Dark Elf invasion should be included as one of the major battles of the Greatest War, and how the dismissal of the event by most historians actively hurts our understanding of galactic politics at the time and I absolutely 10/10 would recommend you go read it after you finish this blog post) as well as the battle for and destruction of New Asgard. For beings so long lived as us, Asgardians have proven that we can make our memories as short as we need to, and those two events seemed to create the largest basis for the new cultural identity forged on Earth. (For some obvious reasons, namely being the events that led to the planet being destroyed and necessitating the move to Midgard, but ANYWAY.)

But I can’t really deny Jane and Thor’s place in the New Asgardian identity because their effect on the masses is well-documented. There are libraries full of memes, old paper magazines with paparazzi photos paired with barely-real stories that say a lot more about the readership than they do the subjects, even some old FanFiction that I was able to dig up that is in some ways more helpful than all the academia from that time period combined XD

In my roundabout way, the problem I’m trying to sort through is this: HOW do I tackle the Jane/Thor chapter?

Because in my original outlining of my thesis, I had planned on their chapter being a quick summation of how they met just before the Greatest War’s beginning, courted through the course of it, and married at its conclusion. Then, I’d give some context on their influence on galactic politics (because despite what some people erroneously think, they actually were not the monarchs of New Asgard. They remained advisors only after Thor abdicated the throne and named Brunnhilde [of house Dragonfang, an extremely old and well-respected Old Asgardian family] his successor. There was the five year gap of the Blip where Thor was officially King, but it was hardly a politically significant time as for much of this period Thor was gone from New Asgard), how some political maneuvers affected the general New Asgardian populace, and then move back to the cultural study portion of things. But the more sources I gather about them, the more I think this chapter might need to be extended, or made into some… sub point of my main thesis.

Because while I said earlier that information on them is hard to find (because it is!!! You try making document requests to 17 different universities on 15 different planets!!!! Alfheim literally delivered what I asked for in a light spectrum file format!!!!!!!! Like WHAT!!!!!! AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS????? HOW DO I CONVERT THIS INTO A PDF OR EVEN JUST MAKE IT COMPATIBLE WITH HOLOREADERS) it’s not always the quantity that’s the issue, it’s the content. I found myself longing to know more about who these people were and why they did the things they did. I’ve always found that I've done my best research when I follow my gut feelings, and research things that I’m passionate about. New Asgardian diaspora culture? I’m living it, baby! I’m very interested because my generation is the first generation to have never set foot on Asgard, and that’s something worth exploring!

And now here I am weirdly fascinated by an almost-king whose magical powers are pretty legendary who was banished and fell in love with a woman (who was 100% human at the time, by the way) whose scientific theories were so advanced that her own people thought she was a bit of a kook until all of her theories started getting proven right. From a non-academic perspective, that sounds like a freaking romance novel or epic movie or something. (Which, by the way, it was! There were at least 6 separate pieces of media [film, novel, television show] that were based on their story that I can find on record.) So on a personal level, here I am wondering why two people in the past got married in spite of wildly different life circumstances/why one of them abdicated a throne that was his birthright, and on an academic level A) trying to figure out how to fit this weird fascination into my thesis B) how did these two political and cultural figures shape the cultural landscape C) was their effect on the cultural landscape more or less significant than the two events which have been taking the most of my focus for the last year? D) how productive is it to even ask the question of more or less significance?

*screaming*

A few people have asked me if I should just switch my track to talk about how they affected Brunnhilde’s rule over New Asgard (which, in case you missed previous posts, Brunnhilde is a huge part of my current thesis as she essentially presided over what I’m terming “The New Asgardian Cultural Renaissance” and was absolutely critical to how things were shaped.) I’m hesitant to do this because this has actually already been done. I’ll stick JSTOR links in the endnotes, but Dr. Hamel Radley literally wrote this. “A King For the Ages: Brunnhilde’s First Three Decades.” Also, Dr. Leslie Storn’s “A King’s Court: Brunnhilde’s Advisory Council.” AND Dr. Jorseph Naulty’s “King Brunnhilde’s Surprising Advisory Council: Steady Hands, Scientists, Military Minds, and Galactic Politicking.” Look, there’s a LOT on Brunnhilde’s rule, and a LOT written on her advisory council. She was the ruling monarch, so it’s pretty par for the course.

But for how politically and culturally significant they seemed to be, there’s not really much specifically on Jane and Thor. Their cultural influences are given lip-service, and that’s it. (Again, Jane has been scientifically significant in a way no one has achieved since Albert Einstein, so in that way she’s more famous than her husband, but scientific notoriety isn’t the same as recognizing the fullness of her cultural contributions.)

I brought this stuff up to my advisor, and she said to keep pulling this thread because I’m on to something here, I just need to figure out what.

So my next research goal is to reach out to their descendents. They have a few children and grandchildren living, and hopefully at least one of them is willing to speak to me about them as people so I can get that portion of things nailed down before I go insane.

My almost-insanity probably bled into this post a little bit because it’s redundant as heck and you can bet your bum I am not spell-checking or proofreading. I need a break from that garbage. The life of a doctoral student continues.

Here’s to pulling the thread. Hopefully something useful unravels.

-(Future Dr.) Melanie LaComb

Reply posted by: Winsome34, 1/23/01 08:23

Melanie--this is a super interesting track, and your advisor was absolutely right when they said to follow it. I think it would be really interesting to read a sort of half-biography, half-cultural analysis piece. Would be really unique, and I’m sure any doctoral committee would find it an engaging topic.

Not sure if you’ve tried the Avengers Museum and Historical Library yet, but that might be a good place to go for some more primary sources, since Thor was a founding member and Jane was closely tied to them throughout their life. They have a really solid amazing librarians there who know the stacks backwards and forwards. I relied heavily on them when I was researching my last paper about racism against superheroes of color in the early 21st century.

Reply posted by: KorlaMajer, 1/23/01 10:22

Thanks for the shoutout boo ;) Your thesis is gonna be amazing!

ALSO: I have a light spectrum file converter from my dad. He does a ton of business with Alfheim and they are NOTORIOUS for sending incompatible LSFs.

Reply posted by: Chloe Durbin, 2/2/01 20:40

Hey! My mom is actually really tight with Thor and Jane’s oldest daughter Valkyrie. I think they knew each other from school or something back in the day, but she’s really awesome and basically my aunt, so if you need an intro or a number to call, I’ve got you! Just shoot me an email chdurbin02@naun.edu. She’s really approachable if you don’t mind walking up to a lady who is literally 6’8” and looks like she literally HAS killed a man with her bare hands. But super nice though!

Universal Reply posted by: Blogmaster, 5/3/01 06:27

Thank you everyone for the tips! It’s going to help so much! The Avengers Library has actually been majorly helpful (I never even thought to look there, honestly!) and Valkyrie has agreed to sit down to an interview (of sorts) so everything is seriously looking up. And THE LSF CONVERTER WORKED LIKE A CHARM.