#like they clearly aren’t MEAN and also they obviously aren’t great at english

[thelordofgifs]

.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

journey, m | ot7

full title: journey to the dick

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

summary: A Cinderella story but it's a dick pic. Yup, that's right. You find a dick pic on your phone and make it your mission to find the owner of said dick. Time to fuck the seven hottest guys you know! Onwards!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption / partying; horny crack, everyone radiates chaotic energy and wants to fuck; reader is comparing their dicks to above-mentioned dick pic so there's a lot of talk about dick, did I mention there's a lot of dick? dick; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, handjob, thigh fucking, dance studio sex, overstimulation, fingering, dry humping, 69, face-sitting, photography during sex, m-masturbation, being cummed on (neck / chest [a cum necklace LMAO] + hand), film studio sex, wall-fucking, being overheard / walked in on during sex (and not giving a shit, oops), implied car sex, implied threesome); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene

appearances based on the 'Butter' jacket photoshoots yes, the opening line is #50 of my prompt list LMAO title comes from Journey to the West, except it's dick because that's way more important. also, yeah, this is basically a harem hentai, but it's you and BTS, woohoo! :D

--

"Whose dick pic is this and why it is so inspirational?"

Park Jimin craned his head over to look at your phone, black hair brushing against your forehead. "Damn! That is an incredible dick."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kim Taehyung muttered, yanking your phone out of your hand and peering at the screen. His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up into his dark brown hair. "Oh, ho! What a high-quality specimen of a dick."

"Why is it on my phone though?" you frowned, taking your phone back from Taehyung. You were sitting next to Jimin on their sofa, contemplating the great mysteries of the world. The black phone case had a cute mouse holding a large sewing needle and sitting next to a spool of sky-blue thread. "I didn't take this one, sadly."

"Maybe you were real drunk," Jimin offered.

"I haven't been real drunk since I projectile vomited in your guys' parking lot."

"That was last week," Taehyung reminded you, smiling amusedly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Look, it was a bad breakup."

"You went on, like, two dates," Jimin laughed, smacking you in the arm.

"It had potential!"

"Yeah, a potential dumpster fire," Taehyung added, rolling his eyes as he sat down on the other side of you. "I know you go for the quiet, nerdy ones, but you're just–"

"Brash? Forward? Ready to sit on dick at any second?"

Jimin was being very helpful.

Taehyung shoved Jimin's grinning face away. "It's a conflict of personality and yours is quite intense, so maybe you should try and be more open-minded about other options."

You frowned, not enjoying this pep talk that you probably needed. In fact, you avoided said pep talk at all costs. You reached back and yanked on Taehyung's ponytail. He prodded you in the left breast in response, glaring. You smacked his hand. He smacked your hand back.

Hey, when you don't have a good reply, resort to violence, right?

You looked back down at your phone. Swollen, red-purple, a good thickness. Nice length too, so hard it was sticking up without the assistance of a hand. You could spy the white pre-cum beading at the engorged tip. It was a strangely clear and well-composed photo. Black boxer briefs. Blue jeans, white shirt.

Fuck.

Could literally be any guy in the history of existence.

You turned the photo to Jimin. "Someone must have taken it last night when I couldn't find my phone for those two hours."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah, seems like it."

"You remember anyone in this outfit?"

Jimin snorted, wrinkling his cute nose. "Everyone was in jeans and a white t-shirt. 'Cause there was that wet t-shirt contest later that night, remember?"

You scratched your head. Ah, yes. Taehyung won. Man looked fucking amazing thanks to working out his arms and chest the past month. Was it solely for the purpose of a silly party gimmick? Maybe. You weren’t complaining though. You did what any good friend would do.

"Oh, right. Who won?"

Taehyung grabbed your shoulders and violently shook you. "I did! Obviously – ah, fuck you!" His tone quickly changed when he realized you were laughing like a maniac, doubling over in a pile of giggles with Jimin. "You're the worst," Taehyung pouted, holding his arms protectively.

"I'm just kidding, don't be mad," you chuckled, reaching over to hug him. He accepted it, but not without continuing to pout. You nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin. "I bought you your favorite breakfast when you were hung over this morning, come on now."

His dark brown eyes shifted back and forth before letting out a long, deep sigh and hugging you back. Damn. He had a nice hug now thanks to these arms and his broad chest. He smelled like warm chamomile.

"I worked hard for these," he mumbled.

You patted him on the back before releasing him and holding up your phone. Back to the first order of business.

"Is this your dick?"

Taehyung scrunched up his face. "No? But I don't look at my dick at that angle either."

You puffed your cheeks and turned to Jimin.

"Is this your dick?"

Jimin plucked your phone from your hand. He tilted his head to one side. Then the other.

"Lemme check."

Then he stood up and started walking to the direction of the bathroom. Still holding your device.

"Uh..."

You trailed off.

Taehyung blinked.

The bathroom door closed.

Pants unzipped.

"PARK JIMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

-

"You have to be kidding me, Jimin."

"Be reasonable. I can't get hard from this dick pic. Don't you want to know the owner of said dick?"

You pursed your lips and squinted at your phone, standing in Park Jimin's and Kim Taehyung's shared bathroom, because they were roommates and your friends. The mysterious discovery of said dick pic from last night's party sparked this Journey to the Dick, because it was a very impressive, intriguing, and, most importantly, inspirational specimen of the male genitalia. Clearly you had to investigate.

For science.

Which was why you were standing in the bathroom with Jimin's sweatpants off and begrudgingly getting to your knees. Begrudgingly, because...

"I thought we were supposed to be ordering pizza and watching Running Man."

"We are," Jimin answered cheerfully. "After you suck my dick."

You glanced at the photo once more.

It remained, indeed, very rousing of certain interests.

You gripped the waistband of Jimin's black boxer briefs.

Hmm...

Hold on.

You stood up suddenly and took your phone from him, sudden determination overtaking you.

"I have to do this correctly."

Jimin blinked rapidly, jumping with a yelp as you flung open the bathroom door to reveal Taehyung throwing himself into the wall, coughing awkwardly and hiding his face with his hands as you marched out purposefully. Jimin was still pants-less.

"In the proper order!"

Jimin and Taehyung shared a confused look.

"The hell does she mean, proper order?'

-

kim namjoon.

��Namjoon, may I look at your dick?”

Kim Namjoon looked up from his book and blinked at you over his round glasses.

“Pardon?” he replied in English.

“Your dick,” you responded in kind, in English and with succinct pronunciation. “Your penis. Your willy. Your ding-dong. Your–”

Namjoon removed a hand from his book and held it up. “My what?” he interrupted you, laughing.

Oh good, back to Korean so you didn’t have to flex all the different ways you knew how to say cock in English. “Take off your pants.”

He blinked rapidly, innocently sitting there in his flowy white button-up and brown pants. He even had suspenders. Fancy man. He had dyed his hair recently, a steel midnight blue. That’s how Namjoon was, attractive and book-smart. Absolutely won the lottery when it came to genes and brains. You couldn’t see the title of the book he was reading, but it was probably a self-help or philosophy book. He was into those nowadays, exploring the human mind, while you were more into exploring the physical aspects of humanity.

Fucking.

Luckily, fucking didn’t usually require reading.

(Usually, heh.)

“I have no objections to your proposition. I’m just confused on why so suddenly.”

You dropped your canvas tote bag on the ground. Your red, short summer dress covered in yellow lemons flared out as you shifted your weight to one hip. Your phone was in one of your hands and you waved it around like a baton as you talked.

“Aren’t I usually sudden when I want to fuck?”

Namjoon chuckled, rich and deep, shutting his book and putting it aside. Probably memorized his page number. Big sexy brain and all that jazz. A fantastic characteristic of his.

He also had a big sexy dick you were asking to see right now.

“You are, but sometimes you offer to buy me a meal or a snack first.”

“I mean, sure, if you want–”

He lifted a hand and cocked a finger towards himself, smiling. When he smiled, his dimples appeared. That was your favorite feature on Namjoon. You bounced over excitedly and sat on the couch, skirt flipping up and exposing your thighs, still holding your phone.

“I’m on a mission.”

He quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses detective-style. “What kind of mission?”

You pointed to your phone. “Do you remember that party we went to, the one with the wet t-shirt contest?” You lifted your arm and flexed your rather defined bicep that made Namjoon raise his eyebrows and mouth a wow under his breath. Consistent handys really did the trick when it came to bicep muscle definition. “You remember, right? You showed off your guns.”

He burst out laughing, waving a hand. “They are not guns.”

“Sure, they are. I could do a lot of social justice with your biceps, Namjoon.”

He shook his head, grinning, dimples on full display. “And what’s with the dress? You don’t usually wear such a cute style.”

You ticked your phone to the apartment front door. “I’m meeting Seokjin later, but he said he’s going to play another round of bowling because Jungkook kicked his ass again. But anyway, back to what I was saying…”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember Jimin mentioning something to me now.”

You brightened, unlocking your phone and holding up the screen. “Right! I’m looking for the owner of this dick.”

His eyes widened and Namjoon leaned forward, readjusting his glasses again. “Wow. That’s quite a clear picture.” Then he coughed and averted his eyes.

You nodded quickly. “Well? Did you take this picture?”

He frowned and sat back against the sofa, sucking in a breath and ticking his head. “Mmm, maybe? I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what I did…”

“Hah… Does this look like your dick, then?”

“How would I know?” he chuckled. “I don’t see my dick from that angle and I don’t have sober photoshoots with my dick.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck then. Drop the pants.”

The thing about Namjoon was that he was a very reasonable man. You had a problem and proposed a solution and he, an avid learner who liked searching for answers to the great mysteries of this world, had the means to help you out on your quest, so he did. In addition, he thought you were hot, you thought he was hot, and you’d already fucked a couple times before Journey to the Dick, so the mutual agreement was already there.

Splendid!

The other thing about Namjoon was that he really liked to make you work for it.

Slightly less splendid.

“Are you choking?”

You squinted at him and flipped him the bird. He was well-versed with popular Western hand gestures.

Namjoon nodded sagely. “That’s good.”

And he put his hand back onto the back of your head and shoved your mouth down onto his cock once more.

You had half a second to breathe again before air was forcefully taken from you, Namjoon now holding you there, nose-first into his crotch, sighing contentedly as he expanded in your mouth. You planted your hands onto his strong thighs and pushed, but his hand didn’t budge. The safe signal was three taps and you weren’t tapping out yet. You glared and Namjoon closed his eyes, smirking slowly.

He left his round glasses on.

‘Course he did.

Damn you, Namjoon!

You reached up and pawed at the buttons of his white shirt, making Namjoon open his eyes to see what you were doing as you unbuttoned them rather deftly for someone who had his dick filling up their throat. He looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow. You cheekily cocked one back, poking his pecs with your pinky.

He grinned. “Hm? What’s that?”

You clenched your throat around the head of his cock and he gasped, losing grip for a split second.

In that split second, you threw his shirt open, glorious his tan skin and large muscular pecs now in view, and slapped your hands down onto his thighs, instantly starting a fast, rough pace, curving your neck with every swallow, sandwiching his cock between tongue and top of your mouth, pulsing your wet muscles all over his length, staring at that well-built chest, watching the muscles ripple with his sudden, abrupt inhale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Sometimes you let Namjoon have the reigns, but this time you were on a mission, although it was a little distracting now because presently you had an unobstructed view of Kim Namjoon with his shirt open, head thrown back, midnight blue hair fanning over the sofa, his full lips open and panting, tendons in his neck tensing, broad shoulders flexed, leading down his defined chest and abs, core tight from your intense pace, thighs hard under your hands, cock swollen and thick, pulsating in your mouth. His large hands planted on top of yours, squeezing them with his.

The three taps applied to him too.

Instead, Namjoon moaned your name and gripped your hands.

“T-The picture… f-fuuuuuuuck…”

Shit, that’s right.

You reluctantly slowed, tongue swiping all over the underside of his dick, tracing the veins, moaning hotly around his cock. He lowered his chin, panting hard, dark brown eyes half-open and framed by his lovely silver glasses. It was him who reached for your phone and unlocked it. He remembered your pattern lock and you had only told him once. All your consistent fucks knew how to unlock your phone.

That’s how you had so many pictures of, ahem, good times.

He placed the phone on his hip and his head fell back against the sofa, inhaling deeply as you continued lapping at the base of the head, slowly sucking on it at the same time to keep him hard.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s nice…”

You mashed the tip of your tongue against the slit and coated it with pre-cum.

“Ah, come on, look already and compare,” Namjoon chuckled in his deep voice, raising a hand to pet your head. “Then you can finish me.”

You popped your mouth off reluctantly. “Hmm.” You placed a few fingers on his cock and looked at it, positioning it to the correct angle that matched the photo. “Huh, it’s pretty close. But you have this noticeable vein here, and I think the head of your cock is slightly different…” You squinted and brought your face rather close to his stiff length. “The skin tone seems right, but it’s not exact, and I think you’re bigger…”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his dick and smacked your cheek with the head.

“Oi!”

You puffed your cheeks, strings of saliva and pre-cum covering your face.

He grinned, dimples on full display. “Oops.”

You jabbed your finger at your phone. “I’m doing an investigation here!”

He shrugged cheekily. “You said it wasn’t exact. Get up.”

You put your phone on top of his book on the side table and glared at him. “Well, yeah, but no need to bop me,” you grumbled, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, standing up, and removing your panties as Namjoon reached over to his pants and pulled out a condom from the pocket.

You did say you were coming. Namjoon liked to be prepared for you.

“You said you liked it,” he mused as you straddled his lap.

“I do when I’m notin the middle of an important mission,” you huffed, picking up the hem of your dress and revealing your wet pussy, chin cocked in defiance.

“You don’t have to sit on my dick then,” he said, pausing with the condom right over his cock.

You frowned. “Hurry up.”

He cocked an eyebrow, dark brown eyes trapping you in his allure. “Doesn’t seem like you want it.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Growled.

Then you smacked his hands away and rolled down the condom yourself before sliding onto him with one swift motion, clenching your jaw at the sensation of being quickly and solidly filled up, not giving him or you time to adjust. Namjoon tensed his neck, grinning, large hands coming up to firmly grip your hips. Your own came up to grab his biceps and squeeze them, mustering up your most indignant scowl. He chuckled, smirking as you pulsed your walls around him.

“Hold your dress so I can fuck you.”

“Maybe I want to do the moving.”

He clicked his tongue and rammed his hips up into you, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being driven into your tightness. Your nails dug into his arms, breaths shallowing into rapid gasps as he continued, firmly and roughly fucking you from below, hard thighs flexing and smacking into your inner thighs and ass.

“Hold your dress,” he repeated, voice low and commanding.

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered, reaching down with one hand to yank up your dress, pulling it up high so both you and Namjoon could watch as he very deliberately and very forcefully thrust upwards into your tight hole, smirking wider as he witnessed your expression and the strain of keeping the pleasure off your face.

“Don’t have to give orders if…” He jerked up particularly hard, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to gasp breathlessly. “You…” Smack! You bit you lip, moan trapped in your chest. “Just…” Smack!

“F-Fuck…”

“Listen.”

And then Namjoon seized your hips and fucked you hard and fast with you barely holding on his shoulder with one hand and the other clutching your dress, moaning his name shamelessly to his own face. Namjoon wasn’t a gloater. His face was serious and concentrated, brows furrowed and intent on giving maximum pleasure, maintaining clear control as you rapidly lost it, allowing and trusting him to lead you into carnal desires.

You leaned forward, hot exhale on his neck, changing the angle and letting him hit you deeper, tightening around him. You heard his breath hitch, hissing out your name. Your whispered against his jaw, close to his ear.

“You like it better when I don’t listen, Namjoon.”

So close, so close, so close.

He snickered, dark, devious, sensual.

“I dolove punishing you with my cock.”

You slid your hand into his midnight blue hair and shuddered, pleasure blooming from your core in heated throbs, savoring the intensity of the orgasm he gave you as Namjoon groaned in your ear, slamming you down onto his hard, twitching cock and moaning, spilling his own into the condom, thoroughly enjoying the vicious massage of your spasming pussy. You pressed your lips to his temple, flinching with the shivers that came after, riding out the peak by rocking your hips lightly, enjoying the fullness he gave you.

“Doesn’t seem like a punishment. I’m having a lot of fun,” you taunted, panting and mirthful.

He gave your ass a playful smack and you squeezed his length from top to bottom.

“We have time for round two,” he murmured, nibbling on your ear.

Kim Namjoon was a very reasonable man.

-

kim seokjin.

"Gah, fuck!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, let's."

Kim Seokjin nearly tripped and fell against the doorframe, gawking at you. His expressive brown eyes went wide, mouth open enough for a nice ice lolly to be placed between those plump lips.

"Why are you in my bed? Where are your clothes? Why are you holding Pink Bean like that?!"

You sighed exaggeratedly. Here we go. "I had a nice dress but Namjoon took it and said I can't have it back until after." You squeezed Seokjin's large Pink Bean plush that he usually kept on his bed, a fluffy representation of a boss from his favorite PC game, MapleStory. It had a bubblegum pink head, light purple horns, and a cute :3 face. You squashed it with your breasts and looked up at him, on your knees with your feet tucked under your ass, missing all your articles of clothing thanks to Kim Namjoon.

Such cute clothes only for him? I don’t think so.

Seokjin turned bright red, sputtering.

"D-D-Don't do that to Pink Bean!"

"Why not? You've fucked me from behind and I used Pink Bean as my chest support."

He strode across the room with two steps, his long legs making it easy, looking handsome and summery in his pastel yellow shirt and shorts two-piece set, flapping his hands helplessly.

"That was a special case!"

You started bouncing on Pink Bean, you and your tits. Seokjin's brown eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he actually tripped at the end of his bed, falling face-first with a high-pitched yelp.

"Seokjin, I need to see your dick."

He yanked his head up, chestnut brown hair flying everywhere, shooting you a confused glare.

"Yah! You can't just show up naked and start demanding dick while abusing Pink Bean!"

You reached up and scooped your breasts forward, squashing them between the purple horns, nipples poking out above Pink Bean's head. Seokjin looked like he was about to pass out. Probably from loss of blood to his head.

You balanced your phone in your cleavage, inspirational dick pic between your tits.

"Is this your dick, Seokjinnie?" you asked sweetly.

He started, squinting at the screen between your tits. "The heck? What is that?"

"A dick. Is it yours?"

Seokjin made a disgusted face.

"Are they really that ugly? Mine sure as hell isn't."

"Oh, so it's not? You know for sure?"

Seokjin scoffed. "Come on, there's no way that could be mine, look–"

And he sat up and yanked his shorts and underwear off, slapping them down on the floor and spreading his legs, presenting his very hard and quite pretty dick and balls. He huffed triumphantly, planting his hands in his hips.

"How could that thing compare to–gah!"

You crawled over Pink Bean, shoving the plush against your stomach and placing yourself between Seokjin's long legs, oblivious to his shriek of surprise, holding up his shirt as you compared his cock to the one on your phone.

"What the–where did you g-get that picture?!"

Your hot breath wafted over his twitching length as you held it delicately with your fingertips, ass up in the air, tilting his dick to adjust the angle so he mirrored the photo. "Remember that party with the wet t-shirt contest?” you explained nonchalantly. “The one where I said you'd totally win because of your broad shoulders, but Taehyung got more votes because he had been working out and looking all buff recently?"

Seokjin was gasping as you held up your phone. Hmm, not the same thickness. Plus, he seemed harder, sticking out straighter than this photo dick. But there was a small mole in his dick that seemed to match the picture. The length is pretty spot-on too. You scooted closer, cradling his cock with your palm and coaxing it with your fingertips, ass bouncing on Pink Bean's head.

"Oh, fuck..."

"Anyway, someone snapped this photo and I've been trying to figure out who, but everyone was drunk and, if I recall correctly, you were on a table dancing with a pool noodle and belting Kim Yonja's 'Amor Fati', so I don't think you remember much from that night."

Seokjin's voice was pitched, strained from holding back.

"I remember those... oh, fuck... those shorts you were wearing... ah, with your ass hanging out on the bottom... fuck, wanted to bend you over... but yeah, after that..."

Then you yelped when you felt his hands on your head dragging you forward and pressing your open lips to his cock.

"Ah, yeees..."

"Seokjin, wait–mphf!"

He shoved the head of his cock into your lips and looked down. You narrowed your eyes as he began to gently hump your face, filling your mouth with the hardness. You sucked in your cheeks a little, molding your mouth to him, still giving him your best annoyed face.

"Is it my dick?" he gasped, pushing deeper.

You made a confused noise and Seokjin frowned at you.

"Yes or no?"

Seriously? You held up your hand and hovered it in the air, wiggling your fingers up and down, the universal sign of–

"What do you mean, maybe?! Oh, it's because a phone camera isn't good enough to catch the majesty of my cock, is that it?"

You could had been annoyed, but then you thought about it. He brought up a good point. You hadn't considered that. Still, the shape wasn't exact though. A phone camera couldn't alter dick angle, right?

No time to think about it because Seokjin rammed his entire length into your mouth and down your throat in your moment of contemplation.

"Mmmphf!"

"Just, ah, don't move, let me fuck your face real quick–"

You didn't really expect anything less, so you pushed him down, sliding his shirt up his torso, changing the angle so you weren't straining your neck. Seokjin fell onto his elbows, hands letting go but hips still moving, groaning as you enclosed your mouth around him and rubbed your tongue all over.

"Ah, your ass is so sexy, damn, bounce it for me..."

He seemed to forget that in order to do that, you had to hump Pink Bean like a dog in heat but, hey, when the man who called himself World Wide Handsome (drunk and sober, that was the kind of man Kim Seokjin was) asks you to twerk for him, you do as you are told and give Pink Bean the best hump that plush is ever going to have.

"Fuuuuuuuck, yes, your ass is so perky and juicy, fuck, like a sweet peach..."

You tried not to choke with laughter in his dick, but the action made your throat muscles squeeze and spasm around the head, immediately making it jerk and swell at the added simulation, causing Seokjin to gasp your name and fiercely clutch his sheets.

"Fuck, yes...!"

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow, seeing his brown hair messy and fallen over his forehead, eyelids fluttering, panting as you took over the pace, firmly enveloping him all the way to the base, sandwiching him between your tongue and roof of your mouth, dragging the head over the slick wetness, pulsing expertly around his hardness. His dainty pink tongue flitted over his lips and made them glisten, full, plump, sexy as hell.

"I'm so glad Namjoon took your clothes," he wheezed.

This guy really said whatever thought that popped into his handsome head.

You smirked around his cock and wiggled your eyebrows.

Then you grabbed his hips and really gave it to him, fast and tight, angling your head so he slid into your throat deeply and easily, sending Seokjin into a sputter of curses, prayers, and blessings to who-knew-what, gripping fistfuls of his sheets and throwing his head back, beautiful neck on display and broad shoulders flexed, moaning loudly.

You almost stopped, awed by his perfectly sensual posture.

Then Seokjin thrust his crotch into your lips and gasped your name, shooting down your throat in swift, tense jolts, forcing you to stop staring at him and hurriedly gulp it all down, squeezing your eyes shut so you could concentrate, sucking in a short breath, and making him yelp, flinching to cram more of the head into your constricting throat.

You prodded his stomach sharply and drew an ‘X’, telling him to stop so you could swallow.

“B-But…”

You gave him a bunch of other hand gestures and none of them were nice. It contrasted the way you were lapping at his cock, coaxing him back to full hardness with soft tongue and delicate pushes against the roof of your mouth. He lifted one of his hands and started messing with yours, the one on his stomach making obscene hand signals. You felt him try and grab your fingers, poke at your palm, and, finally, grab your hand and tug it up, shoving your fingers into his mouth.

You popped your mouth off his cock in surprise. “Hey!”

Seokjin looked at you with giant brown eyes like a dog caught with a treat in his mouth. “Mmphf?”

You made a confused face at him.

His tongue started sliding between them, licking your joints and pads of your fingers, wiggling all around, covering you with his saliva and sending shivers over your skin at the strange sensation. You could feel the power in that squirming muscle, his brown eyes watching your reaction, your own eyes fixated on the way it looked, three of your fingers surrounded and crammed into those lush, soft, pillow-like lips, squirming, sensual tongue slipping between them, dripping saliva down your palm and back of your hand.

“H-Hey…”

It was bizarre, feeling an odd juxtaposition of the submissive nature of the act, and yet he was deliberate and forceful about it, staring pointedly as the tip of his tongue snaked out from the side of his lips, licking the side of your pinky.

“S… Seokjin…?”

He reached up and pulled your hand out of his mouth, the pads of your fingers dragging on his lower lip, wet streaks of saliva painted down his chin.

The ghost of a smirk on his open mouth, eyebrow ticking arrogantly.

You blinked at him, unaware that you were clutching Pink Bean with your other hand so hard that your knuckles were white.

Then Seokjin grinned and wrapped your wet hand around his dick and started jacking himself off with it.

“Hey! I want that in me!”

“What? Gah!”

Somehow, you convinced him to fuck you – read: threw Seokjin down on his own bed, put a condom on him, rolled him back on top of you and guided his cock to your pussy before grabbing his ass and yanking down, making you both gasp as he entered you with one smooth stroke, your back on top of Pink Bean.

Pink Bean was really seeing a lot of your naked body today, just like Kim Seokjin.

“F-Fuck– yah!”

That was his noise of protest as you yanked his yellow shirt over his head, throwing it as far as you could, out his still open bedroom door.

“Sorry, needed to get rid of useless things.”

“I like that shirt!”

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders and rolled your hips up into his crotch, wrapping your thighs around his waist and squeezing. He sputtered at the intense feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, arms shaking to hold himself up, brown hair messy and wild over his forehead, brown eyes wide in indignation.

“Sorry, my bad, I’ll pick it up after I get another out of this magnificent dick,” you quipped.

Seokjin turned red, unaccustomed to someone other than himself complimenting him.

“Why are you hanging onto me like a monkey – oh my God…!”

You used his mattress and Pink Bean to bounce up and down on his dick from below, fingers tangled in his hair, wetly smacking your hips into his crotch, panting his name into his ear, your cock feels so fucking good, love the way you fill me, fuck me up, Seokjin, giving him the praise that he wanted and that breathless moan he liked, the one where you added a bit of underlying mischievous depth, pulling back one of your hands and tracing his plush lips, his mouth opening and pink tongue lolling out, puling you into that wetness, locking his gaze with yours.

Soft and tight around two of your fingers as you slapped your hips into his, losing a bit of your power now that a hand was occupied, intense sparks shooting from your fingertips to your core, his tongue sliding sensually between them, your juices leaking out, getting wetter and wetter, head emptying and replaced with sinful pleasure as you stared into those dark brown orbs with blown-out pupils, sparkling eyes smiling at you.

Seokjin took over and started fucking you into his mattress (and Pink Bean).

Both of you completely forgot about the dick pic.

-

min yoongi.

"Ah, fuck, I forgot, I need to see your dick, f-fuck!"

"It's," Smack! "A," Smack! "Little," Smack! "Busy at the moment."

"Yoongi!"

The bed shifted and hit the wall.

"Oh no," came the most unbothered oh no behind you.

"Your damn neighbors are going to complain again," you hissed, planting your hands on the mattress and lifting your upper body up a little to scowl at him. "They're so annoying."

"Yeah, that's why I like fucking you," Min Yoongi snickered, looking back with his curly black mullet in complete disarray, smirking lips dark and swollen from making out. He raised an eyebrow at your displeased expression, dark brown eyes flashing. "Something wrong? Not rough enough for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I need to see your dick when it's fully hard."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure. After this one."

"Yoongi–"

He cut you off. "Hand," he ordered.

You extended your left hand out back to him and he grabbed your forearm, long fingers gripping tightly, before proceeding his railing of your pussy from behind, your ass smacking into his crotch repeatedly.

"Yoongi – ah, oof!"

You slipped and fell face first into his pillows, gasping at the altered depth of each thrust, hard and deliberate, filling you up as you clenched around him, following his rhythm by pushing back with your hips and moaning as Yoongi slowly built up the pace, bottoming out each time.

"Why do you need to see my dick?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't pounding you with it right this very second.

"Because, oh fuck, someone left a, fuck, Yoongi, yes, dick pic on my phone, aaah, right there, fuck, you're so fucking good, that night of the party, the one with the wet t-shirt c-contest, fuck, Yoongi, I love your dick so much, fuck!"

"Why would I do that?" he grunted, spanking your ass with his free hand and making you claw at his sheets, pain seeping into the pleasure and amplifying it, skin prickling hot, causing the excessive dripping between your joined legs. The headboard was now repeatedly smacking the wall.

"I dunno, you were drunk too, do you remember, mmm, yes, harder, yeah, like that, telling Taehyung you loved him and that he was your favorite little alien child?"

Behind you, you heard Yoongi choke slightly in embarrassment.

"No, I do not..."

"See, maybe you jacked off and snapped a memoir on my phone."

Yoongi let go of your arm and firmly gripped your ass with two hands.

"Memoirs are written."

"Maybe if they wrote their name, I wouldn't be on this journey – ah, Yoongi!"

You grabbed fistful of sheets and snapped yourself back up, your hair messy and cascading down your shoulders, meeting every vicious slap of Yoongi's hips to yours, his balls hitting your soaked clit and sending stings of satisfaction from your core to your limbs, so good, moaning his name, his growl of yours punctuated by his nails digging into your ass, give it to me, come on, and you fucked him back, pressing your palms into his sheets and feeling the shuddering ecstasy again and again, deep pulses tightening around his hardness, making him groan with want.

"One more, one more, I'm so fucking close, fuck..."

"You've been close, you're holding back, you're a dick, ow!"

Yoongi smacked your ass particularly hard and you clenched your core so tight that he gasped and probably delayed his orgasm even further.

"You're the one asking to see it," he panted, adjusting the angle to shove you further into his bed even though it wasn't possible, and continued his relentless assault in your pussy.

"If anyone has a nice dick, it's you, you bas... fuuuuuuuck, Yoongi, yes, I'm gonna c-cum, fuck!"

The pleasure shot through you like lightning, waves of tortuous triumph as you clutched his pillow and screamed his name into it, your juices leaking out from around his pumping cock and splattering onto his crotch and inner thighs, drenching his balls, saturating his skin with your sweet scent, Yoongi moaning your name and squeezing your ass as he fully sheathed himself in your shaking walls and exploded into the condom, his whole length twitching and shivering inside your spasming pussy, your ass prickling on pain, both of you gasping for air.

Someone on the other side of the wall was banging it and told you two to shut the fuck up, or at least you assumed that's what that muffled yelling was.

You and Yoongi ignored it.

"Are you... hah... okay?" Yoongi panted, rubbing your ass and kneading it.

"Of course, I am, what do you take me for, an amateur?" you chuckled, lifting your head, your breathing erratic and uneven. "Now let me see your dick, Yoongi."

The other side of the wall kept swearing. Very colorful, very loud, very upsetti in the spaghetti.

Poor thing must not be getting laid regularly.

"Fuck, fine, you know I like staying in there at least for a little while..." he grumbled, holding the condom down as you untangled yourself from his body, sighing exaggeratedly as you turned around and yanked it off. You tossed it into the trashcan that was already beside the bed.

Yoongi had the foresight to be prepared for a night with you.

"I don't have to leave soon. We have plenty of time."

The shouting through the wall seemed to have given up, kicking it once and swearing very heatedly before stomping off.

"You better not. I'm not finished with you."

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, opening your photo gallery, pushing Yoongi down so you could wrap your fingers around his slick, semi-hard cock. It throbbed contentedly in your hand as you began to move it up and down in smooth, tight strokes, flexing your fingers to add variation in the stimulation.

"Mmm, fuck, yeah, faster..."

You pulled the photo up and put your phone on the bed beside his hip and calmly continued your movements, looking down at him, him and fair-skinned cheeks with a slight fluffiness to them, him and his lightly upturned upper lip that gave him a cat-like appearance, him and his lowered lashes over black-brown orbs that held quiet, sensual intelligence. His hair was messy from fucking you so hard, but he was effortlessly sexy regardless, leaning back on his elbows, torso lifted to watch your hand. Yoongi noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow, wispy black strands grazing his dark brow.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Just thinking you’re really hot, Yoongi.”

He cringed slightly, ears turning pink and shifted his eyes away, closing them. Your own roamed down, down his defined shoulders and toned arms and chest, sucking in a breath at the sight, that slim waist and pretty hips, his cock filling up your hand, getting harder and harder, the head getting darker from sensitivity, the slickness of the lube and his own cum making it easier for you and better for him. Your other hand traced his side, running your nails over it and you heard his low moan, raising your head and your eyes found his. He was observing you again, glancing from the photo to you, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, ticking his head to the screen.

“That it?”

You ran your nails over his skin, just the way he liked it, light, pressing in a little when it came to the upper side of his hip, seeing his pupils expand and his breathing shallow, pink tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly.

You increased the pace, pumping him from base to head, entranced by Yoongi’s expression, desire and cockiness despite becoming unraveled in your hands, his lower body trembling under you, your thighs pressed to his tense ones, tempting you to sit on and rub yourself all over them.

“Pretty dick.”

Slap, slap, slap. Hand on wet cock, sending shivers through you and through him.

“That’s why it could be yours.”

You saw his cheeks flush light pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he made piercing eye contact.

“Stop.”

You gasped sharply and ceased all movement, feeling his rigid stiffness pulse against your palm.

“Look,” Yoongi commanded in that low, raspy voice of his.

You bit your lip and removed your hand, strings of fluids snapping between your fingers and his hot, taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was sticking straight up, dark and imposing, twitching slightly. Long pale fingers picked up your phone and held it next to his erection.

“Well?” he chuckled.

You chewed on your lip, squinting at the screen. Reached over and ran your wet fingers over his twitching length, hearing Yoongi hiss and gasp at your touch as you angled his dick to match up with the photo. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult – the position seemed to match up perfectly. He was a little taller and thicker though. The shape of the head was similar, but also a bit off. The skin tone wasn’t quite correct either, the red-purple with subtly differing undertones. Still, lighting might affect that kind of detail. It wasn’t like you knew where this picture was taken.

“Hm… It’s really close, but not an exact match.”

“Well, damn.”

Yoongi tossed your phone aside carelessly, hand reaching out and you bent down, already knowing what he wanted, lips to lips, sliding against his body. You loved the way he kissed. Intense but soft, hand on your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek, nail grazing your earlobe, whispering into your lips, put me between your thighs, and you shifting up, closing your thighs around his wet cock, his lustful sigh and smirk on your lips, slowly thrusting in between your legs.

“Tighter.”

You hooked your ankles, one over the another and squeezed.

“Mmm, fuck yes, you’re so good…”

His words reminded you of the first time, crammed into the backseat of a small car, snuck out of a party to have Min Yoongi pull you into his grasp, tongue and lips all over you, your arms over his shoulders, wondering what you were doing because this kind of guy wasn’t your type, quiet, yes, a music nerd, yes, however he knew what he was doing, light bites on you skin making you gasp and slide down his jean-covered thigh, delicious friction to your soaked panties, tipping your head back to give that decadent mouth more access to your throat.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. A certain someone was probably wondering where you were.

“Yoongi, how… fuck, yes, how are you so good… you’re so good…”

His deep voice over your vocal cords, vibrating them with his seductive tone.

“DND your phone,” he purred, drawing a line down your throat with his tongue, coating you with his saliva, his musky, woody cologne transferring to your shivering skin.

“What…?” you panted, unable to think straight.

He plucked it out of your back pocket, tapping it against your arm.

“Put it on do not disturb and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be coming back to me all the time.”

You fumbled with your phone, strong hands scooping out your breasts from your top, those lips sinking into your cleavage and tongue ghosting over your nipples, moaning as you dropped it, ignoring Park Jimin’s text, lost in those skillful hands and that expert mouth that eventually kissed down to your pussy and drove you crazy, but not before setting your skin on fire and making you beg for it.

“Yoongi…”

His lips on yours, his eyes and your eyes both half-open, marveling at the way his lashes adorned those black brown orbs and the way he looked at you, drunk on lust and your body.

“You want me?”

Hands on your hips, grinding you down on his thigh, teasing you. He wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type… so why, why did that sly, knowing gaze do things to you? Why did it make your heartbeat stutter and your juices seep into the denim of his jeans, so turned on that you didn’t want anything else right now but Min Yoongi?

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Y… Yeah…”

That smirk.

“I know you do.”

You did end up coming back all the time.

He was very good and it wasn’t just his mouth.

Yoongi backed up and smirked, open-mouthed, mischievous, so fucking hot that you felt your pussy throb at the mere sight, his warm, pulsing length still jammed between your soft, closed thighs.

“You wanna ride my dick?”

You grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You completely forgot about the photo and spent the rest of the night on Yoongi’s cock and ignoring the yelling from his neighbors.

-

jung hoseok.

“Hoseokie…”

Teeth on your ear, a dexterous, teasing tongue flicking your earrings, your name coming out of that heart-shaped smile in a low, sultry whisper that contrasted it.

“You can’t come here looking like this and not expect me to want to ruin you,” Jung Hoseok purred into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips curved into a smile.

You were on your knees, spread out a little, short black minidress hiked up your thighs, facing the mirrors of the dance studio. Hoseok knelt behind you, hands travelling all over your body. Deft fingers, neatly manicured nails, his sharp jaw grazing your shoulder, pulling down the thin straps. Your large hoodie was tossed to the side, scattered onto the hardwood floor in haste. The frosted door of Smile Hoya’s rented dance studio space was locked, hip-hop music blaring loudly, and in the center was you and Hoseok.

You knew he could hear your shuddering exhale well, already attuned to the sounds of your pleasure.

He smirked and kissed the top of your ear, yanking down the top of your dress.

It wasn’t like this the first time.

“Ah, well, I was hoping… wondering, ah… I don’t know how to say…?”

You were in his bedroom at the time, confused. “Yoongi said you wanted to talk to me about something? What is it, Hoseok?”

He had been very nervous, somewhat shaky, staring into your eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand, tilting your head. He took a moment to speak, hiding his brown eyes under his blond hair.

“Uh, well, I was talking to hyung and I mentioned I… I feel like I have to put up a front sometimes. Because I’m so happy and stuff. Women expect me to be like that… in bed… And he suggested that maybe you could help me… chill out, but, uh, that’s really rude to say, ah, I shouldn’t have–”

He tried to yank his hand out of yours in panic but you held on, tugged forward by his movement. Hoseok squeaked, ears turning red, freezing in place.

“Hey.”

You held his hand and patted it with your free one, smiling gently.

“I absolutely can help you chill out when it comes to sex. What do you want to know? What do you want to do? I’ll teach you.”

You noticed his expression change from panic to worry, chewing on his lip.

“N… No, you misunderstand… It’s not having sex, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly silent. You frowned slightly, nudging him. Hoseok cleared his throat and looked you dead in the eye.

“I’m not nice.”

Now he squeezed your hand tightly, breathing in your scent.

“Or rather, I don’t want to be nice when I fuck. Sometimes I want to let go and just…” He frowned, not seeming to know the word.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want to think about an image I have to uphold.”

You grinned. “Yoongi did direct you to the right woman.”

His blond hair was even lighter now, the tips dyed with navy, a soft, sexy contrast to his rich tan skin. This was now many, many fucks later, hooking up at parties, at random times at his apartment, and now at the space he rented to practice dance on his own. Hoseok liked to freestyle and feel the music. When he fucked, he liked to feel the moment.

His hands gripped your breasts and squeezed, sandwiching your nipples between his index and middle finger, tugging hard.

You gasped in his hands, just what he wanted, open-mouthed smirk and all.

“Hoseok… I have to… ah, ask you something…”

He shoved his hips into your back and you gasped at the thinness of his shorts, rubbing his hardening cock against the top of your ass. A brown orb watched you through the mirror and he was smiling that brilliant, heart-shaped smile, contrasting his forceful touch.

“What do you want to ask?” he chirped cheerfully, pinching your nipples and twisting them.

You moaned, savoring the swift, firm pain followed by the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of your nipples, grinding your ass onto his stiff length. Your phone was in your right hand. You bit your lip, seeing him watch you carefully in the mirror. You raised the phone and unlocked it.

“Is this your dick?”

You noticed Hoseok pause and squint. You turned your phone and held at up so he could get a good look. His hands were still on your tits, although he had paused the moment to view the image, blinking rapidly at it.

“When was this taken?” He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The party with the wet t-shirt contest? The–”

“One where Yoongi grabbed Taehyung and told him he was his favorite alien child?”

“Oh? You do remember?”

Hoseok winced, as if the events of the night haunted him. “I remember… not much after that…”

“Oh…” You faltered. “So you wouldn’t remember if you took this picture on my phone, huh?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then… can I see it?”

He grinned. “You have to earn it.”

Earning it could mean anything.

Today, earning it meant cumming at least three times with Hoseok’s fingers before he even let you take off his shorts.

“H-Hoseok…!”

He always smelled so good, so fucking good, orange and musk complemented with the barely-there vanilla sweetness, a scent that always seemed to linger on your skin afterward. His lips were on your neck, leaving small bites, chuckling darkly. One hand on your nipple, the other between your legs, your dress bunched at the waist and your panties at your knees, not letting you take any of it off, forcing you to watch yourself as he wrecked you, teasing your oversensitive clit with his fingertips, slick and slippery, thighs shaking from the second orgasm and coaxing you to the third, sharp throbs of lust causing your eyes to roll back, head falling against his shoulder.

“Hoseok, p-please…”

He had no trouble holding onto you, flexible and strong, and you were grinding your hips down, lost in the feeling, leaking everywhere because he hadn’t actually put his fingers inside you yet, teasing you and teasing you and teasing you, driving you crazy, please put your fingers inside me, please Hoseok, your name murmured gently in your ear, no, not until the third time, and then I’m going to put my cock in you once you’ve shown me how good of a girl you are, and you were going to lose your mind, shivering in continued ecstasy, squirming in his hands, your own reaching back and fisting his hair and white shirt, moans masked by the loud music, so close, so close, your perfume mixing with his, sex and cologne, shivers and heat, teeth on your ear and circles rubbed onto your aching nerves.

Shallow gasps.

Peaking pleasure.

Seeing nothing but black, eyelids fluttering, wanton moans torn from your throat.

The song ended.

Hoseok removed his hand from your nipple and covered your mouth, muffling your scream as you came, taking your air and your sanity, pleasure rocketing up your core, crying out with need for something, anything, inside you, pushing your hips back into his crotch, feeling his cock swell at your bouncing ass, desperate for him.

The music began again.

Now you were on your hands and knees, suddenly released, gasping for breath, legs shaking from the aftershocks.

“Look.”

Turning around, your shaking hands pulling down his shorts hurriedly, still wearing your black dress and panties around your knees, hardly registering the inconvenience, not caring, completely focused on the semi-hard length in front of your face. No time. Hoseok gave you no time, grabbing your face and dragging your open mouth to him, sliding into your lips, his oversized shirt touching your nose, you whimpering at the hotness and tautness of his velvet skin. The fullness invaded your throat, taking your breath away. He buried himself all the way in before yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with his vest that was shed earlier, far too hot now, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t choke.”

Hand in your hair, pushing you down, not letting you move as he rolled his hips into your face, the head rubbing against the rood of your mouth and your tongue pushing it up to make it tighter for him, taking him deeper, hazy and intoxicated on orange, musk and vanilla. His other hand held your phone up, unlocking it with ease.

Smirk on those lips, heart-shaped and teasing. “So? Is it mine?”

You whined, not wanting him out of your mouth.

“Your choice,” Hoseok chuckled, tone light and unassuming, the edge of danger only visible in those sparkling brown eyes. “Find out or I’ll cum in your mouth and not in that pretty pussy of yours I’m looking at right now.”

Right, because you were bent over, ass facing the mirror, wetness dripping down your inner thighs.

Fuck.

You backed up, growling, glaring at the picture you knew all too well now.

“Well?”

Fine, fine, fine, you were on this fucking Journey to the Dick, and it was starting to feel more like an annoying side mission than the actual main storyline, but, whatever, you reached up and angled Hoseok’s cock slightly, sucking in a breath with him as you looked from phone screen to the delicious real-life specimen. Hm, okay. Similar in length and color. Not in angle though. Shit. And not in width either, barely a hair slimmer and the vein placement was more prominent on Hoseok’s length than this dick.

“Fuck, it’s really fucking close but I don’t think it’s yours.”

“Shit,” Hoseok sighed, turning your phone off and tossing it onto his discarded shirt. “Oh well.”

You narrowed your eyes, pouting. “What kind of react–gah!”

Hoseok pushed you down onto the ground, pushing his shorts down to his knees and pulling out a condom from the pocket, cocking a brow. You sputtered, trying to untangle yourself from the labyrinth of your own clothes, but only managed to kick off your panties before he got the condom rolled down and pushed your legs up, lifting your ass completely off the floor.

“Can’t have this pretty ass on this dirty floor,” he snickered, lifting himself higher, bending you in half, almost on your upper back, nearly uncomfortable, but Hoseok was stronger than he looked, and when he gave you what you needed, you instantly forgot about the discomfort.

“Oooh, fuck, Hoseok!”

He plunged into you, into hot wet tightness, stretching you out easily from the previous wetness, clit throbbing as he smacked his hips down, his balls slapping against your ass, drawing out another moan as his fingers brushed your clit, making you spasm and clench around his cock as he teased the overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, yes, so tight, so wet, so desperate for a cock to fill this hole, aren’t you?” he purred, still so sweet but with such dirty words, so handsome with his blond hair and navy tips, heart-shaped smirk and glittering eyes, and the way he said your name, dainty and serene, slowly thrusting into you, but so hard, he was so hard from being inside you, completely consumed by the physicality of the act and no longer the same man who had been worrying about how you would perceive him.

That seemed ages ago now.

Your hands reached up between your legs, running your fingers through his hair, completely forgetting about the photo of the mysterious dick and focused on the one thrusting between your legs, smiling up at him, those brown eyes and lovely jaw.

“You’re so good, Hoseok, so fucking good to me, fuck, harder, yes, ah…”

Both of you forgot about the music, fucking through the pause between them, hoping that everyone else was too busy with their own choreography to think about the hot gasps and moans exchanged between you and him in the middle of the room, the act reflected in the wall of mirrors, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls, your name and his name in breathless whispers, tight and full and hot and wet and soaring on sky-high pleasure, climbing altitude and running out of oxygen.

“Fuck, gonna cum, fuck–”

“Ah, Hoseok, yes…”

Tip, free-fall, you clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and his hand over yours, screaming into each other’s palms at the intensity and the force of orgasm, smacking your hips together and holding them there, feeling his cock twitch inside you and your shivering walls clamp around him in rough, intense pulses.

It took a moment to disembark from the euphoric high.

“Hah… we should… probably not fuck here…” he gasped, falling a little, cradling your ass so it didn’t directly touch the floor.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, so that’s your fault. You need to be the voice of reason.”

He laughed, rich and infectious, and you grinned, holding his head against your breasts and hugging him tightly.

-

park jimin.

“I hate you.”

“Come on, Jimin.”

"I was supposed to be first!"

"Oh my God, are we going on about this again?!"

"You were supposed to suck MY dick first!"

"Stop being a fucking brat, Park Jimin!"

"No!"

You tackled him and you both fell to the floor, rolling into a mess of giant t-shirts, fierce kisses and your hands in his now red hair, fiery and hot-headed like he was being right now.

"You little–"

"Don't you dare call me little!"

"I was gonna call you a little shithead but if you wanna be a big shithead, that's fine with me!"

He pinned you down and you grabbed his waist with your legs and rammed your crotch into his black shorts, making him gasp in horny pain and crumple into his laundry that you were supposed to help him fold, but instead you were wrestling and he was complaining about not getting his dick sucked.

It was your turn to pin him down with your arms and your thighs, Jimin seeing stars as he struggled to breathe from your lower belly smacking his erection the wrong way.

"Why, ack, why did you run off saying there's a proper order?" he choked out, choking harder as your panty-covered mound sat down on his length and started rubbing up and down, smirking down at him, his red hair flaring out on his cream rug.

"'Cause there is," you replied, calm and cool.

"Order of what? Order of how you fucked us?"

"Nah, I fucked Yoongi first, remember? At that party, ages ago..." you hummed, extending the expanse of your movement, sliding up and down his thighs, his plush lips open and moaning softly, his grip on your large t-shirt tightening. It was actually his, because neither you nor Jimin knew the meaning of keeping your clothes on.

"Yeah, in my car!"

"Eh, you were drunk and playing pool with Taehyung, which, by the way, he mad cheated and you didn't even notice."

"Fuck!"

You weren't sure if that exclamation was related to your teasing or Taehyung cheating, but Jimin removed one of his hands from your shirt and flipped off the wall, in the direction of Taehyung's room.

Ah, so not you.

"Is it age order? But Namjoon isn't the oldest..." Jimin refuted himself, frowning.

"He’s first because he's kind of like the leader of you guys, isn't he? You all end up listening to his reasoning anyway."

Jimin squinted, pouting. "That's just because his tall and smart and has a fatty IQ."

You grinned. "148."

Jimin looked very annoyed that you remembered the exact number.

“I never thought about it, but other than that, it is age order, huh?” you mused, bouncing on his dick.

He shuddered with satisfaction, rolling his hips into you. “Then why would you…?”

You shrugged. “Your names sound good together like that. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook…”

Jimin added your name last with an amused smirk. You bit your lower lip, cocking an eyebrow and sporting a devious smile, leaning down. Lips to lips, a soft sigh, remembering that night, stumbling out of Jimin’s car and tangled in Yoongi’s touch, still kissing Yoongi with your ass on the hood of the car. Jimin had been annoyed at you then too, how could you fuck him first and not me, Yoongi laughing in that raspy, sexy way of his, because I asked, dumbass, Jimin grabbing your face and kissing you right in front of Yoongi, the older man clicking his tongue and squeezing your ass tighter, unimpressed.

In some ways, that night started off the chain reaction of hey, why not me?

Okay, maybe you did have some frustrations about your dating life and ended up tumbling into their beds for, ahem, emotional support, but in your defense, they were all great when it came to emotional support.

“Sit on my face.”

“That’s not the angle of the dick pic though.”

“Then just take the pic from that position. That’s how it was taken, right?”

Sometimes, Park Jimin was a damn genius.

He was great at eating pussy too.

“Ah, fuuuck, Jimin…”

A little messy at first, humming approvingly at your taste, thrusting his tongue into you and moaning as your muscles closed in on it, your slick nectar painting those beautiful, soft lips, him pressing them to your heat, lewd kisses, tongue swiping up and down.

“Gotta clean you up so you can dirty me up,” he breathed, tracing sensual patterns in between your thighs with his tongue, small nips to make you whine, his hands on your ass, moaning into your pussy as your kiss came into contact with his rigid cock, dripping saliva and licking it back up, gyrating your tongue at the tip and licking off the pre-cum, savoring the taste, strong and almost sweet.

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was frustrated with you.

“Fuck, give it to me.”

His hands on your ass, pushing you down, setting your pussy flush onto his lips, blocking off his airway and moaning hotly, desperate, needy, wanting your noises as you swallowed him, his length swelling in your mouth at the wet encasement, swirling your tongue all around.

You’re so mean. I can’t believe you wouldn’t ask me first, get on your knees, come on, aren’t you sorry?

You weren’t, not even in the slightest bit sorry for fucking Yoongi in his car, but you had enjoyed his little pout and twinge of jealousy, kisses up his muscular thighs, the same thighs you were clutching right now, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear, remembering his hand on the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, the same cock you buried all the way into the back of your throat, blocking your own ability to breathe, suffocating on it as Jimin groaned, coming back up for air, rushing exhale washing over your skin before returning to his work on your clit, rapid, intense licks that shimmered pleasure through your veins.

Jimin made you choke on his dick after the Yoongi incident, but you were the one in control of it now, rutting the head against your throat muscles, feeling it get harder and harder. He always felt so good in your mouth, recalling him saying once, I just really like getting my dick sucked, shut up and stop shaming me, tongue and lips and saliva, remembering how much he liked it when you held the base and focused on the tip, his muffled whines getting more intense and vibrating your core, making sure to pop your lips over the bottom of the head every time you came up and then pressing them tightly as you went back down, doing it all at that fast, suffocating pace that made him stop licking you to throw his head back and moan, loud lust radiating off the walls, not caring about disturbing anyone, too absorbed into your pace to be considerate.

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck, you’re so good…”

Jimin was part of the reason you were good.

He really liked getting his dick sucked. Your mouth was one of his favorites and usually readily available.

Win-win.

“Faster, fuck, oh, shit, I’m gonna cum, mmmphf!”

He grabbed your ass and smothering himself with your pussy, body trembling under you as his cock jerked and shot into your throat, your lips closing in, sucking hard to drink his cum, his moans filling your wet hole and tongue all over your clit, furiously licking as you rubbed the twitching head into the roof of your mouth, his hips squirming at the overstimulation, but his violent grip and nails digging into your ass was telling you to do it, telling you he loved it, telling you he needed it, begging you to do what you did best, gulping around the head and then jamming it into your throat, cutting off your air.

He sucked on your clit, hard, whining so loud that you could feel it in his chest and racing heartbeat pressed against your lower belly, almost lifting your lower half with his upper body alone, showing off his strength from dancing. You angled your head, taking as much as you could, nose in his balls, whimpering around his cock and the snap of orgasm making your entire body flinch, leaking all over his face and into his mouth, his nose buried into your pussy, tongue soothing your throbbing clit, wave after intense wave, barely breathing, lightheaded with pleasure, clutching his thighs tightly, naked bodies suddenly dirty, surrounded by clean laundry.

Jimin yanked his head out from between your legs, panting in satisfaction, diving back in to shove his tongue on your quivering hole and scoop out your orgasm, sucking it out to drink it, murmuring your name into your slick juices.

“You taste so fucking good, fuck…”

You came up for air, gasping, tongue lolling out, holding his cock and rubbing the slit against your wet muscle. His stiff length twitched, still hard because of your mouth.

“Take the picture, mmm, yes, did you forget?” Jimin gasped into your pussy.

You fumbled with your phone beside his leg, still reeling from orgasm and Jimin’s continued ministrations, putting it in selfie mode and seeing the lower half of your face, chin shiny with saliva, his cum dripping off your lower lip, his cock in front of your face and naked chest, your breasts pressed into his abs.

You thought about licking off the visible cum, but then you decided against it, snapping the photo with your tongue hovering close to his rock-hard erection.

You knew the composition of the inspirational dick pic now, so you brought it up in a photo editing app, putting the two side by side while wrapping your lips around the head of Jimin’s cock, sucking it leisurely like a lollipop. He didn’t ask you to get off.

Instead, he planted your pussy into his face and suffocated himself with it again.

You studied the two photos. Hm. Firstly, yours was much sexier. No offense to white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boxer briefs guy, but your glistening cum-covered lips and squashed tits in the background of the cock made the photo eons better than his. Jimin would definitely be asking for yours later. Anyway, back to the picture. Hmm. Jimin’s dick was slightly shorter and straighter, with a warmer skin tone to his purple-red tip, although the head shape was spot on. Was that possible to have a different length but almost identical head shapes? Did dicks work that way? Did Jimin have an equally sexy twin brother or doppelganger somewhere?

Hm, a threesome with basically two Jimins would be hot as hell.

He patted your leg and you climbed off him, sighing as you rolled over and pursed your lips, concluding that his wasn’t the mystery dick. Once again, close, but no dick. Wait. That wasn’t the saying. Eh, whatever.

“Fuck, send me that photo later, I’m gonna jack off to it.”

You laughed, feeling him crawl beside you and roll you onto your stomach, pinning you down with his naked body. “You wanna jack it to your own dick?”

He was rubbing said dick into the crevice of your ass cheeks now, using your saliva was lube. “Fuck yeah I wanna jack it to my own dick with your lips covered with my cum and your titties on my stomach, sounds fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re such a pervert, Jimin.”

“And you aren’t?”

The front door slammed shut. There was a loud yell of your name in deep baritone.

“Aw, hell no, I’m getting it in this pussy first, I got time before he comes to collect,” Jimin growled, reaching into his discarded shorts and ripping open a condom, scrambling off you and rolling it down his still-hard length, grabbing one of your legs.

You shifted to your side, glaring at him. “What am I, taxes?”

The deep voice called your name again, asking where you were.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer though, because Jimin thrust into you and you ended up moaning Kim Taeyang’s name to inform him of your whereabouts, causing Jimin to bend over and fuck you hard and rough.

“I can’t believe you would moan his name like that with my dick inside you,” Jimin growled, looking far too cute to actually be pissed at you. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for him.”

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was firmly fucking you into his floor and making you yelp as Taehyung burst the door open, sighing at the scene.

“Who would have fucking guessed what you two are doing…”

-

kim taehyung.

"You're so fucking stubborn."

"Wow, that's really rude, I don't make comments about your–"

"Shut up, I'm deleting his number."

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, sitting with one leg bent on Kim Taehyung's bed. He was currently in possession of your phone, clicking his tongue and pressing buttons on the screen.

"When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone," he scolded.

You cowered slightly, eyes shifting. "I was only asking if he was doing anything this weekend... I didn't have any ulterior motives..."

Taehyung squinted. You deliberately avoided his gaze. He sighed, crossing his arms. You were still wearing Jimin's shirt with nothing underneath so, uh, maybe he had good reason to be suspicious.

"You have a virgin kink."

You choked on nothing. "What, no, I don't–"

Taehyung reached over to his desk and put on the thin, gold-framed glasses he kept there. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. You abruptly stopped talking and gawked at him, breathless at the way his dark brown orbs were bordered by gold and his long, black-brown hair, the rest tied back in a small ponytail.

"And a glasses kink."

He took them off and you sucked in a tight breath, grimacing.

"That's why you keep going after these kinds of guys," Taehyung tutted, neatly folding the specs and placing them back on his desk. "And why you bonked Namjoon-hyung so fast, only to realize that he is not, in fact, a virgin."

"W-Well, he's still good..."

"Same reason why you got so excited when–"

"Look," you cut in, chopping the air with your hand, not letting Taehyung finish. His eyebrow seemed permanently raised. "I'm off my bullshit for now, no? I've got a mission–" You pointed to your phone and he held it out of your reach. You scowled and bounced back down into the bed. His eyes weren't following your face, but you ignored it. "–and I'll stop okay?"

Taehyung cocked his other eyebrow.

"Serious. You just deleted all the numbers except you and your friends, right?"

He turned the screen, thumb hovering over a certain number. Him and his friends were listed from one to seven, in order.

His thumb was over number seven.

"Don't," you whined. "Please, Tae."

His brows lowered, serious expression on his handsome face.

Then he smirked, dumping your phone on the bed.

"Silly girl," he drawled, crawling onto the bed, advancing towards you, sultry gaze and enchanting eyes making you forget about your device. "Why would I do that? He likes you so much."

You growled slightly, letting him push you down but not relenting. "That's really fucked up."

"That I wanna hear you say please?"

His hand lifted and cupped your chin, mischievous smile, unable to contain his pride for his little trick, sliding his leg between your thighs, tilting his head.

"Not just any please," he murmured, deep voice silky smooth, dark curled stands brushing against your cheeks he leaned in, hot exhale on your lips. "Your needy please when I threaten to take your precious Jungkookie from you."

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his knee, tilting his head, highly amused at your narrowed eyes.

"You don't like it?" He was leaning down, feathery kisses on your lips and cheeks. "I know you like it when I tease you." His honey voice was dripping into the fire, turning into fuel that fed the sparks of arousal, your hands coming up to clutch his black shirt, pulling down the center zipper, his deep chuckle in your skin, hand from your chin sliding up to your hair, the other tapping down your front, grazing the thin t-shirt material.

"Don't..." you gasped, his deft touch toying with the hem. “Don't use the others against me. That's not fair...”

“Mmm, yeah?”

Drawing circles on your inner thigh with his nail, nicking the skin.

"You only want to think about me?"

Your phone hummed with a notification. Taehyung chuckled, fingers creeping closer and closer.

"Aw, I wonder who that is? But that's too bad, because you're all mine right now."

You gasped, clutching his open shirt as his fingers slid in, two because you were already wet, shallow breathing and lidded eyes telling him enough, taking your lips with his, pace slow and steady and maddening, spreading your legs with his knees, forcing you to tip your hips up to him in an embarrassing position.

Then again, embarrassment during sex wasn't part of your vocabulary.

You pushed his black shirt down one shoulder and reached in, your fingers snaking to the hem of the white undershirt and stroking his skin, his satisfied exhale hot against your neck, you remembering the way the water drenched the fabric and stuck it to his golden tan skin, playfully flexing his defined chest and biceps, adorable and arousing because Kim Taehyung was both. He separated his digits inside your pussy to create a loud, sharp, wet squelch. You heard him grin, smug at the dirty sound, then begin plunging his fingers in and out, in and out of the tightness, trying to be as noisy as possible. You clenched your core to make him work for it, force him to be rougher with you, his fingers curling in your hair, yanking firmly, lips on your ear.

"See, how can those boys you pick keep up with you, hm? They won't know what to do with your pretty, sexy self," he purred, faster, harder, pushing you to the edge with your heated moan and your hands all over his chest, lifting your hips to meet his touch. "You need us to take care of you, don't you?"

Fuck, the way Taehyung said your name.

Like it was a decadent sweet he was craving, a taste compared to no other.

Your head fell back into the pillows, breathing in his warm scent in shallow puffs, his name pouring out of your lips, yearning and desire.

"Mmmm, Taehyung...."

Melting you into it, sweet bliss and sharp jerks of your hips into his hand, gasping at the flood of euphoria, trying to squeeze your thighs around his hand and stopped by his open legs. Your throbbing pussy gripped his fingers and made him hiss, his devious smirk growing as you lowered your chin again to look into those dark eyes, shivering under his intense gaze.

“Let’s play a little game.”

His tongue slid out, lickings your lips lightly.

“It’s called, how many fingers can I stuff in you before you’re begging for my dick?”

“What kind of – oh, f-fuck!”

One more.

Aching tightness, clenching your jaw, trembling at the ease of it, Taehyung cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah, three’s too easy, huh? You already warmed up.”

One more.

“Fuck, Tae, fuck!”

His dark eyes glittering, pleased at your reaction.

“That’s better. That’s what I wanna hear.”

Whines in your throat as he picked up the pace, fast and hard, clutching his shirt and his side, your nails digging in, stretched out and stuffed with four, your eyes rolling back and one leg sliding up to hook around his waist, meeting each thrust, so deep, so full, so wet, loud and obvious and uncaring of who was listening – probably Jimin with a huge smirk on his face – panting Taehyung’s name over and over, feeling the strength in his hold and his grip in your hair, pulling lightly, shooting pricks of pain down your head to meet the oppressive pleasure brimming in your core, closer, closer.

“What do you want?” Taehyung growled, that deep voice dangerously low.

“Y-Your c-cock, p-please…” you managed to gasp out, chasing it, chasing the fullness and the depth.

“Can you take it? Can you take it like the good girl you are?”

“A-Ah, yes, please Tae, want it,” you moaned, your fingernails digging into his back, scratching down as your orgasm shattered through you, making your whole body shake and shiver from the intensity, him pulling out. Your moan turned into a hoarse whimper, squirming as he rubbed your clit with his slick fingers, spanking it and teasing it, rocketing you into peaks and valleys of cut-off ecstasy that drove you insane, clawing at his clothes, desperate for his body on yours.

“What’s your magic word?”

“Please.”

He grinned at you despaired tone.

“That’s it.”

It took no time at all, your shirt flung aside, Taehyung losing his clothes that were already half-off, hot body to hot body, heated kisses and rummaging in his nightstand drawer, groaning into his mouth as his cock slapped your thigh, hard and thick and ready, dripping pre-cum on you before he yanked you up on top of him, ripping open the condom.

“Work for it.”

Lacing your fingers in his, sliding down onto that impressive girth and gasping as it twitched inside you, rolling your hips down onto it, better than his fingers, bouncing on it with your tits following your rhythm, squeezing his hands. Taehyung liked this kind of intimacy, the kind where he was grinning like the devil under you but still holding your hands as you railed yourself with his dick, rough and hard with your own smug smile, a little erratic but somehow good that way.

He made you work for it and you were good at working for it.

You found a good rhythm and – ba dum tss – rode it, leaning forward to deepen the angle and make it last longer, pulsing around his length with your tight walls, control and power and endorphins, each smack adding to the lewd melody that mixed with heavy moans and shuddering gasps, bringing Taehyung on your rollercoaster, his hips rising, your name rumbling in his chest, blood thudding in your ears at the baritone depth.

“Yes, such a good girl, gonna make me cum, don’t you want me to cum for you?” he panted, fishing for the magic word, bouncing one of his dark brows, his long hair flared out on his pillows, high cheekbones and strong features no longer hidden by wayward strands.

Your tongue between your teeth, grinning wide.

“Yes, please.”

The right inflection of winded want, maybe a little mischievous, but Taehyung liked that, for there was no fun in someone who was too easy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He squeezed your hands and thrust his hips up fiercely, shock bolting from your core to your spine to your head, your head snapping back, gasp torn from your throat, flooding his crotch with your juices, overstimulated clit rubbing on the base of his cock and Taehyung was gone too, husky groan falling from his lips, slamming his hips up and locking his legs, shooting jerks of cum into the condom, aftershocks causing you to lose hold on your knees, moan pitching higher as you slipped down on his throbbing length, trapped on it because Taehyung wasn’t going to lower you until he was done, the head pulsing inside you, squeezed out by your shivering walls.

“T… Tae… the picture…”

“Ah… yeah… hold on… lay down for me…”

He wasn’t going to let you leave without his mark anyway.

“Serious?”

“Deadly.”

You laid back against the pillows, spent, holding your phone, Taehyung straddling your chest and stroking his slick cock, plops of cum and lube falling onto your chest, messy dark hair curling around his handsome face. You could see the purple-red head peek out from between his fingers, hear the steady slapping as he pumped it back to full hardness.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Your chest was rattling but you raised your phone, bringing up the picture as Taehyung gripped the base of his cock, lifting it up slightly to put it in position. You squinted at the screen, looking from the photo dick to the real one. Of course. He was definitely bigger, a little thicker, but strangely, the color was almost the same. Was that lightning or similar skin tone? Or perhaps men with really nice dicks just happened to have Taehyung’s tan complexion?

You wouldn’t question it if it was true.

“You’re bigger,” you sighed, tossing your phone aside.

Taehyung smirked proudly. “What a surprise.”

“We all knew that, even before I saw it.”

He chuckled, going back to fisting his cock. “That’s because Jimin has a big mouth and likes to spread rumors.”

“You like that he spends rumors.”

Taehyung shrugged, but his sly expression wouldn’t be hidden even as he shook his head to cover part of his face with his long brown hair, curtaining half of it with darkness, teasing and effortlessly sexy.

“Ready?”

“Mhm, do it.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, smiling wide, watching his breathing shallow and his eyes close, losing himself in it, faster and tighter, the wetness audible, strong thighs shuddering at your sides. Then he sucked in a breath, hissing your name and tipping forward, painting viscous white strings onto your collarbones and tits, pushing his shuddering cock up and down to spread it out, your clavicle now sticky and covered in his strong scent.

Taehyung ticked his head, lips in a devil’s smile, chest heaving with exertion.

“Your cum necklace is extra pretty today. Take a selfie for me so I can jack off to your cute face later.”

-

jeon jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook shrieked your name like you were Michael Myers and he was Jamie Lee Curtis, flinging himself onto his computer monitor and mashing the power button to turn it off, his long purple hair flying everywhere, brown orbs like saucers, entire body shaking so bad that even his eyebrow piercing was vibrating.

He froze like that.

You blinked at him from the doorframe of his rented studio room, one hand on the knob and the other holding up your phone like a kitchen knife.

His leather bomber jacket was hung over the back of his rolling chair. The chair was currently slowly sliding across the floor, away from him and his panic. Jungkook was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and loose black jeans.

For a guy scared shitless, his pants were pitching a very impressive tent.

Had he been watching porn?

“Er… I knocked…?” you said slowly, pointing to the door. “Do you not hear me?”

“Um, uh, n-no,” Jungkook sputtered, looking you up and down. “No, I d-didn’t.”

“I said I was coming by today. Via text?”

“Was that today?” he echoed hollowly like a ghost in a shell, the end of his question pitching to a higher octave. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Sorry. I think I f… forgot…” He was not looking at your face, instead staring at your thighs and your shorts, tight and tiny, shredded black denim paired with a loose, long-sleeved black top that read in bold, white, graphic, letters...

REALITY SUCKS.

You pointed to the turned-off monitor.

"Were you watching porn?" you asked cheerfully.

Jungkook's ears turned red.

"Yes," he blurted.

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

You nodded, closing the door. You tilted your head and locked it, just in case, before waltzing into Jungkook's film studio space, bouncing on the heels of your large black sneakers. "If you're gonna watch porn, you should lock the door. What were you watching? Is it lesbian porn again? Can I–?"

You reached over to turn the screen back on and Jungkook's tattooed hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you away from it and to him. You blinked rapidly, confused at his tight grip.

"N-No, you can't see. You can't," he sputtered, pinning you against his hard body.

You frowned, annoyed. "Why not? I like porn." You squirmed against him, but he sandwiched you between his forearms, forcing you to look up and face him, thinning your mouth into a line. He gulped, eyes shifting, holding your body against his. His lower lip trembled, mole underneath bouncing with his uncertainty.

"I... It wasn't porn..."

You stopped struggling, confused. "Huh?"

Those dark chocolate eyes found yours, looking guilty.

"I was looking at your pictures."

You blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You know... the ones I take of you sometimes... You said it was okay..."

Ah, yes. Jungkook liked to take pictures of you. He had mumbled that it was because he needed practice and, later in bed, he admitted it was because he considered you his muse, an inspiration of sorts, so would it be okay if, maybe, you just turned a little and laid in his covers just like... like that, yeah, could he take maybe one photo?

"Sure, knock yourself out, dude."

A bit later, far too late, you had realized that had been maybe too chill of a response, but Jungkook seemed to prefer that and he acted less awkward about it every other time he asked to take a picture. They weren't usually dirty pictures. Although you were naked in some of them, they weren't quite inappropriate, every single one framed with delicate, well-thought-out composition. You always sighed and told him he made you look better than you actually were.

Jungkook always insisted you were consistently beautiful.

You pointed between your bodies.

"Were you gonna get off to them or something?" you cheerily inquired, bumping against his pitched denim tent.

"N-No!"

His ears turned scarlet and he jerked sideways, but you held onto him, hands firmly on his hips, not letting him twist away. He quickly covered his ears and pouted at you.

"I was... I just missed you."

You smiled, squeezing his ass. "I missed you too, Jungkook."

Your tone was soft, gentle. He stilled and lowered his hands, lips parting at your words, slightly surprised, incredibly adorable.

His dick twitched in his pants and jabbed your crotch.

A pause.

Jungkook's eyes shifted to the side, mumbling under his breath. "And, yeah, okay, I got horny, but that's only because it's you..."

"That's great, since I definitely wanted to look at your dick as soon as possible!"

His eyes went wide.

You smiled widely.

Then he said something unexpected.

"Ow."

You looked down and backed up as Jungkook frowned and reached down to shift his rock-hard length in his pants, sighing in relief.

"Zipper was killing me..." he grumbled, running a hand through his purple hair.

"We should just take it off then."

"Pardon, we should wha–ah!"

You grabbed fistfuls of his black top and yanked it up and over his head, causing Jungkook to sputter in confusion, throwing his hands up as you unsheathed his muscular torso, leaning in, breathing on his skin, leaving him to untangle himself as your lips closed onto his dark nipple, tongue teasing the small nub.

"Ah, fuck!"

You lifted your lips, tongue still extended, looking up to see him flinging the shirt aside, his long purple hair messy and wild, tattooed arm and un-inked arm lifting, pushing his hair away from his face, his chest rising to your wet muscle, gasping. You had a clear view of that cute little mole under his lower lip, trembling with pleasure before Jungkook looked down at you, hazy chocolate orbs fanned by black lashes, breathing hard.

You ticked an eyebrow, licking slow circles, lips closing in again, sucking daintily.

He bit his lip and let it slowly tease out while you simultaneously teased him, your name leaving his lips in a low moan. You danced your fingertips up his thigh, nail tracing the seams of his jeans, kissing across his chest, his eyes following you, hips rocking into your touch, following your pace, letting you command it. His head tipped back as you kissed down his abs, whimpering with want, curling his fingers into fists.

Jungkook always made you feel like you were touching him for the first time.

"You're not a virgin?"

"No?" Jungkook had repeated after the first time you had fucked him, sounding confused. "I'm just like this? Is that bad?"

"W... well... no, and now that I think about it, you were suspiciously good..."

"You didn't like it?"

You had turned to look at him and, fuck, the way he looked at you, so cute and innocent, uh oh, and then the slightest hint of an open-mouthed smirk dancing on those shapely pink lips, reminding you of someone else.

"Namjoon-hyung said that's what you were into. Is he wrong?"

Voice so deep and so smooth, gliding over you like butter.

You almost hastily defended yourself but one look into those roguish, yet genuine, chocolate eyes and you couldn't lie.

"But... you should enjoy yourself too..."

Jungkook had grinned, endearing and heart-thuddingly handsome. "I do. I told you, this is how I am. You're just my type."

"And what's that?'"

He had pinned you back onto the bed, leaning in.

"Hot and horny."

Turns out.

Seemed to be a running theme with all eight of you.

Right now, his pants were falling and you were sliding up as your hand was sliding down, shushing him quietly, your other hand dancing up his neck and pulling his head down.

"Someone's gonna hear you," you whispered to his open lips, tone and touch implying you didn't give a shit who was listening, wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock the second he pushed his black boxer briefs down, his shivering moan tickling your cheek. His right hand came up to cradle your head and lean it against his, begging whines for you to move, pairing it with an irresistible, husky hiss of your name.

"Please..."

He liked it tight and he liked it rough, liked the way you could lock your fingers and keep that nearly suffocating pace, closing his eyes with a flutter and moaning into your skin, curtaining you with purple, his grip in your hair tightening as you built that speed, filling the rented studio with his silvery, erotic cries.

"Someone out there is going to think you're watching porn," you teased, nudging him with your nose, looping a finger back to smear the pre-cum over the swollen head. He bucked his hips into your hold, lips pressed to your cheek, intoxicated groan warming your skin.

"Kiss me and breathe into my mouth..."

You couldn't say no, not with his voice so soft and pleading like that, not with that edge of nervousness. Fuck, the way Jungkook succumbed to your kiss, uncontrollable tremors taking over his shoulders, hot taut skin twitching in your palm indicating he was close, and you almost broke away to say that he shouldn't cum like this, it'll be messy and get on the floor, but he grabbed your face and didn't let you go, whimpering in his throat, wordlessly telling you to do it, exhale into his throat and he groaned in his chest, long, drawn-out, consumed by lust, and maybe it was bad, but you loved it, loved the way he wanted it so bad, wanted you to push the air out of his lungs and suffocate his pulsating cock with your grip, pre-cum leaking between your fingers, finally pulling back and gasping, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

"G-Gonna cum, f-fuck!"

You had to think fast, looking down for a moment and feeling his cock jerk in your hand, swiftly switching to cupping the dark red head, thick white cum suddenly spurting your palm, Jungkook burying his face into your hair to muffle his wail, your scalp hot with his released exhale and your hand covered in his heated release.

You breathed in, smirking at the scent of dirty gratification.

"Jungkook..."

He whined softly, hips quivering as you covered his jerking length with your cum-covered hand, spreading it all over and getting him hard again.

"There's this picture..."

"Mmm, yeah, the h-hyungs told me... don't stop..."

You swung your hips from side to side, free hand running down his chest, your eyes roaming his toned body, his tattooed arm still hovering over your head, long fingers tangled in your hair still, squatting down and opening your mouth, tongue dancing out and licking your hand and the side of his purple-red length, wet sloppy kisses, slurping up his cum and moaning on the throbbing head, making sure that he could feel the sinful heat.

"Give me... oooh, fuck, give me your phone..."

Your hand left his abs reluctantly, tugging your phone out of your ass pocket and holding it up for him as your mouth closed around his cock, swallowing it all, eyes closing, cramming all of him until the head hit your inner throat and your lips pressed against his crotch, knees on the tile floor, thighs spread, hands poised in the air, unable to breathe.

Click.

You cracked open one eye to see Jungkook holding your phone above your head, teasing smirk on his shapely lips, mole winking at you.

“For me?” he asked, not quite innocent.

It was the first time Jungkook had taken an actual dirty picture.

You shrugged as if to say, sure, pulling back as he turned the phone around, the dick in question on the screen. You eased off his length, licking it clean, bringing up your wet hand covered in his cum, popping your lips off the engorged tip and sliding your fingers in your wet lips, tongue wriggling between your fingers, inspecting the two dicks. Jungkook was still hard – so hard that his cock was sticking straight out, almost mimicking the photo. You had to crouch a little more, tilting your head and placing your fingertips on his balls, raising his dick a little on the back of your hand, smearing saliva and pre-cum on your skin.

Yon continued to lick, grazing the underside of his length with your tongue and then pulling back, eyes going from the photo to the real thing.

Jungkook moaned above you, clutching your phone tightly, knuckles white under black tattoos.

Hm.

You tilted your head.

One way.

Then the other.

Hmmm?

Hmmmmmmm.

“W… What?” Jungkook stuttered above you.

You pursed your lips at the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over it and sucking off the pre-cum. He gasped, hips shaking, threatening to shove it into your lips.

“It doesn’t look like your dick at all.”

“What?” He sounded startled.

You pointed with your dry hand. “The shape is a little off, you’re longer and slightly bigger, and the color is different.” You sighed, whooshing hot air over his soaked, taut skin, Jungkook whimpering. You squinted slightly.

“Still…”

You tapped your lips with his cock, thinking.

“I think he wears the same underwear brand as you.”

“He does?” Jungkook squeaked, spinning the phone around and blinking at it.

You shrugged. “And for some reason, the position of his hips reminds me of you. I don’t know why…”

He chewed his lower lip, staring at the phone.

“Oh well.”

You stood up abruptly at your words and plucked the phone out of his hand, putting it on his desk.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you. Let’s fuck.”

Jungkook yelped as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began stripping off your clothes.

That was his reaction that one time you lost strip poker to Kim Seokjin and him at that one party, not that your cared because you didn’t bother learning the rules. You had other priorities and they involved getting mostly naked and then pinning Seokjin down to make out with him as Jungkook gawked at the other side of the table, half-clothed, clutching his cards.

“I can… go…?” he had sputtered.

You surfaced from Seokjin’s plush lips, his hands around your bare waist, the taller man gasping for air, reeling from your kiss.

“I still have one more piece of clothing to go, Jungkook.”

Side of your lower lip between your teeth, cocking an eyebrow, swaying your panty-covered ass at those huge brown eyes.

“You can help, you know.”

Fun night.

His eyes were huge now too, your back against the wall and him rolling the condom down, lifting your leg and sliding into you, gasping at your tightness, leaning down to kiss you again, greedy and ravenous, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you on tiptoe. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into that soft skin and strong muscle.

“F-Fuck me, Jungkook, mmm, fuck, yes…”

You didn’t really get to talk during that strip poker night because your mouth was full of Seokjin’s dick as Jungkook’s pounded you from behind, but it would be a crime to complain about such things.

You met your hips to his to deepen his thrust, enjoying his strength, powerful and steady, fucking you against the wall, wet slaps and soft moans filling the room between harsh kisses, lips swelling from the fervor, your ass even rhythmically smacking into the wall, but neither of you cared, your leg around his slim waist and his right arm wrapped around it, his fingers digging into your thigh, black tattoos and tan skin gleaming from sweat, his other hand clutching a fistful of your ass and ramming your drenched pussy down on his stiff cock, grinning at your soft cry of his name, staring into his eyes and not looking away, spellbound by chocolate orbs framed by wispy strands of purple.

“You always feel so fucking good…”

You pulsed around him, feeding the fire, wanton exhales mixing, dick pic forgotten.

-

“Hah…”

You rolled over, sighing loudly.

“Haaaaaaah…”

“You still fixated on that dick?” a deep, unimpressed voice said next to you.

You frowned and planted your phone with the inspirational dick on your face, praying for it to come to life and choke you.

“I never found out who it was…” you mumbled.

“Well, it is Saturday night. We can go crash a party and maybe you can find that dick!” exclaimed a joyful voice, poking your side. Your phone slid off your face and clattered to the floor. A cheerful hand covered in colorful clay rings waved at you and your gaze shifted to Jung Hoseok and his blond and pink hair. He was too cute and you were unable to help yourself as you looked at him, matching his heart-shaped smile.

“Nah,” you tutted. “If it’s not one of you guys… the dick isn’t worth it.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, long and with longing.

“If it makes you feel better, we don’t know who it is either.”

You laughed hearing Kim Namjoon’s deep, serious voice. “How would you guys find out?”

“I know a lot of things,” Park Jimin’s angelic, light voice chirped.

“Too many things,” Kim Taehyung’s baritone voice remarked coolly.

“Are you gonna eat that slice of pizza, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hyung, I am, no, stop–”

“Give Seokjinnie-hyung a bite!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Then you’re dead to me, boy! Respect your elders!”

You heard some slapping and flailing about, but didn’t open your eyes.

“He’s probably not a virgin anyway. Virgins don’t snap pics like that on strangers’ phones.”

You cracked an eye open and narrowed it at the form laying on the ground beside you. Min Yoongi was messing with his phone. His head was on a huge pillow that he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to notice your glare and turned his head to raise a lazy eyebrow at you, cat-like eyes shrouded by black hair.

“Isn’t that what you’re into?” he taunted.

Your eye twitched.

You growled, sitting up. “I’m not into virgins, damnnit! I just like listening to people who are knowledgeable about their interests, like how Namjoon goes on about human philosophy, and how Seokjin never shuts up about MapleStory, and like how you talk about music theory. Just because I don’t understand right away doesn’t mean I don’t try,” you snapped, prodding Yoongi’s firm pecs through his t-shirt. He didn’t move, completely unbothered as you continued your tirade. “I don’t know anything about TikTok, but I like listening to Hoseok talk about the latest dance and fashion trends. Jimin’s the only reason I don’t make an ass of myself at parties because he knows everything about everyone so I don’t accidentally sit in a taken person’s lap and cause trouble. Taehyung’s always following that animal rescue Instagram and giving me cool facts about all these different creatures. Jungkook can go on for hours about cameras. I still don’t think I even know how to work the aperture function on DSLRs, but as long as he will continue to explain, I’ll listen.”

You sucked in a deep breath and seethed.

“So what’s the difference?”

“What?” you scowled.

Yoongi shrugged casually.

“Why do you keep chasing dorks with glasses struggling to get stupid graduate degrees when the people you spend the most time with are here with you right now, ready to fuck you at any time?”

“That’s–”

Your words died in your throat, Yoongi’s words finally sinking in.

Silence.

“Hyung, I’m struggling to get a grad degree…” Namjoon cut in, but the black-haired man on the floor lifted a finger and sliced the air, quieting him instantly. Yoongi was watching you carefully, head tilting at your frozen state. Your brain seemed to have ceased function. His lips curved into a slow, open-mouthed smirk.

Yoongi dropped the bomb on you.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit suspicious that the dick had elements from all of ours, but never quite matched up?”

W… What?

Your head whipped to your fallen phone and you scrambled with it, bringing up the dick pic again. The photo showed up at the party with the wet t-shirt contest. Your phone has disappeared for two hours during said party. Everyone was drunk. No. Everyone had gotten drunk after your phone had mysteriously been found and returned to you. You spent the night in various laps doing various naughty things, not bothering to check your phone after retrieving it, leaving it as a later you problem. You filed through your memories, recalling their faces as you showed each and every one of them the photo.

Hold on.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, almost as if…”

They weren’t as weirded out as one might be, seeing some random dick on your phone.

As if…

“As if one of us is good at photo manipulation, perhaps,” Yoongi purred.

As if they had expected to see such a photo.

Click.

You whipped your head to the left and a whirlwind of dark purple hair went flying under the coffee table, hiding behind broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and full lips forming an ‘o’. At the same time, the realization hit you like a falling piano from the sky.

“Did you all…” you choked, mechanically jerking from face to face, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and lastly, back at Seokjin because Jungkook was cowering behind him, large brown doe eyes behind a massive shoulder. “D-Did you all…?”

No way.

“Did you all take a dick pic and Photoshop them together into one superdick photo and PLANT IT ON MY PHONE?!”

One look at those seven faces and…

YUP.

Taehyung laughed, loud and rich, nudging Namjoon with his elbow. “Told you she wouldn’t check the details of the photo and realize it was from an outside source.”

You started and swiped around. The file name was close enough to your camera photos’ file names, but upon closer inspection…

“Oh my God…”

“She’s very easily distracted by dick,” Hoseok chuckled, infectious grin on his face.

“I am not!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jimin, do not whip out your dick.”

You heard your name being called softly and looked up, clutching your phone, still stunned and flabbergasted that you had been lusting after a fake dick that was a fuckin’ Megazord of the seven dicks currently surrounding you and those seven were the very dicks that tricked you!

On purpose!

For what?

FOR FUN!

(GG, no re)

They got you good.

Your irritation immediately dissipated when your eyes found those anxious chocolate ones, long purple strands curling around his cheek, curious open mouth with the small mole underneath barely visible.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked quietly, pink lips curving into an irresistible pout.

Oh.

Shit.

Before you could quickly say, no, of course not, Jungkook, it was funny, I’m not mad at all, you felt a dark presence by your shoulder, raspy chuckle by your ear, sending shivers down your spine, whispering your name, devious and smokey.

“Whose idea do you think it was?” Yoongi murmured.

You stared into chocolate eyes.

Innocent.

Or…?

Jungkook’s pout disappeared.

His dark eyebrow cocked, mischievous smirk gracing those irresistible lips. No, not just him. Lowered lids and midnight blue hair, smug expression with a dimple. Kim Namjoon. Lifted chin, looking down at you with a sheepish yet wicked smile on full lips. Kim Seokjin. The black head of hair leaning his chin on your shoulder, laugh like a seductive purr. Min Yoongi. Tilted head balanced on long fingers decorated with colorful rings and bracelets, sly heart-shaped smile. Jung Hoseok. Shit-eating grin fanned by red hair, bouncing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Park Jimin. Long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, spare strands framing a moody, handsome face with a glint of playful cunning. Kim Taehyung.

And then, Jeon Jungkook.

“The hyungs thought it was a great idea,” he drawled, silvery and sweet, looking extremely pleased with himself, running his tattooed hand through his purple hair, unquestionably guilty, but despairingly angelic in appearance.

These fucking…. Seven Kings of Duality!

You were positively fuming.

Silence.

An owl hooted outside the window.

“YOU PUNKS!”

You threw yourself over the coffee table and horny chaos ensued.

-

2021.09.01 - JK birthday drabble 2021.10.02 - Namjoon birthday drabble

--

masterpost

[tobacconist]

How do you not realize that dragons are a western concept and don’t exist universally? Dragon is an English word! Chinese “dragons” aren’t dragons, quetzalcoatlus isn’t a dragon, that’s just how their myths got translated cause dragon was the closest Western concept. You realize non-Western paleontologists exist and have identified unique dinosaur species, right? Are you also pissed when someone calls your dog a dog instead of the exact breed? You realize methods other than carbon dating exist and some of them are more accurate? You read one paper and decided you’re an expert on a field hundreds of years old, that takes years to become fully trained in. Subscribe to Miniminuteman on YouTube or something.

hmm except sinophone languages always use the character '龙' which means dragon. '西方龙' just means 'western dragon' dinosaur bones have actually been found throughout chinese history, even used in traditional medicine. they are called '龙骨' guess what that means? the modern chinese scientific term for dinosaur is a backformation of the western term: '恐龙' (terrible dragon)

slavic peoples call dragons something like 'zmei', but apart from a few superficial differences they are clearly the same as the classic european dragon and i think modern russian even uses the word 'drakon'

obviously non-western paleontologists exist and have made great contributions to the field, dont pretend thats what im saying. but theyre dragons. dinosaur is a made-up word.

if someone pretended to discover dogs after they have been known for all of human history and made up the word 'fluffibeastus' to be used as the official scientific designation; yeah i would think that just as dumb.

and im glad we agree carbon dating is bullshit.

[maverick-werewolf]

Modern Dragon Designs - Where they came from

Your regularly scheduled werewolf facts will return soon. For now, we provide this special, because you may not realize this, but I love dragons. There’s a reason one of my protagonists is basically obsessed with dragons.

Once upon a time, there was a movie - I don’t see anyone talk about it, I’m not even sure how many people are familiar with it...

It’s called Reign of Fire.

This movie shaped the modern Hollywoodian concept of dragons. Seriously, it did. Hear me out.

Released in 2002, Reign of Fire was a movie about - essentially - dragons as that age-old trope of “let’s take one monster and turn them into an overpopulated zombie plague so we can use them to tell a story about humans and make the monster just this brainless evil locust swarm backdrop.” This has happened to a lot of monsters by now.

But wait, these dragons aren’t like the dragons you might be used to: these dragons were completely redesigned from the ground up by the filmmaker(s) in order to make a more “realistic” and “animalistic” dragon that was acceptable by Hollywood, who generally views “dragon movies” (like so many other fantasy things...) as cheesy and silly. Market your movie as a film about dragons and you probably won’t get a deal. Well, turns out, coming up with your own gritty dragon designs worked!

Doesn’t this remind you of every other dragon you’ve seen in a movie for the last, you know, 18 years? Although it actually looks quite a bit cooler than those other ones that came after it

Please note that while I may sound sarcastic, jaded, and often maybe a bit scathing, I mean nothing against the creators of Reign of Fire or director Rob Bowman. I watched the movie in theaters when it released. I applaud Bowman for coming up with unique and interesting dragon designs, in order to have a different take on the creatures, so that they fit the story he wanted to tell, instead of doing what so many people do and completely co-opting concepts without trying to alter them to fit anything and... yeah... okay, I’m not going to talk about werewolf things in this post. Getting back on track:

What I don’t applaud is everyone ripping off Reign of Fire for their own dragons, doubly so because most of these people didn’t even take into account the reasons why it was designed that way. They should have left his dragons alone and come up with their own thing, but at least I guess Bowman can go down in history as the man who designed every Hollywood dragon for over a decade to come - with no signs of stopping - even down to the tail shape.

On Vice, you can find an article and interview with Rob Bowman, the director of Reign of Fire, discussing how he came up with this dragon design and how influential it has become. I highly recommend giving it a read.

Please note the Vice article is clearly written with the bias of someone who “can’t take dragons seriously,” so it’s also a good look at the Hollywood mindset about dragons and how much Hollywood treats fantasy in general like garbage (jerks).

It’s impossible to pretend this movie didn’t basically reshape modern dragons. Let’s get to the details...

Animalistic Design

Dragons in popular culture are generally - or at least they were generally - assumed to be powerful, intelligent creatures, often of a higher nature than humans and other mere mortals. They may be good or evil, but one can’t understate that traditional fantasy dragons are regal and majestic either way.

Reign of Fire wanted to usurp the majestic, intelligent dragon image, creating a smaller, hunched, knuckle-dragging sort of dragon that looks more like an animal - like a pteranodon. This is because the dragons in Reign of Fire are not exceptionally intelligent, noble beings that speak and hoard gold and have the wisdom of the ages. They are brutal hunters that set things on fire and eat everything smaller than them. So this design choice was a conscious one and a smart one.

The dragons in Reign of Fire are meant to be more scientific, more plausible, and also simpler, in a manner of speaking. They are not colorful, magical, ancient fantasy dragons...

Trouble is, everyone took cues from this design for their talking wise noble fantasy dragons, and it... doesn’t really work, at least if you ask me.

The dragon design in Reign of Fire looks like an ancestral throwback, an evolutionary ancestor to the intelligent, talking fantasy dragon, although they are smaller. They’re hunched, they haven’t evolved forelegs independent of their wings... you get the idea. Take a look at the “proto-drakes” in World of Warcraft versus the ordinary drakes, which have tiny dangly T-rex forelegs that haven’t fully developed yet, so they walk like the Reign of Fire dragons.

A proto-drake in World of Warcraft - also say hi to my worgen warrior

So many things taking this design for their intelligent, “higher being” dragons seems kind of... odd to me, to say the least. Unfortunately, Hollywood decided that’s the only way moviegoers can “take dragons seriously,” so here we are.

“Wyvern” - Two Legs vs Four

Municipal arms of Stjørdal, Norway

In medieval heraldry, there came to be a creature called a wyvern. Now, the etymology on the term “wyvern” is a little shaky. It originally didn’t specifically refer to a “two-legged dragon.” It is thought to mean/be derived from words meaning anything ranging from “asp” to “light javelin,” and essentially boils down to a flying serpent. It is noteworthy, of course, that the word “dragon” basically just means “serpent” too.

In heraldry, though, “wyvern” came to refer to a two-legged dragon - at least, if you ask the English, Scottish, and Irish; elsewhere in Europe, they may not be so picky. And now, in modern pop culture (such as Dungeons and Dragons), we often use it in the same sense.

Wyverns weren’t really a “thing” in folklore, just as dragons in folklore didn’t look like our modern idea of a dragon. It’s debatable whether the father of our modern concept of dragons, Fafnir (from whom Tolkien drew inspiration for Smaug), even had wings at all; he was essentially a serpent, perhaps with legs. Point is, wyverns come from heraldry, especially the specificity of two legs versus four.

So now you know why you might see a lot of people (myself included) referring to this design as a “wyvern design” for a dragon.

Dull Coloration - Grey and Brown over Red, Blue, Green...

There’s something else - something very important - that Hollywood took from Reign of Fire... the concept that dragons aren’t pretty colors and are, in fact, various hues of grey and brown, and any more contrasting colors are just vague indications instead of bright red scales.

Now, Reign of Fire obviously did this because - again - they were going for the more animalistic, natural look as opposed to the mysterious majestic magical being look. Okay, that’s fine. But then Hollywood decided that fantasy, too, has to be devoid of dragons with bright colors.

The green dragon in Game of Thrones

There are countless examples of this in modern media. Any dragon that was previously brightly colored has been dulled pretty much to an extreme. Sometimes you might catch a fleeting glimpse of them looking like a brighter shade, but it was probably just a trick of the light. Why? Because all dragons are desaturated to the point of being almost indistinguishable by color.

The golden dragon in The Witcher Netflix series

This is also why you see so many mods on the Skyrim Nexus called things like “true red dragon.”

There are plenty more examples of this - I’m sure you can see the difference when you look at those dragons and other modern film dragons over, say, something like this...

Red dragon in D&D

And now we move on to...

The Fire Breathing - Chemicals, not Magic

Bowman insisted on ditching traditional fire breathing (you don't want the audience wondering whether the dragon's mouth is being burnt up with every flame) and again looked to the animal kingdom for inspiration. The king cobra, once again, was a great starting point. It doesn't spray fire, but it can spit its venom. Even more useful was the bombardier beetle, which shoots two chemicals from its abdomen that, once mixed, create a hot, burning spray. Bowman used these real-world examples to inspire his own dragons. They don't breathe fire exactly, but rather spit chemicals from two different sacks in their mouths that, when combined, ignite. "That's anatomy. That's already been designed, so we're going to draw from there," he said.

(quoted from the Vice article linked to earlier in this post)

The Hungarian Horntail in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - fire is streaming from two separate organs in the mouth, but they aren’t chemicals mixing together like in Reign of Fire...

The director of Reign of Fire wanted his dragons to be more natural in that they breathe fire through organic means, based on chemical reactions, instead of the usual dragon magic. But lots of people loved this “mouth flap”/”mouth organ” design with “streams” of fire coming from the mouth instead of fire flowing directly from the dragon’s throat, so now you see it pretty dang often.

Horns? Brow Ridges!

Another thing that is basically out now in dragon designs is the real horns of many traditional dragons, like Spyro, and like the dragons in Dungeons & Dragons used to have.

These days, it’s all about brow ridges and big spiny scales that aren’t separate horns, they’re just big pointed scales or piles of scales or bone ridges - and they aren’t a different color than the dragon’s scales, either, pretty often. And, in general, dragon’s horns have become much smaller and far more numerous, and more like spines/ridges, as opposed to the great, sweeping horns of classical dragons.

Firkraag, the red dragon, in the D&D video game Baldur’s Gate II, from 2000

Firkraag is a very traditional dragon. Now, while Dungeons & Dragons has generally kept more traditional dragons (yay!), they did fall into the brow ridge horn thing - although they, thankfully, didn’t make the horns smaller and subtler and more numerous little spikes, like so many other modern dragon designs. They also went with the brow ridge horns for tieflings (once humans with demon blood, then some weird thing in 4E, and now I think they’re humans with demon blood again), as opposed to the ordinary horns of the tieflings in previous editions of D&D.

Skyrim dragon head concept art

The Desolation of Smaug(’s design)

Here is... a big one. Here, we’ll talk some about the production of The Hobbit films over time, so we’re going behind the scenes.

Alright, so we all know Smaug, probably, by pop culture osmosis if nothing else. He is the quintessential dragon. He’s basically the founder of all Western dragon concepts: he’s big, he’s red, he hoards gold, he’s extremely intelligent and talks, etc. You get the picture. Every dragon that we have borrowed at least something from Smaug. And, in turn, he was inspired by Fafnir, the father of all our dragon concepts, from Norse mythology - but Tolkien took it all a step further and created the concept of dragons that we have today. Or, well, the not Reign of Fire ones. The fantasy ones.

A map drawn by Tolkien: notice the winged, four-legged Smaug over his mountain

During the first Hobbit movie, An Unexpected Journey, we see Smaug attack the Lonely Mountain...

In this clip, you can plainly see that Smaug has four legs. This was actually edited slightly for later editions of the movie, or so I’ve heard (I haven’t watched any later editions).

I can tell you for certain that when I saw the theatrical release, it was like this, too. It is apparent throughout the scene that Smaug has four legs and wings, separately. I know because I was paying very, very close attention, because I was going to be very upset if Hollywood turned Smaug into a wyvern.

Well, they did - later.

Smaug the wyvern looking like just another slightly different take on the bog-standard Hollywood dragon

Apparently, some studio exec decided that having a traditional fantasy dragon, even if this dragon happens to be frelling Smaug himself, would not be okay in this modern Hollywood world. So we ended up with a dull reddish spiney hunching knuckle-dragging wyvern with an angler mouth (I’m sorry; I really am sorry if you like the design, that’s totally fine, it’s a fine design, I am glad you enjoyed it, but Smaug shouldn’t have looked that way IMO and forgive me but I am still in pain over it) in place of a more traditional dragon that held more to things like, I dunno, how Tolkien himself drew Smaug. Smaug’s movie design flies right in the face of that and destroyed our chance to finally see a proper traditional dragon done justice on the big screen.

Tolkien’s art of Smaug - note the position of the forelegs, separate from the wings, like in the earlier map

This is all just one big example why we should be thankful that The Lord of the Rings films were all shot in one go, so no one could alter important things like the design of the fantasy genre’s father of all dragons, in the middle of production. Of course, the production on The Hobbit movies was a nightmare at best, as you can read about in assorted other articles, and Peter Jackson was very unhappy with what the studio had him do to the series. All of that is just another story, I suppose.

Dragons Redesigned by Reign of Fire: Example List

Now that we’ve gone over just a few of the talking points about Reign of Fire’s dragon designs (although I didn’t even get into the flat, spaded tail look in detail), here’s an undoubtedly incomplete list of several examples that have either entirely taken the design and/or were massively influenced by it...

(please note that not everything in this list held entirely to Reign of Fire’s design, obviously; some have the fire, some don’t; some have horns, some have head/brow ridges; but all of them are wyverns and most are darkly-colored)

Skyrim - Obvious influence with the general design, skin/scales and ridges design, as well as coloration; however, it is noteworthy that the Elder Scrolls has had dragons with no forelegs since at least 1998, in the game Redguard - though that dragon was also very brightly-colored (also of note: Peryite, while technically a Daedric prince and not a dragon, had four legs at least as far back as Daggerfall in 1996)

The Hobbit films, specifically The Desolation of Smaug onward - as mentioned before

Harry Potter movies - Wholesale. Two streams of fire from mouth flaps in Goblet of Fire, generally dull greyish and/or brownish colorations, no forelegs, short/simple horns that are mostly ridges...

Gods of Egypt - The giant fire-breathing cobras have the mouth flaps

Game of Thrones - This one’s pretty obvious too.

Disney’s Maleficent - In the new live action Disney movie(s), the dragon falls right into this design (though the fire doesn’t come from mouth flaps)

Netflix Witcher series - Villentretenmerth is very much a wyvern design and a dull shade, and he in fact has no horns at all, even though dragons weren’t portrayed this way in any previous Witcher adaptations

Stargate SG1 (season 10) - In the episode series “The Quest,” a dragon appears and... well, it looks just like all those other dragons, though the fire does come from its throat.

Beowulf (2008) - I try not to ever talk about or think about this film, but I have to just throw out there that the dragon is very much Reign of Fire, especially with that wyvern design.

Seventh Son - If you can call Malkin a dragon  - she was called one, I think - she definitely also has the same kind of dull-colored wyvern design.

Sucker Punch (movie)

Lots and lots of B-movies and direct to DVD/streaming films - Dawn of the Dragonslayer, Dragon (2006), Dragon Crusaders...

Something to note, also, is that cartoons, anime, and other non-film media is mostly - but not entirely - free from this influence. Cartoons especially are free from it, partially because they aren’t influenced by Hollywood producers who want “serious” and “realistic” dragons. Cartoons are allowed to have magical, colorful, four-legged dragons. Unfortunately, we are deprived of those in live action film and television, by and large.

There are still other exceptions - most notably things that were created before this influence, like Dragonheart and its spinoffs and sequels, which have thankfully kept their dragon designs consistent instead of erasing their forelegs.

Of course, why dragons are depicted as four-legged and winged in the first place - and when this depiction arose - is another topic entirely. I’m not going into that right now, seeing as how this post is already preposterously long.

Long story short, I was rewatching the movie Gods of Egypt and, when I saw the giant cobra monsters breathe fire, I was possessed to write this article. Because Reign of Fire’s influence is something I have always noticed ever since its release, and something my brother and I talk about a lot (and everyone who knows me has surely heard me talk about it, too) - because, frankly, it’s always bothered me. My favorite dragons are traditional dragons: four legs, bright colors, wings, horns, breathing fire, the works.

So, although the original creator of these design ideas did something cool and different because he wanted to do his own take on dragons, Hollywood decided that these design cues should be taken to dumb down all dragons forever, the same way that Hollywood has dumbed down so many monster designs so that the only acceptable ones just a bunch of near-replicas of each other, including werewolves.

I think it’s very sad that film producers think you can’t take something like dragons or werewolves seriously unless they are dull, nontraditional, and ugly. And I say ugly in the sense of these are not pretty, majestic fantasy designs - they are, many of them, intended to be ugly. Though I personally also hold the opinion that most of them are ugly regardless of if they are intended to be ugly.

So - now you know! If you haven’t seen Reign of Fire, go check it out to meet the father of modern dragon designs, from the color of their hides to the shape of their bodies, the smaller horns, and - sometimes - even their tails.

(Special thanks to everyone on my discord who helped me compile this list, as well as of course my brother and all our ranting at/with each other on this topic over many years)

If you like this post, maybe you’ll enjoy the rest of my blog, where I post a lot about folklore and all kinds of monsters (especially werewolves)!

Werewolf Facts --- Patreon

[lilietsblog]

In honor of just how epically my Russian name post blew up, here’s how you can make up your own Russian names

To be clear, most actually used Russian names are borrowed from Greek or Hebrew and Russianified, so the names you make up by THIS method won’t be common or occasionally even pre-existent. This is for when you want to make up a fantasy not-Russia that’s still clearly Russian in language but doesn’t have the same greek-borrowing history. It’ll sound antiquated, alt-history, slightly weird and definitely Russian as all heck.

Set of first halves:

- Vladi (means “power/ownership”)

- Yaro (means “passionately”)

- Veli (means “great”)

- Sviato (Svyato) (means “saint/sacred”)

- Miro (means “peace/world”)

- Meche (means “sword”)

- Tverdo (means “hard” as in “not soft”)

- Gordi (means “pride”)

- Bole (means “pain”. no i dont know why this one gets used either)

- Gore (means “grief/bitter”, see above)

- Slavo (means “glory”)

- Sveto (means “light”)

- Milo (means “dear” or “lovely”)

- Yasno (means “clear”)

- Vero (means “faith”)

- Liubo (Lyubo) (means “love”)

- Kraso (means “beauty”)

- Rado (means “joy”)

- Vole (means “will”)

- Zare (means “dawn” though the wordroot can also refer to dusk when specified. it specifically means the thing when its brighter in the sky than not in the sky. What you see when there’s a city or a bright fire in the distance is called a word produced from the same root)

- Vedi (means “knowledge”; note: I just made this one up, I have never seen an actual name with this. However it fits the scheme and will sound reasonable to a native speaker, and the goal is still to produce NOT common names)

- Zvezdo (means “star” and I made this one up too)

- Ogne (means “flame” and I might have seen this one or I might have made it up idk at this point)

- Snego (means “snow” and i 100% made this one up and its not a thing. Sounds nice though)

- Deye (means “action” and I’m only half certain this one’s a thing. It’ll definitely sound nice though, again)

- Medo (means “honey” and we’re completely off the rails here folks)

- Isto (means “sincerity” and im ALMOST sure this one is a thing. Almost)

- Pravdo (means “truth” and this one is 100% not a thing but it can be if you want to)

EDIT: CONTRIBUTION FROM @reaty  CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT FUCKING STANISLAV

- Dobro (means "good" or "kind")

- Rati (means "army")

- Brati (means "brother")

- Vse (means "all")

- Zlato (means "gold")

- Liuto (Lyuto) (means "fierce")

- Stani (means "war camp")

EDIT: more contribution from @archtroop

- Diko (means “wild”)

- Bogo / Bog (means “god”) (usually would be “Bogo” but “Bogdan” and “Bogdana” are pre-existent)

- Vieche (means “age”, “era” or “century”)

Set of second halves:

- mir or mira (male/female respectively)

- slav or slava (same)

- bor (just male) (means "struggle" or “deep dark forest”)

- dar (just male) (means “gift”)

- mil or mila (again same) (see above for meaning)

- lad or lada (same and means “harmony”)

- liuba (lyuba) (just female; adding this in the male form just makes a regular word that means ‘[thing]-lover’, like “slavolyub” -> guy who likes glory)

- rad or rada (see above)

- slov (means “word”)

- ust (means “mouth”)

EDIT: CONTRIBUTION FROM @reaty THANKS DUDE (gender neutral)

- polk (means "regiment")

- gor (means "mountain")

- vid (means "one who sees")

- voy (means "warrior").

EDIT: more contribution from @archtroop

- mor (means “death”, “plague”)

- dan or dana (means “given”)

Pronunciation guide: all “a” like “u” in “duck”, all “e” like in “best”, all “i” like in “ship” or “sheep” (same sound in Russian). Gore - go-reh, Bole - bo-leh, etc. “ia”/”ya” when its after a vowel or at the start of the word is as in “Bianca” and if its after a consonant is like “nya” but will probably sound like just “a” to yall native English speakers. “iu/yu” after a consonant sounds exactly like the german ü.

Obviously don’t go Moon Moon, Slavoslav and Miromir aren’t valid names. Generally these’ll sound nicer if you avoid repeating consonants. Deyemil > Deyedar, etc. With that in mind, go nuts!

Names in this category that are actually common:

Vladimir, short Vova for some fucking reason, no i dont know either

Vladislav, short Vladik or Slava/Slavik

Vladislava, short Vlada

Sviatoslav, short Slava/Slavik

Viacheslav, short Slava/Slavik, which isn’t one of the roots above... I have never seen “Viache” with any other root and I don’t have any idea what it means. EDIT: apparently it’s from Vieche!

Yaroslav, short Yarik or Slava/Slavik

Stanislav, short Slava/Slavik

Vseslav, short Slava/Slavik

(Fun fact, I have an uncle Slava... and I don’t actually know what his full name is)

(Google up the name after you’ve made it up to find out how pre-existent it is. It’ll sound Russian though)

The accent/stress (v important in Russian) will usually go on the first syllable of the second half (GoresLAv, LiubomEEra), with the exception being personally Vladimir, where it’s VladEEmir. (You can also make a ‘secondary’ accent on the first syllable in sufficiently long words, so “lIUbomEEra” etc)

Notice there’s a cadence to this. By the end of that first list I was just making these up out of Russian word roots that fit the rhythm and the vague theming. Don’t Try This At Home though without an actual Russian speaker to consult: note how the vowels at the end of those are different, and I’ll be honest: I have no idea why those specifically, other than This Sounds Right.

There’s... probably more legit ones that I just haven’t remembered. I just spent an hour at work on this instead of working though so you know having to cut the exercise short and all.

EDIT: A P.S. FROM @reaty WHO CONTINUES TO BE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT PROBABLY

Also I think that it's important for these halves to have at least some sense together. For example, Medo- part, I belive, would be plausible in something like "Medoust" or "Medoslov" — a way to depict a person who is good with words — but "Medopolk" would have absolutely zero sense (at least if he is not an actual bee).

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 09 first part

(Masterpost) (More Canary Funsies)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode features so many eternal minutes of zombie shambling that I thought I could fit everything into a single post. HA HA HA HA nope. 

Zombie Temple

The trio do their best to fend off the not-zombies in the temple. Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that he can’t go carving them up because they’re not actually dead, and drops a callback to their very first meeting at the gate of Cloud Recesses, when Wei Wuxian caught his attention with his pillowy lips comment on the not-dead cultivator. 

Lan Wangji: You said it in that golden moment that will be seared into my memory for eternity, where I heard your voice and laid eyes on your angelic face and lost my heart forever, remember? Come on, babe, it was our very first zombie! How baked were you?

Wei Wuxian: I jerk off to the sword-fighting memory, not the zombie memory, you weirdo.

Nie Huaisang’s fear of the definitely not undead has apparently gotten him the rest of the way over his fear of Lan Wangji, because he’s now yelling “Lan-Xiong!” right along with “Wei-Xiong!” as he struggles. Note that although he later mentions that his fan is made of some fancy metal, we don’t see any evidence that he wants to fight with a fan any more than he does with a blade. I don’t hate anyone’s fan-fighting NHS headcanon, but my take is that he just isn’t a physical fighter, and that’s ok. 

This is a good time to remember that our entire experience of the Nie clan so far in this story is 1. Clever but hopelessly combat-unready tiny artiste Nie Huaisang 2. Quietly helpful, absurdly pretty sidekick Meng Yao. 

We don’t know yet that Nie Huasang’s gege and Meng Yao’s sugar daddy is literally the toughest motherfucker in the entire cultivation world. But his friends do! Which makes me love these dynamics even more, because not one of them criticizes Nie Huaisang for being the person he is. 

(more after the cut!)

Never Let Me Go

This scene is where Wei Wuxian gives his tacit consent to being used as the eventual agent of Nie Huaisang’s vengeance....ok not really.

But he does make it clear what Nie Huaisang should do when he’s in a pickle. And NHS doesn’t forget things.

Priorities 

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji isn’t nearly as patient as Wei Wuxian, and he drops a silence spell on Nie Huaisang basically out of annoyance. It’s not like they’re trying to be sneaky. 

Lan Wangji: How about you have an exquisitely crafted ceramic cup of shut the fuck up?

Flute Girl

Wen Qing comes to the rescue by summoning all of the not-zombies, who happen to be her extended family, to come toast some marshmallows. 

She’s another person who unwisely demonstrates, where Wei Wuxian can hear her, the power of flutes over zombies. 

This move doesn’t seem to do anything important but it looks cool. 

Brother Dynamic: Bad. Really Bad. 

Jiang Cheng shows up in the temple and trolls everyone, because this is a great time for childish antics. Wei Wuxian is super happy to see him and runs over to hug him, which earns him a shoulder slam. 

This is a regular part of their body language with each other. Wei Wuxian covers his hurt reaction very, very quickly, with a smile that doesn’t involve very much of his face. 

Ow

Wei Wuxian is so good at pretending his feelings aren’t hurt, he probably convinces himself. 

Then he gives a too-honest answer when Jiang Cheng accuses him of...daring to enjoy himself, basically.

That’s more truth than Jiang Cheng was looking for, and he raises a hand to Wei Wuxian, who hides behind Nie Huaisang. This move is interesting because on one level it’s just clowning; obviously Nie Huaisang can’t protect WWX from anything, and WWX doesn’t need protection from Jiang Cheng. 

WWX can easily beat JC in a fight, as he’s let us know before. On another level, this retreat signals WWX’s harmlessness, his childlike-ness, in a semiotic dance that has been playing out for over a decade between the brothers.  NHS is taking on Jiang Yanli’s role in the choreography, this time.   

All of this troubling hostility doesn’t make Jiang Cheng a bad person. He’s young and he’s still under his parents’ control and subject to their abuse at home. It takes time to develop mindfulness about this stuff and learn to treat people beneath you differently than the way you are treated. 

Jiang Cheng isn’t ready for that yet, any more than he is ready to say out loud that he cares about his brother. 

Leave My Boyfriend Out of It

This interaction is noteworthy for Wei Wuxian defending Lan Wangji to his brother, before Jiang Cheng even has a chance to blame Lan Wangji. 

Wei Wuxian says that following Lan Wangji was his own idea, and then gives LWJ the sweetest, warmest smile.

Lan Wangji also gets a pair of totally unearned, delighted smiles of thanks from his two besties when he lifts the silence spell on Nie Huaisang. 

Being mildly dickish all the time works out fine, I guess, if you only make friends with people whose brothers are legendary grouches.

Grilling Wen Qing

Wei Wuxian finally decides he’s had enough of Wen Qing’s crap, and gets slightly aggressive in questioning her.

He’s not actually roughing her up but he is approaching her as a near-enemy for the first time, rather than as someone who wants to be her friend. Once Wen Qing tells him what’s up and agrees to a sort of temporary alliance, he goes back to being his normal slightly awkward self with her. 

I don’t romance-ship WQ and WWX, except maybe as corpse-mountain era FWB, but I do like their chemistry. And their friendship is really refreshing and interesting, based on sharing goals and working together, not on emotional intimacy. It’s nice to see people with a lot of barriers around their hearts, building a strong, trusting bond without having to actually open up very much.

The idea of perfect sharing between people is a nice one, but it’s pretty alien to many of us who are recovering from trauma, or people who just aren’t wired that way, and it’s good to see other models of friendship and love. 

Wei Wuxian, at Lan Wangji’s direction, parts the Red Sea drops a cage on the other 3 cultivators before going to hunt the dire birdy.  

Jiang Chang is, predictably, pissed off about it, in spite of Wei Wuxian’s “you’re good at this” parting words, and says, according to the subtitles, “you bastard!”

“Bastard” is a pretty specific epithet, in English. In the current century, it’s generally used to mean “asshole,” more or less. But it still does carry the meaning “of illegitimate birth,” and since The Untamed is often concerned with legitimacy it seems pretty strong for JC to use with someone who is rumored to be his own Dad’s by-blow. 

Let’s have a look and see what he really is calling him... 你混蛋 =  Nǐ húndàn = “you bastard” per Google translate. Wow, Jiang Cheng, you really went there, huh. 

Wen Granny

Wen Qing and the others in the golden cage watch as the not-zombies try half-heartedly to get to them. Wen Qing is super sad about it, as opposed to the two guys who are just annoyed (Jiang Cheng) or scared (Nie Huaisang).

The first time I saw this, it was just - oh, Wen Qing sympathizes with this poor random woman, she feels bad about what's happening, this is to show us she has a heart.

Now though --  that's HER granny. Maybe not her bio-grandma but clearly a granny of her clan, who she knows well, who later cares for A-Yuan when he's a child, so may very well have cared for A-Qing and A-Ning when they were small, too. Owie.

Dire Bird Hunting

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run off to hunt the smoke bird together. They are quickly trapped in cool-looking fog. Kudos to the Director of Photography.

They spend some time being confused and also being peak Wangxian 1.0 as they help each other out. 

Lost in the fog and unable to summon talismans, Wei Wuxian is mainly about checking on Lan Wangji, making sure he’s ok, making sure he’s near.  He doesn’t spare any worry for himself.

(We get a rare instance of seeing an actually glowing sword here, instead of just having a character say “I saw the beams of swords!” to save money on VFX.)

Lan Wangji, meanwhile, understands the mental attack they are under, explains it to Wei Wuxian with only a little snark about Wei Wuxian’s overly busy mind, and teaches him how to handle it.

Lan Wangji is super disciplined in mind, body, and sword - his fight moves don’t change, really, throughout his life, but he gets better and better at execution. Wei Wuxian isn’t exactly undisciplined, but he’s super creative and busts out a new skill in nearly every encounter. Lan Wangji sees this and is learning to make use of it.

After Lan Wangji helps Wei Wuxian overcome the confusion that is blocking his talisman use, he tells him which talisman to use. 

This isn’t a talisman that LWJ uses himself, it’s just that he’s paying very close attention to WWX’s battle moves, and has a great memory, so he knows which ones will work. In a pretty short timespan he’s moved from thinking like a solo swordsman to thinking as part of a team with a broad range of battle skills. Very soon, he’ll be starting to use Wei Wuxian’s talismans himself. 

WWX takes a hit from the flying death chain, but uses it to his advantage, as in so many encounters. He’s not just self-sacrificing--he is definitely that--but he’s also a chess player, knowing how to use a sacrifice or an injury to his advantage. Cue Lan Wangji being worried for the entire rest of his life.

Part Two is here!

[kacyblacky]

Bombing Afghanistan back into the Stone Age' was quite a favourite headline for some wobbly liberals. The slogan does all the work. But an instant's thought shows that Afghanistan is being, if anything, bombed out of the Stone Age.;Christopher Hitchens;age 399;Oh, if I had been loved at the age of seventeen, what an idiot I would be today. Happiness is like smallpox: if you catch it too soon, it can completely ruin your constitution.;Gustave Flaubert;age 400;English people don't have very good diction. In France you have to pronounce very particularly and clearly, and learning French at an early age helped me enormously.;Vivien Leigh;age 401;Children also have artistic ability, and there is wisdom in there having it! The more helpless they are, the more instructive are the examples they furnish us and they must be preserved free of corruption from an early age.;Paul Klee;age 402;Of course, the ideal scenario for parenting is obviously two parents of a mature age.;Jennifer Aniston;age 403;You know what makes me feel old? When I see girls who are 20-something, or the new crop of actresses, and think, Aren't we kind of the same age?;Jennifer Aniston;age 404;I think love can happen at any age... it has no age.;Shahrukh Khan;age 405;Elizabeth Peyton, the artist known for tiny, dazzling portraits of radiant youth, is now painting tiny, dazzling portraits of radiant middle age.;Jerry Saltz;age 406;I'm inspired by people who keep on rolling, no matter their age.;Jimmy Buffett;age 407;By Time and Age full many things are taught.;Aeschylus;age 408;I was taught from a young age that I had to serve, so that turned into me thinking I had to save the planet.;Alanis Morissette;age 409;If you've got to my age, you've probably had your heart broken many times. So it's not that difficult to unpack a bit of grief from some little corner of your heart and cry over it.;Emma Thompson;age 410;My mother enjoyed old age, and because of her I've begun to enjoy parts of it too. So far I've had it good and am crumbling nicely.;Lionel Blue;age 411;We're saying no changes for Medicare for people above the age of 55. And in order to keep the promise to current seniors who've already retired and organized their lives around this program, you have to reform it for the next generation.;Paul Ryan;age 412;It's sad, actually, because my anxiety keeps me from enjoying things as much as I should at this age.;Amanda Seyfried;age 413;I felt a tremendous sadness for men who can't deal with a woman of their own age.;Michael Caine;age 414;This is the first convention of the space age - where a candidate can promise the moon and mean it.;David Brinkley;age 415;Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.;Percy Bysshe Shelley;age 416;I think I don't regret a single 'excess' of my responsive youth - I only regret, in my chilled age, certain occasions and possibilities I didn't embrace.;Henry James;age 417;Our Age of Anxiety is, in great part, the result of trying to do today's job with yesterday's tools and yesterday's concepts.;Marshall McLuhan;age 418;I'll tell you, there is nothing better in life than being a late bloomer. I believe that success can happen at any time and at any age.;Salma Hayek;age 419;Man arrives as a novice at each age of his life.;Nicolas Chamfort;age 420;Live your life and forget your age.;Jean Paul;age 421;I can't look in the mirror and look at fake things. I just can't. I'd rather age.;Heidi Klum;age 422;The surest sign of age is loneliness.;Annie Dillard;age 423;Learning to dislike children at an early age saves a lot of expense and aggravation later in life.;Robert Byrne;age 424;Confidence is something you're born with. I know I had loads of it even at the age of 15.;Hedy Lamarr;age 425;We accumulate our opinions at an age when our understanding is at its weakest.;Georg C. Lichtenberg;age 426;I got to experience soccer at the highest level at a young age I decided I wanted to be part of that for as long as possible.;Mia Hamm;age 427;Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned. The perfect life is spread before us every day, but it changes and withers at a touch.;J. B. Priestley;age 428;Age, like distance lends a double charm.;Oliver Herford;age 429;Utility is the great idol of the age, to which all powers must do service and all talents swear allegiance.;Friedrich Schiller;age 430;Anyone who writes an autobiographical work at the age of 34 is, at best, presumptuous. It occurred to me that it was time to set the record straight.;Jessica Savitch;age 431;New needs need new techniques. And the modern artists have found new ways and new means of making their statements... the modern painter cannot express this age, the airplane, the atom bomb, the radio, in the old forms of the Renaissance or of any other past culture.;Jackson Pollock;age 432;One of the tough things about being an actor, probably the hardest thing, is getting your foot in the door, and my father handled that for me at a very early age.;Jeff Bridges;age 433;Any role that big is going to be a challenge for any actor, but for an actor of a young age, it's going to be even tougher.;Jeff Bridges;age 434;Now is the age of anxiety.;W. H. Auden;age 435;I think it's pretty crazy to say you've been typecast at the age of 20 before you've even really started getting going.;Tom Felton;age 436;At the age of four with paper hats and wooden swords we're all Generals. Only some of us never grow out of it.;Peter Ustinov;age 437;My inspiration was my mom. She's a great cook, and she still cooks, and we still banter back and forth about cooking. Growing up in a mostly Portuguese community, food was important and the family table was extremely important. At a very young age I understood that.;Emeril Lagasse;age 438;The great book for you is the book that has the most to say to you at the moment when you are reading. I do not mean the book that is most instructive, but the book that feeds your spirit. And that depends on your age, your experience, your psychological and spiritual need.;Robertson Davies;age 439;Age gives you a great sense of proportion. You can be very hard on yourself when you're younger but now I just think 'well everybody's absolutely mad and I'm doing quite well'.;Steven Morrissey;age 440;If the nineteenth century was the age of the editorial chair, ours is the century of the psychiatrist's couch.;Marshall McLuhan;age 441;American youth attributes much more importance to arriving at driver's license age than at voting age.;Marshall McLuhan;age 442;I think a child should be allowed to take his father's or mother's name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.;James Joyce;age 443;Old age is the most unexpected of all things that happen to a man.;Leon Trotsky;age 444;You get to a certain age where you prepare yourself for happiness. Sometimes you never remember to actually get happy.;John Mayer;age 445;Being a father at a later age is different from when I had my other two daughters when I was in my 20s and 30s. If you're in your 60s and you're with the kid every day, you're dealing with the mind of a child, so it opens up that childishness in you again.;Martin Scorsese;age 446;A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new when an age ends and when the soul of a nation long suppressed finds utterance.;Jawaharlal Nehru;age 447;There is nothing in socialism that a little age or a little money will not cure.;Will Durant;age 448;If you age with somebody, you go through so many roles - you're lovers, friends, enemies, colleagues, strangers you're brother and sister. That's what intimacy is, if you're with your soulmate.;Cate Blanchett;age 449;With age, you see people fail more. You see yourself fail more. How do you keep that fearlessness of a kid? You keep going. Luckily, I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself.;Hugh Jackman;age 450;I'm not skinny for the wrong reasons. It's not because I'm bulimic or anorexic or doing drugs. Compared to a lot of actresses my age, I'm actually overweight.;Lindsay Lohan;age 451;It seems that when you get to a certain age you almost give yourself permission to misbehave and say what you think. People allow it, with very old people.;Julie Walters;age 452;I'm not as far along as Jack Nicklaus was at this age, but I'm trying.;Tiger Woods;age 453;When superstition is allowed to perform the task of old age in dulling the human temperament, we can say goodbye to all excellence in poetry, in painting, and in music.;Denis Diderot;age 454;Peace is the one condition of survival in this nuclear age.;Adlai E. Stevenson;age 455;What could be more beautiful than a dear old lady growing wise with age? Every age can be enchanting, provided you live within it.;Brigitte Bardot;age 456;You'd think that in this age, especially in the 21st century - especially with all the technology and all the discoveries that we've made - that we would figure out how to tackle abuse.;Tori Amos;age 457;Here comes 40. I'm feeling my age and I've ordered the Ferrari. I'm going to get the whole mid-life crisis package.;Keanu Reeves;age 458;At a young age winning is not the most important thing... the important thing is to develop creative and skilled players with good confidence.;Arsene Wenger;age 459;We live in an age where the artist is forgotten. He is a researcher. I see myself that way.;David Hockney;age 460;I lived the true American dream, because I was able to pursue what I set as my goals at a very young age.;Mario Andretti;age 461;Everybody looks like clones and the only people you notice are my age. I don't notice anybody unless they look great, and every now and again they do, and they are usually 70.;Vivienne Westwood;age 462;Photography suits the temper of this age - of active bodies and minds. It is a perfect medium for one whose mind is teeming with ideas, imagery, for a prolific worker who would be slowed down by painting or sculpting, for one who sees quickly and acts decisively, accurately.;Edward Weston;age 463;I never - you know also one of the things that would save me for a man my age, it was not that easy to lose that much weight and fall down and look like something draped.;Karl Lagerfeld;age 464;I wish I'd gotten sober at a younger age.;Janice Dickinson;age 465;Middle Age is that perplexing time of life when we hear two voices calling us, one saying, 'Why not?' and the other, 'Why bother?

[lingthusiasm]

Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 54: How linguists figure out the grammar of a language

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 54: How linguists figure out the grammar of a language. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 54 show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today we’re getting enthusiastic about how grammars come into existence. But first, we are doing a liveshow in April. We will be doing a liveshow recording on the internet so that we can all be in the same place at the same time on Saturday the 24th of April, Eastern Daylight Savings Time in North America, which will be early on a Sunday morning for us here Australia.

Gretchen: That’ll be 6:00 p.m. for me on Eastern Daylight Time. We will include a link to a time zone converter so you can figure out when that is for you.

Lauren: We’ll be doing the whole show about backchanneling, which is all those ways that you –

Gretchen: Mm-hmm.

Lauren: – actively listen to someone as they’re talking. Thank you for that excellent backchanneling, Gretchen. Something I think a lot about in our era of lots of video calls and online chats.

Gretchen: You can’t see me, but I’m doing a thumbs up right now.

Lauren: Excellent backchanneling.

Gretchen: These are some kinds of backchanneling. We’re gonna be talking about lots more. I think it’s fun to do a liveshow about backchanneling because it means that you get to backchannel in the chat while the show’s going on and chat with each other. That’ll be fun. We’re running the ticketing of the show through Patreon. If you’re a patron, you’ll automatically get a link to the liveshow to join. If you’d like to become a patron, you can also do that to get access to the liveshow stream.

Lauren: Patrons also get access to our recent bonus episode on reduplication as well as 48 other bonus episodes because we have almost 50 now.

Gretchen: That’s a lot! Lots of Lingthusiasm for patrons, which helps keep the show running.

Lauren: Our liveshow is part of LingFest, while will be taking place across the last week of April, which is an online series of events about linguistics. You can find out more about LingFest at lingcomm.org/lingfest.

Gretchen: That’s “comm” with two Ms as in “communication.” Speaking of LingComm, if you’re interested in communicating linguistics to broader audiences, you can also join the LingComm conference, which is a conference for practitioners of linguistics communication such as ourselves and many other cool LingCommers to learn from each other and help produce more interesting and engaging materials for all of you.

Lauren: LingComm, the conference, is taking place online the week of April the 19th.

Gretchen: You can also go to lingcomm.org/conference to see the schedule and other details there.

Lauren: That’s “comm” with two Ms.

[Music]

Gretchen: Lauren, how many people would you say you know who have written a grammar of a language?

Lauren: Hmm, okay, well, both my PhD supervisors. I’d say half the people in the department that I current work in. I have written a grammar of a language. This is a perfectly common activity among my professional cohort. I assume it’s a thing most people do and know about, so we don’t really have to explain it for this episode at all. This is fine.

Gretchen: [Laughs] Yeah, I would say that at least several of the people that I went to grad school with – not necessarily at my university – people I knew from conferences, professors that I knew – one professor I knew had her grammar come out the same year that her baby came out, and she posted a photo of the grammar and the baby, which were about the same size, on Facebook after that happened. It was really cute.

Lauren: Grammars definitely take longer than nine months to gestate. I can definitely confirm that.

Gretchen: I have not written a grammar. So, when someone’s going about writing a grammar, what – okay, here’s a language. There isn’t a grammar written or the grammar that’s written of it is not adequate. What do I do to start?

Lauren: What you’re talking about is taking all of the amazing complexity of how humans use language and finding the rules that reoccur within a particular language and then finding a way of articulating that concisely in written form in a grammar so that, by the end, you’ve worked through most of the common features you find in this language – all of the variations and irregularities – and you’ve put that into some kind of readable book format for other people to then learn about how the grammar of this language works. That is the overarching aim of this endeavour.

Gretchen: I’ve consulted grammars in the process of doing linguistics. I have the Cambridge Grammar of the English Language sitting on my desk. When I was in grad school, I spent a lot of time consulting Valentine (2001)’s grammar of Nishnaabemwin. There are grammars that I’ve consulted. They’re 1,000 pages, 2,000 pages long. Sometimes you’ve got a really massive grammar. Sometimes you get a shorter sketch grammar. They have certain similarities in the structure and the types of things that people cover in a grammar.

Lauren: Absolutely. You tend to start, traditionally, with smaller bits and work upwards. You’re likely to find a description, if it’s a spoken language, of the sound system or, if it’s a signed language, of the hand shape and body space phonology at the beginning of the book and then work up to word-level – you probably expect if a language has adjectives, a section on adjectives, which we’ve talked about before.

Gretchen: We have talked a little bit about adjectives.

Lauren: And then if you’re look at sentence-level stuff, like asking a question, how you do that, it happens at the level of the sentence, that tends to be more towards the end. You’re going from smaller bits up to bigger bits. It really depends on the tradition. We talked about lumpers and splitters before. If you like to split things down, a grammar is great because you can have so many sub-headings. I remember reading the rules for one set of grammars where it was like, “Please do not go beyond five layers of headings,” and I was like, “That’s actually quite a challenge.”

Gretchen: Because you have your chapter level headings, and then you’re like, “Oh, okay, if this chapter’s about verbs, you’ve got this type of verbs and those type of verbs – within the transitive verbs, you’ve got this type of verbs and those type of verbs,” and so on and so forth.

Lauren: Then you’ve got the irregularities. They might need their own subset. You can go from – the table of contents, you can get this big picture and then go down and down and down into the different sections. The grammar that I wrote of Lamjung Yolmo was a sketch grammar, so it’s only a couple of hundred pages. It makes sure to knock over – it would be very weird to have nothing about nouns in a language that very obviously has nouns – but it doesn’t go into the deep level of detail on some things that a longer grammar gets to. There’s always more to be done as well.

Gretchen: Any grammar is gonna be incomplete – even these massive doorstop-sized grammars. You’re gonna leave some stuff out where you’re a speaker and you’re like, “I know this,” but you don’t necessarily include it in a grammar. I’ve also read, in grad school – I don’t remember what language it was of – but I picked up this grammar that was written in, like, I wanna say maybe the 70s or 80s. There was clearly some sort of fad for doing this very abstract schematic thing of sentences or verbs or something. It didn’t have any complete sentences or complete verbs just written there. It drew them all on this diagram that I have never encountered before or since where everything was piece-able together. I was like, “Oh, wow. You’re participating in some sort of grammatical tradition that I’m just not aware of here.”

Lauren: I mean, I think the important thing is that grammars are written by humans, and humans are trained by other humans within particular traditions. I remember when I was building my sketch grammar, it was while I was also working on my thesis because I was looking specifically at evidentials, but you can’t know what’s happening with evidentiality without understanding how verbs work and how verbs relate to other parts of the sentence. And then I realised I was accidentally on my way to writing out the bones of the grammar of Lamjung Yolmo.

Gretchen: Sometimes you just accidentally write a grammar.

Lauren: That is how I accidentally started and very deliberately finished writing that sketch grammar. But I remember talking to my supervisors. One of them found it quite unusual that I wanted to include the methodology in my grammar. I wanted to explain specifically who I’d worked with, what I’d recorded, what kinds of elicitation I’d used. That wasn’t in that supervisor’s grammar tradition, but it was something I wanted to include.

Gretchen: A lot of grammars aren’t gonna include the gestures of the language or something, which I know is one of your things that you enjoy.

Lauren: Yes. There are traditions that do focus more on narrative structure, and you might find more about the structure of narratives in a grammar, and others that focus more on verb structure. There’s a very brief few pages on phonetics and then a really massive chapter on verbs. It’s sometimes because the language has lots of really fun, complex things happening with the verbs, but sometimes it’s just because that’s what that person was interested in.

Gretchen: This person was a verb fan.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: Some parts, you know, it’d be pretty hard to do a grammar without doing some level of phonology at the beginning. But, yeah, what level of pragmatic stuff at the end, discourse stuff, or like, “How do people of this language talk to children?” or something like that – that might not be in a grammar.

Lauren: I’m doing a paper with a colleague on onomatopoeia at the moment. Some grammars will have a separate section on that. Because it’s not as central to every single sentence as, say, nouns and verbs can be for a lot of languages, it doesn’t tend to crop up as its own specific subsection in a lot of grammars.

Gretchen: Which doesn’t necessarily mean that language doesn’t have onomatopoeia. It’s just that it didn’t get the focused attention that got put there.

Lauren: This is always the question that you have while reading a grammar, right. It’s about what makes it in, but it’s also what doesn’t. Sometimes things don’t make it in because of trends or because of what people are focusing on or sometimes just because they’re important but incredibly low-frequency things that happen. Or if someone is doing fieldwork, and they come into a community as a man, they might spend a lot of time around other men and recording a particular variety. That’s where the methodology was really important for me to make clear why I was making choices. Also, the title of a grammar – I find it really interesting whether people say, “The Grammar of” or “A Grammar of.” I, very consciously, called it, “A Grammar” or “A Sketch Grammar of Lamjung Yolmo” because this is just my analysis and my take. Other people might come to exactly the same data with different conclusions. Or they might be way more into adjectives than I am, and that section is way more fleshed out in someone else’s analysis.

Gretchen: That’s an interesting side effect, as you were saying about, okay, well, if we wanna look at onomatopoeia in a bunch of languages, or if you wanna look at any sort of thing whether it’s verbs or sounds or handshapes or something in a bunch of different languages, okay, how can – if you’re making those beautiful graphs like are in the WALS database, which we’ve mentioned before, or if you’re gonna write a Wikipedia article about like, “Here’s how this language works,” or “Here’s how this phenomenon works,” the grammars turn into this input material of what gets cited there.

Lauren: Those big overviews are often built up from these grammars of different languages. That’s where having structures that are easy for people to access in the table of contents becomes really easy because, just as a human writing the grammar, there’s another human reading that grammar to put into those databases.

Gretchen: Dictionaries are often a very collaborative project where you have a bunch of people contributing words or contributing entries. You can say, “Okay, you need to take care of the letter P and see what’s going on here.” But a grammar is often written by one person, and so it reflects that one person.

Lauren: Almost, like the very overwhelming majority of the time, it’s people who aren’t members of that community. It’s a linguist who’s trained as a linguist and then come into this community and often built incredibly long-term, deep relationships with those communities and speak the language but not always. I know I’m kind of – it’s very easy to over-problematise something you do and spend a lot of time thinking about but, again, it’s worth remembering while reading a grammar.

Gretchen: Right. And what types of things you think are interesting, what types of things you think are novel or worth drawing attention to, or what types of things you think are common is a function of what you’ve been exposed to from a grammatical tradition. I’ve been thinking a lot about this question of “What do we put in a grammar” and “How is a grammar constructed by the societal context in which it’s written” because I’ve been reading this book called, Grammar West to East, by Edward McDonald. The subtitle is “The Investigation of Linguistic Meaning in European and Chinese Traditions.”

Lauren: Cool.

Gretchen: I will say, at the beginning, this is an academic book. It is a monograph. If you don’t have a background in linguistics, you’ll find it fairly dense going, potentially. But, as someone who does, it’s really interesting.

Lauren: Awesome! Pick out the anecdotes for us.

Gretchen: One of the first observations that it makes – and, when you think about this, it’s totally true – is that – so the European grammatical tradition is based on Latin and Greek. Latin and Greek are languages where you do a lot of changing the endings on words – sometimes the prefixes, but often the endings – on words to make them do grammatical things. The European grammatical tradition is a lot about making tables of all of the different ways that a word can inflect and being like, “Well, it does this and it does this,” and giving names to the different sorts of groupings and patterns that you find out of that.

Lauren: Which is great, but doing those things, it makes it a little bit confusing sometimes when you apply it to a language like English that doesn’t have the same ending changes, but we give them the same labels. That’s because the analysis of English is very much in that Latin tradition.

Gretchen: It’s inherited from the Latin tradition. There’s a pedagogical motivation for some of this because Latin and Greek were not just the languages that started out analysing themselves, although they were that as well, but they were also considered prestigious languages that you needed to learn. So, a lot of the grammatical analysis of Greek and especially Latin were in terms of how to teach them to speakers of other European languages. And it’s like, “Here’s a bunch of endings, and you need to learn them, and you need to learn what they correspond to and what their function is.”

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: What’s interesting is that the grammar of Chinese is different from that. They don’t do endings. What they do instead is you have things that have a grammatical function, but they’re considered to have the same status as full words. And so, the Chinese grammatical tradition is concerned with looking at those particles that have grammatical functions but are hard to write definitions of and cataloguing them and figuring out what’s going on with them and grouping them into groups. There are some words in the European tradition that are invariant – they’re often all lumped together in “adjectives” – words like “often,” or “always,” or something like that, which are – they just look like that all the time. They don’t have endings like the verbs and the nouns do. The Latin tradition grammarians didn’t care about those words, and they were really into the endings. The Chinese grammarians were really interested in, first of all, this fundamental duality between words that had a meaning to them, had what they called, “full words,” and words that were only for their grammatical function, what they called, “empty words.”

Lauren: That is a great metaphor. I like it.

Gretchen: Also, because culturally they were really interested in dualities, you know, the sun and the moon, and the full words and the empty words, and having a nice, mirrored duality was really appealing to them for aesthetic reasons in the same way that the European grammatical tradition is often descended from the rhetorical tradition because they were really interested in the aesthetics of rhetoric when it came to doing that sort of analysis. What your culture’s into aesthetically brings forth, okay, what are we trying to explain this. So, both of these are sort of ancient history, you know. Around 2,000 years ago they were the beginnings of this doing their own analysis grammatical traditions. You get this really interesting descriptive grammar that was published in 1898 by China’s first grammarian, Ma Jianzhong, called, Mr Ma’s Compleat Grammar, which I think is great.

Lauren: That is an excellent late-1800s name of a book.

Gretchen: It is exactly of a particular era. It’s “compleat,” E-A-T, not E-T-E, which is just –

Lauren: Perfect.

Gretchen: He was a native speaker of Chinese who had also been educated by Jesuits in French, and so he had exposure to both the French and the Chinese grammatical traditions. He writes this grammar where he distinguishes between full and empty words the way that the Chinese had – introduced these particles to be these “empty words” – but he also further subdivides the full words into the lexical categories that Europeans had been doing, which are verbs and nouns and so on. This distinction between verbs and nouns and so on was really important to the Europeans because verbs and nouns have different types of endings. You know whether something’s a verb or a noun because the endings are all different because this is a really endings-based grammatical system. The modern linguistic conception of how languages and their structures work is, to a certain extent, a hybrid of that because these full and empty grammatical categories is now reflected in what linguists call, “content words” and “function words.”

Lauren: Yes.

Gretchen: You have words like, “dog,” and “cat,” and “run,” and “see,” and stuff like that where you can actually write a definition, and then you have your grammatical words like “of,” and “is,” and “to,” and stuff, which just have this grammatical function. So, this category that’s still really relevant in modern linguistics is there in one country’s grammatical tradition, but also modern linguistics does also still talk about “nouns” and “verbs.”

Lauren: Absolutely.

Gretchen: The history of the contact between these two grammatical traditions and how they figured out how to adapt things to each other is an interesting way of looking at what is it that we think of as important when we’re trying to write a grammar of a particular language or we’re trying to do grammar. A lot of ancient grammar traditions were really concerned with describing one very prestigious, golden-age language – or one or two – you’ve gotta write your grammar of Latin or of Greek or of Old Chinese because that’s the one everyone thinks is fancy. And the local vernacular that ordinary peoples talk, like, no, no one’s gonna write a grammar of that. It’s a very interesting way of thinking about, okay, what were people concerned about and how did those interests derive from the structure of the language or languages that they were familiar with.

Lauren: This book sounds so great, but I wonder if actually the title of it should be, “Grammars from East to West,” because if we look where our modern tradition of writing grammars in Europe is, it’s very much motivated by those Latin grammars and grammarians of old, but it’s also very influenced by Paṇini and the Sanskrit grammarian tradition that is two-and-a-half, three thousand years old as well.

Gretchen: One of the things that I was thinking about reading this, being like, “Wow!” – I knew some of the stuff about the European tradition, not all of it, but I didn’t know most of the stuff about ancient China – thinking, “I know that there was a really interesting grammatical tradition going on in India, like, right between these two major geographical regions.” There’s a bunch of stuff going on in Arabic as well, at a slightly later time. Can I have a book that writes about all four of these, please, in comparison to each other?

Lauren: Yeah. I know very little about the Arabic tradition. Most linguists at least know the name “Paṇini” That first N has a little dot under it in English, so it has a kind of palatalised vibe, but it also means his name is great. I know more than one university that has the “Paṇini Café and Sandwich Shop” because that’s a great multilingual pun to use.

Gretchen: Who can resist a pun? I learned a bit about the Arabic grammatical tradition when I was taking a bit of Arabic in undergrad. There are a whole bunch of things that that grammatical tradition does also in the tradition of “We’re going to look at our language and catalogue it in exhaustive detail and figure out exactly what’s going on in it.” One of the things that I remember was that there’s an exhaustive catalysation of what they call the “binyan,” which are the templates that you can slot your three-consonant roots into, and how you put the vowels in between them that mean all of these different things.

Lauren: Because Arabic is very interested in what happens in shifting the vowels of the language rather than what happens at the end of a word like the Latin tradition.

Gretchen: It’s very relevant in Arabic all of the different things you can do with the vowels in between them and whether, maybe, you double a consonant in a particular context or you put this vowel here or that vowel there. The classic tri-consonantal root that everybody cites is K-T-B, /k/-/t/-/b/, which has to do with books and writing. “Kitab” is “a book,” and “kutub” is “books,” and “maktab is “office,” and “kataba” is “He writes.” You can do all sorts of things with those three consonants and how you arrange the vowels between them. There’s an abstract way of representing “Here’s what the patterns are” with a template verb that you can show all the patterns with and going through and exhaustively cataloguing the patterns. This is the exciting thing to do if you’re an ancient Arabic grammarian. I’m excited by just thinking about it. But that’s very much influenced by the structure of the language. I don’t know as much about what Paṇini was doing except for the fact that he gets cited in a lot of Intro Linguistics classes as the first grammarian.

Lauren: Part of why he gets cited a lot is because he’s excellent. I’ll talk about that. I think part of why as well is that Paṇini synthesized and brought together everything that had been happening in the Sanskrit grammar tradition. Sanskrit is kind of like the Indian linguistic area equivalent of Latin, which is that it was the language of sacred texts and religion. It’s a language that is still handed down. People still learn Sanskrit in the way they learn Latin. But in that area, languages like Hindi and Nepali, the Indo-Aryan languages, are all later siblings and children of Sanskrit. It’s a very convenient analogy to Latin to draw with Sanskrit. I think, also, the motivation for thinking a lot about the language came from a theological attempt within Hinduism to understand truth through language and understand how language works. It was one of the core areas of study within the larger religious tradition. So, that was the motivation. But Paṇini – we know his name. We know not too much else about him except that he wrote at least two-and-a-half thousand years ago. He synthesized this work, and he name drops ten other people whose work he draws on. We’ve lost the record of all of their work. I think he’s excellent. That’s not in dispute. But it’s also just a convenient prominence he receives through being the kind of earliest record we have when the work was going on for thousands of years behand.

Gretchen: The person whose manuscript survives with his name attached to it.

Lauren: Absolutely. A very convenient way to appear to be very excellent is just to have none of the foundational work you draw on exist still.

Gretchen: No. This is like the Library of Alexandria all over again.

Lauren: What made Paṇini’s approach really distinct – and distinct from what was happening with those learner-driven motivations for analysing Latin – is that there was a logical progress to how he set out his description of Sanskrit. Similar to what we talked about with modern grammars where you start with the base elements of the sound system and then build up to words and parts of words. If something goes on a word after another bit, so you’ll describe the earlier bits first and build outwards. It’s this logical order and progression.

Gretchen: In a very real sense, the order that Paṇini devised over 2,500 years ago is reflected in the order of the grammar that you wrote a few years ago?

Lauren: It’s absolutely not an accident. The early 20th Century linguists like Saussure, Franz Bopp, where directly reading Paṇini and going, “This guy was doing this stuff thousands of years before we started thinking about it” and were directly influenced by Paṇini’s approach to thinking about how the language worked and thinking about it very descriptively. This is why he’s known as the first grammarian within even the Western tradition because he was like, “Look, there’s these words and they have these histories, but actually, the important thing is that we think about how the words are being used by people now.” The funny thing is he wrote that about what we now think of as Classic Sanskrit. People have not moved on from thinking about Classical Sanskrit in that way, and it’s become a learning tool, but –

Gretchen: We should all just be speaking Classical Sanskrit.

Lauren: The motivation is exactly the same motivation we use in a descriptive grammar now. It’s not about setting out the rules of a language and how it has to work, it reflects how a linguist has analysed that people are using that system.

Gretchen: I think that’s one of the things that comes up when we talk about a grammar is, particularly because grammar in the Western tradition is associated with Latin, and, okay, you’re learning about the grammar of English only so that you can translation Latin into English better rather than learning about the grammar of English as an object of its own study. This translates into, “Okay, well, what if we made the grammar of English more like Latin because that would obviously be better.” That’s where this secondary meaning of “grammar” as, you know, “Thou shalt not split an infinitive,” does – because in Latin an infinitive is all just one word. You can’t split it. It’s just one word.

Lauren: You can’t split it.

Gretchen: This idea that grammar is a tool to beat people over the head with comes from this, “Well, you’ve got to learn this language in school because this is how you’re gonna access all these classical texts that you are supposed to access, and you need to do it a certain way because it’s dead now, and it’s not evolving, and so you’re just learning to do this very particular thing,” that’s where this additional connotation of grammar as a stick to beat people over the head with comes in.

Lauren: That’s that very Latin tradition that we still have.

Gretchen: And it’s not only English that had a grammar as a tool to stay in touch with a lost golden age. This is also what they were doing in ancient Chinese of like, here’s this older thing. One of the other interesting things that I learned about the Chinese grammatical tradition, in particular with the writing system – because the writing system in Chinese can obscure different pronunciations – you could have a poem that you could still read in the written sense that’s very old but, for a modern reader, it doesn’t necessarily rhyme. At a certain point, when they were doing more historical linguistics, they realised, “Oh, this poem actually rhymed back in the day.” The pronunciation has changed so much that we weren’t really thinking about it because the characters look the same, but it actually used to rhyme, which sometimes shows up when you’re reading Shakespeare or something, and it’s got “thrown” and “drown” or something. Like, “Wait, those probably were supposed to rhyme based on where they are in this poem.” You can use that to reconstruct what was going on.

Lauren: It can feel a bit anxiety-provoking about committing an analysis to paper because you are pinning a butterfly for a moment in time. People are still speaking the language, and it moves on. As long as you don’t think of the descriptive grammar as anything more canonical and authoritative than people’s actual intuitions, that’s an important thing to remember. Especially if you’re working with a grammar that’s more than a few generations old, it may be that the person didn’t quite capture what people were doing. It may be that the language has changed again.

Gretchen: Another thing that I found really interesting about “What are the ideas that people were thinking about at the time” – so this is from Grammar West to East again. The author points out that when Chinese characters first became known in Europe, it was late 16th Century and, in Europe, for unrelated reasons, the idea of a universal language was the hot philosophical topic. You had people like John Wilkins, who ultimately created Roget’s Thesaurus, but he was really just trying to make a universal taxonomy for understanding the world, he ended up making quite a nice thesaurus but not with making a universal way of understanding the world. What was actually going on in China at the time was that Classical Chinese was a scholarly and diplomatic lingua franca of the East Asian region. It was acquired as a learned language in the different parts of those regions. The Chinese words were given a local pronunciation. So, children in different parts of China would learn to read using a literary register of the local dialect, and there wasn’t the idea of a standard spoken language for the whole country. That’s a modern innovation. This is a situation that was a lot like Latin in Europe at the time. But Europe, you know, “Oh, you learn Latin in school so that you can do the literary thing.” But European scholars misunderstood the situation and thought that this meant that Chinese characters were interpretable by speakers of any language without them being based on one language, even though they were very much based on an ancestral language of the region.

Lauren: Oh dear. And their obsession with universality that they came to this very functional but still based on a language thing. Oh dear. I see exactly where this is going. That’s not good.

Gretchen: Also, they did the same thing with the Egyptian hieroglyphs, which had not yet been deciphered yet. They were like, “Guys, we found it! We found the universal language of ideas, and it’s not tied to a particular language!”

Lauren: Not translated adds an extra air of mystery.

Gretchen: European scholars thought this was great. Francis Bacon thought this was amazing. It’s interesting to see not just, okay, here’s this thing that was going on in China at the time, which is interesting, but also, here’s how these things get reflected and refracted, whether that’s the Europeans approaching Chinese grammar as maybe this is a thing that’s universal or this Chinese grammarian, Mr Ma, looking at it and saying, “Okay, how can I merge these two grammatical traditions of the full words versus the empty words?”, and then also “What if I have nouns and adjectives and stuff?”, and “How could I group them in ways that make sense for the grammar of the language?” Everyone’s bringing their own preconceived notions to this space.

Lauren: I think the descriptive grammar has really figured itself out as a genre in the 20th Century. A lot of the discussion around how to make sure people aren’t just bringing themselves to it has been to widen the scope of what gets included. One really big influence has been the idea that you need to have the grammar, but it has to be presented alongside the wordlists because the grammar just tells you the rules not which words go in which places and also a collection of texts that are broken down and translated so that people can access what’s happening in narratives. That solves a little bit of that what gets included problem.

Gretchen: Because somebody could always go back and look at the text again and say, “Well, what if I interpreted them differently or wrote this grammar differently based on what I can see here in this longer thing?”

Lauren: Yeah. “The author didn’t get around to a section on the use of particles in narratives, but there’s enough texts here I can see what’s happening.” This little trio of publications is sometimes known as the “Boasian trinity,” which sounds a little bit more pompous and religious than it actually is, but it’s part of this expanding what gets included.

Gretchen: This is after Boas, whose first name I have forgotten.

Lauren: Franz Boas.

Gretchen: Franz? Franz Boas. He was one of the early grammarians in this descriptive and comparative tradition where it’s not just, okay, every intellectual in this one country or this one society is devoting themselves to this one language but, “Oh, what if we looked at lots of languages? What if we compared them?” This goes along with the colonial project of like, “What if we went and conquered some people?”

Lauren: Yes, there’s a lot of scientific rationalism happening here.

Gretchen: This is not entirely unproblematic either. It is interesting how the forms of the grammars start shifting when it stops being this sort of seeking this one language of like, “Oh, everything descends from Greek” or “Everything descends from Sanskrit.” Even the Europeans, at a certain point, when they encountered Sanskrit, were like, “Oh, everything must descend from Sanskrit,” and said, “Okay, well, what if we realised that we can’t actually know what the first language was? This is lost in the midst of time,” and figured out “What can we know about relationships and what is the possibility space for what are different things that languages do?”

Lauren: I mean, I think it’s also worth pointing out a lot of 20th Century language description has happened to try and translate religious texts and political documents and that is a subset of problematic colonisation within the grammatical tradition.

Gretchen: The longest text that’s been written down in a lot of languages is the Bible, which has all sorts of really weird consequences when you start using those parallel texts as the input for something like machine translation because you can have machine translation systems start spitting out things that sound like religious prophecies because they’re just regurgitation versions of that Bible input, which is pretty weird.

Lauren: Such a weird consequence of a weird set of earlier decisions.

Gretchen: Exactly. Here was this earlier decision that maybe this was even a religious text that was created 100 years ago by some missionary, but it’s the longest text that’s available in this language, and the grammar is more or less accurate – and yet. It wasn’t trying to record the stories and the oral histories of the people who actually spoke that language that they cared about themselves, it was trying to introduce this foreign religion to them.

Lauren: Again, it’s one of those things that is hard to avoid and so it’s just important to be aware of when you’re looking at some grammars. They may have a lot of Christian religious texts. It doesn’t necessarily reflect the religion of the speakers so much as the religion of the person doing the documentation.

Gretchen: Going back to that theme of grammars that are made by people and sometimes people’s agendas for making a grammar is –

Lauren: A different endpoint.

Gretchen: It’s less about like, “Oh, I want to help this language be taught in schools and support its speakers in their own goals” and more “I wanna impose my goals on the speakers.”

Lauren: I think another important change that has happened across the 20th Century in terms of grammars is the increasing availability of recording equipment and, therefore, the ability to make recordings of the language as a fourth part of that three-part collection of what’s important when documenting a language.

Gretchen: There are some really interesting ancient recording technologies like the wax cylinders that were used –

Lauren: You say, “ancient,” but you mean, like, 150 years ago.

Gretchen: Yeah, not ancient compared to Paṇini.

Lauren: Not Paṇini ancient, just, it’s really that the story of the 20th Century descriptive tradition is the story of embracing these recording methods.

Gretchen: There was a really cool thing where they had these old, cracked wax cylinders, I think it was in the Smithsonian, and they couldn’t put them on a machine to read them because, obviously, the needle would stumble over the cracks. It’s kind of like a record.

Lauren: They just fall apart.

Gretchen: Picture it as a tall record with all the lines tall rather than a flat record. But it was cracked, so they couldn’t put it in the thing, and they eventually figured out a way with lasers to read the recordings. I got to hear, you know, here’s a song in this language that hasn’t been heard for 100 years because the cylinder cracked. If it’s online, I’ll try to find a link to it.

Lauren: With recording technology, early on, and even for some linguists, it’s mostly about doing recordings so you can go back and listen yourself and really identify that you’re correctly analysing structures. But I think the more exciting thing is that it lets you really observe more people using language in more natural ways. The “Can you say this?”, “Can you say that?”, “Does that sound grammatical?” way of eliciting stuff can lead to an unusual way of approaching the language, but really drawing on people singing songs and telling stories not only makes for a richer, more realistic grammatical description that allows you to see those fuzzier, more complicated bits of language, but it also means that you can make those recordings available for speakers who are interested in going back to an oral history of the language for people who might come in the future and go, “Ah, you didn’t look at the way people’s prosody goes up and down and their intonation changes in stories. I’m gonna look at that, and I have access to these recordings.” I think this is where grammars are more exciting as we integrate more of that richness of actual language and bringing the people who speak the language back into real prominence within the grammar document.

Gretchen: Yeah. Because there is a certain way of writing a grammar which is very old which just assumes that whatever bits you have about “Here’s how this language works,” that information just exists at this abstract level, and it’s not necessarily tied to particular speakers or particular communities, and saying, “Oh, it would be good to give credit to the speakers who were saying this, or to identify this is a particular way that a language is spoken in a particular region,” or “Here’s something that’s going on here.” There have been some initiatives to do things like pair people who are trying to revitalise their languages with linguists to try to understand what’s going on in some of these older grammars because they can be hard to decipher without the special training. The one that I’m familiar with is Breath of Life.

Lauren: There are the Paper and Talk Workshops in Australia as well where you’re coming full circle and making sure that you give people the tools that they need to access the materials about their own language because you can make grammars for many reasons, and we’ve discussed some of them but, at the end of the day, the most important reason to me is that speakers of a language can access the materials that were created for that language.

Gretchen: I think when we look at the multi-thousand-year-old history of making grammars and the very different sorts of questions that people had about language thousands of years ago, I find it very humbling because we can think about what are the questions that people might be asking in another thousand years, and how can we make things that would help with that?

[Music]

Lauren: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, schwa pins, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I tweet and blog as Superlinguo.

Gretchen: I can be found at @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet. Have you listened to all the Lingthusiasm episodes and you wish there were more? You can get access to 49 bonus episodes to listen to right now at patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and other rewards, as well as helping keep the show ad-free. Recent bonus topics include reduplication, Q&A with a lexicographer, and a Q&A with the two of us in honour of our 100th episode. Can’t afford to pledge? That’s okay, too. We also really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone who needs a little more linguistics in their life.

Lauren: Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.

Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

[wizkiddx]

Nothings changed at all

ooh my first lil one  shot on here?!?! not really sure how I feel abt this one but hey ho we move.

summary: 2 years have passed with 2 people living completely separate lives. That’s until Paddy the matchmaker gets involved by not liking exams.

“Y/n?…. Y/n?” Brought out of her ferocious typing, Y/n dragged her attention away from the screen infant of her and looked around the coffee shop to identify the owner of the voice. Sure enough, standing opposite her was an adult and teen who both smiled excitedly at her.

“Nikki! Pads!” Y/n exclaimed while she jumped out of her seat to hug Nikki first, then Paddy. “Wow it’s been ages! You want to join me?”

“Yeh that’d be great!” Nikki smiled already pulling out the free chair opposite, while Paddy stole a chair from a nearby vacant table and pulled it up next to Y/n.

“God you look so grown up since I last saw you!” Nikki grinned, but her eyes held a little surprise making Y/n giggle. It had been at least 2 years since she’d seen the Hollands, and life had changed tremendously for her.

“Yeh well 24 and a qualified doctor now so it’s all happened. But speaking of… what the hell have you done with my fake baby brother Paddy?”

The three spent 40 minutes just catching up with each other, it felt like some weird family reunion. Nikki knew she would be told off by her other sons for ‘consorting with the enemy’ but Nikki really did like and miss her. It was more than clear Paddy did too. Y/n had practically been a part of the Holland family for three years while her and Tom were together, it was fair to say they had all got used to having her around. So when Nikki saw this elegant, grown young woman sat in the coffee shop she couldn’t help but say hi. 

They chatted about everything… well almost everything. There was a large gaping hole in the conversation though, where casual references to Tom would usually lie - but neither felt comfortable broaching that subject with the other. Not yet anyway. Y/n could not believe that paddy was in year 11 and taking his GCSEs, in her head he was still the hyperactive young boy who loved to play spies.

“We only came out today to give this one a break from his revision did we?” Nikki spoke kindly towards her youngest, Y/n raising her eyebrow at the tone.

“Yeh I just proper hate maths and I know I’m going to fail it-“ Paddy sighed, suddenly feeling the need to twist his empty hot choclate mug round and round, clearly nervous just talking about it. He clearly wasn’t especially gifted academically and in a school system where talents for the arts and less ‘mainstream intelligence’ isn’t celebrated - he was just considered a write off.

“We’ve been looking for a tutor for him but… well you know at this point in the year so is everyone.” There was almost a look of resignation in Nikki’s face, quite clear that Paddy had already given up. Y/n knew she had to offer, her history of tutoring meant this would be just like any of her other clients and she knew the curriculum inside out and back to front.

“Well you know… only if you want… but I still do tutoring when I have the time?”Looking cautiously between the other occupants of the little table, she wore a kind smile. It would be weird - yes. Tutoring her ex’s brother. But he didn’t have to know, and the Hollands had always been a second family to her. 

“Mum can she? Please I really need help and-“

“Only if you have time Y/n, sorry I dint mean to guilt you or anything?”

“No no you didn’t! But I would love to, you know Paddy’s always been my favourite Holland!” Nikki laughed at that, nodding her head as she looked deep into Y/n’s eyes. 

“Well then, no harm in trying right?” 

///////////////////////////////

Y/n the tutor was a massive hit. Paddy’s confidence almost instantly sky rocketed, with Y/n’s familiarity with him she knew exactly how to approach different subjects and get the best results. She would come over twice, sometimes three, times a week - but there was never any issue since Tom was away filming with Harry, meanwhile Sam and Dom were sworn to secrecy. The one hour sessions quickly evolved into staying for dinner just so Sam could practice from his cooking course. Then there was a little extra tutoring of english too, then a glass of wine or so. 

Then came the actual exams. A terrifying process not only for Paddy, but everyone else associated with it also. Somehow though, they all made it through alive and without the excuse of tutoring it just became an invite to dinner once a week. Just ‘because’. Nikki and Dom would love to say they only offered because Paddy wanted her there, but truth be told they all enjoyed her company. Especially with two of their sons on the opposite side of the world, it was nice just to have that familiarity again. She would go to the pub every now and again with Dom and Sam and just generally was a part of the families day to day life. 

Then came the night before Paddy’s results.

As expected Y/n had been invited round for a barbecue that evening, with the Hollands and some of Paddys friends families. The whole thing was just a distraction for Paddy who was nervous beyond belief. He really needed to pass to go on to college and chase his dreams of going to university. He couldn’t afford to cock up, even at the tender age of 16.  So fair to say a jovial evening where the word ‘GCSEs’ was banned - it was exactly what the boy needed. Everyone sat in the garden chattering away happily, enjoying the glorious and rare British sunshine. 

Sam popped inside to go to the loo, but on his way was dragged by unfamiliar hands round the corner into a study room. He shrieked in fright, before his eyes widened in recognition.

“Missed us?” Harry smirked as he let go of his twin however he was immediately pounced on by Sam, who had of course missed his twin brother for the half a year he’d been away. Next he turned to Tom, the both of them laughing as he hugged his older brother, Sam having to hide his surprise at his bulkiness. The new role obviously had him working out a hell of a lot.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“We got some time off and mum said Pads is terrified so we thought we’d pop in for moral support.” Harry exclaimed, clearly very proud of themselves for organising it for their littlest brother. 

“ Does anyone know?”

“Um… well you…now” Tom couldn’t hide his mischievous grin, making Sam shake his head at his over excitedness “So what’s going on? Is it a party or something?”

“I’ve just done a barbecue for Paddy friends families… you remember Jack? Another guy called Zak and then two girls too-“

“Ah cool so we will just walk out and surprise him?” Harry asked and Sam was about to encouragingly agree, until something struck him.

“I…um…Tom there’s something you need to know.” His voice was deadly serious and Harry noticed the warning tone; Tom always oblivious didn’t catch on so quick, just scoffed and asked why.

“While you’ve been away…. Paddy had tutoring to help and um well… Y/n-she’s here.” Tom closed his eyes and shook his head, taking a breath and gulping it down before looking intently at Sam.

“She…she what?”

“Mum bumped into her in town and she got Y/n to help Paddy with maths. I don’t know… she’s here for Paddy and well…”

“Mum knows that we aren’t speaking right?” Sam nodded in defeat, taking a small step back from his brother “and she still…she still did this?”

“You were the other side of the country and you know how close Paddy and Y/n were. And by the way she worked it looks as if she might’ve made him pass which would be a miracle in itself! So please can you just be civil?”

“It has been like 2 years Tom” Harry, very unhelpfully, felt the need to input - earning him a glare from both of his brothers. Tom just shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, eyes glued to the floor.

“Yeh…I mean we are adults” His words were stuttered, as if his brain was desperately trying to force out words his heart completely disagreed with. Harry and Sam knew of course, they knew their brother never really had got over his first love. With a sympathetic smile Sam led the way out of the study room.

It was fair to say to Holland’s were ecstatic about the twos return, Paddy’s face had been the most priceless because although he was 16 - he still really was an overexcited little kid. The whole garden energy skipped about twelve levels when they walked in, Paddys friends and families also a little excited to see ‘spiderman’ in real life. Yet Y/n… she was less pleased. Sam had instantly come over to her asking if she was okay. Which she was. Unlike her ex, Y/n had properly got over him and had serious relationships since. She just felt awkward for him, she was in the way of a family reunion, she was the sceptre at the feast. Bless Sam for keeping her company, they sat on the outdoor furniture in the corner and just chatted, while Mr centre-of-attention relished all the love from his family. She knew she should leave, so leaned closer to Sam to barely whisper. “I’m gonna go now”

“Y/n you don’t have to, Pads still wants you here and-“ 

“Sam could you give us a minute?” 

Interrupted by the oh so familiar voice, Y/n smiled nervously at him, before giving Sam a side eye saying it was okay for him to leave. Swapping seats Tom sat down in Sams seat, running  a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Look Tom I was just going to go so you guys can have a proper reunion and-“

“Please stay. Paddy wants you here and tonights about him so?”

“That’s very kind of you but...well you made it clear we couldn’t be friends. I don’t want to intrude and-“

“That was years ago and I was being naive. For paddy please?”

“Tom I….I’m-“ Stopping promptly as she was interrupted.

“staying yes I agree. Now come on he’s looking…” Tom lowered his voice as he motioned over to Paddy standing with Sam, who appeared to be watching the exchange between the two ex lovers intently “so pretend I said something funny, laugh and then we can go mingle”

“Hard to imagine… you have no sense of humour” She smiled sarcastically, before throwing her head back laughing - as if she had said something hilarious. Tom knew he had to join in, however much he tried to hide the grimace at her remark.

“ You haven’t changed at all” He muttered under his breath following her as she stood up and headed back towards the main group.

“Oh but I have” Tossing her head to look back at him, flowing hair flicking round too “I’ve learnt my worth.” Her words were dripping with sass and a little passive-aggressiveness, but all Tom could think was how amazing she was, how much he had missed that little smirk she did while flicking her head back round and pull Paddy in for a side hug. 

////////////////////////

The evening flew by, all of Paddy’s friends and their families went home, yet Y/n stayed and chatted with the Hollands as if this was completely normal. They had all long since migrated into the sitting room while the sun was setting, playing some board games of Paddy’s choice - his results long since forgotten early that evening. Truth be told, Y/n really enjoyed catching up with Harry and although they hadn’t really had any personal conversations- seeing Tom and taking the piss out of his uselessness at the games was also very enjoyable. After her and Paddy’s turn ended Y/n excused herself to go to the toilet but instead of going straight back to the living room she went to grab herself a glass of water.

“Oh Y/n… I was meaning to catch you” The soft and very very familiar voice startled her a little, the warm tone sending shivers down her spine as if a reflex. Turning round to see Tom leant against the counter with a small smile.

“Well what’s up then?” She tried not to be too open too quickly, as much as her heart just wanted to skip the small talk. 

“Just wanted to catch up, it’s been a while and just feel like we should be friends since my family seem to sort of adopted you” She scoffed at his statement, very obviously rolling her eyes, a little annoyed.

“And who was it that didn’t want to be friends huh?” She raised an eyebrow and this was Toms turn to scoff as he looked down at the ground.

“Yeh yeh I deserve that… shall we just skip past the blaming me huh?” The cockiness wasn’t hidden in his voice and that made her laugh, clearly not that shy. In fact he was terrified, but wanted to look as if he didn’t care, like he was flippant. 

“Alright Spiderman, so how’s life?” …

The truth about their break up was quite simple. Tom had got too busy and had stopped making time to their relationship. Y/n grew tired and had had enough, which he completely understood. He’d tried to promise more effort, flying back for extra weekends but they both new they were hollow, it wouldn’t be maintained. Their last meeting hadn’t been an angry shouty one, rather just depressingly sad. They’d both been upset, recahingn a mutual conclusion it was just the wrong time. Which they had both agreed with... but one thing they hadn’t. Tom thought it was like dangling a carrot in front of his face, having Y/n still present in his life. He had given her an ultimatum, they either keep going on together p as a couple or they would become strangers. And that’s where it had been left 2 years ago. 

They spent the next half an hour or so, chatting away as if nothing had ever happened. It felt normal again, all jokingly catching up about the most ridiculous things - the low hum of the left on radio in the background. That was until a certain song  came on the radio - it was ridiculous, the most insane unlikely eventuality to happen. Their old song. 

Of course that would happen. Y/n released a breathy laugh and Tom’s grin just grew and grew across his face, slowly transferring into a smirk. He stood up from leaning across the counter, that Y/n was now sat cross-legged on top. In his ever so dramatic movie like style, he rounded the counter to her side, and held an arm out to her. 

“Dance with me”

“Tom that’s-“

“Oh come on, dance with me!”

“You’re ridiculous”

“I know. So dance with me?”

“Tooommm” She drew out his name in refusal, but her body said something else as she slid off from the counter - delicately landing on tiptoes as she lowered herself down. 

“Just come here, for old times sake” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him, transferring his hand to hover at her waist, not touching until she  gave him a small nod in permission. Hesitantly she knew where her hands were supposed to go and slowly drifted them up to round his neck, but balanced  her forearms further on his collarbones so she held her own hands rather than gripping his neck as was natural. They slowly moved in unison, just slightly rocking from one side to another - Tom’s eyes locked on hers.

“So are you happy?” Something about the way he said it made her internally shudder. It was the pure care, all his sarcasm and cockiness stripped back to expose himself just for this moment.

“Um yeh… I don’t know feel like I’m starting to figure out this whole ‘life’ thing.” She smiled up at his chocolate brown eyes, while he seemed to absorb all she said. 

“And he treats you well?”

“He?” She narrowed her eyebrows in confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“Oh er… before you said that ‘we’d moved out’ and I just assumed-“

“Ah um yeh I moved in with someone but he’s not in the picture anymore… got the bed to myself again” Tom thought she didn’t seem very affected by it yet still felt guilty for bringing it up.

“I’m sorry… er how long? Are you okay?”

“Yeh I really am. A year and a half so we taught each other a lot, but it was mutual. We’re still friends.” Smiling, Y/n watched as Tom nodded minutely and they drifted to silence, listening to the song bringing back all sorts of memories. “What about you? Got yourself a super model I assume?” She didn’t mean to ask that. Because why did she need to know? She didn’t care about that. Did she? Tom chuckled nervously before replying.

“Umm no. I haven’t really dated anyone since… just all the travelling and everything doesn’t really work with the dating scene.” His voice was quiet, as if hiding something, and he couldn’t meet her eyes looking at the floor.

“Oh… yeh I get that” Unconsciously letting her hands slip back, connecting with the back of his neck- instantly making him meet eyes with hers again. They just stared at each other, still swaying from side to side as the music flowed. He didn’t want this moment to end. And secretly… neither did she. 

“I can’t take you seriously when you look at me like that”  Breaking the intensity, nervously Y/n giggled, leaning away - but Tom’s arms, still on her waist, kept her from going anywhere. 

“Like what?” His eyebrows raised, enjoying her nervous flush present on her cheeks a little more than he should. 

“Like nothings changed” She all but whispered, the gap between the two almost magically diminishing. The pause was long as Tom tried to  formulate the idea he so wanted to get across. 

“ Maybe that’s because… right now I have exactly the same feelings I did two years ago… that maybe I want so badly to kiss you?” His voice was barely audible at the point, but their faces were barely centimetres from each other; noses hovering side by side as his lips brushed hers. He didn’t want to push her, yet at the same time one of his hands moved to her cheek - gently cupping it as his eyes flicked between her wide eyes and pink flushed lips. 

“Maybe… maybe you should kiss me then?” The tension was palpable as she drew out her words, purposefully teasing him a little. Because she wanted to keep him on his toes. When her heard her suggestion she had to stop herself from giggling at the smile that instantly grew across his face, the way his pupils grew in shock . Safe to say he didn’t reply, instead slowly and delicately pressing his lips on hers. She reciprocated tentatively and deepened the kiss bit by bit. Her hands now running through his hair on the back of his head, Toms other hand now on the small of her back - closing the distance completely, their bodies connected. It didn’t last long before she pulled away the most seductive smile on her face, while Tom subtly tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs. 

“We should go back” She whispered, while running her thumb over his left flicky eyebrow that always intrigued her. Suddenly his eyebrows furrowed in concern, worried he had made her feel uncomfortable. Instantly recognising this, she calmed his nerves very simply by pressing a fleeting kiss on his lips once again, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the living room.

As soon as they entered Y/n and Tom both realised how long they’d been in the kitchen. The game long since abandoned, probably waiting on one of their returns at their go, the rest of the Hollands now all sat lounging on different areas of the sofa - who all immediately looked up as they shuffled in. Luckily the lights were dimmed for the movie playing on the TV screen, so that no one would see her blushing cheeks. She sat in the middle of the sofa which only paddy was on, and Tom followed sitting next to her - but not too close that it would be suspicious . No words were exchanged throughout, though Nikki did exchange a knowing look with Dom - who had seemingly finally learnt when to keep his mouth closed. Both Y/n and Tom pretend to fix their full attention on the film for a short while, even if both their brains were whirring away with very very separate thoughts to any critical analysis of the storyline. 

After about 10 minutes though, Tom pulled his leg up, just so it was obscuring the view to the sofa opposite and took the opportunity to clasp Y/n’s hands in his. Slickly, even though she wasn’t expecting the contact Y/n didn’t react her eyes still trained on the TV. However, Tom didn’t miss the small upward tug on her lips as she squeezed his hand back. No one noticed.

Except Paddy. 

Paddy from his vantage point on the sofa he was sharing with the two, peered over subtly as he went to the loo - and a massive smirk appeared across his face. He might just’ve got his sister back.

[soukoku-rivals]

Author's Note

There are so many things I would love to tell you! But, I decided to keep it short and simple. After all, Rivals is a comic, you're not here to read blocks of text.

I will address what are, in my opinion, most important issues.

1. Why is Fyodor actually alive after chapter 9?

Well, we had an 'in comic' explanation - Chuuya wants to believe Fyodor has some feelings for him after Fyodor intentionally missed all of his vital organs when stabbing him. Dazai tries to be a better person so he cannot simply kill someone who is already tied and defenseless, no matter how much he hates him.

Real life explanation - it was the best choice for the continuity. Rivals is very much an AU when it comes to Chuuya's past and quite possibly Dazai's past [I honestly know nothing about Dazai's past before 15. There might be something mentioned in Stormbringer but I avoid spoilers until we get official English translation]. However, it still takes place after season 2 of the anime and the Dead Apple movie. Which means season 3 comes after.

Basically, if you ignore the 15 episodes, you can imagine season 3 continues after Rivals and Dazai and Chuuya are somewhat dating at that point, which is also why Ranpo found it so easy to outsmart Chuuya. And then, all the events in the anime/canon slowly lead to them finding the Book and the Epilogue.

I know, you have to stretch your imagination a little to make that work, but honestly, it's fun to imagine Soukoku dating while all that stuff is going on.

Obviously, none of that could happen if Fyodor dies, so here you go!

2. Does Chuuya actually have feelings for Fyodor?

Short answer - yes. And it's not only because the author ships Fyoya. [I ship almost all Chuuya/X pairings, most notably Chuuya/Sigma, deal with it.]

As explained in the comic, Fyodor was there when Chuuya had nobody and nothing after he lost his memories. He told Chuuya they were partners and lovers, and Chuuya was his most loyal man. Obviously, that would influence Chuuya's opinion.

We, as readers, outside observers, didn't realle get to see much of their interactions [I couldn't make the chapters that long] but we did see that Fyodor is a manipulative bastard. But it wouldn't fully work if he wasn't gentle at times. As manipulative as Fyodor was, he has also shown compassion and care towards Chuuya in his state. That purposefully missed stabbing at the end only confirmed to Chuuya that Fyodor doesn't actually want him dead. Maybe he wants to hurt him to push him away, like Dazai did all those years ago? To protect him. To make sure the Mafia and Dazai know they aren't working together.

How can Chuuya not appreciate that? After all there was only one person before who hurt him not to actually hurt him but for his protection.

So yeah, Chuuya believes Fyodor has some feelings for him, he believes there might be a good person hiding in the rat, just like there was a good person hiding in Dazai. Dazai and Fyodor were too similar at one point for Chuuya not to develop any feelings for him.

I'm not saying it's healthy or logical. I'm saying this is how it happened.

3. Does Fyodor have feelings for Chuuya?

Short answer - also, surprisingly, yes! I mean, how can you not love Chuuya?

I couldn't really show it clearly in the comic. We already had so many characters and Fyodor/Fyoya weren't the focal point so I couldn't dive to deep. However, here is what I can say now.

At the start, obviously, Fyodor saw Chuuya only as a tool. Chuuya was a powerful weapon, with a powerful ability and most importantly, he served as a great distraction for Dazai.

Fyodor, however, made a mistake when he convinced Chuuya they were lovers. Because that meant he had to spend more time with him than originally planned. And as much as Fyodor hates abilities and believes they are a sin, he could not not notice all Chuuya's good qualities. Even rushing that mission to destroy some building, when he knew it was possible Chuuya wouldn't survive, was mostly because Fyodor wanted to push him away. And to push his feelings away. He knew he was growing fond of Chuuya and if he didn't stop that soon, he might grow some conscience.

Unfortunately for him, it was too late. And thus, we go back again to the train station stabbing. For all intents and purposes, the most beneficial thing for Fyodor to do was to kill Chuuya right there and there. With Chuuya dead he would have been able to leave with Atsushi, find the Book and leave Dazai broken after his love's death and Mafia without its most powerful weapon.

Fyodor just couldn't bring himself to do that.

4. Extra - unused sequel idea.

This has nothing to do with any unexplained plot points but, yeah, there was a sequel idea. A few actually. But let's go with the one that has most sense.

At the train station, after Soukoku leave, only Atsushi stays there to keep an eye on Fyodor while Loki searcher through his memories for the Book.

Unbeknownst to Atsushi, while Locke goes through Fyodor's memories, he finds something very interesting. A memory of Fyodor who looks like he's talking to his mirror reflection but his words are directed at Loki. And with a smile on his face, Fyodor informs Loki that the Book can change reality, he can destroy people and give them life. There is already a person created by the Book. From nothing! So, it is not entirely unbelievable to assume that it could bring somebody to life. Like, let's say, a certain red headed girl.

If Loki helps Fyodor escape, he will be able to bring Hela back to life.

Locke loves his daughter very much, so obviously, he agrees. And instead of lead to season 3 when Fyodor escapes, he get an Agency/Mafia vs Fyodor/Locke story.

This is not happening but it was a nice idea.

And this time, this is really it! There is nothing more left for me to say, Rivals is done!

Thank you so much for reading it, some of you were here for years, some joined only a few month ago, some will find this story in the future, but I thank you all the same! I would have never gotten this far without you. You are all very precious to me. I hope to see you soon, when @kkfil-soukoku starts updating.

And now, for a couple of unrelated announcements:

Merch design is going great. I have all die cut stickers and the second charm already finished, and most of them is already published on Kofi for supporters. Also, the Rivals sticker page is all drafted. Support me on Kofi to view them all and to get an extra sticker with your order: https://ko-fi.com/hayatepl

After Kiss Kiss Fall in <Love3 comic is done, I will be working on an original idea, to be published on Webtoons/Tapas. It's going to be a supernatural adventure story featuring a witch, a warrior and a dragon, set in modern times. For more info when that happens, follow me on @hayateart and @sylvankaart

I also started using twitter again: https://twitter.com/SylvankaArt

And instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sylvankaart/ [Yes, it's all SylvankaArt, I thought it would make it easier to remember. As for tumblr HayateArt blog will remain my fanblog for fanart but all original posts will be published on SylvankaArt.]

[xiyao-feels]

A Comparison of the Stairs Dialogue in CQL vs MDZS, Pt 1

(Pt 2)

A few introductory notes:

-This wasn't intended to be a big project post; I was just doing the comparison because I thought it was interesting. As I went I thought other people would probably find it interesting too, and it would be worth having it all written down, so I did turn it into a post after all. But I'm not really arguing any central point or anything; I'm really just comparing the dialogue and writing down my thoughts as I go.

-This also of course means my usual pro-JGY and consequently very annoyed at NMJ biases are on display. As ever, if this will upset you, please don't read!!

-This is a comparison of the text of the dialogue, not everything about their interaction; I don't necessarily note it if e.g. the acting doesn't match the dialogue tags in MDZS, or what have you.

-To do a proper comparison, you really need to compare the Chinese text, not the English translation; this is what I'm doing, though of course I've included the English from the Youtube subs, for CQL, and from the Exiled Rebels translation for MDZS. (For the Youtube subs I recorded "Yao" as A-Yao and used da-ge instead of Big brother when 大哥 was used and er-ge when 二哥 was used, just because this is my habit when copying down the dialogue.)

-Speaking of which: for MDZS, I just copied from the text, but for the CQL dialogue both English and Chinese I copied down the subs. I don't actually speak Chinese, but fortunately CQL on Youtube has the Chinese subs as well; my reading level in Chinese is also completely terrible, but I can often recognize most or many of the characters, and what I can't I can find by identifying radicals or drawing it in a handwriting recognition thing, etc. I did my best to be careful and thorough, and I also checked it against the Chinese subs I downloaded from Netflix, but there may still be some errors, fair warning. This also means that, unlike the Chinese from MDZS, the CQL Chinese dialogue isn't punctuated beyond spacing it out as it appeared on the screen; this is because the Chinese subs aren't punctuated, and I am certainly not going to make that judgement myself.

-The characters that differ in a given line between the MDZS and CQL versions are bolded, to help make the difference visually clear.

With that aside, the comparison is below the cut.

CQL  

LXC: 阿瑶 大哥他心性不比从前 你千万不要再惹怒他了 他最近深受刀灵侵扰之苦 若不是你日日给他弹清心音的话 恐怕他 A-Yao. Da-ge's temperament is getting worse. Don't ever displease him again. He's been subject to the harassment of his blade lately. If you hadn't been playing Cleansing Music for him everyday, I'm afraid he'd be…  

MDZS  

LXC: 只是一时气愤，口不择言罢了。大哥现在心性不比从前， 你千万不要再惹怒他了。他最近深受刀灵侵扰之苦， 怀桑又和他争吵置气，到今天还没和好。 His anger was simply too great for him to have thought before speaking. Brother’s temper cannot compare to how it was in the past. You must not provoke him again. These past few days, he has been deeply troubled by the saber spirit, and HuaiSang has argued with him again. They still have not made up yet, even today.

I'm comparing the CQL dialogue to the equivalent dialogue in MDZS, but of course in MDZS this exchange isn't before the stairs in ch 49; rather it's part of a broader conversation NMJ hears before he bursts in to try and kill JGY on the spot, because he doesn't like how JGY is talking to LXC about him, in ch 50. (Note, incidentally, how obviously impossible this renders the task of not displeasing da-ge, even aside from his not being satisfied with anything less than Xue Yang's head, as JGY and LXC were having a private conversation at the time.) The mention of NMJ and NHS' falling out is removed, replaced with the information that JGY has been playing to MMJ "every day"; the reference to NMJ calling JGY son of a whore is of course removed, since it hasn't happened yet. One effect of this relocation is on our understanding of LXC's injunction not to "displease him again/provoke him again" (再惹怒他 in both). In MDZS, this seems to refer to the stairs incident where JGY talked back (as the text notes, unusually); here perhaps it might be read as suggesting that JGY somehow has a habit of avoidably displeasing NMJ, which I think is absurd.

However, that's not the only possible interpretation. Although CQL doesn't quite give us the scene mentioned in chapter 30, where NMJ shows up and lectures JGS into announcing XY would be executed (…and heaps abuse on JGY when he tries to intervene, terrifying JGY sufficiently that he hides behind LXC—observe that in the sentence immediately prior to this we are also told that NMJ had unsheathed his sabre), in episode 35 we are told that all the clans wanted to punish XY except for JGS, and given a brief flashback to JGS yelling. Therefore, I think, it's not unreasonable to assume that something like the scene described in ch 30 occurred in CQL. Perhaps LXC is referring to this, although of course JGY would still be held between the fatal opposition of NMJ's and his father's wishes.

It's also relevant of course that in removing the surrounding context, CQL removes the context of the conversation of JGY expressing his pain about how NMJ treats him, and LXC replying, and rather turns it into an apparently unprompted expression of concern on LXC's part.

CQL  

NMJ: 金光瑶 Jin Guangyao!   

MDZS  

-

It's worth noting, I think, that in MDZS NMJ never refers to JGY as "Jin Guangyao" throughout the entire stairs encounter. 

CQL  

LXC: 大哥 怎么了 Da-ge, what's wrong?   

MDZS  

LXC: 大哥 Da-ge?

CQL  

NMJ: 你别动 你出来 (to LXC) Don't move. (to JGY) Come out. 

MDZS  

NMJ: 你别动 你出来 (to LXC) Don't move. (To JGY) Come out.  

CQL  

JGY: 二哥 劳烦你帮我再过一眼 百花宴贵宾的名单 我先去和大哥说点私事 回头再请你讲解 Er-ge, please check the list of guests of the Floral Banquet for me. I need to talk some private affairs with da-ge. I'll explain it to you later.  

MDZS  

JGY: 二哥劳烦你再帮我理一理这条，我先去和大哥说点私事，回头再请你讲解 Brother, could you please help me go through this one? I have some private matters to discuss with our eldest brother. I’ll have to ask for your explanation at a later time. 

Interestingly the exact same sentence in the Chinese, 回头再请你讲解, is translated in CQL as JGY's promise to explain later—where the implication seems to be he'll explain about what he's discussing with NMJ, perhaps?—and in MDZS as JGY's intention to ask /LXC/ to explain (the work he's going over in JGY's absence) later. In MDZS, of course, they're working on the watchtowers…while in CQL host with the most LXC is /helping JGY put his banquet guest lists together/, omg. I wish they'd kept more about the watchtowers but I admit I enjoy this as well. They plan parties together!

In both CQL and MDZS NMJ tries to hit JGY after they are outside and before further words are exchanged.

CQL  

JGY: 大哥 何必如此 有话好说 Da-ge. Why act like this? We can talk nicely, can't we?   

MDZS  

JGY: 大哥，何必如此，有话好说。 Brother, why the rage? Let’s calm down. 

CQL  

NMJ: 薛洋呢 Where is Xue Yang?   

MDZS  

NMJ: 薛洋呢 Where's Xue Yang? 

CQL  

JGY: 他已被关入地牢 终身不释 He's been shut up in the dungeon, for life time.   

MDZS  

JGY: 他已被关入地牢，终身不释…… He’s already been locked inside the dungeon, imprisoned for life… 

CQL  

NMJ: 我当年在不净世是怎么跟你说的 我要他血债血偿 你却给他来个终身不释 What did I tell you in the Yet Clean Realm at that time? I want him to pay his killing debts. You now give him life imprisonment.   

MDZS  

NMJ: 当初你在我面前是怎么说的 (JGY is silent) 我要他血债血偿，你却给他个终身不释？ What did you say to me back then? (JGY is silent) I wanted him to pay blood with blood, yet you have him imprisoned for life? 

"What did you say to me back then" is interesting; we're not actually given a specific time or a specific thing said, which means we must speculate. An obvious candidate for 'back then' would be the ch 30 scene previously mentioned, when NMJ convinces the Jin to announce that they'll execute XY. Yet the Jin giving in on executing XY seems to come /after/ JGY is sufficiently frightened by NMJ that he hides behind LXC, "not daring to say anything else." NMJ is perhaps conflating JGY with JGY's father, or perhaps assigning to JGY an authority he does not in fact possess, as though JGY and not JGS was the person who made decisions for the Jin.

In CQL of course NMJ takes the position that /Jin Guangyao/ owes him obedience because Meng Yao used to be NMJ's servant—not even just that, but that Jin Guangyao must display obedience to orders NMJ gave several years ago, when JGY was MY. This is absurd and insulting, and even before NMJ actually calls him Meng Yao it demonstrates that NMJ does not actually recognize JGY's legitimacy /as/ Jin Guangyao. Honestly, I don't have the words.

CQL  

JGY: 只要他受到惩罚 无法再犯 终身不释和血债血偿也并无 As long as he's punished, and can't recommit crimes, I can't see the difference between life imprisonment and death sentence.    

MDZS  

JGY: 只要他受到惩罚，无法再犯，终身不释与血债血偿也并无…… As long as he receives his punishment and can’t offend again, perhaps paying blood with blood and being imprisoned for life is… 

CQL  

NMJ: 我问你 当年在不净世 究竟是谁放走了薛洋 是我的总领 还是你 Tell me. When we were at Yet Clean Realm, who on earth released Xue Yang? It was my captain, or you?   

MDZS  

NMJ: 你举荐的好客卿，做出的好事情！事到如今你还敢袒护他！ The good things that the good guest cultivator whom you recommended has done! Things are already like this and you still dare defend him! 

Imho, this gets to a central fault in the CQL XY storyline—why the heck is NMJ trying to have XY killed for the Chang killings, instead of for collaborating with the Wen and/or for killing a bunch of his men??????

I tend to put that aside because it doesn't… actually… make any sense at all, especially since CQL NMJ is quite clearly still preoccupied with XY's old crimes.

CQL  

JGY: 我没有 我为什么要放走他 不过当初是当初 现在常萍已经翻供 没有任何明确证据证明 薛洋屠杀了常氏五十人 而我父亲又一定要留下这个人 It wasn't me. Why should I let him go? But the past is in the past, Chang Ping had withdrawn his confession. No certain evidence can prove that Xue Yang had massacred 50 people of Chang clan. And my father insists on keeping him alive.   

MDZS  

JGY: 我没有袒护他，栎阳常氏那件事我也很震惊，我怎会料到薛洋会杀了人全家五十多口人？可我父亲一定要留着这个人…… I didn’t defend him. I was also shocked by the case of the Changyang Yue Sect. How could I have known that Xue Yang would kill more than fifty people? But my father was set on keeping him… 

So—I'm sorry, that in CQL Chang Ping has already withdrawn his testimony makes this completely absurd. In MDZS, that doesn't happen until /after/ NMJ's death, after the Jin have been hounding him! In CQL, the situation appears to be that they have officially condemned him to the dungeons for life /purely based on NMJ's pressure/, with no actual clear evidence at all—and note that unlike in MDZS, where the Chang killings happened like a month beforehand and XXC presents the evidence that it was XY to the assembled clans, in CQL the killings happened /several years ago before a war/ and Songxiao didn't present any evidence it was XY to anyone else at the time that we saw. I mean, they didn't need to because at the time he confessed when challenged,* but it's not at all clear to me what if any evidence is left! And—in this situation where the one surviving victim is publically saying it wasn't XY, and they're /still officially locking him up for life on NMJ's say-so/—NMJ thinks that JGY should nevertheless go and execute XY.

*To an audience that if I am not misremembering included JC, who was alive and a sect leader independent from NMJ and could presumably have been asked to testify at the trial. This doesn't seem to ever be mentioned, however. Again, the CQL XY subplot doesn't make a huge amount of sense.

I can only guess that they moved up the Chang Ping revokes his testimony timeline to emphasize Jin power? But to me it has almost the opposite effect, since if they're still locking XY up on NMJ's say-so it rather suggests /NMJ's/ power; and more to the point it makes NMJ's already frankly unreasonable demand completely and ludicrously absurd.

CQL  

NMJ: 为什么 他身上还有一块阴铁你不知道吗 你把他重新招揽回来 究竟是为了什么你自己心里清楚 Why? Don't you know he's got a shard of Yin Iron on him? You're trying to reclaim him now. I can clearly see what you have in mind.   

MDZS  

NMJ: 震惊？招揽他的是谁？举荐他的是谁？重用他的是谁？少拿你父亲当幌子，薛洋在干什么，你会不知道吗？！ Shocked? Who was the one that invited him? Who was the one that recommended him? Who was the one that regarded him highly? Don’t use your father as excuse. How could you not have known what Xue Yang was doing?! 

English of course doesn't distinguish between plural and singular second-person, but I think it's worth noting that NMJ is using singular here, 你, and not plural. This is true in both CQL and MDZS. In MDZS, I think the problem is that, although he is in fact referring to things JGY individually did, he refuses to accept the truth of JGY's position: that whatever JGY knew or did not know, he can't actually afford to kill XY if that's not what JGS wants. In CQL, by contrast, the problem is that he's locating the desire to obtain the Yin Iron specifically in JGY, despite JGS'…well, JGS' entire everything.

CQL  

JGY: 大哥 真的是我父亲的命令 我无法拒绝 你现在要我处置薛洋 我该怎么去跟他交代 Da-ge, this is really my father's order. I couldn't deny. If you want me to execute Xue Yang now, in which way can I report this to him?    

MDZS  

JGY: 大哥，真的是我父亲的命令。我没法拒绝。你现在要我处置薛洋，你让我怎么跟他交代 Brother, it really was my father’s orders. I couldn’t refuse. Now, if you want me to take care of Xue Yang, what would I say to him? 

The use of 你 vs the more formal 您 throughout this exchange is interesting. In their exchange before JGY goes outside with NMJ, he uses 你 for LXC; here, he uses 你 for NMJ, but you can see throughout the exchange he seems to use both. It would probably be very interesting to go through the text and observe which JGY uses, to whom, and when.

CQL  

-  

MDZS  

NMJ: 不必废话，提薛洋头来见。 There’s no need for explanations. Come back to me with Xue Yang’s head in your hand. 

CQL  

—  

MDZS  

JGY "wanted to speak"

I think the upshot of these exchanges is much the same in CQL and in MDZS, despite its shortening in CQL: NMJ utterly rejects the validity of JGY's desire to give NMJ a /reason/ for going against JGS' explicit wishes, the explicit wishes, I remind you, of a man he has a moral duty to obey as his clan head and father. Truly, we can only imagine how NMJ would react to JGY killing someone against the wishes of the leader of the clan he served because he deserves it in JGY's own moral judgement… Except of course we don't have to imagine it, because it occurs in both CQL and MDZS, albeit differently. It's not that NMJ recognizes as a general principle that subordinates should be allowed to kill people against their leader's wishes if that subordinate judges their victim deserves it; it's simply that he believes in the primacy of his own, obviously righteous judgement. (And in CQL, again, there isn't any actual definite evidence, and Chang Ping has retracted his testimony.)

I think the main things the slightly more extended MDZS version has, not present in CQL, is, first, the explicit visual of XY's head, and second, that NMJ's subsequent response isn't a response to JGY's actual speech; JGY was about to speak in reply, and NMJ responds in irritation to what he thinks JGY is going to say—responds, indeed, by calling him 'Meng Yao'.

(Next)

[mamamittens]

Long Awaited LoZ Thoughts

I’d like to start this off by explaining my background. I have a BA in English with a minor in Humanities. I have lived all my life in the Bible Belt of America, so my PoV of this series is inevitably going to be, at least in part, from the perspective of a Western-centric, Christianity-influenced woman. I have grown up with a deep interest in folk tales and mythology though, and took several classes on ancient cultures, so my base knowledge of religion all over the world is broader than what you’d probably expect. I am not religious myself, I’m actually agnostic. And this is just an in-universe look at the very strange religion of Hyrule. So, to make things easier, let’s just put aside the obvious meta issues with this world. The wonky timeline, complex lore changes between said timelines, and the fact that the whole series has clearly grown wildly over the course of its development without an overarching plot. The game mechanics being game mechanics. All of it. This whole thing will just be me trying to make sense of the world without the ‘it’s just a game, bro’ crutch. I will be drawing on what I know from the many games I’ve played myself, so if I don’t mention a big piece of lore from a specific game, it’s because I didn’t play it. Go ahead and rule out the early games before Ocarina of Time, as that’s the first game in the series I can remember playing. I was legitimately too young to have ever played anything prior to that, having been born in 1996. Now let’s get started, shall we?

 So, obviously everyone knows that the LoZ world is said to begin with the three goddesses. Din, Nayru, and Farore came together to create the world and before they yote themselves out of the narrative as direct players, they created the Triforce. A powerful artifact capable of granting a wish and giving their respective bearers undefined power. This is directly from Ocarina of Time and we see their symbol, the Triforce, all over the many games with very few exceptions. Now, to be clear, having a polytheistic religion with three main gods is hardly new. Hinduism has three main gods after all (Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva), and depending on your flavor of Christianity, you have the holy trinity (God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit). There’s even the Celtic goddesses that come specifically in threes (collectively called The Morrigan; Eriu, Fodla, and Banba). This isn’t an exhaustive list of three divine beings, by the way, just know that three is a weird trend in western-centric stories, including religion. But what’s different about the three Hyrule Goddesses? Well, they’re weirdly small for big shot gods. Let me explain.

        So, the three Hindu gods I mentioned earlier each handle a specific aspect. Creation, destruction, and preservation, not necessarily in that order though (which god does what isn’t the point, so just roll with me here). These are very broad and powerful subjects. Christianity is much the same, even though it’s a monotheistic religion. God is literally an all-powerful, omniscient, omnipotent deity. Jesus is his son who gave his life to basically forgive all sin. And I’m not totally clear on the Holy Spirit, but these three are clearly Big Deals with Big Ideas behind them. A good rule of thumb for old religion is that the older the deity, the wider the scope of their job or what they represent. Which makes sense. If you had to personify the forces of the universe, you’d probably start with the sun instead of like… whatever god is responsible for the creation of rice specifically. The bigger and scarier the natural force, the bigger deal that god usually is, putting aside politics and cultural trends. Egypt is a good example of this, as their roster of gods tended to change a lot depending on who was Pharaoh at the time and wherever the city center was. Horus is the god of the sun, or at least one of them, and is generally considered king of the gods. Which makes perfect sense for a land largely made up of a desert.

But what are the three goddesses’ rulers of? Power, Wisdom, and Courage. Each with clear elemental associations and people that are obviously affiliated with them. Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom, is clearly associated with water and likely has a close connection with the Zora. Din, Goddess of Power, is associated with fire and has clear connection with the Gerudo (unclear if the same goddess as the one present in the desert temple in Ocarina of Time). Farore, Goddess of Courage, is associated with all things green and of the earth, including the child-like race of Kokiri who perpetually inhabit the forest. Sure, these are broad topics, but not really… the first thing you’d think of for creators of the universe, are they? And it raises the question about the Hyrule people, who are said to be able to hear the gods due to their pointed ears… let’s put a pin in that and move on.

So, we know there are many gods in this universe, primarily because we meet them. For example, Zephos, God of Winds, in Wind Waker. But he’s clearly a fairly forgotten god, as he shares a shrine with Cylcos, God of Cyclones, which is about as bare as it can be. Just what appears to be a Tori gate with two stone monuments with the simple notes to summon them, almost completely out of the way. Which… I mean, I don’t know many gods with their extension number written on their monuments. That would kind of like going to church on Sunday and seeing “Hit me up if you need me, J-Boy 555-TAKE THE WHEEL” written on the podium. And remember, this is a world and game where the gods actively flooded the world and would therefore hold or have held enough power to directly interfere with Hyrule.

And Skyward Sword clearly has divine beings, one of which even flooded a whole area, though they’re subservient to Hylia. Who we will get back to later, I promise. The three dragons (again, that magic number), capable of divine power, though where that power comes from in unclear. The dragons are of a high status though, as evident by their servants and clear reference to high-class dress of their clothes. These dragons are revered, but clearly not worshipped, much like nobles in that regard. A curious note is the parallels to the three goddesses, and how the symbols are muddled and mixed for these dragons.

Lanayru clearly has the symbols associated with the Zora, and by extension Nayru, but is yellow. He also is saved by time travel used to grow a magic fruit, which Link often uses (time travel) in many games to advance the plot himself (and wouldn’t you know it, but mixing blue with yellow does produce green. Weird). Faron is the water dragon who flooded an area, and she is almost entirely blue (as well as unsettling to look at), surrounded by a species clearly related to the Zora though closer to octopi. But her name is Faron, which is weirdly close to Farore’s name, not Nayru. I mean, they are close to locations that resemble their names of course, but it’s still an interesting note. Finally, there’s Eldin, clearly bearing a symbol associated with the Gerudo without any strange mixes of symbols for the series. Oddly, he’s also the most open of the three dragons, especially considering the Gerudo’s traditional stance of being a ‘no-sausage’ club. Not terribly relevant, but I just thought it was interesting to point out. You can consider the Giants in Majora’s Mask on the same level as them, though their status is unclear (Since they’re summoned by a song and can stop the moon from falling, they probably straddle the line between mortal and divine).

Now, spirits also exist in this world, both as the ghostly variety and the more pseudo-divine. Not to be confused with actual divinity. Divine being can be spirits, but not all spirits are divine. In this context, spirits can be defined more as being of power capable of granting aid in return for something. Zephos can change the winds if called upon, but you don’t need to feed him, for example. But the spirits in Twilight Princess need aid before they can help you. And they’re also not very independent and are able to be fooled easily, which isn’t usually a god-like quality. While more physically present than the three goddesses, they’re also not strictly tangible, and seem to be extremely limited to their location. At best, these spirits could be classified as minor deities below the gods we see in Wind Waker. They also share the same abilities in keeping the realm of Twilight from falling over the land of Hyrule, as well as their weakness to parasites of undetermined origin. An interesting note is that they all seem to live in bodies of water. Let’s put a pin in that one too.

Someone that also counts as a spirit would be Fi and her counterpart, Ghirahim. Literally two halves of the same coin, these two are both very limited in power and function. They don’t represent anything on their own and are very dependent on others to achieve results. How or why they were made is unclear, but it is obvious that both were forged at some point, and clearly gained sentience. Even their personalities and allegiances are a bit odd. Fi for her sci-fi appearance and calculating personality in a fantasy land, and Ghirahim for his… well, everything. I don’t know why the root of all evil would make his weapon a full-tilt diva, let alone on purpose. Ghirahim always struck me as odd since his bombastic personality seemed to clash with his ultimate fate of just being a weapon for Demise.

Okay, so the Great Fairies are weird, okay?! Like, really weird. They act as spirits (I can’t think of any that aren’t restricted to a body of water in some form), but are very independent. They also don’t necessarily need anything from Link to offer assistance. Sometimes, just opening the fairy fountain is enough to gain items needed to progress. And there’s also the fact that fairies heal you upon ‘death’, though with a limited heart capacity. Sometimes they need you to do something though, like the Breath of the Wild fairies need rupees to function or items to upgrade equipment. They also usually look human, like Majora’s Mask Great Fairies are clearly just… giant women with color coded accessories. But like, they float. Where Great Faires come from, or even just regular fairies, is unclear. Until Wind Waker, Great Faires were adults. But when you finally meet the real Great Fairy in Wind Waker it’s… a child. With a doll that looks just like the ‘Great Fairies’ you’ve seen along the way. This sort of implies that Great Fairies age and die, though clearly with a different lifetime than most races in Hyrule (the child Great Fairy also only looks somewhat human compared to other Great Fairies, so make of that what you will). And it also implies that all the adult Great Fairies are dead (you’re welcome for that depressing thought), with the last one trapped in a hollow tree only accessible by the power of a God.

In Breath of the Wild, the Great Fairies are both diminished but more powerful. They literally are stuck in a giant flower with water in it, with few fairies around them, and require riches to get stronger. The connection to their new restrictions to this need for material wealth is unclear. It’s also interesting to note that their fountains are no longer places that appear to be man-made holy temples and they seem to be out of the way… well, for a given value of ‘out of the way’ (looking at you ninja village). These fairies can accomplish more tasks, but certainly won’t be doing it for free or with minimal effort. A far cry from their first appearances (no, I don’t consider using explosives a difficult task).

But Fairies are also companions with nebulous tasks, such as in Ocarina of Time, where Tatl follows Link until the end of the game. And Kokiri have their own fairy as a sign of whatever accounts for adulthood in their race. The Skull Kid in Majora’s Mask has two fairy friends who seemed to have been either lost or abandoned. Who or what gives them purpose and life is unclear, though the Great Deku Tree from Ocarina of Time can give commands, it doesn’t seem to be something he does normally? As a side note, it’s really not clear what, if anything he can actually do. Though the relative safety of the surrounding area is clearly tied with his wellbeing in all iterations, he doesn’t seem to directly influence it, or be capable of self-defense.

Now, onto the elephant in the room! Hylia! Who the hell is this?! A more recent entry to the series, her divine roll is unclear (though she clearly guards the Triforce in some capacity). It can be assumed that she’s somehow a goddess tied directly to the Hylian people, but when she appeared is up for debate. Timeline wise, it’s almost like knowledge of her was suppressed for some reason, giving rise to the Triforce mythos we all know and love without hide or hair of her seen. We know that she favored the original Link greatly, enough to shed her divinity to be reborn as a mortal and assist him. How or why is also unclear, though it wouldn’t be unfair to assume she loved him, as divine ladies holding an affair with a mortal isn’t uncommon in mythology (or even male gods doing the same, before anyone brings up Zeus). But she makes a resurgence in Breath of the Wild, with statues and everything, with the three goddesses left to only vague references in the background. Which is super weird, though not uncommon for places like Ancient Egypt. The fact that the ruling family was literally descendant from a goddess is what makes it weird though, since any monarchy worth their salt would milk that until the peasant folk revolted and made a new religion to justify killing a god.

Zelda in every incarnation is literally descendant from the original and still held at least a fraction of that divine power. So much so that a cornerstone of a powerful religious artifact inevitably ends up in her hands (or on the back of her right hand, as it were). But what is Hylia a Goddess of? We don’t know. It’s never said. Anywhere. And that’s super weird, even for a ubiquitous deity. Sure she’s a Goddess of Hyrule but… what does that mean? That can’t be all she is? Her reincarnation is literally locked in a generational struggle against the forces of darkness! What can she do as a Goddess? Well, she makes Link stronger in return for items, but that seems to be it. In Ocarina of Time, Zelda was capable of sending Link back to the past, but that was with a magic item. And we know Hylia isn’t the Goddess of Time, because Zelda references her in Majora’s Mask (sequel to Ocarina of Time, therefore implying that there are more gods unmentioned at that time), when Hylia should be mortal or at least fragmented (because Zelda exists at the time with powers and a Triforce piece). The Guardian of Time in Hyrule Warriors also fell in love with Link before splitting into Cia and Lana (and was unable to fuse back together again), so it’s unlikely that she’s the Goddess of Time Zelda was referring to, though that detail is interesting to note. No, I will not discuss if Hyrule Warriors is canon (either game), as this is already long enough as it is.

So, that brings us to Ganon, or in his original form, Demise. Which… what’s up with that? Who is this guy? He directly opposes the gods and just… gets away with it! Repeatedly! Sure, he loses most of the time, but still. It’s unclear where Demise came from, or even what he is, though judging by Ghirahim’s ‘Demon Lord’ title, it can be assumed that he is some type of demon himself. And that the many monsters we see are also considered demons, which makes sense with how they always work for Demise (or his many iterations) in some form or another. Considering how much it takes to simply seal him away, he can’t be just a demon though.

        Demise obviously pulled the same trick Hylia did, which directly sets him up as a counterpart to her, but what does it mean? Why would he do that? What is Demise that he can’t be beat with the power of a Goddess alone and needs not only a brave knight but a blade literally made to counter him? Within the context of religion, the best guess I can make is that he’s some form of a God of Darkness, possibly also Temptation, Greed, and Pigs Corruption. It fits within the narrative since power is often the strongest form of temptation and we know that demons capable of opposing the gods exist. The Horned Statue literally takes Hylia’s blessings in exchange for wealth, and was turned into a statue for it. What it stands to gain from any of it is unclear, but interestingly enough, Hylia doesn’t mind that it closely resembles her own statues. So, this raises the question… why isn’t Demise a forgotten statue somewhere along a dusty road? How did he curse(?) both a reborn goddess and a human in an eternal struggle for the fate of Hyrule?

        Being a god is about the only explanation for why he can do the things that he does. It explains why, in every incarnation, he ends up a rule (like Zelda). How he controls so many different species with ease. He corrupts the conflicted as easily as breathing. An interesting note is how Demise in his many forms usually ends up corrupting once good forces in some way, typically with parasites or evil spirits. And with this context, Hylia must be a Goddess of Light, and possibly some form of Will and Purity to oppose Demise’s power. It would also make her a good candidate for looking after the Triforce in that case. And yet we don’t know any of this for sure either, which is, again, very strange considering their presence from the very beginning. Literally.

Now, I want to mention the temples as a last point before wrapping this up, because it has bothered me since I was a wee little whipper snapper. For a place of worship, they sure are hard to navigate, even when they’re empty of monsters. And it’s not like Hyrule doesn’t get this, because the Temple of Time in Ocarina of Time is straight up a church. Just… without pews, so clearly not perfect, but it is possible for people to come in and… worship time, I guess. And no, not the Goddess of Time, because there’s no statue for that. I mean, I know it’s secretly hiding the Master Sword, but it is definitely a church otherwise. What a normal service looks like I can’t say for sure, but it’s definitely not like literally any other temples we see.

        Now, I know it’s a little hard to remember, but temples are usually places where one goes to worship the gods (or even just a god). And we know gods exist in a very real way in Hyrule! They still manage to name Zelda the same thing despite having seemingly buried their divine origins, so some knowledge of gods walking the mortal realm exists. But the temples/dungeons we see usually don’t have much in the way of religious iconography, with a few exceptions (interestingly it’s typically the desert area that actually has statues and could feasibly have had a real capacity for worship). You want to be a devout follower of a god anywhere else? Well, fuck you. Hope you brought a sword and a good pair of boots. If you’re allowed inside at all, since it’s usually the local leaders that are only allowed inside for some reason. And most games don’t seem to have very religious people, despite all the references to divinity. Not like we’d expect them to, at least. And I personally can’t blame them. If I tried to join a religion but found only a wall as an entrance, I’d be pretty disheartened too. Then I’d be pretty pissed to find out I needed not only a royal instrument handed down the monarchy, but their freaking lullaby to even get in to the place of worship. But we know they pray to the gods at least semi-often, since that’s one of the inciting incidences in Wind Waker. And they have offering to statues of Hylia.

        The temples suggest the bar to impress the gods is pretty high, and not in a ‘sacrifice your eldest child’ kind of way. To even get the chance to reach the inner chambers you better hope it’s been kept well and that you didn’t skip leg day recently. Something I didn’t really mention before is that usually, the less involved the gods are, the more independent the people are from worship. If you worry that your local deity will flood your fields, you’re probably leaving regular offerings at their nearby shrine or temple. But if you know that the gods don’t care about literally anything you do, why worship them at all? Why make statues, art, or temples? Why bother with any of it? The answer is you don’t. So these highly selective temples are pretty weird unless you go with the idea the gods are just really done with people and never want to talk to them unless absolutely necessary.

So, I’ve rambled for over twelve pages now. What’s the point? What does any of this mean? I’m honestly not sure, but I have a sinking feeling that there’s some serious shit going on in the Hyrule pantheon. Mortals have been mostly abandoned to their doom. Gods cast out and forgotten entirely. And somehow advanced civilizations keep forming and getting destroyed with only remnants left behind with zero explanation. Assuming the original gods are even alive at this point, which I’m not entirely certain of. Their death certainly explains how Demise/Ganon keeps getting stronger, looking less and less Hylian as time goes on, if he looks humanoid to begin with.

I wouldn’t even assume it’s entirely voluntary at this point either, as Ganon clearly doesn’t have the same motivations in every incarnation (see my previous post about Wind Waker). I’m rather excited about Breath of the Wild 2, as the implications of dehydrated husk Ganon is compelling. Particularly in light of the character development Link and Zelda have received in the first Breath of the Wild. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ganon/Demise turns out to be a fallen god trying to get back home (a nice parallel to Wind Waker, actually), cast out as a scape goat. Blamed for every form of corruption and greed that naturally follows in his wake. I think I said this before, but it is interesting that he is always reborn among the Gerudo, a race famously all females. Sometimes thieves, but nearly always in a position that would naturally crave power to take control of their lives compared to Hylians. Regardless of the consequences.

Is it true? I don’t know. Probably not, but the fact that I can draw these conclusions in three hours of writing is pretty neat. I have a lot of feelings about this franchise, having grown up with it, but I eagerly await what comes next. And I should probably go to bed. Make of all this what you will.

[shihalyfie]

Also, another question (if you dont mind...): do you think there will be also a 02 reboot? Would it be a good ideia or is better to just let it the way it is right now?

I personally don’t want it, especially not if it uses the style of writing the current reboot has right now, in which its priority is far more about plot advancement than it is about characters. Mainly, for a lot of reasons:

I stress a lot that 02 wasn’t a great time for its characters themselves, and that a lot of what everyone striving for was to be happy after said events. Even if it only ends up being a mild rehash, I don’t want to see things like Ken suffering as the Kaiser again (not even in a different universe), because it was so important that everyone find a way to move on. In the case of Adventure, it’s much easier to make a reboot that’s only similar in surface details but is mostly something new because Adventure’s plot was relatively linear, and it’s possible to have the kind of relationship with the original series the current reboot has, but 02 has that kind of hardship as so intrinsically related to it that I’m not sure what you could do with it by taking its surface glosses.

I’ve been pretty blunt about the fact that most of us weren’t really watching 02 for the plot, and the reason the series has so much appeal is because of its character relationships and high thematic value. The bias towards that aspect is way more severe than it was in Adventure (where, again, the plot was mostly kind of linear and there was more emphasis on the “wonder of the Digital World” rather than so much human drama). I don’t want to see these specific characters recasted in a different context, and I also don’t think the series would have any appeal left if you did something completely different with a different style the way it’s being done with Adventure’s reboot.

This is a very personal thing, but one thing I noticed (and one reason I started writing very regularly for this blog) is that, when the reboot started airing, a lot of people would make comparisons with the older characters, but it turned out that people very often misremembered what actually went down in Adventure (ranging from minor misreadings to genuine factual errors). It’s something I don’t necessarily begrudge them for; Adventure is the kind of frustratingly subtle series that you forget a lot of if you haven’t seen it recently, and even more of that was lost in the American English dub, but it nevertheless led to a very frustrating experience where sometimes you’d see people take those reboot characteristics and talk about the original series characters like they’d always been like this or that, when in fact the original characters weren’t like that at all. This problem is bound to be multiple times worse with 02, where the characters are so often accused of being flat and lacking in development (they’re not!!), and 02 also had an even worse subtlety problem and an even more liberty-taking dub, and even the Japanese side of the franchise hasn’t exactly been delicate about handling their characters, and I am terrified that this kind of problem where people think of them inaccurately or badly might potentially get worse, because of a potential reboot take on them that would accidentally validate all of those misconceptions. You have no idea how relieved I was that Kizuna shows the 02 quartet at their best and in a way true to the spirit of the original, because I was really worried about how people would retroactively see them based on their portrayal there. (Also, unfortunately, there are a lot of people who pathologically hate 02 on principle, and even if a potential 02 reboot were the worst anime in the world, those kinds of people would be all too happy to yell “still better than the original!” regardless of anything, and I don’t think I’d have the patience to endure that...)

I honestly would just rather have new material than a reboot of anything. I’m not averse to the concept of a reboot per se, mainly in the sense that I do appreciate the fact that the current reboot isn’t just doing a “worse rehash of Adventure” and is clearly doing its own thing beyond the surface details, but I obviously would have vastly preferred doing something genuinely new. If they want to make a sequel anime to this reboot, why not make up some new characters exclusive to this universe? I think that’d be fun. I know a lot of 02 fans would see this as a dodge or spurn, but this is just my personal, very strong feeling as a 02 fan who thinks that the best thing that can happen with the characters I love so much would conversely be to let them move on. (I was already kind of amused at the fact they already made a few 02 references in the existing series, like Yamato’s bass guitar or Pegasmon.)

I know some people have suggested a reboot to “fix” 02′s plot writing issues, but I love it a lot as it is -- a lot of the things that were “problems” were conversely able to give it a certain flavor you’d never be able to get in a more conventionally written series -- and I think it’s indeed a very flawed series in the sense that there’s no such thing as a perfect Digimon series, nor a perfect piece of media at all, and even if you “fix” one flaw you’re inevitably going to get another. It’s been 20 years and I’ve come to terms with all of the things I didn’t care for as much, so I don’t think it’s all that productive to dwell or fixate on “we should redo this again” instead of appreciating what it did give us 20 years ago and producing newer content instead. I mean, if I want to watch 02 again, I can just rewatch it, and if there’s something I want to explore that canon didn’t give me, I’m happy being a fanfic writer, and this experience of writing this blog has made me realize that it’s incredible how much you can still extract out of this series even 20 years later. I think it’s much more productive to try and cover new territory with things rather than constantly trying to redo the same thing over and over again. I suppose I took the theme of the series a bit too seriously?...

Whether they will actually do a 02 reboot or not, I have no idea. I think they’ve certainly learned their lesson that 02 has a diehard fanbase that hates to see it treated badly (after, ah, recent events), but it just doesn’t carry the same notability and branding that the original series does, and its critically controversial status means that their names and faces don’t do nearly as much by itself. (Reboot merch can sell because people will project the original characters on them, but Miyako and Iori merch especially tends to sell abysmally poorly even now.) I feel like the actual Digimon from 02 sell better than the human characters, to be honest. And it’s a new universe; 02 fans get upset when the juniors aren’t involved in the lives of their seniors when those relationships were a big deal (series about relationships, et cetera), but if those specific relationships don’t exist in the first place, I don’t think most of us really care as much to the point of getting upset because of the omission.

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Chapter 15

Oooh, Audra's deepest darkest secret becomes known and puts her that much closer to danger of entrapment while the Voyambi's have to admit the ugly truth of their current view of their own heritage vs their station in English society.

@punkhorse96 GURL. Buckle up Buttercup because we are almost getting to the peak of this roller coaster. Because the Komoba battle will be the peak, the court case- the fall and then it's the throws and twists and lurches to follow.

Also Stregabor from the Witcher? Who else could play the most devious of mages? Who else I ask you? Who?

Blood For Gold

Chapter 15

“Oh there you are Axal, I need you for just a moment.” Yalin insisted as she saw him leave his rooms, having waited outside of them for the last half hour for him to emerge since she had gotten up extra early to catch Axal at the earliest moment possible.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as she grabbed ahold of his hand and drug him down the hallway.

“Yes, yes, of course, it’s fine, I just need a private word with you.” She did her best to reassure him but Axal could sense her panic before she pulled him into a spare room and dismissed the servants in the hall so their ears could not eavesdrop.

“Do you have any affection for Ramsey? I need you to be completely honest and transparent.” Yalin pressed.

“I do.” Axal slowly nodded as he frowned deeply in confusion at her, not knowing where she was going to go with such a line of questioning.

“Then I need your help to find him a wife as soon as possible.” Yalin insisted.

“Uh, I don’t..quite..” Axal frowned deeper.

“Axal, I will be perfectly frank and honest with you, Gregori has long had his eye on your sister Audra for Ramsey ever since Ramsey said that she was the only one for him at her wedding to Count Edward Morrigan of all places.” Yalin began. “And it is clear that Audra has no interest in him and I have already given Audra my word to protect her from a marriage of convenience but little love and I fully intend to keep my word, but before Gregori has a chance to pressure her into a match she will find no joy or happiness in, I need to find another for Ramsey. Do you know of anyone, anywhere, in any court who could both be a lady of good wealth, breeding and most of all availability?” Yalin pressed him as Axal simply blinked in surprise at her as realization seemed to dawn on him.

“I must be clear, I have no issue with you having affection or attachment or romantic entanglements with Ramsey. And Audra seems happy for your happiness. And I know she must love you. And I know she would rather much leave Ramsey’s heart to your care than her own. But Gregori has his mind made up and I need someone who will satisfy Gregori’s need for an heir from Ramsey, so that leaves your sister free to pursue a union with another who can give her the love and care she deserves without the expectation of an heir because such endeavors would endanger her life, but...you see what bind we are in.” Yalin expressed.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I have already reached out to Lady Octavia Lafronze, she’s only 27, she can still bear a child or a few even, she has a companion who can pose as my own wife if we need to keep a ruse going for the public. She will be here only the day before the Komoba battle. She’s on her way already. Audra knows of my attachment to Ramsey and until Octavia can get here, she has agreed to “play along” until then and even Ramsey has agreed to switch his “interest” when she does arrive. And Lady Octavia will fill our need. We just need to be patient.” Axal revealed.

“Oh thank the heavens.” Yalin breathed in relief as she leaned against a nearby table and clutched her middle.

“Ok, so here is the other thing. Audra’s case against the Morrigans, I don’t know if it would be best to go forward. I fear it may be more troublesome than it’s worth and whatever justice that Audra has already gotten, I fear that is all she may ever receive.” Yalin hinted.

“Audra prizes her peace. She may not want to revisit the past and rehash and open up old wounds. I will feel her out on this.” Axal reassured her.

“Thank you.” Yalin nodded as she blew out another breath of relief before Yalin gave him a reassuring squeeze to his hand before she hastily made it out of the room and quickly went down to breakfast before an attendant came and handed Axal a note, instructions to him written by his grandmother as Axal nodded and quickly asked for directions to where he had just been instructed to meet with the rest of his family before he went back into his room to get redressed in the approrpriate attire.

By the time Yalin got down to breakfast, hardly anyone was there.

“Where is everyone?” Yalin asked as it seemed that only the Voyambi’s and the Raymonds were at breakfast before Jane came into breakfast and sat down next to Charlotte.

“Jane dear, do you know where Audra and her family are this morning?” Yalin inquired.

“Yes, Audra’s grandmother got her up quite early this morning and they asked for breakfast to be brought to the gardens, they are all preparing for the kamoba battle. Apparently they all plan on participating.” Jane answered.

“Ah, that...that does explain it.” Yalin realized as she sat down as she noticed all the Voyambi youngsters seem to eagerly inhale their food before excusing themselves from the table, Ramsey and Charlotte included, leaving just Jane with the Duke and Duchess Voyambi and Gregori and Yalin.

“Do you not wish to see the training yourself?” Duchess Voyambi asked her curiously once Jane was invited to sit closer to them towards the head of the table.

“No, for the last two years I have watched Audra continue her training in private, although my parents forbade her from actually wielding any weapons, she was able to practice with sticks in the gardens and practice the drills in her room after waking up and before going to bed. Mouras take physical fitness to an extreme, even the women are trained like soldiers.” Jane explained.

“Like the orcish shield maidens of old.” Duchess Voyambi noted to her husband with a grin which he soon mirrored.

"And warchieftesses too." Duke Voyambi grinned.

“It is quite the spectacle. I remember watching my Dearest train for hours before the battle, even the exercises are quite intense.” Gregori noted with a sweet adoring smile to his wife that she did her best to return but Gregori could see something in her eyes and that her smile did not reach them as he gave her a curious look before she quickly looked away and blushed just a little under his scrutiny.

“Well it’s been ages since I even tried the exercises, I think it would do me good just to try to see how much I still remember.” Yalin said as she excused herself from the table after eating only a few bites, to get redressed into the more appropriate attire as Gregori got up and followed his wife before Jane excused herself from the table as well, leaving the Duke and Duchess Voyambi to sit in bewilderment.

“What is troubling you Dearest?” Gregori asked as he helped loosen the ties of her corset and untie her dress from her body.

“You are.” Yalin confessed.

“How do I trouble you?” Gregori asked before Yalin turned around and faced him.

“Audra drank a gallon of mourkatili. A gallon of it Gregori. With such a dosage, it is a miracle she is even alive. She is tainted and poisoned beyond repair. She can not bear Ramsey heirs and Ramsey needs a legitimate heir and woman of good breeding and nobility to give it to him. Likewise, Audra deserves a mate who can be loyal and faithful to her and I know her well enough that she will not put up with disloyalty in her marriage mate. She deserves faithfulness and devotion in all things. She has suffered more than enough as it is and before the ball at Havenfield, she came to me at the Gold Finch and asked me to guide her to a match who would treat her with kindness, respect, reverence, loyalty, devotion and faithfulness.” Yalin insisted.

“Do you think Ramsey incapable of giving such things to her?” Gregori posed.

“Yes, because he is already giving those things to her brother, which Audra is actually happy about. It would make her miserable to know that Ramsey would have to choose between Axal and herself and she would much rather have Axal be with Ramsey privately. But publicly, she can not be expected to act the perfect wife in public but in secret to know that she would share her husband with her brother of all people. And separating Axal from Ramsey would hurt all three of them. You and Ramsey both need to give up on the idea of Audra being Ramsey’s future wife and we need to consider other possibilities and I gave Audra my word that I would guard her against a marriage such as that and I have every intention of keeping my word. She is not the same woman who her master makes her out to be. She has suffered and changed too much at the hands of the Morrigans and she can not produce heirs. She is of no use to us, she is a dear girl but she is a lost cause.” Yalin maintained, choosing her words carefully.

“Oh I disagree, I think this palace is the perfect place for her and she’s plenty useful still, I think she’s finding her stride here and just because she can’t have heirs, doesn’t mean she can’t mother Ramsey’s illegitimate heirs to adopt them and make them legitimate and Axal is free to stay and keep Ramsey company as long as Audra plays her part publicly. She can have whatever affairs she wishes to have, because such seed taking root is obviously null and void.” Gregori readily shook his head no in friendly disagreement.

“How?! How in the world, is she still of use to us?” Yalin demanded.

“Dear, did you not get enough sleep last night? You aren’t thinking this through or not seeing this clearly then. We can use her treatment from the Morrigan’s hand to win over all of their fortune to her in court. You read the letter from the Mage, we have more than enough proof to string them up in the town square. She’s still an heiress of a great fortune and breeding.” Gregori insisted.

“But what of Jane? Of young Count Edward the third Morrigan? Jane is only a teenager and the young count is still a child. What would become of them?” Yalin asked.

“Audra has a good heart, she has affection for Jane, she will make sure Jane is taken care of and of course Jane, by Audra’s insistence is innocent. Besides Audra’s brother seems to like her enough. I’m sure he could always play the hero and take her and her little brat of a brother with him back to Dorierra to live happily ever after and save her from her monstrous parents and the Morrigans can be made an example of. Think of all the gossip papers you will sell telling everyone all about it.” Gregori incited.

“But what if Audra does not want that? Doesn’t want to be in our family? We can not force her to marry Ramsey just because you want her wealth and the court may not do as you say, we can’t afford to buy off every judge and juror to win it in Audra’s favor and the Morrigans have enough wealth to appeal it to the highest of courts where such measures are forbidden.” Yalin pressed anxiously.

“Oh once she sees all the benefits of being in the second most powerful family in England, no woman can resist. A life of lavish luxury with only having to smile and wave and play the tiniest of parts to enjoy it. The komoba battle will reawaken every moura instinct she has, she will see reason and see that our family is the only family she needs or should want to be a part of.” Gregori insisted as he kissed his wife’s knuckles sweetly before he called for her attendants to help her get dressed as she stood there in only her shift, her clothes long since fallen off to the floor.

“I’ll see you down in the gardens Dearest. Don’t worry about a thing, I have it all under control.” Gregori reassured his wife sweetly as Yalin just stared in thinly veiled horror at his back. She knew her husband well, he was not going to be easily swayed and she feared of what other measures he had already taken in the endeavour.

Gregori left and immediately went down to see you in particular as Demsey and his own brothers had gotten changed into appropriate fencing attire so that they could participate as well since Demsey and his siblings, his brothers especially had done nothing but gawk at you and the other mouras in small, very form fitting white work out clothes and bits of white leather armour in places in the outfit.

Demsey had thought he had walked into a fevered dream, watching you wield a sword and a small shield like a true shield maiden and every orc instinct had been screaming at him that at last, he had found a true warchieftess and he needed to show off to you his own fighting ability, as limited as it was compared to the other fighting styles you were clearly displaying. Being in high society, he was used to fencing and shooting, but that was the extent of it. Some of the common orcs still held brawling battles with the weapons of wars of old, like battle axes and broadswords and the like in the clan halls, but such things were seen as unseemly to the orcs in higher society and seen as barbaric and Demsey and his family as well as the other orcs in high society had made efforts to distance themselves from the “common” orcs in such things in order to be accepted by the rest of the gentry.

But now- seeing the style of which mouras fought- the style similarities were clear and perfectly natural. However the manner of the komoba fighting was much more aggressive and meant for a battlefield, meant to actually slay and kill your opponent, with the match only ending when it was clear that the opponent would be one pass from a weapon away from decapitating or dismembering the opponent with blows that would kill the other in quick succession. It was both beautiful in it’s violence, devastating in efficiency but yet had a dramatic flair that was impossible to resist being drawn in to see how each match would play out, where fencing played out on a thin strip of space, this was set in an octagon shape. The spaces lined out with paint in the grass itself.

One had to have a keen eye and lightning fast reflexes to strike and counter strike and the weapons, although these were made of wood or very dull metals, they were dipped in paint to show all the blows and strikes and “kills” that shown up on the white leather armour of the participants with barrels of water and cloths to wipe away the paint after each match with buckets and buckets of paint for the weapons to be painted in- in every color of the rainbow and then some.

Your paint color of choice was a brilliant turquoise and Demsey had watched with eager anticipation how when sparring with your grandmother- whose color was a brilliant copper orange- how your grandmother who was clearly the master and teacher of the group, all others taking instruction from her.

At first she had simply gone over the drills with you, all of you sitting in grid pattern, doing the exercises and drills with your grandmother staying close to you, using surprising gentleness in her critique, offering just as much praise as she did censure about your form of the various stretching poses and fighting poses as she was the first to spar with you, seeing how much you had remembered and how much your body remembered and how much you had lost over the last two years of neglecting the practice.

At one point she had blindfolded you and had short staff and a longer one in each hand and walked around you and occasionally would gently tap at your body to signify attacks, some of them light, some of them more forceful, to see how you reacted, evaded and counterattacked, leaning on your other senses besides sight to do so and Demsey had never seen anything more captivating and it made him ache and yearn to be a part of it, thus, the fencing attire, he and his brothers now sported.

Not even boxing fighters in a ring had so much contact with their opponents as this style of fighting did. Sometimes the key was to keep the enemy at a distance, other times it was to get as close as physically possible to deliver the devastating blow, sometimes it even involved grappling and pinning the other to the ground first. It struck Demsey to see the methods and philosophy behind each move and style of fighting and how it seemed to encompass everything and style and way of thinking and how there was clearly an array and a scale to it. Some of the styles were very simple, others- much more complicated but when blended made something awe inspiring.

Gregori had watched the match with your grandmother until she noticed that Gregori seemed to be waiting to speak with you and ended the session for the moment so that you could speak with him in private.

“Yes?” You asked Gregori as he pulled you aside and took your arm into the crook of his elbow after you had wiped off all the copper paint from your body so that none would get on Gregori or his clothes.

“How are you liking things here at the palace?” Gregori asked.

“It’s a palace, everything is exquisite.” You answered pleasantly, already on guard as you could tell Gregori was about to try his best to sell his son to you as a husband.

“Has everything been to your liking so far?” Gregori asked.

“Yes,” you nodded as you smiled politely.

“Could I speak candidly with you?” He asked politely.

“Please do, I thoroughly enjoy honest and candid conversation.” You encouraged him.

“I understand that from partaking in mourkatili, even with as high of a dose as you have been forced to partake in, that your reproductive abilities are hindered.” He began.

“That...is true.” You nodded, even though in truth you had tried to take pains to use eastern medicine to recapture it. But you could not be sure of your results.

“I want you to know that if you and Ramsey were to ever enter into a romantic attachment that you should know that we would never, ever, expect you to mother heirs. Your life is worth more than any hiers you would risk your life trying to bear.” Gregori assured you.

“...ok.” You blinked in surprise as you frowned in confusion, which was utterly adorable.

“You see Ramsey has had several lovers and already has many illegitimate heirs and if you were to ever marry, you could always save those illegitimate heirs and make them legitimate by adopting them. It would bring them out of poverty and give them the lives they rightly deserve but yet, Yalin and I, our hands are tied so to speak to do any better for them than we already have.” Gregori explained.

“And I understand that your brother and Ramsey have already become attached and it would only be right that he should remain by your side, to live out his days to make sure that you never again suffer and both of you could live perfectly comfortably and happily here with us.” Gregori offered.

“But such a life...it would not be honest,” you began to softly and gently counter.

“But it would be fair. So far the investigation with the Morrigans have found solid evidence and proof of their attempts to murder you. The courts will surely award all that they have to you for recompense. We have the power to make that happen. We can elevate you to that of Dauphine in English society and as a Dowager among the stables. We can get you justice and revenge for what you’ve suffered. We had a mage help with the investigation. He found your scene catcher spell, with the password, we can have all we need on Agnes and Richard.” Gregori revealed as you blinked in surprise as fear seemed to bloom in your chest. If they had already broken the password, you could be finished.

“But Jane and I corrupted some of the feed. The moment of Edward’s death, he was in the act of…” Your voice broke as even now tears came to your eyes at the horror and violence of the moment came flooding back to your mind. “He was in the act...of raping me and he had….he had a heart attack and died. It was so horrific. I had Jane help me strike it from the record. So just by that alone, it’s corrupted and it’s been tampered with. It won’t hold up in court.” You confessed lowly as your big gold eyes welled with tears.

“Just that admittance alone is enough to justify why that isn’t in the record, the judge will allow it and allow the rest of it to stand on its own and it will be taken as gospel and if there is anything else that you would like to keep from it to preserve your own integrity and dignity. That will be allowed as well. You are a lady after all. Not everyone needs to see every little thing, this investigation is to expose the Morrigans, not you.” Gregori reassured you.

“But what about Jane and little Eddie?” You asked.

“It is clear that you wish to protect them, that is truly amiable despite their parent’s treatment of you. I believe your brother Ocearian can save Jane from the shame of what her parents have done. She is, as you say, innocent. Ocearian I’m sure will happily take Jane home to Dorierra and with her- little Edward.”

“What if I want Jane to have her fair share of her family’s wealth? I don’t want to leave her or her brother with nothing and no choice but to flee to Dorierra. What if they wish to stay here in England. Could I at least leave Broadcove to Jane and Edward?” You asked.

“If that is your wish. Of course, it will be all available to you do as you wish with it.” Gregori agreed.

“Do you need my answer now, or can I think it over?” You asked him.

“Think on it as long as you need to, no rash decisions need to be made today.” Gregori reassured you gently which you greatly appreciated.

“Then do you have a piece of paper?” You asked him before he produced a small notebook and a small pencil.

“This is the password to most of it, it should give everyone all they need for the court case.” You said.

“Excellent, I shall get my best men on this, you will get justice and your just rewards for your pain and suffering, I swear and promise you.” Gregori grinned victoriously as he kissed your temple the same way his own daughter before he left again and you returned to the others.

“What was that about?” Axal asked you.

“Gregori asked for one of the keys to my ace. I gave a small one to him.” You hinted as you dabbed at your eyes as you steeled yourself for what was to come, both in the battle and in the court case afterwards.

“So you’re going through with the court case? What about your precious peace?” Axal asked.

“I’ve had a year of it. After this court case, I’ll have a lifetime of it.” You said as you got your wooden weapons redipped in your preferred paint.

“But what was his price for it?” Axal asked.

“That IF Ramsey and I were to ever get married, that I would consider adopting his illegitimate heirs and share Ramsey with you, whereas you would get to live with me and “protect” me from further abuse here. I didn’t give an answer one way or another and all I told him was that I would carefully consider it.” You reassured him before you got into sparring positions with Axal.

“And when Octavia comes, I’m sure she’ll happily comply with those terms as well.” You offered as you blocked his attack and counter attacked with ease. “Just make sure Ramsey knows to put on a good show of being captivated by her and wanting her and only her when she does come so I can get off clean.” You insisted as you dipped and dodged his attack and struck a gut blow with your shorter “dagger” on his middle.

“I will.” Axal reassured you.

“And what will you do with your hundreds of thousands of pounds?” Axal asked.

“Share them with Jane so that she is taken care of as well, hell I’ll even give Octavia a share of it, if it means I don’t have to marry Ramsey and you for that matter so that you can care for Octavia’s lover as your own wife.” You readily offered.

“Because I’m sure Yalin and Gregori only wish to see Ramsey happy, and once they see that I can not make him so and that you and Octavia can in all respects, then that can settle the matter.” You insisted.

“But what about Duke Demsey, won’t he need an heir?” Axal questioned as he used his shoulder to knock you away and off balance before you regained it.

“He does, that is what gives me pause. I do not think his affection for me may outweigh his own obligations and duty to his family. But we are still only friends. He may not wish for anything more from me. There may be another he has his eye on anyway, I will just have to wait and see. For all I know, I’m offending him even now. Proper English ladies do not participate in hunting or fencing or anything like that. It’s unladylike. So the fact that I know swordsmanship may be turning him off of me as we speak, look, even his own sisters sit by the side and only watch and do not participate themselves.” You mused as Axal and yourself finished your own sparring to rest and take a breath of air as you sat in the shade of a nearby tree and watched the others spar as you sat side by side.

“He’s an orc, his orcish heritage means shieldmaidens and warchieftesses are coveted. If anything I think you’re turning him onto you now more than any other. You were too focused on sparring with Grandma to notice how he was practically drooling and because of that, he was the first to insist that he dress in fencing attire to properly take part in all of this. He’s a decent swordsman, but that is all he is. He has no other skills, at least any that I can see.” Axal mused as he watched Demsey and Sierge fence each other in the very English style.

“In this society, he doesn’t need any other skills besides those, and even though they have that past, clearly they don’t embrace it in the present.” You shrugged as you again nodded over to where Amara, Kiera and little Callie watched on.

“Do you like English society?” Axal asked.

“It has its quirks and moments, rules of etiquette are extensive and date back to the medieval period for most of it and they like to pride themselves for having “polite, civilized and polished society”. But with industrialization, their business practices can be barbaric and ruthless, some men make or lose their fortunes in weeks or months, bask in the sunlight one moment or be shattered on the rocks the next with the tides. There are terms like “old money” and “new money”. The Morrigans have the old noble heritage even though most of their wealth has been amassed fairly recently, just in the last two generations. But the Morrigans are considered “old money” and the Voyambi’s are considered “new money” only because they’ve had their noble title and wealth within the last three generations. Their classed society makes movement restricted and women are property of their fathers then their husbands and I’ve seen women in this society choose peace over their dignity because while they are expected to be at home and run the home, their husbands are expected to bring income yet can splurge most of that income into gambling or whores or misstresses of plenty, even Richard has several whores, his favorite lives in Broadcove and his little bastards are being trained as stable boys and game keepers or gardeners, he keeps her to her appartment of rooms like a parrot to it's cage and his illegitamate daughters are being brought up to be ladies maids in the house in fact my first paid companion was his eldest illegetimate daughter came with me to Mirador as my own maid because I felt sorry for the way Agnes always treated her, in fact most of Richard's bastards followed me to Mirador because I treated them like people. Who had no power over who their father was. It is wholly barbaric in of itself. But because that is the norm, it makes competition to find a gentlemen in both name, status and breeding important, but of character- with how polite society and it’s customs dictate, it’s a gamble and true happiness in marriage is a chance. Not a given,. And what a man may be like in public may not be the same kind of man in private. Yalin and Gregori seem to be the exception, not the rule.” You admitted as Axal blinked in surprise at your revelation.

“Do you think you’d be happy with Demsey though?” Axal pressed.

“I honestly don’t know, we get along and we are friends and we have moments where possibilities threaten to ignite but something keeps it from actually doing so. I tried feeling him out last night to see if he would be open to anything and he...he was withdrawn and wouldn’t...he would not make himself available in spirit, he was...he was closed off to me, even with drink in hand, I could feel it in his energy, he was missing someone. He really had to push himself to stay with me mentally- in the moment. Which makes me think that there might be someone else that has caught his mind and heart, who is not Kate Whitesale, or me. But someone else, someone in the past. Maybe one of his workers, maybe one of his secretaries, maybe his favorite maid at Whydah. But polite society means I can not ask him about any of it or even his sisters who would be offended at me implying anything by asking while being none the wiser and completely unaware of their brother’s private lives and are purposefully kept in the dark about almost all of it." You sighed in defeat as Axal just stared in bittersweet fondness at you.

"And who am I to demand answers to such questions from him? He has made no declaration of intent towards me other than friendship. He has only stated that he wishes to be my friend. That is all he has said. And that is all his actions have said as well, at least so far. And I have no choice but to take him at his word. But the longer Demsey and his brothers participate but his sisters do not, makes me think that the same applies even in their family, even with them being orcs, notorious the world over for their proficiency and fierceness in battle even evenly among the sexes, which again leads to be believe that I offend him in the knowledge that I can fend for myself physically.” You confessed lowly to Axal before Demsey approached.

“You fence well Demsey.” You praised as you noticed he was drenched in sweat already and smelled wholly delicious as the very inappropriate thought of licking some of that sweat off of him popped into your head before you tried to swish it away mentally as you damned your own body for it's natural physical reaction to him.

“Thank you, I didn’t know if you had noticed, I know my skill can hardly compete with your own.” He praised which surprised you.

“Well you could always spar with her. See for yourself.” Axal suggested as you turned and looked at Axal incredulously.

“I would be honored.” Demsey readily agreed.

“Are you sure?” You asked Demsey.

“Yes, I’m sure I could learn several, if not dozens or even hundreds of things from you, if you would be willing to teach me.” Demsey insisted as you blinked in surprise as your jaw fell, leaving your mouth just slightly agape, just a little as your mouth ran dry as your brain once again was eager to supply all of the things you’d like to teach him, like making love to you right for starters, before Axal practically pushed you towards Demsey who offered his hand to you to help you up off the ground before you took his hand and let him help you to your feet.

“You would not feel emasculated or embarrassed if I bested you?” You asked. “I do not wish to embarrass you, especially in front of your family or mine.” You whispered to him as you walked with him back to the group.

“Not at all. You are granddaughter to the Great Saharan Viper, and her most prized pupil, how could I possibly be embarrassed to lose to such a champion?” He flattered you as you blushed and smiled bashfully and had the ground had the slightest bit of unevenness, you probably would have tripped and fallen straight onto your face.

“But my skills are rusty, I have not held a sword in two years. I may have forgotten most of it.” You tried to excuse.

“Audra, you will not hurt my pride, do not disparage yourself. I was watching you, you have retained more skill than I think you give yourself credit for. It’s like riding a horse, once you learn, you never fully forget and the style is most intriguing to say the least, so what color should my weapons be dipped in?” He encouraged you as he stood with you in front of the other buckets of bright color paints.

“Whichever strikes your fancy, and whichever you like best.” You shrugged before he chose a wonderful purple color that was a nice contrast to your own turquoise.

“Are you sure you want to try this? The rules of komoba are wholly different from the fencing you are used to. Because all those rules that fencing prides itself on- get thrown out and no longer apply, the object is to strike down your opponent by any means necessary, using everything you have to your own advantage and what can get you disqualified in fencing get you a win in komoba.” You gently warned him.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, komoba is...everything a proper fighting sport should be, realistic with real battlefield applications, fencing is pointless on a real battlefield.” Demsey reassured you and once again those butterflies started fluttering in your stomach as your heart fluttered delightfully as your smile turned bashful once again and your cheeks flushed beautifully. It seemed Demsey’s own reserve the night before- had seemed to vanish now as a new boldness seemed to take hold of him and you adored it.

“Then why don’t you use the battle axes that orcs are supposed to be so fond of?” You questioned only to see him falter slightly.

“Um, well, I’ve...never had an opportunity or reason to wield one before. My grandfather’s from the war- they along with his armor hang on the wall, and the late king gifted my grandfather a golden enamelled set but they are strictly decorative.” He revealed.

“So...you have no experience with any other weapons besides the swords of the fencing variety?” You asked him.

“Not even broadswords or longswords or…” You asked him in confusion as Demsey’s shoulders sagged in shame as his head dropped a bit as he had to shake his head no.

“No, the commoner orcs still practice such things in the clan halls and of course soldiers do. But since my family and others who are in the gentry, we do not partake in such things and take pains to distance ourselves from such things for fear of others in the gentry to view us as “barbaric” too.” Demsey confessed lowly.

“But do you think such things are barbaric?” You asked worriedly because if Demsey thought komoba was “barbaric” you were going to force yourself to lose interest in him because you were sick of having to divorce yourself from your own moura heritage, you had done it enough with the Morrigans, never again would you do it, you had sworn yourself an oath.

“No. I think it’s part of our history that we should be proud of. In fact I insisted that Whydah have a proper gymnasium to take up the practices again, granted in private because to do so publicly would damage our reputation.” Demsey tried to explain as his cheeks flushed into a deep pine green.

“But komoba is by far the most elevated form of fighting in the world. And it’s a sport I wish I had much more experience with and I wish I could build a proper komoba battle ground at Whydah so that we could take up the sport there too.” Demsey offered, trying his best to not to sound as hypocritical as he felt.

“Well, I’m biased but I feel the same way, that komoba is the best form of fighting however I can understand the need to protect one’s reputation. The Morrigans forbade me from holding any kind of weapon, often instructing the chefs to serve my dinner to me precut so that I would not wield so much as a dinner knife because they thought my komoba training was unladylike and uncouth and would tarnish the Morrigan name and wished to divorce me from it and any other parts of my moura heritage that didn’t fit the more proper “English” lifestyle.” You explained.

“And such measures are an egregious sin, no one should be so divorced from their own heritage, especially when such a heritage is so rich in tradition and color and splendor.” Demsey tried to praise as you just shook your head because clearly Demsey had done the same to himself and his own heritage.

“So, obviously, you clearly resent their efforts in thus.” Demsey realized from your tone since it had sounded pretty resentful to him which gave him hope that he could seperate himself in your mind and make himself as appealing as possible because he wanted to accept you and your heritage with open arms.

“I do. Which is why I’m surprised you asked to spar with me.” You noted.

“Why?” He asked curiously.

“Because while you are eager to learn the komoba style from me, I see that your sisters sit on the side lines, watching with eager eyes and jealousy to watch Benny and Calla and their siblings as well as myself and my own siblings of both genders take part in the komoba training. And it makes me wonder if you or your parents would be taking the same stance with them learning it as well. Orcs are known to have shield maidens and warcheiftesses do they not? Or does your family also wish to distance itself from that history in order to embrace the more proper “English” ways? Especially in it's womenfolk?” You questioned as Demsy looked at you in shock yet realization as he looked from you to his sisters and back to you again as once again, shame and embarrassment began to eat at him.

“Audra, please, please forgive me, I didn’t even think...or consider...any of that. If you will excuse me for just a moment, I need to rectify this, immediately.” Demsey realized as he put his weapons down in the grass and immediately left and went over to his sisters who were sitting under a canopy to protect them from the morning sun.

“What’s wrong? I thought you looked to be just about to get your wish and get a chance to spar with Audra?” Amara asked curiously.

“I was...until she brought it to my attention of how unfair it is that Sierge, Tzane and I are trying to partake and participate but that you and Kiera and Callie are being excluded and it isn’t right. You all should feel just as welcome and just as included to participate in this as we are.” Demsey insisted to his eldest sister.

“Thank you! Finally!” Kiera exclaimed exasperated before she got up and went over to Benny and asked if Benny had an extra set of komoba clothes as Amara smiled happily and did the same with Calla as Callie bravely went up to you as you readily agreed to let her borrow your own spares as all of you re-entered the castle to get redressed just as the Duke and Duchess Voyambi left the palace to join everyone in the gardens as Yalin also emerged wearing her own day komoba battle clothes from her youth, although she did have to be squeezed and cinched into them because her body had changed a fair bit since her youth.

“So where are you ladies off to?” Yalin asked.

“Oh the Voyambi ladies wish to also try to learn komoba with us, we were going to be lending them our spare day clothes for it.” You readily offered as the Duke and Duchess were surprisingly pleasant with the news.

“Oh of course. With such masters of the sport here, it would be a shame to not take advantage of such an opportunity.” Duke Voyambi reassured his daughters who practically squealed in delight.

“Thank you Papa,” they thanked their father with a kiss to his cheek before you all eagerly went back to your room to change.

“Thank you for saying something to Demsey.” Kiera thanked you as you finished with Callie’s suit and then turned your attention to Amara.

“You’re welcome. Whenever I see injustice and unfairness, if I can equalize it, I like to try.” You answered her.

“Women in English society are restricted enough just in the wearing of our corsets and being “polite” in society, especially on the train to gentlemen who feel entitled to converse with you and invade your space. No need for much more than that is there?” You giggled as you laced up the covers over Amara’s forearms.

“No truer words have ever been spoken. That’s why we never go anywhere without our brothers for that very reason.” Amara confessed.

“So in Dorierra, how young are you when you first learn komoba?” Callie asked.

“Three. As soon as we learn to walk and don’t fall over just trying to walk from one end of the house to the other as young toddlers do.” You answered her.

“Three?! That’s when orcs of old used to learn to fight too!” Callie offered.

“Speaking of, have any of you ever learned any of the old ways?” You asked them as Kiera, Amara and Callie all shook their heads no.

“No, once grandfather got the Duchy, he forbade our father from ever learning any of the old ways. Because the gentry turned their noses up at us and the other orcs, trolls and the like who had gotten into the nobility at the same time were our only society. But at the same time, the common orcs who fought side by side with him in the war, would not socialize with us either, thinking that because we had the duchy, that we were too good for the likes of them. And they wouldn’t even let us go to the clan halls, thinking that we would take them over with just our nobility instead of honoring the old ways of tradition. They would allow father and grandfather into the fencing houses but as soon as they would enter, the other patrons would quickly leave. It wasn’t until Demsey and Sierge were born and were brought to the fencing places that others found that they had no skills whatsoever, and would lose almost every match that they accepted Demsey and Sierge and then Tzane until they got to be proficient. But the moment any of them use their full strength, they get disqualified for “overpowering” their opponents. It pushes them to walk almost impossibly fine lines and it’s only when Demsey championed for the unions that we got welcomed back into the clan halls again, but only for meetings to discuss clan affairs, never for the fighting or anything like that.” Amara explained.

“Oooh, that, that explains it then. I know what that is like. The Morrigans forbade me from even wielding a dinner knife, much less any other kind of weapon. Because they didn’t want any parts of my moura heritage to tarnish their Morrigan name and proper English sensibilities. And I know what it’s like to divorce yoruself from your own heritage to survive. So your family has my sympathy and empathy in this matter.” You offered before you left the room.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I’ll never settle on English soil then.” Benny confessed to you and Calla as you left the room and locked the door behind you.

“Oh poor Sierge, he’ll be so heartbroken to hear that.” You cooed to her sarcastically which got her to snort a laugh.

“When I had said something to Sierge about how it wasn’t fair for him to participate but his sisters were simply watching, he insisted that proper English ladies never should be allowed to participate, and no lady worth her honor in English society would even want to because it should serve as a distinction between the sexes’.” Benny confessed which made you and Calla gasp.

“But yet one word from you and Demsey had the opposite reaction.” Calla realized.

“What I’m curious about is, how you responded to Sierge’s comment.” You put to Benny since the Voyambi sisters had practically jogged down the hallway to get to the courtyard as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t say much around the mouthful of golden yellow paint I put in his mouth with the short dagger stick before I put him into the ground so hard all the air got knocked out of his lungs, I think he’s probably still throwing up from having swallowed so much paint.” Benny proudly beamed which got you and Calla to bust up laughing.

“Put him in his place, I like it.” You offered with a mischievous smile.

“If he thought that way about proper English ladies, what did he think of us then?” Calla asked Benny.

“Oh he thought we were the exception because we were moura and would continue to be the exception because of it.” Benny answered.

“Double standards at it best I suppose.” Calla sighed tiredly.

“Well then let’s not waste this opportunity to show off how truly amazing mouras can be.” You insisted.

Meanwhile Bellfast, the Mage came to the Palace of Windsor to see Gregori personally, as he watched from a safe distance to see you and the other moura’s leave the palace for the gardens.

“Ah, Bellfast, my good fellow, Lady Audravienne has given me the password to the scene catchers.” Gregori happily said as he showed Bellfast the password.

“Yes, I already have divined it and the second and the third.” Bellfast reported with a meaningful look to Gregori before Gregori quickly led the way to a private office.

“And?” Gregori prompted.

“You need to see this.” Bellfast insisted as Gregori had ushered Ballfast into a private office as Bellfast cast the moment of Edward’s death onto a small mirror in the office as Gregori watched on intently. Frowning in disgust at the scene before a loud crash boomed through the room and Gregori gasped as his eyes went wide as he covered his mouth with his own hand and watched as the scene unfolded before Gregori’s own servants knocked on the door to make sure he was alight and safe which Gregori quickly reassured them and ordered them to leave immediately and to not say a word of the sound to anyone or they would be whipped and then dismissed immediately.

“Who else has seen this?” Gregori demanded of Bellfast.

“Only you, myself, Audravienne- because she lived through it, and Miss Jane Morrigan who came up with the third password to help Audravienne destroy it. It was completely struck from all the records so that even the sound of the crash was gone, the Morrigans were out to dinner and little Edward was asleep, but even the other servants heard it down into the basements. But Jane bribed them to keep quiet about it and old Edward’s doctor simply said he died of a heart attack and the bed was quickly set to be burned and was ash by the time the Morrigans got home. I can recreate the bed if need be.” Bellfast offered.

“No need right now. Do not let on that you know of any of this. I have my own uses for this. For now, only use the first password that Lady Audravienne has provided and compile all you can in a case against the Morrigans for time’s sake and make the second and the third passwords appear invisible and all that they contain inaccessable for now and do not use anything that is protected behind those other two. String everything else together in such a way that the poisoning of Edward is hung on the Count and Countess Morrigan so that they could fully inherit the estate sooner but make it so that it looks like they are framing Audra for it, which they clearly feel she did, and obviously their poisoning of Audra and all abuses to her by them and by the old Edward, I want any judge and jury to find Audra as innocent as the white dove she is and will continue to be and appear so, but also, if Lady Audravienne will not cooperate further, do your best to hang the Wolf Eye on her and obviously the murder.” Gregori instructed.

“That won’t be difficult to do. Also I have recreated all of Lady Audravienne’s mail and all four postmen are currently in prison and their confessions are on the record, as are all the servants who were involved in Lady Audravienne’s poisoning. But all the others who were involved with covering up Edward’s true cause of death are still free and Lady Audravienne's servants at Mirador that followed her from Broadcove are most intriguing." Bellfast said as he handed the latest report to Gregori who took it and read it over, almost giggling in his chuckle as he read it over.

"The Morrigans are of course panicked but claim they have the proof of the Wolf Eye coming from Audra, which other than coercing their own remaining servants to say so, the scene catchers clearly contradict which means we can pin insanity onto them and Dr. Rickets is simply awaiting instruction and of course is eager to say either way in order to keep his liscence to continue to practice his medicine, he claims he did something to the mourkatili to make it less lethal and less damaging to Lady Audravienne's person, claiming to the Morrigans that such measures were to "intensify" it's effect but in all actuallity it was only to protect your interests and claims that he can cure Lady Audravienne so that she can bear heirs without any ill effects and reverse the mourkatili, even at such a dose as was given to her.” Bellfast offered.

“Excellent.” Gregori beamed proudly. “How much is owed to you for such services?” Gregori asked as he went into his own box of funds in the room.

“Oh, for now my bill is with the Morrigans, but I will still happily take my agreed payment from you, however when Lady Audravienne wins her case, I’ll ask for a tip from her in her preference.” Bellfast began to chuckle darkly which Gregori soon mirrored as Gregori handed over a thousand pounds in a stack of bills.

“Yes, she will. I can’t wait to see what she is truly capable of. For now though she is hesitant and weary, let us win her trust and confidence first and only if she becomes uncooperative, then we can use this as leverage, but otherwise she has been a dream to work with and responds best with a gentle guiding hand and kindness, which considering the abuse- is no wonder to anyone. Yes, tender loving care will be all that is needed to pacify her and keep her happy and content. After the komoba battle, every moura instinct in her will be truly awakened and she will come to all of her senses that the Morrigans tried to dull. Oh and if I may request one more favor, just incase Dr. Rickets can not provide what he has offered, find the best mourkatili antidote you can with the added benefit that Lady Audravienne’s womb will be restored to her and her full health that she enjoyed when she left from Dorierra, just in case Dr. Rickets is not to be trusted.” Gregori requested before Bellfast simply took a very fancy glass bottle, wrapped in silk cloth to keep it safe, out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it before he put it on the desk in front of Gregori with a smug grin before handing over the silk itself.

“Only have her drink it after the court case, for now the mourkatili will still show up in her hair under blacklight, since it will purple, if it is still strong within her, it will also show up in her eyes under black light as well.” Bellfast instructed.

“Excellent.” Gregori beamed before he took it and rewrapped it and put it into his own pocket.

“Good work Bellfast, as always, you are the best Mage in all of Europa and I’m so happy that you answered my invitation.” Gregori praised him.

“Thank you for the invitation in the first place. I will happily use these funds to further my own research.” Bellfast grinned as he took his payment and tucked it away into the pocket the antidote had previously been put into before Gregori saw his guest out before he called his servants over.

"Do not let the Dauphine or anyone else know that the Mage Bellfast was here today, this report was sent by a messenger and there was no sound of a crash in the study, was there?" Gregori practically snarled at his servants who nodded yes as their knees had to be locked to keep from knocking together in fear.

"Yes your Grace." They answered obediantly before Gregori smiled victoriously and straightened up and returned to the gardens where your grandmother was now teaching all the Voyambi's, the Duke and Duchess included the basics of Komoba along with Yalin who he took aside and slipped the report into her hands.

"Just delivered just now from the Mage from a messenger." Gregori told his wife as she read it as her eyes got as large as saucers.

"Oh my, this is the scandal of the century." Yalin had to admit.

"And I can't wait to read all about it in the gossip collumns when the matter is brought up in court." Gregori incited with a scheming smile to his wife that she was powerless to resist from mirroring.

"Yes it will." She agreed before she got back into the grid to finish her own refresher course in kamoba.

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

or

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

-------------------

Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain. 

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

 Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd. 

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet. 

 “I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look. 

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy. 

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.” 

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-” 

 It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

 Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

-

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this. 

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized. 

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind. 

-

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self. 

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this. 

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings. 

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.” 

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile. 

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.” 

Then Tim stood up and said: 

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went. 

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

-

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office. 

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that. 

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door. 

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months. 

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt. 

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.” 

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.” 

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them. 

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. 

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.” 

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin. 

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise. 

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?” 

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

-

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake. 

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”). 

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

-

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request. 

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library. 

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing  the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right. 

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice. 

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

-

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner. 

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin’s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories. 

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed. 

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however. 

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?” 

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.”

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all. 

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.” 

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.” 

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,” he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward,  “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises. 

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky. 

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more. 

-

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket. 

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood. 

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.” 

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

 நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.” 

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.” 

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it. 

An anchor. 

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon. 

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

[duckprintspress]

I'm confused about the scoring system. It was said on the website that people were scored (numerically) and yet someone with much higher scores than I got didn't get accepted nor was offered the mentoring/beta/get to know discord.

I can't help but feel there is an error here. Is there a way to explain this?

Hi anon!

So there are a few things going on here, and I’ll try to explain them all.

Thing the First:

The scores on the rubrics are raw scores. Once we really got down-and-dirty with rating things, and I did some data analysis, I discovered that some of our raters were being a bit more generous than others. By the time we were done with all the scoring, there was nearly a 2 point split between the most generous and least generous scorer, on average. This was clearly a fairness issue - if one writer got our three most generous raters, and a second writer got our three least generous raters, even if they submitted identical stories, the second writer would get a lower rating. Rather than leave things like that, I did some research on statistical models that would standardize our ratings.

Basically, with the help of an excel algorithm (the “STANDARDIZE” function), we calculated the average that each rater gave, and that rater’s deviation from the mean (standard deviation), and plugged that in to convert their ratings from the 0 to 20 scale to a different, standard scale - which ran roughly from -2.5 to positive 2.5. What the standardization really did was - for each rater, whatever score they personally gave on average was 0 (so, if rater one’s average score was a 15...that was standardized to zero. And if rater two’s average score was 10...that was also standardized to zero. So now instead of comparing apples to oranges, we were comparing apples to apples). Then, if they rated a fic 1 standard deviation above or below their average, that became a 1 or a -1. If they rated it 2 standard deviations above or below their average, that became a 2 or a -2. And so on. This ensured that all of the stories were rated on the same scale and everyone was treated equally - standardization of test scores erased the differences caused by some people rating more strictly.

So, if you and your friends are comparing rubrics (which you’re welcome to do!) and you noticed that some of you did better, numerically, but had different outcomes, that’s likely a factor - one of you may have had more generous or more strict readers.

(Here’s some more information on how Standardization, here’s the very basics...there are other forms of standardizing, such as fitting folks to a bell curve, or curving the entire score, but those were not suited to our needs)

Thing the Second:

The top 20 authors, statistically adjusted for fairness, were invited to contribute to Add Magic to Taste. As it turned out, these top 20 DID roughly correlate to our top 20 by raw scores; comparing the two rankings, there are only two people out of the top 20 who wouldn’t have made it based on raw scores but did when their scores were adjusted to be standardized against the same scale.

The next 20 authors (ranked 21 to 40, when statistically adjusted for fairness) were also invited to Discord, and we’ve also invited them to potentially be involved in a second anthology. Depending on how many of them say yes, we may be able to open that opportunity up a bit more, but we’re not sure yet. Two of these people, by raw score, would have made the top 20, and three of these people, by raw score, would not have made the top 40. However, again, when we standardized the data to reflect the differences in rater strictness, these were the results.

That leaves another 62 people, who had various ratings all below those top 40. Some of them had a raw score fairly similar to their standardized score...and some of them didn’t. For example - my wife was an applicant to this, and she gave me permission to use her numbers for this example. By raw average? My wife came in 49th. However, one of her raters was someone who USUALLY rated very high, and gave hers a (relatively, compared to that person’s usual hig haverage) low score - when that was adjusted statistically, it caused my wife’s fic to plummet to 64th, because even though the raw number itself wasn’t bad, it was statistically well outside the norm for that rater. So, believe me when I say - these standardizations can make a big difference. If you, or anyone reading this, would like, I’m willing to send you what your standardized scores were (while still maintaining reviewer anonymity). I was originally thinking of adding them to the rubrics but doing so would have been a lot of work, and so I passed - next time we do this, they’ll probably be on there.

Thing the Third:

Often, what separated a fic that succeeded from a fic that didn’t was the range of raters scores. For example, the fic that ended up with the highest rating (by both calculations) wasn’t anyone’s favorite fic - but all three readers thought it was solid, and that was enough. My personal favorite fic? Didn’t even hit the Top 20. What often happened was -

Top fics: either all three people liked it pretty well, or one to two people adored it and the other person or people liked it well enough.

Second tier fics: either all three people thought it was okay, or one person loved it and two people were fairly meh about it.

Middle-range fics: either all three people thought it was average, or one person loved it and two people didn’t like it, or two people thought it was pretty good but one person hated it.

Lower quartile fics: either all three people didn’t think the fic was “up to snuff,” or one or two readers really hated it while a third thought it was average.

This isn’t universal, of course - but a fic that had one really high rating could easily do worse than a fic that had three so-so ratings, because...that’s how averages work. And that’s also why we had three readers for each - to try to even out some of the differences that would arise if someone had an extreme reaction to a fic that others didn’t. Obviously, it’s not a flawless system - no system was flawless - but with the resources and manpower we had, we thought this was a fair way to handle things, and we truly did our best. As soon as we broke 20 applications, we were never going to be able to accept everyone, and so we strived to create a transparent system that treated all of our applicants equally.

Thing the Fourth:

Now, in addition to the “why might scores be higher/lower” aspect of your question, there’s the aspect of “getting the Discord invite.” Now, the top 40 folks got Discord invites automatically, and those offers were based solely on the rating they received.

The other Discord invites that we sent out were not based on ratings alone! Just like we had a “reader subjective feelings” category on the rubric, when we’d finished rating all the stories, we were left with a conundrum - all of us had fics we liked that didn’t make the top 40. Maybe it was that “one person love it and two people didn’t like it” permutations. Maybe it was that all of us thought it was “good” but not “great.” Maybe some aspect of the story caught our eye. Based on our reactions, and the fics we saw that we wished had made it, we selected people to get invites. Those Discord invites were sent out based solely on subjective criteria.

Yes, we worried about doing this. Yes, we went back and forth about doing it at all. But in the end, what we decided was - we didn’t want to give Discord invites to everyone, because there were plenty of people we didn’t think their writing was quite ready yet - mentoring is an intensive prospect, and one for which we won’t get paid up front and might possibly never get paid, and while this all looks wonderful from the outside please do remember that we’re running a business - one that I’ve been working my ass off on for more than four months and have yet to earn enough to draw a single paycheck. So inviting everyone was never in the cards. And on the other hand, if we chose to give invites to no one, that would mean potentially having some people that caught our eye “slip through the cracks.” What if they got too discouraged to reapply? What if we missed the chance to work with them, after they’d impressed us?

To use an analogy - we saw something in everyone who applied, but in some it was “this is an uncut diamond, and we aren’t in the position to take it from raw to finished,” and in others it was, “this is a diamond with a crack, or a flaw, or a rough spot...and we think if we put in the work, we can get it to perfection.” And our verdict on the uncut diamonds isn’t, “this is uncut and it will never be cut,” it’s, “all of these diamonds have spent years honing themselves and working hard to strive for flawlessness, and but some are clearly farther along that journey than others. Once these uncut diamonds have shaped more of their rough edges themselves, we hope they’ll come back when they are ALSO only one flaw from perfection, and work with us then!”

There was no way for us to win, and there was also no fair way to distribute invites based solely on the raw scores, or even based solely on standardized scores, because some of the scores were sometimes not reflective our actual opinions of the writing. For example - if someone wrote a grammatically perfect story, with a compelling use of language, but the plot and characters were inaccessible to us because it required fandom knowledge we didn’t have, that might have scored very poorly, but we have every reason to think that if they’d chosen a different work that was more accessible they’d have done much better. Or, as another example - if someone’s writing was really sloppy, because of a lack of editing or possibly because English isn’t their native language - but they have a skill for creating characters, or setting a scene, or had excellent pacing - then again, they could have ended up with a score that didn’t reflect the actual potential that we saw in their work - using our judgement and expertise.

So, flat out - yes, there are inequalities in how the Discord invites were distributed to the 62 people who didn’t make the cut for either anthology. And yes, we agonized over whether to give them out at all. And no, I won’t swear that we always made the right choices - we were going by the one story submitted to us, and we had to use our best judgement based on what we were presented - what each applicant chose to submit. In the end, we invited the people who - regardless of their score - we personally thought were the closest to being sellable - in the sense of, “probably only missing one piece that would help with to get them from ‘didn’t make it’ to ‘now we’re talking.” And I truly, truly wish that we could have everyone. But if we spend all our time mentoring people, then we won’t have time for doing any of the other aspects of this business. We are not a writing school. We are a book publisher. This ISN’T just fandom, and I DO have to think about what is sellable and what isn’t, because in the end...I’m trying to make money, and pay my staff, and give our authors the highest royalties possible, and, and, and.

As a further note on this topic? We are still issuing new Discord invites, based on e-mail conversations we’re having with people. Several people who didn’t initially get those invites? Have now gotten them. It just depends on how people are responding to us, and the conversations we’re having, and lots of other factors.

And, as I tried to say in the post I put up earlier today about notifications: even the people who didn’t get invites have potential. Every single writer who applied has potential. All of you, even if you struggled with multiple areas, had some aspect in which you shined. In a perfect world, we would help you all. But this isn’t a perfect world, and I don’t have the hours in the day to bring up the people who aren’t already close, and I’m sorry about that. So, please, please - if you didn’t make it, don’t be discouraged, and don’t give up. You’re the only one who can tell your stories - if you don’t do it, no one else will. Find fandom friends who will give you honest critique. Learn to read your own writing with a critical eye. Track down stories that really speak to you, and read them like a writer - to see how the original writer put them together, and deliberately emulate what you thought worked. There are many, many ways to improve writing craft, and if ya’ll want to be published, either with us or with anyone, we strongly encourage you to examine whichever ones appeal to you and work for you.

There’s isn’t a single person who applied who couldn’t, one day, be published by Duck Prints Press.

We were never going to make everyone happy, however much we hate making people sad.

We did our best to make as many people as possible happy, while also doing what we feel to be best for Duck Prints Press.

If we hurt you - we’re sorry. We said in the application process that we’d be giving honest feedback, and we’ve never made a secret of the fact that this is a business and our goal is to publish books that sell - nor did we pretend that we’d be able to take more than 20, but we were so impressed by the quality of what we received that we did everything we could think of to open the doors to more folks, while still maintaining the core integrity of our business model. That means we have to narrow the pool; we can’t just take everyone, especially now, when we’re so small and new. Our desire to take as many people as possible is why anyone who wasn’t in the top 20 got an invite, and why we planned an entire second anthology on the fly, instead of no one below the top 20 getting anything except a rejection letter.

Now, as a final thing - it IS possible we made a mistake. We’ve spotted one big one already, and we’re working with that author to rectify the situation. If you truly believe we made a mistake, please e-mail us, and we can look into it. Our email is info @ duckprintspress dot com.

Sorry this got long - but I figured, if one person wondered this, others too, and as we have since day one - our goal is to be transparent, and so I thought it better to answer more thoroughly rather than less.